The dream while I am awake,
that is what you are.
You make my world make sense,
even if you are far.
Each day is brighter,
when you are around.
I am the musical notes,
and you are the sound.
The love that flows between us,
is like a waterfall.
Plummeting over the edge,
like a sparkling wall.
Our love is strong,
it's beautiful too.
It flows in and out,
of everything we do.
It is all around us,
and within our hearts.
The strongest of all loves,
have unique starts.
These loves aren't predicted,
they just come to be.
They are so fast and fleeting;
impossible to see.
It is purely a feeling,
that fills you up inside.
One you can't describe,
like a roller coaster ride.
Lighter than a balloon,
love is all around.
Floating through the air-
more beautiful than sound.
I feel so very different,
since I looked in your eyes.
It's like my heart is beating,
up into the skies.
Thank you for this feeling,
I cherish it each day.
I wouldn't wish to feel,
any other way.

The intricate box you build
you construct with plastic bricks
sifting through compartments, searching
for the perfect fit. Perfectly enclosed.

           Closed off.

Deconstruct your day, lost within
the pieces snapped together, ironically
like twigs snapping in two upon
the trail you wander your life

            alone.

A man, a dog, and an endless
digital trail of artificial connection.
Seeking to take in what strengthens,
avoiding exposure like kryptonite.

           The dream.

Interrupted, REM ceased. Found her.
Foundation mixed of messages, dried.
Upon which to stand. He on 1st,
Her on 3rd, poised to run. Pitch.
A triple. A review. He cheated.

           Crushed.

A walk alone is a walk wasted indeed
For a companion is all that a walk needs
Here take my hand, come along with me
On our walk- oh, the things we will see
See the whole world with our own eyes
Look up into the world, into the skies
And all the while I am looking at you
Because on my walk, all that I do
Is smile because I am happy, you see
Happy I have you, and you have me.

Trudging through the rain
but still smiling and laughing
Hopelessly in *love

The city bus jostles down the street
On every other seat a *** rests
As I glance around I see shoes
Instead of bare feet.
As I glance around I see pants
Instead of shorts.

When I look down
I see my gladiators, fuchsia accented
When I look down
I see my ten piggies with coral paint

I ascend up to my loosely pleated
Polka-dotted, monochrome smock
Sliced in half by the strap of my
simple, salmon, cross-body satchel
Sitting ever so obediently at my hip

I reach to eliminate a treacherous itch
Feeling my perfectly formed pleat
A pleat adorned with a moss rose
Itching without disturbing a pleat
Is always a tricky task to undertake
I find myself asking if it's in my head
If it's floating through my mind
like the smoke of the mind altering substance
That floats through my brain

I glance around the stopped bus
No one is moving, we are stopped.
So why am I still jostling in my seat
Like the bus is jostling down the street?

Birds gossip in the arms of the red maple.
Rays of the Milky Way's brightest star, warms
the back of the copper-eared, old hound.
He sits on the single patch of grass persevering
in dry soil of a rainless spring. Abandoned yard.
The hound sits against a backdrop of neatly
stacked bricks, indicating an air pump of
life breathing on the hounds unfulfilled oasis.
Rogue saplings lay vanquished- roots up,
bundled in preparation for weekly collection.
Uninvited soil-guests spot the yard with a
deluding shade of jealousy green like the
luscious grass over the hedge- deceit

Thousands leave, few return
Soldiers die and cities burn
Widows wept, children cried
thinking of those who died
Many years of endless death
Dodging bullets, holding breath
yellow clouds floating through the skies
Burning lungs, throats, and eyes
Shrapnel fell down like rain
Breaking helmets, causing pain
Gas, planes, tanks and guns
Killing brothers, fathers, sons
Those who return are Veterans great
Those who died had a different fate
Those who don't return are our honoured dead
They take this honour to their final bed
Their names are placed on walls and stone
To show those they left are not alone
Every year we remember those who died
Who gave their lives, their souls, their hide
We wear upon our chests, flowers of red
To show respect to those who are dead

Forbidden touch,
Burns the skin
And schemes to
Pull the mind
Into a reality
Made of falsities
And feelings
Of lust.

In the western world,
chaos is the norm.
In the land of opportunity,
we all must conform.
Big corporations know,
conformity is what they need.
But what if everyone,
refused to water that seed.
Drought would take over,
and no plant would grow.
And the power of the people,
to the corporations we can show.
We all must refuse to nurture,
the seed of corporate greed.
For the only plant they grow,
is a variety of ****.

Can't see you
Can't call you
Can't hug you
But I can feel you
In my triumphs
I feel you
In my disappointments
I feel you
In the sunshine
I feel you
So how, I wonder
Can you be gone?