I'm up on the mountain
when I was born,
where I touched the cheek of a quiet,
kindly God,
who painted the hills for my birthday
while I walked a low-standing
stone labyrinth with eyes for the center,
and none on return.
With the stone in my hand
I gazed at a summit silent
and prayed tell what yielded years
above the clouds and what had been
bestowed on the watcher of worlds.
What can you tell me?
Who have you seen in the garden below,
dancing on the hills,
skipping stones on the lake?
Do you remember me?
I passed under your eye
but once,
and a thousand times over
in the frayed leather ring
about a tiny cross.

I can be your everything if you want me to,
cause I'm willing to be everything just for you.

I sat in silence yet nature was
screaming,
but,
so gently, so subtly
The wind whispered
into my ear
and the crickets sang their sweet lullaby
All was in harmony
underneath the moonlit clouds
And I sat in peace
just basking in nature's sounds

It's funny,
even on our most lonesome nights
we are never truly
alone

My mind can wander
across the tallest mountains
and through the densest forests
but it always seems to find it's way
right back to you.
The problem is
that I wonder where your mind runs
and if it seems to find me, too.
But maybe your mind climbs the mountains
and travels the forests
and lingers through fields of daisies,
And maybe your mind
just doesn't ever come across
someone like me.

Cigarettes and
red nail polish,
and one night stands,
that's what little girls are made of.

Bright blue pills and
soft pink lips,
and whiskey soaked nights
laced in regret,
that's what little girls are made of.

The sharp boys who whisper
behind street lamps in parks
know nothing of
what little girls are made of.

Broken hearts,
crushed dreams,
bitter souls, and
black coffee,
that's what little girls are made of.

Tear tracks and
bloodstains,
bruised knuckles and
fire.

That's what little girls are made of.

There’s an abundance of wonderful secrets I hold,
that come from the quiet, the quaint, and the bold.

Some are cute and some sweet,
all sugar-spice and neat.

It’s the others I can’t bear,
***** deeds and lives not spared.

I have to keep them all inside,
hidden away from prying eyes,

For I’m bound by a promise made of lightning,
and while I’m not quite keen on fighting,
If these secrets are found out
I’ll claw and kick and scream and shout.
For the shackles that bind me here,
will shatter after ten more torturous years.

So for now I let the rain wash away all my pain,
and thank each passing stranger for the knowledge that I’ve gained.

I think about the gallows,
I think about despair,
I think of all the people who never really cared.

You may not think you know me,
but you’re sorely mistaken.
I live next door, or up one floor,
listening when your minds awaken.

I can see your every thought and dream,
I can hear you when you sob and scream.
I can feel your touch and exasperated breath,
all dancing hot across my neck.

We are the seers
holding stories unknown
feelings unfelt
and words untold.

I could tell you anything, but you’d never know,
for I value my salvation more than a tiny truth sold.

intention never went far
down the road at the
end but then again it
never did in its youth either
through the years its only
idea of excitement was the
thought of maybe being
young again in the future

Is anyone else in love with thunderstorms?
Does anyone else like the gentle drips before it begins,
Like finger tips softly touching your skin
Or the low rumbles before it starts
And the dark sky low and full
The rain comes, soft or hard, streams of water falling
Puddles forming, all other noises seem to disappear
It has captured your full attention
Now you see a quick flash of lightening
You count the seconds under your breath
one Mississippi  two Mississippi  three Mississippi
Crash! or maybe its a Boom!
All different noises. Never the same.
My heart races every time I hear the low rumble
Or the pitter patter of rain