the sky is on fire
at sunset

(and you want to know
why i'm sitting
on the roof

the sky is on fire

and I only dream of you

and in Tibet
the monks write their prayers
on rice paper
and climb to a high mountain top
and fling their prayers
into the wind
where they will float
to heaven
and be answered

the clouds:
violet,
pale yellows,
and pink

and you want to know
what i'm doing
sitting up on the roof

so standing
I take the toilet paper
from my shirt pocket

and the wind knows
and skyward it goes)

the sky is on fire at sunset

and my quiet heart beats only for you

voices in the wind swept rain
graves open and never close
eye of the storm

america we need you now
to fight against the monster

monster on the loose
putin's neck in a noose

the stench of death and deception
reaches up through the sky

freedom
freedom
freedom

FREE THE UKRAINE

When we sit at staionary station
Watching
Our essence drift by
Sometimes you'll find the strength
To reach out
At the trails left behind.

But sometimes you won't.

And as you impound
These thoughts, it's already too
Late.

You wait, wondering where; people
Have gone,
You open your eyes, realising they were never closed.
And you tumble slightly onto the tracks.

As the memoirs of your evening come back,
You awaken screaming internally at all the empty faces.

You squint briefly
To the inconveince of blinking.

But you are no longer there.

Where in this sea of flowers did you see yourself?
Climbing into it, you weakly pulled yourself into
the blossoming petals, too frail for what you must do.
You could only lie down, and cling to what you held.

You left your heart, long ago, in the mountains,
and I wonder if it ever realized that the soul
it was bleeding dry for had lost all control
and rose like roots, ripped, no longer grounded.

And the sea rose up to bury you with it's swells,
cold and ebbing — it couldn't mimic a lover.
But it was your only embrace in these last rites.
They had not an undertow to rip on what you dwell.
Alone and drowning in a sea you'd wished to discover
that it was in these moments you could see sunlight.

I am planting myself
between eternal hope
and eventual discord

Just some grey occurrence
reflecting the rue of life

The middle way between
the light of day
and the shimmering night.

What a query we have in the night
Its illuminated stare
leaves us more uncertain
The silence of a million stars pervades

I could spend so much time
Lost in thought
Feeling the tears carve thier way down my face
Watching them fall