Secrets can be silent.
But most often they are whispered
Surrounded by cup-shaped palms
Transported from trembling mouth
To eager ears

Sometimes they are muttered
Throughout staggering sleep
Unbeknownst to the speaker,
Sounded out by partly incoherent coos
And deciphered by insomniacs

Sometimes they are slurred
by drunken tongues and spilled
Like a pint across the bar.
The glass shatters on the floor.
Left dangerously displayed
Until swept up and forgotten in the morning

Sometimes they are written
Soberly on a stark page
The ink courses through your veins
The pen carves the way


And you’re here.
©

Oh how my heart grows fond
Oh how it wrecks my every bond

It fails my lungs
It endorses my wrongs
It drowns my heart
Pulling my limps apart

Ohh, how it closes all doors
And so much more

This sickening melancholy
This universal unholy
Attached itself to my brain
Tries to prove myself insane

Oh how it makes me want to go berserk
Puts my mind out of lurk

Ripping all ties to pieces
Figuring it'll bring me to peace

Oh but all it does is spread
All corners of my soul blue or red
Oh how it ruins me
Foregoing all the good I was supposed to be

Oh how this loneliness is addicting
This melancholy is growing
This bittersweet agony
This sweetbitter happy

Is it me?
Or
It is it apart of me?

I wonder
Oh how I wonder

-fir.m

she came in from the rain,  walking in the hills

for hours. they come most sundays, some all legs

and boots.



very wet.



left her gear outside, still had her coat on. where

are the toilets.  i told her.



I have to go outside?



yes.



she complained.



it is raining.i shall get wet!



yes.



she has been before and had observed that she felt too old for this.



i smiled at her with fondness.



sbm.

As a boy growing up in rural Iowa
I thought love was curve of neck,
tone of voice, hang of breast,
thick of hair, length of step,
temperature of hand, hue
of skin, size of soul;
I still think so.

in the name of religion whereby
it gets privileges not granted to others
the sins of man have hidden,
I don't want for that,
will not let the R word tell me to
shut up. I talk like I am god.
Talk of the wrongs, The Priests
who have molested  children and
the hypocrisy of the Church protecting, are
wrong as any murderer or thief , worse, in
my eyes.
Many women are ***** worldwide.
They are not covered up enough.
You do not allow women in your houses
of worship and  protect gang rapists.
Cut off the hands of a thief.
Something is wrong here. Religion
is supposed to be God's words.
What God , tell me, I am listening,
does  not let women in His house of worship.
What God lets priests ****** children.
I have no condolences for
the houses of the Holy ,
now.