I remeber your touch
And the pain comes back
can we rewind time?

But I remind myself you are gone
You are begining to fade
Your sillhouete in my mind is vanishing
But the pain remains clear like a flame
Like the day you left
It burns in my chest
It hurts, it hurts
I am begining to fade
To dissapear in the pain
I am not myself
I lost myself
When I lost you.

I'm afraid to close my eyes
Because in my dreams
I still feel your
Touch

I can't wake up to that kind of pain

Words can be sprinkled over anything
They describe, they encompass, they detail, they define, they refine
They express love, they make love, they end love, they are love
Words shield children from the harsh and expose men to the truth
Words are like gold powder covering a varnished surface.
They make something already slick- glisten.
Venturine is to wood as Words are to the world

Listening to a love song
With a broken heart
Is torture
My eyes fill
With a ocean of tears
As the lyrics
Bruise my chest
And memories
Scorch through my mind
Why can't I have
The perfection that's in this tune
The perfection of love returned

The feelings that I try
so hard to hide are always
able to escape in my poetry
and in those words
I am naked to the world
and  there I cannot lie.

I open my heart hoping
that readers will see the vastness
of  my own insignificance
hoping that my words
have the power to
change someone for
the better.

My poetry is usually written
single draft as a means
of expressing emotion-in-the-moment
and I allow the words to flow
watching where
they go.

Don't compare my life to others
because sometimes life isn't fair but
it is still good so make peace with your past
so it won't ***** up your present
and know that everything changes
in the blink of an eye.

However good or bad something is
know that it will change
and you will be loved not
because of something you did
or didn't do.

Come to realize that
growing old beats the alternative
-dying young and miracles are waiting
everywhere as the words
that I have to offer the world
always find their way
out of me.                            Jon York        2013

Three girls sit in a room
One with waist long black hair
That flows over her dark clothes
Her figure hugged by a black corset,

The second has hair the color of sand
It plays in long waves
Over her professional attire
But a tattoo shows her wild side,

The third a head of dark brown
In curls it matches her hippie skirt
She laughs and sings with joy,
This one is care free

The first girl dressed in black
Is called by the name of Jenna
Having remained hidden so long
She looks to the third girl for guidance,

The second is Marie
She is determined and strong,
But not nearly as strong as Jenna,
She too looks to the third for guidance,

This third girl is very well known
Ever person can see her
She is not hidden from sight,
She is known well as Lauren

These three, yet so different
Are all the same
Each one has a secret,
Known only by the third

This secret has been held
Long over the years
But each girl will shine,
For they are all one in the same.

Under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street,
Benedict met his cousin
who said: your mum’s home
with your twin sisters,
best get home quick.

So he did and when he
got to the flat where
they lived he found
his mother holding
one of the babies
in an armchair,
breast feeding her.

His mother said his
other sister was in
the cot in her bedroom.

He entered the bedroom quietly.
He approached the cot
and looked over. There she was
his youngest sister, asleep.

Now he had to share
his mother with two more;
his other sister and brother
and he made five.
A five way split.
Less shares.

But not necessarily
less love or attention.
His mother had
a unique way
of stretching love
and attention
like a magican.

He smiled down
at the baby, touched
the dark curly hair
with a finger.
The baby stirred.
He withdrew his finger
and stood and stared.

After a few minutes
he returned to his mother
and the other sister.
The other baby was plumper,
more rounded,
chubby cheeks and such.

His mother looked tired,
drained. He hadn’t seen her
for a few weeks, except
short hospital visits, once
he remembered he stood
outside in the evening air,
staring up at the sky
with moon and stars.

His mother laid the baby
in the cot with the other.
They lay there together
in separate sleeps,
occupying their own
new dreams, hands
tight in tiny fists.

He watched while his mother
went off to prepare tea.
After a short while he left
the room and drew
the door shut
with a gentle click.

One hand on the door,
the other on the handle,
drawn towards him
did the trick.

Incandescent

The frost coats our windowpane,
and outside the world sleeps
in its arctic cocoon.
You are my fire,
we are wrapped up in our warmth
while staring at the moon.
The pheromones in the air
produce pins and needles
which tingle up my skin.
Acupuncture
to heal my sickness for love,
detoxifying me from within.
If I were angry
you would pacify me.
If I had a disease
you would medicate me.
I once was blind,
but now I can see,
that with you, my wise master,
I can erase the past
and rewrite history.
Winter creeps up
with its icy touch,
looking to barren my soul.
But enveloped in your embrace,
I have full control.
Turning up the heat to help me survive,
this journey we have,
all through the night.
The frost coats our windowpane,
while you glaze my heart with your
warm honey…
Restore my oxygen,
pump my veins,
Turn up the dial on by body
a few degrees.
Even if the world freezes over
from Winter’s mad spell,
we will still live through the
Cryogenics of our love,
and deny all law of physics.
For as long as your heart is beating…
mine will reside-
although the world sleeps
through the storm,
while frozen on the outside.
But the brilliance of our love
will always be…
Incandescent.

Kena SunGoddess Dawn 2009