(And I've been picking dandelions)

The rush of wind chases a wayward cloud
Over the foliage's luscious green mounds
It billows on its good fortune allowed
Feeding flowers leave stock's
roots underground

Petals bloom; centered bud's pollinations
The sun burdens and caresses at once
The bumble lost its edge to pollutants
Overcome in the tepid meadows grace

The seasons start to grow long and narrow
Encompassing the changing of our times
within their altering breadths; to and fro
It's shown upon the rocks face's in tides

She's beauty, ruffling with sents of sweet dew
And in her pluck, spring has become renewed

People seemingly vanish all the time
But where are they if you're in the same place?
And here I sit still writing within mine
Amidst the candles glow I see your face

There is no curse that cannot be broken
Your aftermath leaves etchings on my heart
That equates to what our love has spoken
The emptiness that feels tears me apart

But here I remain, still, right where I sit
Along on my hands I count the great stars
As the path I must now take back is lit
Back, once more, I go to where this all starts

What has been sleeps peacefully in the past
Tenderly taken by a love at last

Let’s get old
and grow bored.

Waste our lives
on a story told.

Grinding days
don’t get greased.

Decaying thoughts
and watching screens...

Live vicariously
Through others dreams.

And watch the attention seekers
in corner store magazines.

Let’s go grey
then pass away…

Sitting in
our favorite stains.

Where we lived slow
and talked about the world...

And watched weather change
And thought,

‘This will be interesting.’

Or how that person once cut off your thought
and you went on about it until your final days.

Ruminating isn't so bad
as we laugh at the things that drive us mad.

Leave behind a legacy
and allow our descendants
the pleasure of doing the same
mundane things.

Work a life
unexplored.

The repetition
of “day and nights” chores...

I forgot to mention
the feelings of love in our lives…

But that’s just fleeting
when everyone dies.

I've got a confession

What's my lesson?

Marlin Brando
Flounders
Off the coast

Who can boast?

The host

Steal the roast
And walk away
without even a ******* toast

The fiery depths in the ocean of the star above us
burns brightly against a full moon backdrop
looked at by those who were never there...

Aware to care.

A chemistry incomplete.

Eye’s that almost don’t meet,
but comfort in between sheets
burnt at the feet
and imperfect perpendicular
black lines in a photograph
that doesn't quite cross in view...

It’s not what I’m accustomed to…

We are all in pictures that will be forgotten…

At least I can say the same
for the table of the rotten.

Flipping pages…

Complete.

So many memories
left glossy envelopes alone,
forever unknown,
and old
grey scaled
sunny days
on the beach.

A life of smiling retreats
and no one knows a soul,
especially the one whose view
we knew.

And all those looking into the eye
have all died.

No more tears are cried
and I can smile as I flip on past,
knowing where I, one day to,
will be at last.

He rushes out
And then
Back in again
In a never ending cycle
Of advancement
And retreat

His legions
Are cast by the Moon
Up above
From which he draws
His battle plans
In the sand
Which are just to be washed away
And become drawn a new

The Sun
Above all
Wreak havocs on his desires
Casting his army into the sky
And moving them into far off regions

But the King of Tides collects
And disperses In careful stratagem

Pushing forwards towards his ultimate conquest

To bring down all the mighty Earth
That opposes his reign
And drown it deep within his sea

I’ll be flying smoke screens on Venus's ******.

At the drop of the letter orange
an orangutans purse strings pulls at my wallet.

A corpse's spindle finger pointing me in a direction…

Trees bending shadows to blind the day.

A wind whispering to me in a human tone.

A madness telling me to leave it alone.

I’m so at home it’s unknown
and overly underwhelmed.

I’m grabbing at the helm,
but it was holding me afloat.

I pushed down so hard
by the time I pulled back
it broke under the pressure
of not understanding how to cope.

A final rope cutting me.

A blackened fuel from a golf swing
placing my humanity upon the desert’s green.

I could believe anything
if I will accept my own lies...

A twisted frame from a mangled mind.

It’s only just polished time
that gave us away...

A reflection show portraying all others
in directions we now sometimes go.

A final stroll down a scars
burrowed walkway
leading me back towards
the one remaining vertebrate…

An amphibian brain
in a leader of men.

I didn't even point it out,
all over again.

I’ve got a confession
What’s my lesson?

Marlon brando flounders
off the coast.

Who can boast?
The host

Steal the roast
and walk away

without even
a ******* toast.

An opportunity to ride the wind.
The greatest joy of death is the falling.

The sights of fall,
the sounds of them all,

hear their call,
the crinkle beneath your feet,

another broken leaf…

A capsized philosophy
off of the family tree.

Will you pardon me
for taking my leave?

Or are you so cruel to act
as if I never received...

Your expectations at last
have come to pass.

I don’t care.
I don’t care...

But look at me.

It’s hard to be
when you need it most.

I don’t think I deserve
to be left to coast,

on my way
as if I never existed…

But fair is fair
to those who decide.

And I don’t think it’s right
to be swept aside,

but what can you do
when you lived life?

You had to lose sooner or later...
Good night to you.

*I could never hate her.

It’s funny how when nothing matters the focus can wonder…

I thought so long about the world within a word,
I didn’t realize it was within it the whole time…

And the hole can be such an uneven thing;
swallowing up all (everything) that dares to get near,
or peer within,
without a fear...

And to just jump in without a care…

to turn back time and relive again,
or a consciousness that settles upon a thin lit mind
that tries and tries,
but can never look in,
for if it did it would go blind
to a reality
that never even treated it kindly
to begin with anyway.

So death creeps in,
from within…

But the gathering,
who's so far down
in the blackest of black layers,
finds it can’t go down any further.

It’s fabric has gathered such a mass
that no more thoughts can get passed the openings grasp
and so the whole begins to pop,
like a bubble whose air has stopped,
and deflates back out and in
with all the flaws that turned out not to be flaws at all,
for all the folds get stretched flat
and rejoins everything...

‘Everything?!

Hey!

That’s actually me.’

And so it goes on until another hole is found
to go down,
but not to worry you see…

*You are actually
also me.

My words are like nations of the world’s
swirling around and coming about
in the same way or another.


Which way the wind blows
doesn’t always match up
with a compasses nose.


Sometimes you have to turn against a howl
in order to reach the next place you must receive,
like swimming upstream
in order to fulfill a cyclical life’s purpose…


When was it ever worth this?


When was it ever worth less?


I can feel it in my bones
as they urge me to find a home,
but I’m an animal of unknown.


The only type that can carry the knowledge of what they are.


The lies of a misunderstanding
where I can’t see past a breed,
or a bent genome that’s changed and left alone…


Without a loan.


The world has not yet seen oblivion...


I think I missed Venus when she was kissed
by a depleting atmosphere that thinned out
into outer space…


Sound dissipated as it reached the last substance left to vibrate.


A laugh in a lifetime (of) comedy,
an attraction left in an eye that meets the same,
a meaningless night where it can remain.


I am not always the one to blame,
but I take it anyway.


For if I don’t then there’s no resolute
and I can’t feel peace in sleep,
or a tragedy in a common community.


Without the others coming on to me
I’d never know to make believe anything...


And see a sadness shared
on faces and fists holding hands.


Changing the channels of life’s plans through currents and tides
who leave their marks on rockless sands…


Only in viewing can I comprehend,
only within a glass can I confide,
and only when it’s passed I no longer have to hide my pride.


After all,


I am being pushed through the hours ride.

I’m fresh out of thoughts,
or feud to fuel.

Stick around and I’ll think of something,
or leave right now and I won’t blame you...

These next words prove a point.

The ones that follow eradicate a meaning...

I’m breaking a wall
and I’m standing next to you.

Speaking to you
through you.

Can you hear me?

Are you breathing?

I wish we were true…

Then we could read a word in time forever,
together…

But alas we’re just passing through…

(we are) The Voyagers.

An experience for two…

And all the others-

We ever knew.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will grab you.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will have you.

Sometimes when you reach out
someone will receive you.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will believe you.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will understand you.

Sometimes when you reach out
they’ll forget about themselves.

I’d like to believe people
are the tip of the iceberg,

and underneath the surface is a
whole person being kept secret.

*(But kept too long and no one will ever receive it)

It was a foreshadowing so strong
that I could almost see
the face within the silhouette.

How could I ever forget
the day that the two
directional arrows passed?

I’ll never see one
way the same again…

A forfeited love to have...
A chance at a beautiful sunset…

One that I would gladly forget
to have you lie beside me...

and crawl up marble steps
to get a glimpse
of what lays behind those eyes.

A darkened tone breaks
the pink landscape.

A sleeveless vest
torn and frayed.

A face,
amongst others,
out of lace...

An exit wide open.

A back turned and walking away.

Cutesy fluff from wall to floor,
from ceiling to door.

Not a smile to be had.

Winds blowing me down...

I’ve come around,
witnessed,
marked up,
and then left.
(In my usual way)

A rain filled cloud
swept by
without releasing its load.

I remain dry,
but my ‘Plush Girl’,
I go on by...

Ignorant of what it feels like
to be inside
your denim disguise .

Your cheeks become tight
After your tears have dried

During the times in your life
When you feel like no one wants anything to do with you

But this loneliness
Is not your final deliverence

You just have to wait through it
For your gracious comeuppance

What could this mean?
What could it be...?

Could* I be interested?

Not entirely likely…

Maybe a little orderly bee could tell me,
inform mee of what places to put my ***,
or what organizations I should reject.

Like anyone knows for themselves…

An opinion removes itself.

How insufferable.

How decipherable.

How it comes from a disciple...

Shows you up.

Shoes you wrong...

Puts a word to another song,
but for how long…?

Until the cricket croaks?
Until the cheep chokes?

In notes...
nine to say the least;
she tells me of a beast.

How wonderful she is,
I can’t deny,
but still that little voice—

*HAS TO DIE.

Weaseling in without even the need for sheep's clothes.

It matters not what I have
when I’m not the animal.

It’s not the contest I seek,
but the contestant.

Go all around and tell me what the price is to send forward...

I’ll tell you the answer,
but it’s not what you’ll want to hear.

It speaks to me within it’s greatest fear,

‘One, two, three, do you need more?’

I know the taste is poor,
but the toll is heavy.

Let me tell you when I’m ready.

It’s never enough,
or it’s too much.

It’s what I’ve come to expect
with such a sour note
when all you all ever needed
was an escape coat...

An article to point at and say,

‘There it is.’

‘There’s the fabric that will take our place.’

‘There’s the material that will wrap us in and wring us out.’

‘There’s the disregarded shawl.’

‘There’s the rag (the cover)
*That will take the blame for us all.’

It is the soul.
It is the purpose.

What this is
is just as important as,
“What is This?”

The searching in between
is what makes life worth “It...”

It is This.



(Words are a poor portrayal
Of what the soul has to offer)

I keep going…

Even though my meaning is misconstrued.

I truly believe that we are even.

A living life that’s unfulfilled.

I wait patiently for someone who
will come and be with me.

It’s not that rejection is my enemy...

It’s that my enemy is me.

I know you’ve heard it before
in a way that’s more familiar,
but what can I say
when I feel so similar.

Where is she?

The same place as me…

Tucked away out of the others
eye sight,
or already passed,
but too nervously afraid to say;

‘It’s not okay.’

‘I’m not you;
you're not me.’

The world turned without a pair.

It was us who interjected purpose,
it was us who tried to find reason,
it was us who wrote the meaning,
and it was us who gave in too easily.

A passerby,
or one in too many…

Could it be so frequent
that it was unnecessary to care?

Or so few that I lost it before
I even knew it was there…

I don’t know what to say about that...

‘Love lost people,
As war seeks lives.’

There I’ve done it.

I’ve crushed a rose
and lifted a bitter note
above an atmosphere
made up of a little more than sound,
but a little less than a passion from
something that somewhat comprehends…

I’m human and I don’t understand...

The sun shines violently,
I light where it’s been,
and together we wander.

We know not of,
Just yet,
Where each other roam…

And before it’s all over
I only hope we find one another’s
hidden home,

as we float towards
the final resting earth
within the icy stone’s storm,

traversing chaos’
insignificant unknown...

alone.

I don’t think it,
I know it.

The wind weeps
after it caresses you
and is forced by at the speed of breeze.

The air you breath
longs to be
used for speech-

just for the opportunity
to convey your meaning
in an utterance
formed from thee.

The sun takes pride
in the light it provides,
just so it can show you off
to all the passer-byes.

So how could you ask me what I think,
when I could only portray your value
with my toxic speak?

For when you disappear
from the world
it becomes but just a word;

*‘Meaningless’

I don’t think I can even write.

My brains switched off
and I’m all good night...

Naught eye
says sorry.

No harm done.

No contribution contributed.

No metallic frame to scrutinize.

No aftermath of pollutions memory to ridicule,
or another’s to brutalize.

I think it’s just faux diamonds
reflecting in a vagrant ponds eyes…

A capturing gaze
that leads you to malaise…

What else could portray

(the beauty)

that goes *undisplayed...

Out of the shop
Varnished and locked
Sent to the residencies
Without even a knock,

But left behind
For few eyes to see
The tools that scraped grooves
And all the worn down machines

That left the saw created dust behind
And brushes crusted with all of your grime
I saw it too,
And you were there

I put on a play
And walked to a windows place
Pictures of a long lost time
With me inside

All here still,
But also gone tomorrow
Dealt with with tears
Of some lost who were held dear

Not long after broken
It forever disappears
And all we ever wanted was so near,
But we were too opposed by fear

*The pictures no longer so clear...

I finally found her,
she’s in the mirror...

But she’s staring off into space
with a:

Not everything is clear
kind of glazed eyed glare.

I’ll try not to stare
and not to obsess...

I’ll only show my
invested interests,

but attraction
is attraction...

And caring
is weird.

See the beauty of the world,
let it burn a hole through your soul.

Let it be there when you're alone and unknown,
or awake and afraid.

I’ve seen you before
beneath the stack of memories...

You were there and I was free
bursting on reality.

Or thoughtfully giving time
and not dwelling on mine.

The catalyst of hope
in the horrifying abyss.

The creation of change.
A transition into a new phase.

Life’s so full,
Why wait so long?

This is not a song,
but we’re still singing along.

We will be together when the day is done,
but here is where stars and skies and purple lies.

I went away in ill due time
on a fault that isn’t even mine,
but a blackened moons
who wrecked the way
for others after…

Here is where you find the lie...

She said it to just be nice.

It was me all along,
I was the broken arm
in the restless sling…

I’m the unimportant thing
to be despised of,
or left to be carried away by
maggots and flies,
so her hands
can paint my face full of goodbyes.

But it's not like this do I tell of fate.

It’s only in writing do I commiserate
and once again begin to feel…

*Is it her?
Can this be real?!

(silence)

What is it that you see deep within me?
What fluttering thoughts land with meeting eyes?
What varies between what's been and could be?
When we live so thinly on worldly ties

As you gaze out your spirits window pane
Intimacy takes place in history
Do all these feelings know when to remain?
What is left aft the death of mystery?

A shadow cries beads of blackened lost flecks
Translucent puddles form into nothing
A storm looks within itself and reflects
On how the sun rose it to its brewing

And when I see you, you become my sight
There's no il only courage, will, and might

Bitter heart aches can last through lonely rides
I know the exact feeling my darling
I've endured them for my entire life
The calls for eternal understanding

Memories window smiles at the past
And over time I'm reminded again
That the more you look back the less life lasts
Searching for reoccurrence serves the end

a lost love travels cruelly through the night
All along hoping that I would decide
Too much of anything leaves some to waste...
A rotten taste too foul to describe

She's over the shaded eclipsing moon
And our love has come and gone far too soon

Sipping inebriation to pass the time.

Desires of an almost,
but not quite,
criminal mind…

A mind of mine.

Thinking and thought out,
like the smoke screen that was blown about
by the atmosphere as it lifted off.

Finally a completed thought,
and it’s too late…

It’s stopped,
or not.

My mind returns to me in a song
that only I can sing along to.

Out of tune to you,
but in line with mine
and everything we all do.

I’ll sit while long ago should have been cut off takes my spot.

An engine turned on
leaves me to believe I’ve done wrong.

A thinking woman figures it out
and returns to remind me…

I’m a shell in my own personal hell
and everyone else knows better.

Remove a sweater
and lose the winter skin,
or hold onto and be tormented forever
in a city where if you know no one
you don’t know me,
and get lost in a world of infinite impossibilities,
and let the warmth surround me,
and breath the clean air…

The air where The Glitter Man
and I both agree.

And forever be *free.

Was it all worth being
blown away,
floating on by,
capture in a ray,
and then invisible
without a taste?

The ghastly dark lit place
plays positives
that would not exist
without their counterparts,
or a nagging nuance
that’s overstayed
and welcomes in
yesterday.

You can not hear it
after it leaves,
but only within
a memories dream
where imagination kisses
the glitter of the stars
and their time to shine
is spent on speaking their minds.

I still haven’t thought of an answer
to a question that I had forgotten...
(was never asked)

Before opportunity breaks preparation
and luck flees forever,
leaving usurped substance
behind in an eternal void,
I see the wind changing direction
and what I thought was lost
comes back again to greet me…

Once more
I find the thought,
and then go on
with the rest of my plot.

Have a seat;
you’re the only one left.

Find comfort in your solitude
and enjoy the best spot in the house
all to yourself.

Do what you want.

No one's there to judge.

You’re as free as anyone could ever be.

Don’t feel bad
about all the times that were never had,
or all the opportunities missed,
or passed unknown.

And see for once
that there was no right
and no wrong.

Although they spoke different,
they really weren’t...

They put you down
so they could elevate themselves.

Their seamless interactions
came from being known
by with whom they played.

Several inside jokes in a row
could turn anyone off…

And those who insulted
were just trying to do the same,
but they didn’t have
the higher ground to maintain…

So they cut at you
to try to bring you down.

Succumb to their insults
and you will surely hit the ground...

So live in the now.

live for the day.

be you…

and don’t let *them…

Have their way.

I almost feel like
I could steal the peace pipe,
smoke it all to myself,
and then go around like
the enemy of mankind...

‘Don’t look up,’

I tell myself,

‘It will only make it harder.’

But it’s too late...

It’s already coming over me...

I feel it’s anxious
hooks digging in
beneath my skin.

I’m being lifted up
to where I know that
when they rip out...

...And they always do...

I will fall to my
certain doom.

It’s too late…

I’m already over
the broken moon.

A reflection in my mind
waiting to be pulled apart…

My only regret is this;

How slow of a killer
this gravity *is.

Nothing could turn me away from you…

No frame.

No shoe commercial.

I’m fixated on your conversation…

It brings me great joy to hear your elation.

I like you the way I've seen…

Passing by,
or settling.

I don’t know why that would be a good idea…

I need you near.

I need you here...

But you move away at the pass of a check…

Keeps me in line.

Keeps me at bay...

She told me so clearly,

“Don’t listen to what I say.”

I return to the place
where my heart's been ripped out
so that everyone can see…

I look for the one
who will put it back in its place.

It’s well after midnight
and the world is not a friend…

It’s something you held close,
as it brought you to your end.

I wish to not pretend,
as she looks earnest enough...

It turned to me
out of a magazine
on a computer screen
that I had screened
within a dream.

I felt her hair brush against what I held near…

She was there,
but now she laughs...

Like she doesn’t have a care.

It’s all so sad,
but not the least bit…

Because how you're doing
is none of my business.

There once was an old lady who lived in a shoe.
Unfortunately for her, before she moved in, it had stepped in poo.
Now when she invites people over to stay
they say,
"Your house smells like ****."
and then they go away.

The old lady cries,
"Why, oh why, do my friends leave
every time they come by?"
for you see, the old lady hadn't the faintest of clues,
that her house was actually a shoe
that had stepped in doo-doo.

It doesn't matter if it's today,
or twenty years from now.

You're beautiful.

I’m counting one through four,
in rhythmic patterns,
while handing out compliments.

If we were meant to be
it would be left to me
to ruin it.

But still it's saved through her grace.

I feel her smooth skin
against my palms and fingertips.

Why she’s so self conscious,
I'll never be sure…

I'm just thinking meaningless things
to rouse myself
all so I can please her.

If I thought about the gem I held
within my hands
I wouldn't last.

I’d melt like any cube
closing in on the surface of the sun
and all when we've only just begun.

I could sleep in peace without self doubt
if you'd tell me I'm the only one for you,
and I would say that you’re the same for me too.

We could draw charts from our nervous systems to our brains.

We could deploy when the sea is casting debris out
and spill our love into the ocean
where it could be cast about.

Splashed and dripped upon you.

Swimming in the great salty blue
waiting until the son devours you.

There are endless amounts of ways to tell you, “I love you.”

But in the end
just know that I do.

The wind just waits to catch my sails with the word that you love me too…

Could you love me for a day?
Could you play pretend?
Could you act as if our love will have no bitter end?

Could you love me for a day,
and then go away
never to see me again?

Could you love me for one day,
like we're the only two
swimming through eternities blue?

Could you love me for a day,
and then when you awake
get dressed and forget my name?

Could you love me for a day,
and know that the moment will last forever
in that time, and in that place?

Could you love me for a day?
Could you give me that piece of mind?
And I will try to be there when we die.

Could you love me for a day,
kiss my eyes,
and make me believe it's going to be okay?

Could you love me for a day?
Could you love me in just that way?

Could you love me for a day?
And I will let you escape.

Could you love me for a day
without a heart, or a cause to break?

Could you love me for a day?


Could you love me?



Could you…




...for, just, one day.

Do you always wait until the divider divides
before you decide to say hi?

When I've already said my goodbyes
I meet one last lingering eye…

Until I find myself to face
and have to deal with the choice that breaks.

Although you knew that it takes two
and you probably shouldn’t try to lie…

A serious look from the subjectively shy.

I remember back to a meek voice
that would(n’t) fail to hide.

I find truth on whispers that
scratch the essence of my mind…

And I too push on by
a forever that reflects.

On paned surfaces
a smile turns and dies…

*There's no reason why.

A type to be
and the personification
of something I can understand

Look at me
I am your man,
breathing letters
into your hands.

A face that I could love
better than two doves leaving.

My face is a response,
alive and moving in your direction
to grab as passing wings flap.

No instruments of self destruction left,
a slight slander that is actually a blessing.

Could you receive me in perfect congress?

Maybe even with all the people
who don’t know any better…

Or when to just say yes.

With velvet tears
and dyes made out of leers
Who cares who hears?

Let's silence these fears
And learn to be...

And never not,
No more.