There are sins of ømission
And there's sins of **comission

I dont care about signing the divorce,
I've already told you that.
All I want is my kids,
more than just a few measly weekends,
I want them to not call her mommy,
I want my kids to learn from me,
I want my kids to know that I love them,
I want my kids to not be used as pawns
in your battle to hurt me.
I want my kids to not get hurt by this war
that you are starting with your arrogance
and inflated ego,
I want my kids to not be emotionally abused by you.
**I WANT MY KIDS TO HAVE THEIR MOTHER

You bought the dawn paying such a high price,
Spending the darkness like fake money,

Saving up your hopes like a hoarder;
Looking for someone else to bring your joy

Wading through the denseness to you.
Throw open the windows, the doors;

The light was out there, waiting, all along
For your open eyes.

Mechanically he put out his best press
Straightened his yellowing pages
In spite of little pieces flaking off
Like dandruff

Ow !
His spine was not as strong
As in younger presses

He bathed and used aftershave
But still he had that musty air about him

He lay claim to nervous fame
As he fidgeted with the book markers
About to be given as gifts
For her , his blind date

She came in fresh in expectation
Her beauty made him full of dejection
Her cheerful voice proved
to be more than exhaultation

He fumbled for the first sentence
Of subjection , but
Managed only to say
"Please ! I'm just an open book to be read"

She eased over
And ran her fingers over his cover .
down his bindings ,
then inside his yellowing pages

She sighed ,
with pleasure ,
"Yes , this is my perfection "

I* leapt and dove into the depths of indigo
Night spilled carelessly onto my sky
Darkness smothered with tides of indigo
I almost drowned and whimpered a cry
Grappled with the vagueness of indigo
Out of the *blue, I'd emerge with a heavy sigh