since the first poet picked up pen
they have cried out to end war
all it takes it to see a single face
a woman sitting by the winters window
with the light of candle to guide his way home
for naught...he has fallen to the tomb
on some forgotten field where noble ideal clashed
but she still awaits him
looking into the camera with such sorrows as to rend my heart
her delicate eyes looked out
at me from the photograph creased with
time and miles
she was a soldiers wife
she held the the candle by the winters window
light the way home for him

in thouse eyes you can see the echoes of dancin with joys
in hay of barnyard and the ashes of thouse sweet dreams now long past
you can smell the bread fresh baked sunday mornin' with loves hand
now gone cold in the dust of empty homes cupboard
in thouse tender eyes you can see the hope each of us
holds so dear to the heart fading away in darkness

in thouse gentle eyes you can hear the souls shuffling off to
meet one another in fairest fashion on the avenues of glory
if i could reach back through the passing of time
and hold this young woman's hand
comfort even in some small part
but i fear words fail me and my strength wanes
as i ponder the cost

if i could only tenderly take her hand
and give some measure of comfort
ease this burden
but time and miles has left a hundred years to the tale
and nothing yet has been learned
as today on the television a young man stretches
out his will on some foreign field  
to change his small world by force of arms
nothing yet has been learned

the hour slips by without a sound
and through the looking glass window
the days unfolding scene
gives life and motion
to the surreal stillness within
the silent theatricals of man and beast
strive and fail under the shifting skies
like the rise and fall of nameless empires
their brilliant banners swiftly stirred by
the storms and seas

i walk along the fresh laid carpet
with bare feet feeling the texture
and stand at the doorway
with its wooden contraptions ajar to allow breezes
to walk into the dark house

the heavy presence of paint on the air
and the devices of workmen underfoot
soon will fade to memory as our polished lives
are neatly adorned and trimmed
we have become what we dread
civilized

she walks from the bedroom
wearing nothing but her dreadlocks
as i finish making dinner
we have duck and wild rice
i teach her some ballroom dancing steps
we laugh and whisper
the night has come to its fading
and though we are restless
we trek to our bed
and wrestle eachother to sleep

this is evening with her
and our elegant love affair

i climbed the tree in my backyard today
first time iv climbed a tree since i was a boy
i was alot better at it back then
almost fell out and busted my old ****
but it was still fun
forgot how its a different world up there
how its magical to look down on your own
corner of the universe with that mysterious kid vision
that makes adventures out of the mundane
and todays adventure was
sunshine and leaves
was the boyhood pride of balance and skill
i may have been better at it
fifty years ago
but its never been more fun

her wrist bears a set of golden bracelets
with bells and woven beads
light blue with a tangle of red
it goes with her dreadlocks
and the trinkets woven into her hair
beads and baubles
there is amongst other treasures
on the edge of one of her dreads
a tiny box
within a small face
made of pewter
old as lord nelsons prize at the nile
old as the length of a pewter mans dream
i am the pewter man and
the absence of her perfume on the air
is the absence of my soul
and my heart labors
how will i push the pen forward
can i even breath without her near

her voice like a velvet wine
her subtle essence a garden
of breathtaking beauty and
the tenderness of a lovely soul
like a vivid summer nights dream
which fills the heart with its warmth
and has such grace within itself
to render the dreamer a lifetimes of joys
her lithe form lingers on the mind
like visions that every lovers
sweetest ****** and tender dream
would envy
this strong brilliant
young english goddess
is a favorite of mine

her salted hand like fire in
the open eyes of the awakened
she caresses their dreamlike visions
and with a silent empathy wishes she could undo
the havoc she continues to parcel out
wrapped in christmas bows and cheerful thoughts
i am drawn from the open farm field
to a canopy of leaves at the edge of sight
where a childlike voice drones on
enticing all to behold beauties wonders within

the radio sound of the childlike voice
reading from a dark work in an obscure language
its voice comes from the withered lips of ancient man
sitting in a stone room framed by grasping flower laden trees
the air is thick with the scent of their fruits
which lay gathering dirts all around his
his unclad feet

an incestuous beast crawls through this
rubble of rotting fruit
eating slowly of their wet decay
the beast calls out softly in its native tongue
its words are caged with verbal locks
distortions of the lips create echoes of the silence
within its mind
after pausing to listen for reply that never comes
it once more pushes forward to the stone chair
the dark man reclines in

the childlike radio voice
beckons you to come to this canopy of leaves
to lay with its scorpion's and dine on its verbal meats
i warn all who draw near
but am not always heeded
so i listen once again
to the subtle voice
once again watch the beast crawl
a slave to my pasts
buried and thriving in
the dark soil

heavy traffic
so we stash ourselves in the publix parking lot
and watch the flashes of the departing thunderstorm
she lays out on the buicks hood in a bikini top
a bead of sweat kisses her bellybutton
her thick dreadlocks spread like ropes
i pick one up and stick it in her ear
shes not happy with that

afternoon is all sunshine and watered down sodas
isles of plastic goodies and elevator musics
the old woman pushing her empty cart while dragging a bag
she goes to get her nails done
i push pebbles into parking lot puddles
and watch the sky drift in the reflection

she is half my age
she sticks her tongue in my ear
i dont mind
there are palm trees and lizzards everywhere
and pebbles in puddles
im a pebble and shes my puddle
shes all wet
im hard

we laugh in the forever summer sunshine
we dance in the parking lot puddles
of the fiveashes publix lot
and daydream the stars above
this is no ordinary love
this is passion's fire in the hearts eyes
shes my jezebel
im her poet

such a graceful woman
her face the very concept and truth of beauty
her voice one of reason
her mind beautiful and enriching
she is empathy's gift
as a poet i live and breath words
but language lacks what nature can speak fluently
when nature spoke the word beauty
Olivia Wilde was born

she rides her mountain bike
in the sun
dreadlocks fluttering behind like streamers
shes all smiles
as we come to our spot by the river
this beautiful place called fiveashes
and unpack the picnic basket
the world itself is beautiful when i'm with her
time itself loves her essence
even the graffiti looks like love letters the world
has written for her alone

theres something darkly romantic
about the nights down by fiveashes
something about thouse long miles
flying by on nightbreeze
with her hand in mine
with her lips on mine
its like a valley safe from the worlds seein
a place where naked and free we can be just we

down by fiveashes
the backseat of our buick is on fire
with her passions
and the lust in my soul
and theres something darkly romantic
about the humid warm air  and how her shirt clings to her **** skin
about the songbirds opening up the mysterious day
like a gift for the dreadlock girls that shine

she lay with me tangled in her afterwards
as we watch the stars and catch our breath
i taste her on my lips
i can taste her on my soul
like shes a sunrise
rapidly banishing my life's shadows
and breathing life itself into my heart

as the brazen thief of light
leads his army of ten thousand stout spears  
under the shelter of storms sweeping force
with as his dark eye fixed on the jewels of the kingdom
with his dark eye fixed on the crown of creation
his leathery skin glistens with the sweat of his labour
as he quietly moves his army forward

the soft light of fading sun
resolutely clings to to this small room
in denial of days end
in spite of the mighty arms of darkness approach
hear its struggle as the wistful dreamers of late day tries
to rouse themselves to battle this darkness approaching
hear daylights noisome futile pact to remain
forever

the striving of darkness bursts in the door
and begins to fight its way across the room
a faceless army of shadow
knives threaded to the poison of light
spears aflame with the heat of battle
and before this irresistible tide
sunlight retreats with weeping and resolutions to return
fill the void with a vast force unkempt
with a mighty host blade tried and true
liberate the world from
darknesses cold hand

darkness reigns in the room for
seeming untold hours made up of years

look to the east
and see the rising might of sunlight
feel the furnace hot vengeance as it now strives forth
ten thousand swords emblazoned with the suns anger
marching out of the east like a tide
to reclaim what was so wrongfully taken

the brazen thief of light too late catches wind of his doom
and with frightened eye calls upon
the rushing tide of his army to withdraw from this doom
but they are locked in conflict
and torn asunder
he flees with accursed fear upon his face
and limbs flogging the hard road
back to the darkness from whence he came
to raise another dark army
that will fill the horizon with the spears of spite
reclaim what was so wrongfully taken

winters day getting a tan in my yard
i can feel the ocean of the spring breeze
taste its intoxicating salt and sand on the air
feel its breathtaking beauty as the sea washes up on me
only a few hundred feet through that tangle of palms and
tangles of quick brush
lay wide open lush sands
and forever summers soft light
and the beautiful breaking waves

in staunch hand needed but the
deeply tanned smile on the old mans face
as he holds out a greeting and offer to run out to your skiff
but you'd rather swim
at last the days full face comes to bear

a hippie family roasts hot dogs in a pit fire
and you share some white wine
music plays from a transistor radio
that has seen better days
but this is the land of forever summer
and nothing can taint the smile you share
with your lover
nothing can touch the soul deep
expression of joys

the choices made
just the sitting alone in the dark
of your own waiting
the waiting for the truth to come on up the road
but that could be a long wait indeed

counsel yourself not to spend what
you got foolishly
cause you never know what tomorrow will bring
it might bring rain
mayhap the burning season will come again
mayhap the road will finally take me home
stead of further away

sitting here listening to the steady approach of thunder
like a parade in a lazy summer town
i been thinking perhaps i should just keep running
till there aint no more running to be done
mayhap ill cry till there is nothing but salt water seas
perhaps ill do evil things till there's nothing but darkness
mayhap ill set the night on fire
then maybe we can see a safe place to be
been thinking i should just keep running till
there aint no more running to be done

cause iv gone the distance
and nobody cared
still it rained
and still the men dressed in black
laid innocence out for the plunder
still the evil men came two by two
and all i could do is watch as the world swept her away
and all i could do is die a little bit inside every day since

been thinking
i should just keep running till
there aint no more running to be done
there aint no more running to be done

she came in out of the dark rain
her guns hanging loose at the ready
her worn leather death hand just driftin above
the handle of her colt
eyes searching for the hard glint of steel
in the faces of the saloons crowded floor
but none had noticed her come in from the storm

she walked to the bar and called out
for a whiskey
leaned and let all but gun hand rest
as one of the prettiest bargirls came up
and smiled for a drink
without conversation the girl lead her
to a backroom
and this gypsy's night was filled with hot passions
and the gun hand was forgotten
in the sweet arms of virgina citys sweetest rose

but morning came with the rolling
of the steamtrains whistle
and the sheriff calling out the gun hand
she had laid some dog of a man low
for putting his hands on his woman
now she got to hang
cant be shootin our law abiding folk
we don't take kindly

this gunhand
this leather clad hard riding woman
with the softest sweetest heart
the kindest of souls
wasn't gonna let em hang her
for shooting down a ***** dog of a man
so she kissed sweet rose long an deep
and bid that sweet girl fare thee well
took up her colt

out into the dusty raw heat of
noonday sun she stepped with
her gun hand driftin over the **** of her colt
eyes blazin for the fool of a sheriff
who had come to lay her low in the name of justice
in the name of their lie of a town

they faced eachother and drew pistols
both got off a shot
one fell to the dusty earth
never to rise again
the other laid down pistol
and walked away

as the thin snow fell into the darkness time fell with it
her abstract voice tastes to the ear like death
but the rages of sorrow in her words
are a cold road infested with implications
...of a warm home broken
of a world in ruins
of a girl who now lives in slow death

she sits on the edge of the bed
in her torn apart life
knees drawn up to her chin
and whisper/screams why wont anyone listen to me
why wont anyone help
and the darkness mocks with silence

she bathes
and dresses
care to each detail
brush through hair fifty two times
but it all feels so empty
it all belongs to another woman's life
there's something wrong and she just cant stand it anymore
she's screaming inside but goes on brushing her hair
but it all feels all so empty

standing in the yard
torrential rain
her makeup and clothes ruined
but she just stands there limply
staring off into the night
searching for an answer that she knows she will never know
but searches anyway
doesn't even know why
its just so empty in here
its just so empty

this days bread
not a boastful feast with veracious laughter
but the quiet sharing of bounty
between thouse gathered
the conversations saunters like a comfortable man
of evening stroll in the bordertown marketplace
stop to taste of its local cuisine
savour its exotic beauties
and subtle touch

with the world withdrawn to night
we all sit on the veranda
and our laughter and words
fill the space the small light provides
with a rich deep texture
and scents our hearts with
feelings of togetherness and comradery

one friend who young face
gives credence to his optimistic forebodings
eagerly leans into chapter and verse
of politic and its verbal knives
seeking to blame with wit
the narrow disasters of finance
we all love our friend dearly
and shush such nonsense
turn the face on conversation back
to her warmer natures

she is my woman's friend
and  she spent the night with us last night
in our bed
soon to leave for humanitarian mission
to some obscure world away
she sits in my woman's arms like they have
been with eachother all their lives
it is such beauty to see two women
in such comfortable ease as lovers
they are both a delight to me

our hours grow thin
as sleep calls us all one by one
and gives us one by one to such dreams
as may our collective loves may bring
this is the best moments of my life
and are enduring in my heart
as i too slip into slumbering
in the arms in these two women
in the arms of love

the day like a beautiful woman
beguiles you from the dark path that
your troubles lead you
the spring air itself seeks to
enlighten and revive

but stained is the canvas on which you
are painted
and while they are rich in flavour
the hues in which you are rendered are
filled with traces of the darkness that begat you
and even the hint of which leads you to this place

a whooping crane glides close to the chop of the water
wheeling on the turn of the breeze
the lakes dark waters give no tale to its depths
only reflects the jewels of the sun

you stand there in the shade of a pinetree
and with stillness grasping you heart
watching the day unfold unhurried
it tries once again to beguile you from these
shadows of thought
with the sounds of children's joyful play
and the rush of eagerness as a passenger jet rises high above
delivering its fragile cargo to bright futures
to the travellers quest to discover the lost country
and find their own kingdoms under the sun

but after such time as this
it takes more than mere distractions
to bend a life's path

i would give much to see your smile
would offer to stand the night-watch
with the weary men of the dutch gate
would render worlds with the pen
but you cast aside such things
this is your own dark road and
alone upon it you must tread

leaning on the far side of half awake
fragments of poems flowing and falling round
with glimpses of things real and imagined
roads taken and thouse that only dreams tread
out of this soft maelstrom she moves like a ghost of blue silk
out of the silent dance of half sleep
on the edge of reality's cage
she lay down with and with ever gentle hand
brushes away all the fragments floating
and gives with beautiful gaze
a single perfectly formed phrase
like a piece of music in the larger symphony of her life
and after making sure that i had a firm grasp on the lines given
because she knows what a silly forgetful boy i can be
she kisses me awake
with that giggle that i was so fond of
twenty one years
twenty one years

she turned the questions in her eyes aside
and stealing away in the quiet
of the pine forest winters day
the taste of wood smoke was tangible on the sharp cold air
and his eyes hunted the ridge crest for sing of flames
as they hurried their steps along the rough hewn track
she carried the child whos silent contemplation
showed his understandings of the gravity of this flight
the bundle of possessions on his shoulder
weighed upon his mind
counselling himself not to regret casting it all aside should need arise

the woman and child so fragile and dear to his heart
mean so much more than mere trinkets of gold
he would surrender without pause life and limb to spare them
she was a smoky version of bobby dylan
complete with winged snakes in each hand
complete with a crown of jewels
and the thousand words dance
he was a seafaring man

they reached the shore of the sea
and found the wreckage of a sailing ship
her fine line speaking clear of her swiftness
and her appointments show without shyness
that she was of the finest portugal shipyards
they spent days making her seaworthy
laying up in the harsh tropical sun
neath the palm trees drinking *** from her stores
they put to sea in the birth of the new year
singing 'goodbye spanish ladies'
the three of them on the skiff tacking up-channel
trying to determine latitude by sighting
but a fog rolls in off the coast of grande bahama
as dawn breaks

man woman and grown child
the miles and the treasures cast aside
each wore on open hearted face
but neath the weary of sea miles
was their joys in the true riches
of eachothers soft hand entwined as they sailed into
a golden dusk
of a lesser throne
a kingdom of the sea

the metal man sits in the nights comforting shadows
only the utterances of his steam engine soul
reveal his presence
phrases like prayers still fall from cold lips
on his polished bronze face
but the conviction they once held
now bitter and faded
taste of rust and tainted oils

the metal mans hand twitches
and folds on the armchairs rest
unconsciously seeking the comforts of its creators hand
seeking comfort and absolution
at the counsel of soulless

pity this dark creature stitched in misery's shadows
his metal heart labours on to his fate
like the mindless apostles of hate
but neath that cold dark lens lives a soul

no man or woman is beyond redemption
none can speak to that tale that have not walked its bitter road
pity this dark beast as much as you ware its hand
we are all children neath the anvil of the sun
we are all born innocent
we all die alone

the metal man now unmoving
silence slowly spreads over him
as the rust of the living world creeps upon
and claims him
i stand there next to him
watching the fires of his engine dim and flicker
watching as the phrases like prayers falling coldly
from his brass carved lips slowly trickle to a halt
as his will returns to the sand
that created him

pity this creature as much as you ware his dark hand
the darkly world comes
lens of his eye dose not perceive you
only what its design impels it to believe
only the tissue of lies that are its dreams
sanguine the metal man now rust
comes undone

my hand drawn to the pen and the pen to page
like the need to breath
like the need to struggle to better my lot in life
i am drawn to the desire to speak with this ink on page
it fills my dreams with visions and
leaves me with burning desires
to lend my hand to the struggle against the darkness rising
its pushes and pulls upon my soul
as it wrestles these words from my heart
and strikes them upon the page
like hammer striking stone

and the fire of these words consumes me
with the stretching and longings
with the need to speak what they say and
to find  any ear to listen

like a bargain with the devil himself
i cannot set the task aside
cannot leave the words unspoken
like addictions it would leave me starving
and un-mourned in the dark gutter
so its face see the light of day
so its truth both beautiful and bitter not be known

listen you now to these things
know that its no passing whim
know that its the death of me
with my devoted love to the last letter
for this thing is a dark beauty
it will repay your devotion tenfold
with joy or pain
and thats the bargain i made with
the devils of the dictionary
with the disciples of ink

the metal man
his arms weaponized and poised at the ready
sanguine his face carved in bronze
the 'darkly world has come' is the lens of his eye
disturbs sublimely the world as it peers
in narrow perception at the swift and reckless
life of flesh and bone that moves all around his cold body

darkly come are the phrases like prayers uttered
spoken with reverent malice
spoken like evils true loves

neath the forest of life's sounds
the labours of the steam engine that fuels
this poor dark beast of a metal man
sputters and heaves as its malformed intents
work to move him to his destiny's grave

peaceful is this place in the world
the winter sun dazzles the walkway neath snowbound tree
as if by design such tender care made such devices
to reach such metal creatures hidden heart
to wrestle its soul from its dark purpose

  twisted is the logic that pressed innocent metal
to such dark works
enslaved it to the meat of vile tongue
and the bitter wine of such inhuman misery's

so here it tread in the gardens of eden
its weaponized arms matching its uneven gait
as it moves slowly neath the leaves
its 'world come darkly' lens forever focused
on the ever narrow path of its fate
pity this creature as much as you ware it
neath that dark eye the innocent metal
it knows not how to break the iron grip of its master
sorrow

the addled man sits
with his eyes wide as the photographer focuses
his lost scraps of tangible thought
he sews into a tapestry
of foolish creations
such charm may be found
in the playground of amused twisted creatures

but the grip the shadow he casts
crawls across the sun strewn lawn
like a creature of thirsts
tangled in its spoken vision is the
frame of the house of the mad
this shadow he bleakly thrusts at me
is rife with the rumours of tomorrow
but make for a thin meal in the aftermath of today

he sits with his glasses on
smudged with stained greasy fingerprints
like a visual history of his labours to seek this
understanding with a brutal sunny day
the scraps of his meager thoughts
swirl round and round the stew of his mind
the bitter things float
the sorrows pool to one side in toxic lakes
edged by the serene images of summer

the shadow his eyes chase finally reaches the church wall
and he bemoans a loud spectacle of a prayer
to the divinity of the photographers gentle hand
redeem me with your lens
stitch a new meaning to this tattered life
mere reflections of the world captured by her hand
through the lens
through the shadows he flings with
careless abandon wherever his raggedy preamble
of a life gathers him

the room is devoid
but she sits there with a weak candle flickering
its barren carpet reeks of death
but the trails in its dust speaks of life's presence
water falls through the open window
and along the line of its realm things like children grow
but they are children of a dark wood
and their frightened faces make methods of
fleeing the sun
so we can neither aid them nor deny them passage

she waits and watches this theatre of the macabre
and except the plate of food and the mug of ale
nothing but the pages she has burnt remain
on the oak desk
thouse pages held within them a world unto itself
a seaside town where a man lived once
a seafarer and scholar who had understandings of
these things like this accursed room that holds her
in an addiction to the corruption of souls
she hungers the dark
and dreams that deaths kiss is warm and loving
she dreams that she is a creature of the night

drink of the ***
drink of the wine
but you will never wipe away such visions
they will remain near to thy heart to the end of your days

and the stair with the wood about
is a midnight palace of the legions of mighty creatures
that cannot be seen in the light of day
moonlight is her companion and her friend

i sit in the easy chair
with the refuse of a thousand years of learning scattered at my feet in useless protest at the futility
to love someone who loves death
her slow daily death is her complete pleasure
its a death that crawls slowly up her tender bare skin
like the caress of timeless lover who's sharp teeth draw blood
who sup's and drinks at the deep well of her soul
like a creature of the night

its a death full of dark romance and pleasures endured
like she is a creature of the night
and her words are written in magical verse
unsettling to the ear to behold
but brings such fires to heart
bring such longings to the bitter cold night
in the north yonkers weddings park
that she walks in with such beautiful life in the arms of death
have him as a lover
his cold hands finding the delicate lace of her tongue
and in his forever kiss
she breaths on
like a creature of the night

she pours me a glass of wine
and with overgentle hand caresses my cheek
tells me a tale from her long ago
in a strange voice like smoke
tells me me of a love that chimed like the bells of spring
rang straight and true
like carefully crafted glass slippers on the night dancer
like all the comfortable things that she keeps
in the closet of her heart

pulling out the decorations in dusty celebration
of the summer night years past
with the photographs sad with their smiles
that true love of her girlhood
standing in the dusk holding his hand
and the kiss like a king and his blushing princess bride
she was so nervous she left her shoes on the lake shore

and when he was gone to the distant winter gate
she lingered by the icicle window tracing with
a finger hearts with his name
she laughs with a ghost of a tear
over how silly she had been
her first kiss hadn't been with such fanfares
and flowing silken robes
but with some handsome lad
who is now lost to the vastness of years
but she still has the picture of her in that dress
standing on the lake shore with shoes in hand
while the carnival spun in the background like a drunken man
whos song has given way to his lament

the grey sandy soil
gives neath footfall
as he hitches up his oversized jeans
and nervously fumbles with his broken glasses
a caricature of indecisive recluse

his worked hands covered in soils
grips and relaxes with the rise and fall
of the conversation
his tattered shirt haphazardly buttoned
has a lone cigarette sticking its bent form
from the lip of the pocket
like the last standing solider
content to remain till his fiery end

the ditch he labours in
stretches back in crooked line
along the fence
deep in places and shallow in others
like a drunken hedgehog making a shoddy home
he stops and looks back wiping the tide of sweat
from his face
and squints against the setting suns
brilliant golden light
mumbles some rational reason invented
and dismisses all concept of repair

this earthen work of the hobbled mind
shall remain into the windswept rain and years
slowly loosing its form
as the world itself shifts in discomfort
but the man himself will remain to memory
forever unchanged
a hearty laugh rich with the
earthen tones of life well lived
a man that remains forever in sunlight
a man among men
my friend

the silhouette of two girls kissing
deep into the caress
deep into the tender
like they are plundering with feather light touches
in the flickering lamplight
the music drips through the dark room
like the leaking of bobby dylans mind
his voice torn asunder with spoken tears
with the gravel of a thousand hard roads alone in the heat
of an unforgiving sun
the girls are wrapped tight to eachother
like bubble gum wrapped in satin
you cant cast aside such delicate force of nature
it will saunter down and ask so sweetly
for you to take a powder while the girls get nasty

i sit on the hood of her buick
primer grey and fast
as fast as thick blood
and watch the stars dance on the chrome
and breath the thick air and see death dance on my fingertip
but most of all i see her silhouette leaning down
over me and sweetly asking
for my last breath
put cowboy boots to pavement walkin into the future
dragging the past that she wants
into the motel of the sun with its neon moon
where these two lover girls lay out by the pool
and soak up the sun till the world is in darkness
soak up the love like cherry soda
and plunder

the dance slow on the bed
while i'm curled on the carpet
but there's no desperation to be found
except in poor bobby dylan as he drips
like fine wine from the speaker
and intoxicates my dreams
with her eyes
with her thin bright wet lips
and her softly sweetly asking once more
to give it up honey buns
gimmie your last breath
silhouette of two girls french kissing plundering tender
so romantic
so loving
so long bye bye

she breaks the bread of her mind
and hand feeds it to her child
its young eyes look at her with
questions unanswerable

the bitter food of her deviant thought
helps sculpt its newborn mind
to the tattered doctrines of her own dark past
to the illness that her heart breeds
this should not be....should not be

years unfold like the passing clouds
silent spectators of the hidden things
that were behind that door
behind the closed shades of that home
the child did not grow
only festered like the weeping of an open wound
this should not be...what is to be done...who will stop this

the worlds days flutter past
the windows without pause
to their endless flight

as the child now sits alone with its tainted self
in the thick air of its room
listening to the sounds of angers in
another world across the hall
a world it cannot understand
a world that should be filled with loves but is only a battlefield

as we see this child now in our hearts eye
we too cry out with
what dark things our empathy beholds
feel helpless in the face of such

as we see this child in our hearts eye
it reaches down and breaks the bitter bread of its mind
and hand feeds it to the plastic doll that it calls
child

just the outline remains
like a silhouette of happiness faded
like a footprint of a past joy
in the dusk cannot perceive where it has gone
only mark its point of passage
in the soft cold sand
where the brittle rough edge of concrete
juts out from the tangled undergrowth
now just a rain soaked ruin
now just discarded shell someone called home

the rotted planks and shattered glass
litter the ground a maze of pieces
like some lunatics puzzle box
spread for contemplation's amusement
there amongst the jewels of rot
a single small face etched in the grey weatherbeaten stone
the detailed portraiture done with
adorations care
a young woman with long hair flowing
a young woman with captivating smile
now fading slowly in tropical sun
etched on the worlds edge
here amongst the spoiled walls
and broken windows

moonlight now casts its otherworldly light
down through the torn roof
like it is fishing here for mens dreams
which it hungers for
to speed it on its journey
i cast it the morsels of my once loved
i cast it a trail of hearts crumbs
which the moonlight follows on down
the silent street
like a small boy returning home late in the day
with a pocket full of strange treasures

i lay here fitfully dreaming
as mornings heat intensifies to full blown day
jaundiced by the seabreeze i crawl forth
and sit once again
to stare at the etching of the girl
as it is slowly eaten by sea and sand
time may not heal all wounds
but it will consume all the wounded
as it consumed her

golden highlights in her hair
she is a poem in my dreams
written in the shadows of the world
filled with gentle light that is my world
she sat with me while i slumbered and we talked away
like the oldest of friends sharing the unfolding of our lives
the smile she has given
reignites my world
the warmth that she herself is
has rekindled my hope
she breaths life into the
mystical dreams of the world
with her giggles
she gives a rose made of smiles
to everyone she meets
her pen builds worlds
golden highlights in her hair
she is the poem of my dreams
every song i have ever sang
she is a living breathing sonnet of the world
written with such delicate beauty
with her heart
with her pen

it was a winters night
the air thick with cold
a thin veil of snow dancin its way to the the
the dead earth tangle of leaves and twisted vines
an odd echo follows her words
as the cold steals them off her sweet lips
it distracts from the meanings of her deity gazing argument
and i allow the conversation to die a fitful death at the hands
of her discomfort
wanting only to hold her hand
but denied by the harsh truths in her stance
by the tears she inflicts by proxy
we resume our walking with a silence between
like a rough thief his filthy hand on our hearts

the snow becomes heavy
and the taste of cold is bitter
she shivers as we reach her door
she pauses me in my distracted mumblings of fumblings
and invites me in with an odd voice unspoken
so we lay warming ourselves silently by the fire
watching it define itself with its own soul searching dance
she reaches out and takes my hand
and without a word begins to weep
i pull her to my arms troubled but not breaking the silence she keeps
like a fortress of shadows
like a dark army dressed all in black
become a funeral procession at war with itself

we did not say a single word to eachother that whole night
we made love there on the dusty carpet
and slept fitfully wrapped in eachothers needy arms
like two lost fearful minstrels wearing the same terrible tale in a mournful song
i can still hear it in the taste of her tears
when she was near her ****** she stopped and looked deep into my eyes
kissing me with such gentle hand
like forgiveness as the tears began to fall once again
we made love again and like the wine dried to the bottom of our well
we pushed it aside to find comforts in slumber
and eachothers nervously tender embraces

outside the snow fell like a soft mountain
deep and thick with its own tale of dark princes of night
deep and thick with its own tears of memory
somewhere in the distant mountains
a stranger run to the river to fetch water
trying to appease the fire that consumes his world
the shouts of desperate urge painted thick on this cold cold wind
disturbing our dreams

till the cold dawn broke the overcast with bright scorpions of sunlight
through the high windows
falling on the wine stained dark wood floor
where she had left a note for my waking minds confusions
and so she had fled my world
on the steam train headed north
headed back into the winter
leaving me in the windswept dunes
watching gulls swim in the winter sky
alone without words to heal
alone with just a aching memory of her body in my arms

the trials of the free mind in gilded cage
reflected in the ever changing cityscape of this hovel
but even unadorned ramshackle house
has the beauty of heaven in the grace of her presence

she is the
narrow span of spoken emotional poetry
its free verse flows in her auburn dreadlocks
and in the delicate shift of her adorned wrist
its bejewelled hushed metal chatter the sounds of her bracelets
but the true verse of this eloquent breathing walking poem
is the warmth and loves that shine
in her gothic eyes

she is
ethereal and subtle creature laying
uncovered and ****** in my tangled sheets
with the whisper of sleep on her soft painted lips

she gives nothing to the night
just waits quiet for its passing
here by the light of her candle
she waits as nights heavy feet slowly tread their intended path
as its myriad of small creatures
with their fanfares of babylon thunder and roll
their thousands voices wailing bitter and ceaseless
their thousands sharp claws rending the dreams from the dreamers

here in the prayers of her soulful reflections
she hears nights dark hand tapping at her door
hoping in vain to unleash her upon the free winds
hoping to strip away her adornments like a tissue of lies
so that she would stand as innocence in moonlight
with her perfections and beauties to be loved by the sea
until she was empty

here in the cradle of her hour
she awaits the fairer face of dawn
whom with lighted step and naught but the
chimes of birdsong shall usher away the
last of nights rabble sweeping them gently aside
with dawns ever sweet natures
to find and comfort all thouse
waiting for the redemptions that the light of day
sheds upon all thouse who fear they have been slandered by nights hand
she timidly opens her haven
as dawn moves past
and with childlike smiles she steps to the path of her ventures
till night come speeding down the dusty road once again seeking the hand of fairest maidens once again when day flees
to her wearied bed in the west

she dances a delicate step
and leans into the whisper of a smile she wears
simple cotton dress
with flowers blue and birds sewn in mid-flight
she spins in the island of sunlight
fallen through the tall window
fallen perfect just for her pretty feet to step on
she bounces to a stop
and giggles
after all the music hadn't even begun
she sings the first line
and it echoes through my heart like
swans and dew scented ponds on spring mornings
like dreamy thoughts of a girl just falling in love

you can taste her fresh laugh
you can feel her hopeful beauty
she steps a languid dance
into the moonlight
at the foot of our bed
and into my arms
like butterfly's in a cloudless sky
like wishes written with the touch of lovers hands
in the grandeur of the nights kiss

shes the prettiest of the pretty girls
and my world in her soft lips
and the way my name sounds like love in her voice
are we tired yet lover
can we sleep
not yet my dear haven't had enough of you tonight
haven't had near 'nuff of you my love