i am that thing there.
rolled between your lips
to blow out your sounds.

water-slicked concrete
won't deter the idiots
from Snapchat selfies

if light weighed like lead
and your smiles were cheap
we'd ignite Manhattan
with some cents and a sheep
crushing them all, dead.

A single sighting
defiles our vision. White
clouds cross-dyed Drear

and Unfulfilled bleed through-in
all over our day; mucky.

Does anyone else think it queer,
with plentiful humans so near
that we bury our faces
avoid friendly gazes
to blindly pursue lone careers?

happiness evades; joy fades.

life is a rhythm of changes.

  sorrow decays, peace is delayed.

  But not a moment out of place.

Coerced by Delusion, how could he
remember? To wake up
cursed by Her lies stained his mind. Love seemed forgotten and  
coerced by delusion. How could he  
traverse that fine line of truth he wept so silently on?  
Condemn her? Awoken, he saw True love can’t be
coerced by delusion; how could he?
Remember to wake up.

Think what pains
a flame must endure:

trapped in a lantern

Inexorable gusts misshapes its form
like dead clay in uncaring hands -
pure self-found victim,
so surely estranged.

****** to winds and shimmers,
alone in the dark;
Bright auburn eyes that seek
stares itself apart.

A million souls to a flame
sharing warmth in vast night

each too blind to the others light.

and worst of all
they blame themselves,
Insecure and in doubt,
pretending they're alone.

Arrogance plays second to their
greatest offense -

ignoring love, their truest sin.

It's been so many a day,
we last laid gaze on our face.
Yours as mine to see,
Mine as yours to share
Without a care, laughing.

Though your stressors be vile,
they'll never defile your style,
never darken your day,
for there's no bright like the bright from the light of your smile.

tired you must be
running, rolling - red, ablazed
all around my mind.

With my hands stretched East
and my toes yanked to the West,
I'm all bend; no break.

Something compels me
forcibly, fervently, pulled
to write a poem.

The humming of the birds
inside the butterflies of my heart and tummy
start AFTER
the blueberry-peppermint scents
of your hair tickle and dance in my nose, but BEFORE
the streams of amber and yellow rush
to drown the still forest living on your face, in warmth and peace,
so that I might see your lips,
acquaint my hand
with your hips,
to hush and silence these birds...
that's when I kiss you~!

Swirls of decadence dance in and about the nose of the bear,
who smells the baker's excellence.
"Her absence is my pestilence" thinks the bear.
"Those sweet scents would do me away in an ambulance" he thinks.

Given the chance, he'd take the brush from her hand into his meager claws,
and paint a portrait of him in her.
He'd accentuate his smile to show his bright grin.
He'd color his face outside the bounds to show his messiness.
Left up to him, the dim, grim hymn in his head would change the chorus from self doubt
to harmonies of carelessness and confidence.

Suspended, his thoughts diminish to silence.
"I do intend to forge a friend" he says.
"I'll ask to spend our time together in Zen".
What will she say to him then?

Luck is when the fruits off one’s labors don’t spoil before harvest – when life doesn’t pluck the buck from your pocket,
or the orbs from your eye sockets.
To be lucky means all the yucky, mucky misfortune simply grazes the hairs on your nose.
Brevity says “I am not lucky to know you”.
It's miraculous to me that you held the key to my heart from the start.
You are not chance, cause, nor coincidence.
You are rarity.
You are pleasantry.
You are necessity.
So as the day must become the night,
so too the rays of my heart must return
to rest in dusk with you
~ and for that
I am forever grateful.