It’s hard to need something you been wasting
time is everlasting but how much you got left?
worried about when my loved ones will expire
in fear I didn’t show then enough love and appreciation
chasing females like they’ve got all the answers
but I know I need the “right one”
keep my mind as sharp as the edge of the blade
keep me straight to the path of greatness
truth be told though,
I’ve got to stop looking for the answers in others
draw my own pocket aces
be my own secret weapon
like baby, maybe you missing something. (HA)
need to be an example to the ones coming up
possibly why I’ve been so quiet lately,
got old friends inquiring on my whereabouts
always had been the socialite,
last few years I’ve been more like a hermit
off on an island like I’m Roshi!
had to stay low-key, too much on the mind
drifting in crystal clear waters reflecting the distant clouds
bathing in the sun, meditating on all I’ve seen
of all that exists in the world
all creatures above and underneath me
find a way to live harmoniously,
the circle of life filled with beauty and strife
this little rock holds glorious wonders
and pain often unbearable
mothers across the world mourning over lost sons and daughters
whether it be the color of skin
or which god you place your faith in.
Our diversity should be the last thing destroying our global society.
Just playing my part as I see fit,
A piece of mind, longing for a peace of mind.
All the while, worrying I’m wasting my precious time.
Lost in a trance, weathering the storm of thoughts that rages on viciously.
Each strike of thunder ignites the flow of spilled ink shaping itself onto this canvas.
When the rain stops, I gaze upon the results.

© James Desire 2015

The swallows and sparrows
dance on the cool morning breeze.

They rise and fall;
         float and stall;
         soaring, diving, fluttering
and all the while chattering—
         not about days been,
         nor days to come—
         but the present moment;
         their current joy.

They trust the sun to rise at dawn,
the moon to appear in the even cooler twilight air.

The swallows and sparrows
      (dancing as they do on the cool morning breeze)
worry not about tomorrow—
for today will have troubles of its own.

Swift swallows sailing from the Spanish main,
O rain-birds racing merrily away
From hill-tops parched with heat and sultry plain
Of wilting plants and fainting flowers, say--

When at the noon-hour from the chapel school
The children dash and scamper down the dale,
Scornful of teacher's rod and binding rule
Forever broken and without avail,

Do they still stop beneath the giant tree
To gather locusts in their childish greed,
And chuckle when they break the pods to see
The golden powder clustered round the seed?

It's hard to describe how I feel;
Feelings get too much,
My head is bound and sensitive to your touch.
I am chaos in a tea-cup,
the wreckage before the storm,
and the siren before the tsunami.
Constant pain, blinds my vision,
My reality,
and I can't help it if,
You don't understand me.
Believe me, it's not e-a-sy.
I am not harmful,
But I leave a quake in the earth,
the math in the after,
the torn in the apart,
Do you think this is easy for my heart?
Chronically in pain,
I do not adjust well to others,
I become shy in the fold,
the awakening in the rude,
the disgruntled in the few,
the impatient in the *****,
the erratic in the words,
the misunderstood in the gesture,
Do you you not see I am confused and unsure?
I'm intelligent enough to know this,
chronically broken apart,
I built myself back together,
the donkey in the *******,
the rough in the diamond,
the sand in the cement,
the best in the very,
the for in the ever,
Do you not think I am at the end of my tether?  
So chronic,
that in judgement you fail to understand,
that as many times as I have been broken,
I rebuilt myself by my own hand.
And as strong and weak as I am,
As tough as I am soft,
I offer my hand and I ask for your love.

I am not your peppermint fudge.
I will split you in t/wo.
I will vehemently hate not but one, but every single second of you.
And i will cry, boy, i will cry,
over how i let myself be treated, by you.
And what are you,
as you spray your words across my face and into my hair,
who are you to even dare?
I am not your morning afterglow,
I will divide your morals thrice/ly.
I will take your hate and i will console you with pity,
I will be pretty, boy, i will be pretty.
And who are you,
to make life such a toy and play love as it t'was a game,
i look at you with embarrassment and shame.
I am not your cup of evening tea.
I will drive you a/part.
I will look at you a different way, now,
I will take a bow, boy, i will take a bow.
And you are you,
and i am sad for the man you seemed to become,
run home and fetch your steak and your gun.
I am sacrilegiously, done.

I know you think,
you're drowning,
But I came to tell you,
Its only a puddle.
Stand up,
You're body needs better,
And your brain needs the oxygen.
Breathe....
Rise...
Weather the storm.

I love you like i loved you, like the sun burns the sky and is a torch for those who are lost and alone and depressed. I love you like i would carve it into a tree, to live forever with the sky and the lovers that pass, lying underneath in the grass; i love you like i would carve it deep into my forearm as though it would scar my skin and i would have it forever lain in front of me. I love you like the ocean feels the sand, and moulds a new earth each time it moves, silently strong and forceful in its journey to meet the shore. I love you like i have lost a thousand hearts and found one in the aftermath of joyous destruction and creation of myself.

I love you like a wall clings to the cold, as i cling to the cold wall, as the wall stands strong and upright and strangely comforting in its form. I love you like i loved you, before the moon rose from the forest, and the sun went to bed in the desert, and each day was renewed at the same time it was ending. I love you like the music that never stops but gives me a ferocious appetite for passionate forever afters, and fairytales of magnificent lust, loss, betrayal and denial, and finally the happy ending. I love you like the birds love the sky, how the wings feel the freedom in flight, how the flap of a wing creates an invisible echo through the invisible air.

I loved you like i loved the scent of the forest after the rain, after the time had stopped and started again, and there was a moment in all of the moments, where i could see the drop of rain die upon the ground and begin again in the earth. I love you like i lost you; an old penny from my purse, an old reciept for that thing i wanted to return but never did, like my mind that runs from the heart that beats inside of me for you. I love you as i love the old time western movies, I love you like i love the good times from my childhood, innocent and happy, i love you as i remember those things i had forgot in forgetting the bad times.

I love you like the grass that lives on despite what horrid beings we are in the way we trample over it with no respect for its grace of being alive for us, and has withstood the test of time to be here. I love you like i loved you, like the stars internally combust to be born, a black firework that no-one can see, hear, feel, touch or sense, like the dried coffee cup laid out to be cleaned with remnants that you were 'here'. I love you like i love words, I love you like i love the meaning in the verb, the noun, the alliteration, the juxtaposition, the allegory of sea faring tales of pursuit, courage and defiance and success.

I love you like i love you. I love you like i expect to love you. I love you from my mistakes, my pride, my egoism, my negative voices, my shaking hands, my pain. I love you from my freedom of loving you, from the cartwheel, candy floss, on-the-edge of the world, 'hold on to your pants', rollercoaster, anticipation of unspoken words, the promising anticipated kiss and the touch from your skin to mine, kind of once-in-a-lifetime, love.

I loved you like i love you, like i love you, like i loved you.
For all these reasons are unknown and known and forgotten and remembered,
I love you, with every cigarette stained breath, from every sip of *****, from every regretful one night stand.
I love you, from the ink stained fingers of writing forget me not, from the abundance of joy in my heart, and the exploding passion in my volcanic mind, and from the look in my wise deserving eyes.

I loved you, for loving you, for loving's sake, and for you, for me and for, love.

I see people writing poem after poem on here,
and i wonder,
did you write them all by candlelight, and save them up for when you found your audience?
Or did you sit and get drunk and write them whilst smoking cigarettes, and crying,
all over the keyboard.
Or was it a carefully, logically, formatted feeling that you had to edit, to, get, it just, right?
Aaahaaa...
I wonder if you know what you are saying.
If you know that your infinitesimal pieces of work, are akin to a 16yr old's journal from circa 1984?
That if you could read it from this angle, or that angle, it could mean one or two things, and i am sure that you meant neither of them.
And i am thinking, that if i could i would throw away the internet and its black hole, that we all get ****** into,
I would give you one gold plated pen with black writing ink,
and a limited supply of scrolls of parchment made by sunlight and cotton;
because i wonder whether you would be so flippant with your words,
your feelings,
your punches,
your understanding,
your emotions,
your reflection,
your heart.
Because this makes us quicker, faster, harder, stronger.;
holding out for a white page to fill with words,
for lightening bolts of appreciation.
Is this not the cycle you wish to escape my love?
Was this not what you wanted?
Did you not want him to walk away?
Did you not want her to cheat?
Did you want them to fight, see you more clearly, understand you better, expect a little bit more respect, demand a little bit more attention, more patience, loving acceptance, a mutual respect?
What are you doing with these words, that you throw down like a gauntlet?!
Like you throw down venomous poison that you are trying to rid from your body, out from your curs-ed mouth, through your fingers, on to a keyboard, and out in to a a-nomy-nous world.
I wonder if you think of these things as you listen to love songs, driving in the rain, in the dark, suffocating on tears?
Do they fester in your head all day as you serve self-righteous morons who have no idea of your tortuous pain?
Do you lightly tread, whilst someone is sleeping in your bed, to the keyboard and type out how much you love them, and how much you are in love, alone, to the monitor, to nameless faces.
Do you have a soap box? Have you hammered on the desk in the rising light of your passion and dignity, and justice for all, in the name of love?
Have you wrote a letter lately?
When was the last time you held a pen for more than a few seconds?
When was the last time you cried into the ink, sprayed it with perfume, or S.I.W.A.L.K?
Or told someone you loved them with a million reasons why, with your own voice, into their eyes, to their face?

I just wonder, how much these words are worth, if we don't say them,
out loud.