Everyone needs a cigarette,
Not literally, I mean it as a metaphor,
Something for this little stress threat,
Inside the upper core.

Why do people actually,
Wanna avoid stress all the time.
Wouldn't it be more logical,
If we would accept it all?

Live with the voices screaming,
The hearbeat rising,
The ugly dreaming,
And inner fighting.

I guess not...

People have been searching,
For relaxation through history,
A herb, a massage, a magic thing,
First an experience, later almost compulsary.

I'm still figuring out,
The balance between accepting and interventions,
To live healthy, pure and happy,
But without too much tensions.

Exploring these things,
Is actually a lot of fun.
Sometimes it gives me wings,
Other times i just hold on.

In search, but with a smile, this can last a while, just accept my style

Red tongues lap at the black expanse above
With such a solemn viciousness the embers dance skyward
Tiny blazing bodies fleeing to the Heavens
From molten veins through charred crusts crumbling
Dark smoke glows before the sky stumbling plumes and intricate ballet spirals
Engulfing more and more the flames and smoke
Choking the blackened skeleton dancing through the beams like bones
The body of the house
The innards reduced to dust
The scene is captured in unblinking eyes, two great fire filled suns
A sombre popping sound emits past the roaring heat static
Expensive couch, cheap cushions, hours wasted choosing
Burning and shrivelling items that they had afforded so much time
Destroyed and gone forever
Singed leaves drift from their life giver’s arms and crackle into the inferno -
High above the scorched earth
A grassless ash pile growing slowly
The blaze radiates an orange glow over the surrounding domiciles
Visible from a far, the smoke more absolute than the night sky.

Without bricks, wood, plaster, concrete
Out alone – self ejected into the world
Heavy feet dragging across the street with light steps
Creaking beams collapsing behind the way wolves bay from the trees
And from the end of the street the flames appear blood red
As if terra firma had been lashed open
Arteries of molten fire
Festering scabs of ash
Torched from under the flesh of air casting coal colour veins
Further and further the slowly diminishing frame fades
And the streets open up to dark distant sentinels
Flanking the road and watching densely and unflinching  
There are flames in the night air
History burning with a bonfire smell
Sirens wailing a crescendo of blaring blue light to meet the hellish glow

Gentle rustle and
creak of bamboo

Far off soothing flute
and soft drum, gentle
mist caressing marsh

Barefoot monks pad
roads accepting simple
alms of curry, rice;
Blessings and incense
float on smooth air.

Sudden cacophony of
mynah explode the grove, a
steady chant bubbles under
the noise, some new symphony
of hunger below bloodshot sky.

Dogs militate exercise,
giving voice, cat slips in
knowing, paws daddy whiskers.

Hawking cough of the headman
announcing his non-demise-
neighbourly sighs.

Crab unburrows and scurries
aside from sand to lapping tide
to feast on volitional jelly who
come inshore to breed and die,
so many alien pearls strung
glistening along the strand.

The distance between us at times seems to be too many miles away
Yet in my heart, you always remain the same
I take solace in the fact that you are only a poem away

If I am lonely I reread every line
My heart seems to beat in time
It reads like a spoken word
even when you have not uttered a word
Your poem plays in my mind like a verse in a favorite song
When I am weak it makes me feel stronger encouraging me to press on
because you are really only just a poem away

The distance seems to suddenly become so thin
as I begin to read your poems again
or as I personally jot down yet another line as I feel more inspired
Lifting me up much higher
It feels like a drink of cool water on a hot summers day
Yet I still at times desire some real face to face time with you
You are unique and special and absolutely no one else can take your place
For now I must slow my mind down into a more patient pace
It seems,like just at the right time, you write another line
Then you once again, become just Only A Poem Away
We are bonded by both blood and by our love for words as
You Are Only A Poem Away!

I have dreams about your softness
and I'll write about my jealousy
while I’m kneading the sleep from my eyes
kneading bread on the counter
kneading my tired heart

Separation does weird things to the body
causes a continental divide
between the mind and the heart
This divide-- it causes doubt
and it distorts three truths
for three lies.
It shifts a millimeter each moment
till one day, there's been an earthquake
and you no longer can tell fantasy from reality
due to the irrevocable damage.
You realize
the memories aren't really memories--
they are perceptions of events gone wrong
and this cataclysm of love allows it.
You see, the sweetness of words whispered
now have an underlining bitterness
now have a certain edge
that makes you wonder if they were ever true
And now you notice, far too early,
the warmth from their embrace
just... leaves, too quickly.
they just don't hold on like they used to.
its ever so subtle, but ever so notable,
and its enough to make you worry
about the things you see.
And finally, you both begin to see...
.... that separation
does weird things to the body.
It causes a continental divide
between the mind and the heart
and the realization that there's no healing
when you're miles and miles apart.