I glimpse your eyes staring at the shadows in my soul
Seeking to calm the wildly rushing storm
Keeping my heart out of control
Unable to keep
The beat
Pulsating whole

I stare into eyes seeking to calm the storms
To make my heart their own
Leaving chambers once cold now warm
My heart begins to pulsate
To the beat
Of a song, it's always known

Buried longings softly rush, to be finally freed
From this heart out of control
Once a half now pulsates complete
Your eyes chase shadows
Calming storms,
My heart
Returns to whole

You make me feel so fine
Day breaks like a burning ember
Too soon it always seems
Stay up all night and listen
To a waking dream
Where is the magic sleeping
I used to feel it all the time
But now I lie and listen
To a broken melody
Where is that meaning sleeping
I used to feel it all the time
I left one night when you were sleeping
In somebody elses bed
I can feel it in a moment
Like a rush of blood into my head
A needle to another vein
I want you to know I wake up
In the same old world as you
What makes us so different
A world thats crazy
A sky so blue
Cloud number nine
Came right on time
Like a rush of smoke into my lungs
I think  I hear a whisper
On the reciever
Your a deciever
Dream Breather

Say you want a cat. A dog's too easy,
would wag when wag is inappropriate,
and slobber on the guests. You'll take the cat,
so different and strange, it drives you crazy,

its shiftlessness, its ins-and-outs, its chi.
You call. It does not come. Is this a pet,
this Dharma ***? You say you can't accept
its vacant gaze, its scorn, who yearned to be

at home with feral grace, with all you're not.
But you're a Body safely locked from Mind,
that Problem no Mind solves. This point's defined
for you by ****, who's not the pet you thought

but Otherness, one owned by God, or none.
Cat sleeps for hours, wants out. A job well done.

Truly all I wish, is to lead a simple life.
A quaint home in a quite place.
I want to love and have a caring wife.
I really do have a simple taste.

I would like to be a psychologist,
with a decent wage.
Maybe so kids with all of this.
I know it's strange for one my age.

This would make me happy as can be.
My wife and me in our rocking chairs.
Look on the horizon, but us together is all we see.
Until gray is the color of all our hairs

A tall man is walking
Across the bridge at the river.
If I look very hard
I can see his hands quiver.

He is a poet
And popular, too,
For the men of the village
Claim it to be true.

But today he is moving
With a crooked pace,
His limbs slightly distant
Searching his trace.

Approaching the poet
I hurry to find
The skinny figure
With a beautiful mind.

As my lips part to speak,
His finger flies to my mouth,
Sealing the gap
So no sound would come out.

And his rickety hands
Shape figures above
Of great clearness and passion
For me to set off.

And I see for the first time
How fed up he is
With the weight of those words
- How genuine is this?

Why is it what came so easy
Is now so hard to find?
I thought I knew of happiness,
Now I'm blind.

Emptiness that hits the heart
Like the blow of ball to bat,
Now expressed in tears that fall
Upon where you had sat.

Ambition; we were such great friends
Once upon a time,
Now it seems all I can do
Is rhyme.

I do not like what I've become,
I wish for something more.
But all I see
Is what I saw before.

Party favors do not a party make,
Nor that fancy bakery cake,
It's not the table set so fine,
Nor that bottle of expensive wine,
Not china set on polished wood,
Or gourmet food that tastes so good.

What matters is the people gathered there,
Family and friends you know who care,
With whom you can share a laugh and a smile,
It's what truly makes life worthwhile,
For with time spent with loved ones you can be sure,
Of cherished memories that will always endure.

11-30-10b.