She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.

this subtle passage
is the rhythm of
appearances of deserts
crossing horizons
sweeping mysteries
melting duality
to a mirage of
one day I will get it  right
type of longing
while silence remains
in one self-similar coral just

If I were to fall in love              
It could only be with you              
                
my heart longs to be lost              
in your beautiful eyes              
that seem to rival the bluest of skies              
                
hesitant to let you know how I really feel              
...the love I have for you              
and how those feelings feel so real                
        
worried about your reaction and              
what you would say      
or what you would do        
        
                
for these feelings I have, started                
with simple affection...              
with passing days they grew              
                
now I feel the beauty in life              
with goose-bumps and butterflies              
at the mere thought of you              
                
I was floored by our connection                
a feeling that I just couldn't ignore              
                
Am I a fool?              
                
for feeling this way from something so new?              
                
though taken by surprise              
and blown off my feet              
this is the secret I keep              
                
I lay on the ground                
and I stare into space              
                
Thinking of you with              
the biggest smile on my face

you watch the world
with empty eyes
so beady and black
yet not a star in sight
you wonder what the point is
after all you've been through
why isn't it over yet?

He looks like the kind of guy
I want to take me
steal me into the night
and let nobody save me

It feels like the kind of night
with my hands tied above my head
dazed with stars in my eyes
lips on mine like flesh full of lead

He's probably the kind of guy
to bump straight into me on the train
takes a week to agree to staying the night
not very selfish and not that vain

It's probably the kind of night
When its going great in my head
but we say our goodbyes
and go straight home to bed.

She is beautiful.
Lives in the eye of the beholder.
She is stunning.
Shunned by society.
Her skin is thickened.
It has to be.
Face to face daily with adversity.
She is a motherless child.
Grown up now.
Mother's still there.
A childless mother.
She is a lady unlike any other.
As such she will thrive.
She's staying alive.
Living and breathing.
Taking five.
Gasping and striving.
Making a living.
The power of the voice.
A choice.
Only she can make.
(C) LIVVI MMXV

Face the truth.
Face the reality.
As you send some flowers too, the girl who loves you.

Recognize her.
Just surprise her.
Write a poem of two, to the girl that loves you.

Nothing amazed a woman to know of her importance to her man.
Here she will understand just why you call her woman.

So hold her hand.
Don't be a timid man.
Hiding behind a created image.

Say it out loud.
Even explain it to your child.
Why you do what you do?
For the woman that loves you.

So deeply.
So completely.
So sweetly.
So uniquely.