One more on the to do list to do
one more thing that I have
missed out
One more devil to pay for
and for that
I will pay for
no doubt.

Window across the valley
mist on the mountain tops
the river runs ragged and slowly
until this all finally stops.

The chamois with feet very steady
gets ready to jump the crevasse
I think I might jump across with him, to
where the grass is much greener
it's making me
keener to try.

If I stay I will dry up and wither
like some ear of corn in the sun,
but if I die in the taking it's
me that is making
the choice
and the one
that is loading
the gun.

If a person can be judged solely on one's socks, then I do believe I am a man of modest yet righteous means. For you to determine my grit as a mortal with the substance not concerning the shields I wear upon my feet, means you are without proper ability of dissection of one's character. I love one other, as the Earth loves the Sun; immeasurably. And most honestly, I try to see my surroundings as if I believe that every blade of grass could be converted into a trumpet that speaks to the ages in any moment in time.

Lovely little Lover, I mean Liver. Sorry, I'm a little drunk. I'd just like to say, no matter how the world phrases you, You are a perfect part of me. Just like my Heart or my Soul, the only exception being of course you work much harder for us then the rest of those louts. We are always one. My one wish is that I could filter you out, as you do me. Make our hurts go away, our silly feelings but a whisper in the breeze of life. Cause when faced with the whole picture, all we'd like is to live 3 sheets to the wind and when finally stricken with death; to die as a real animal, alone without worry as to what comes next.

I love you.
Yours, G.

She was painted in a mural and
plastered on the wall
flowery dress and tied back hair
sitting there for all the world to see,
I saw the strokes the artist pulled
no punches missed no lines,
any other time she could have been
La Giaconda,
she could have been a queen,
but now up on the wall in the
living room for one and all the visitors
to see
she looked quite dull
to me.

Picture postcard,
faded face
in the
backyard,
is that
me?

I want to cry
when I make
a spellig
mistake.

How I loved your mouth
the way your words belled forth
rang in soothing song
your lips and all the rest
days of coming home
in meadows or prairie suns
by love's fiery field
how we were
consumed

You choose your path,
And when in wrath,
You choose how to react,
With people,you choose how to act,
When wrong,you choose to either accept or deny,
But the laws of nature;you can't defy
When you're wrong,you're wrong.
You can't run away from the consequences like you can from a ball when playing ping pong.

The wind is blowing tirelessly,
Delicate flowers are falling,
Branches are all shaking vigorously,
And I learn something from them,
No matter how hard the wind may blow,
They only move,
They don't change their shapes and colours,
The flowers may fall but at some point they allow the same wind to blow them into the sky and make them fly.
So I learn that hard situations shouldn't change who we are,
We only need to adjust our attitudes,
Struggles are there to make you a victor,
Like the flower being made to fly by what brought it down,
You let your struggles elevate you.

Let's not undermine the power of the tongue,
From it,the mind pours either negativity or positivity,
And those bring effects.
What we say doesn't only affect us,
It also affects the listeners,even unknowingly,
Let's sieve our words before we let them out,
Taste them before we spit them
Let your words heal not break.