Human darkness passes from hand to hand on heavy limbs.
We are all shaded things, heavy with shadows;
I will take yours from you, gently,
With soft hands and open ears.

Your sins are familiar - they are mine as well.
But, dear, I prefer the light of you,
The honest moment when (surprised)
you admit that you are not as tired
as you had thought.

Confess to me your colors awhile,
and leave your shadows be.
Tell me the laughing tale
of when you last danced in impossible joy,
Bent in shapes of startling grace.

Let your Innocence stretch its limbs.
I will sit there with you, and perhaps
for a few clear moments
the human darkness of our lives
will soften.

I made wishes
For you to come
Back to me.
Every single time,
And every minute
You're in my lonely mind.
Afterall,
And after all this time
I really wonder why
You're still in my lonely mind.
In my dreams,
In my nightmares,
You are there.
I don't know and I wonder why,
For me this is so hard
While this girl is your arms...

There she is-
see her?
She’s walking this way-
To me?
I don’t know,
What do I say?

She beautiful and ****…
Shh!  Bite your tongue!
She heard you, you fool!
Now here she comes.

Keep your cool.
Don’t mess around.
Look right at her
and tell her you’ve found
the most precious jewel,
a priceless treasure,
a woman with beauty
beyond all measure

Do it now, before she goes by
(My god, I can’t even look her straight in the eye).
She’s closer now-
Do you think she knows?
I don’t know…
…but there she goes.

From each and every pore look how the sun beams
On Your eternal dance
The dark side of the moon is bright
If You open Your mouth
Stars will escape and chant their hymns for You
You are they
Swiftly swans fly backwards
How can I imagine Your embrace
Without exploding in Your galaxy?

As gach póir Díot

As gach póir Díot scallann an ghrian
Ar Do dhamhsa gan chríoch
Taobh dorcha na gealaí is geal
Má osclaíonn Tú Do bhéal
Éalóidh réaltaí, canfaidh iomainn Duit
Is Tusa iadsan
Ealaí ag eitilt go gasta ar gcúl
Conas a shamhlóinn barróg Uait
Mura bpléascfainn Id réaltbhuíon?

It's a beautiful day
I've been wasting away.
Sitting in silence,
All thoughts are astray.
I think to myself of the time I have lost.
I think of great things and how much they will cost.
And how can it be the body can't afford?
The things that my soul will try to adore.
It's all time and money. These things I don't have.
When I'm dead and rotting I'm sure I'll be glad.
When space-time is time-space and nothing exists.
Even though it's all there and my thoughts will persist.
Then I won't worry of the waste I've become.
There won't be emotion inside the ashram.

i've been
reading poetry
ee cummings and--
sylvia plath
pretty pools of words filled with color

--and ducks

charles bukowski is a
***** old man
lots of ***** old
words
and images
but real dirt, not pretend
real's so hard to find
these days

they talk about love like it's
broken--painful--deadly--
always wonderfully beautiful
(like the beautiful snake whose
poison's killing you)

that's not
love

because it's falling asleep with warm breath on the back of your neck and your bed a little too small
because it's laughing so hard that you almost snort macaroni and cheese out your nose
because it's doing laundry and pausing just to notice how your clothes smell like her
because it's waiting alone, imagining how big you'll smile when she comes back - it's always bigger than you think.
because it's knowing that the pain's not part of love, it's part of being human

they don't know
nearly as much as they
think--
they do

i love--
baseball in the park when it's not too hot
(I play shortstop)
chocolate ice cream cones in the hot sun
(dripping down my hand)
flying kites in autumn winds
(the falling leaves make the difference)
sledding through the snow
(and crashing into snowbanks)

i love--
coca-cola
(in the glass bottles)
root beer
(with vanilla ice cream)
7-up
(it's better than sprite)
mountain dew
(caffeine!)

i love--
you
(and the soapy smell after you shower)
you
(making me laugh more)
you
(how much you care about people)
you
(and you let me, too)

that's my proof they
don't know
(what
they're talking about
that is)
so--
i think poetry
is overrated

A single heartbeat from the end
     Into the madness I descend...

Witless words withheld unaware
Songs without rhythm not rhyme
Roads leading to the depths of nowhere
Clocks transcending time
Stars without the faintest shimmer
Plummeting from the skies
Dusting off my final crusade
      A martyr who never dies...

A single heartbeat from the end
A voice is screaming inside my head
Insubstantial sounds I apprehend
A single pill wont demolish dread
Then, a movement in the corner of the room
A dark, obscure figure with the face of doom
My demon, awaiting, with a wilting black rose
A single glance holds me under her grip
With each thorn breach she claps and crows
            I can't see the blood but I feel it drip...