i still see you in my dreams

     you come and go in flashes of raw and sacred light
like heat lightning
     a mile and one half downstream
from my not-so-secret hide-out
amongst the limping cedars and smouldering sage

          and i?
i am the thunder

tap-dancing my way
through the ill-reviewed chapters of your life
     the same way that your nothern lights glow
through every lifetime of mine

          i found you, once
          and i'm miserable at letting go

for, oh
     you move so slow
          yet you're somehow far too hot to trail
like a commet lusting after its own tail
lacing our solar system
with the whimsy of wishes to throw in the air
     or the well
     or at the man in the sky
          who promises to keep us from hell

     it's just so bizzare
          how i find your missing heartbeat
               in every stray that mine picks up
and the way that you're stitched to my sole
     like my shadow's lone companion

winch sinched grimmace
hung at half mast
in an attempt to hold rebelious bicusbids in their place
     but they still wiggle like a bobble-head jesus glued to the dash
     every time that you laugh
so i guess that's why you're giving it up

your arms look like a road map
     riddled with pin-***** ***-holes
and with routes to hell and back marked
by distressed vasculatory flares
     so you ask to borrow my sweater
     and another fourty bucks
with no explanation why

for once
     you didn't lie to me

Automatic heat, attraction, I am smitten by the love, it's become an addiction, such a religion and a powerful drug. I adore you and I love you, it is what I cling to, I'm your baby, little lady, you're my lover and forever, all I ever asked for.

Underneath laughing gowns
And clicking white heals
Fall lost hopes and dreams
Things we used to feel

Each red petal; now dead
Used to celebrate a new start
With friends and family and something blue
A fellowship of two hearts

And here I sit at the last row
Watching young flower girls sing
And clatter sounds as hands clap
When a finger bears a wedding ring

But those petals; red and crumpled
Lay suffering as they all applaud
And my memory recalls two more suffering flowers
And my fingers plucking a petal
And whispering
"He loves me not."

I just want to feel something inside,
I need you to look into my eyes,
I'm so sick of pointless sparks,
I want a flame inside my heart.

is poetry your god
is that who you bow down to
believe me, I find it easy
to bow down to it too

but what happens when the words start fading
which all words do in time
whether it be from the written page
or the center of the mind

you say poetry brings you pleasure
hence forth the daily worship
but when the last line drops in rhyme
and your faced with all life's hardships

where is it you will go
where is it you will turn
you've worked hard for this god of yours
is this all that you have earned

in the church of poetic promise
where you worship every day
as you daily tithe do you wonder why  
there's still an empty offering plate

so while poetry brings great pleasure
it's not worth bowing down to
though I must say from past escapades
that's an easy thing to do