its a mystery to me
all the closer than touching with her
all the beauty in being with her
all the hopeful tomorrow dreamin' that keeps her warm
she is right here sleepin' next to me
she has always been here
always been breathing in the background of every thought i've had
in the background of every good thing iv ever done
sleepin' softly next to me all night long
i would wake her
tell her of my long night
tell her of many things great an' small
would hold her
just wrap her in my arms and never ever let go
she has always been the reason
she has always been the question
its a mystery to me
all the years and miles that got me here
lost and found so much seemed like a single wondrous day
beautiful because at the end of it all she is here next to me
always been breathing in the background of every thought iv had
in the background of every good thing iv ever done
sleeping softly
all the closer than touching
all the beauty of being here with her
is mine at long last
she is mine at long last
and i just want to be closer than touching with her
want to live the beauty of being with her
just want to hear her whisper love songs for me alone
mine at long last

her fingers trace a delicate pattern
on a photograph with her soft finger
while her lips caressed his name with the tender care
of desperate loneliness and remembrance of
of carefree passion
now missed
with heartfelt ache
but hand in hand with such sorrowful faces
always comes the bitter reproaches
for self and the enemy

sketches of who she thought he was emerge
slowly from her angry words
and flow uneven thru our conversation
as my views of her changing nature
etched into the wall
with deep and wide hand-tool

portrait of our failure
portraits self delusion
finally faced with a heart killing sorrow
she trys to make me do ****** with her
i leave her sitting there
and flee on foot

red fragments of plastic litter the
sandy soil at my feet
i gather them with one at a time
while my soul searches for a song to impart
my pen grows strange in my hand
its words have a feel to them
foreign deranged

the phrases float disjointedly
they refuse to knit into a poem
while my mind is troubled by a scattering
of autumn winds
the red fragments arranged randomly
on the small backyard table
sunshine illuminates each with precise clarity
the fragments are my poem
and i shuffle the pieces back and forth
trying with a maddened mind
to knit them into a beautiful bird
but they only keep forming the ugly face distorted
they keep moving of their own accord
to form a jagged edge
i breath and **** at my coffee mug

the red fragments thorny in my head
they have sand clinging to them
and bits of the brackish water that
the nights rain had left for me
these words are incomplete visions
mere phrases like incongruous men walking
random paths in a field
when two meet they shout their ideas
at eachother and part company full of
suspicious glares
a draft of this randomly worded madness
flows from my unwilling pen
the red fragmentation
of the incomplete poem

with mother of silence we're a playground for
the scars we spent and received with lovers now gone
regrets are heavy jagged stones
regrets are written like ******* meant to ******
regrets are loud awake and thousand miles tall  
wishes and hope are just whispers
intangible as wind

echoes of the hearts illusion
haunting situation
footsteps faint give glimpse of a vision of loves return
but thats a wicked crown that threads the pain needle
no witness sees your depths
tastes your darkness
a whiskey candy drunk on its sweet embrace
but clarity is a toy also
diamonds to one hand
dust to another

take back your wicked crown of pains needle
shatter the illusion mother of silence
understand my attempt
emptiness is a disease that rots the heart
lonely is a hunger that eats souls
wishes and hopes are just whispers
intangible as wind
but they are all i have

utter the truth only in whispers
is what she wrote in small letters on the wall
and each morning she would pass the spot it was written
and would run her fingers gently over them
and she would say his name is a passionate voice
full of heat and longing
like the miles and years could just be wiped away
if she had enough courage
if she wished hard enough

he stood in the rushing rain
his long grey coat blended him into the background
his placard was written some phrase
meant to catch the eye
but not a single face paused in the busy street
it would have taken only a word from him
and they would have all stopped in their tracks
and enthralled they would seen...
but nothing would ever come of it he knew
he knew that someday he would have to pay for what he done
it was only a matter of time
time

the monk grinding his eye
against the hard truth of his thread bare life
the world teaches to take your rest with the moons tides
the world teaches to mix your loves with the wines of fortune
but the monk dances in the middle of summer night
to the weary horses delight
he sees a bright jewel in the eye
that others consider naught but a bauble
but the monk knows a smile is worth a thousand golden chariots
and will lift you higher

all of us on these ***** streets
the noble and the strange
stand and look at the rising tide of light
and marvel at the crisp colours
and wondrous visions
of dawns light
even the most hardened of souls
can still see beauty
even if they can find nothing in it
the monk turns away
and limps slowly back into the shadows

back to all the yesterdays
back to the stack of love letters
written in night's sorrows
to all thouse lovers left behind
back to simple truth of it
back to the one true heart and the knowin
back to your beginnings

play the cards dealt
play like you love the game
even though its the hardest thing you've ever done
play like you believe that romance is a means to an end
that the heart can be brought and paid for
like your true heart can be one of them
cause they will hurt you if you stand apart
if you show your true nature
so play like you love the game
play the cards dealt

it will be in the moonlight
of some none too distant night
you will come upon another soul that sings
come upon another heart that breaths like you do
and you will know
see the truth in the lovin
that its more than some hearts game
that its more than some adventure in the sheets
you will know the hearts song

let me into the stream of humanity's mumblings
this emotion thick on my face
my words live
fill the pages
yet i remain an empty vessel
a  winterbound torn down dark amusents
of self sabotage
strife and the wonderful treasures

the sweat pours
like an announcement of desperation
breathing in gasps
it would ease my sorrows
it would ease my soul
weary of the day
lets gather our wits about us
to make safe passage thru the
oncoming silence of darkness

your odd socks gather in the corner
along with half a dress
and a broken stroller
the child sleeps silently

headphones clears
battered noise
fire ignights
the long years unwind before me like a grand sketch
subtle and deep with mystery
unfinished portraits of long forgotten friends
surge forth like a strong breeze
and catch my sails
carry me forth into distant times
where something was shared
and a face comes clear...a place
lenny...the yard..
September nineteen seventy six...
a young striving for mastery...but it was because of....
but the sea is an unforgiving lady
and before i can see
what lay there
the memory fades

paradise's parking lot
vast field of asphalt and lampposts
empty in daylights hours...
on its most distant edge
where trees overhang and
weeds have encroached in pavement's fissures
the buick sits in shade and silence
immersed in birds song and seabreeze

she sits on the hood
her patchwork quilted hippy dress brightly shines
in soft textures and scents
beads and bracelets with bells on her ankle
she is deep beauty in soft sand
an agent of the souls better natures
her form embraces the sunlight
that escapes through the overhead canopy of leaves
it dances on her skin like liberty's celebration
like lovers entwined in
passions kiss aftermath of lonesome song

a bird lands nearby and with
loud cry speaks of the hot sand and threadbare grass
with a hot voice describes the lush life it lives
and its dreams of rivers of wind
my pen has paused
she is talking to me in such soft voice now
asking if i am hungry
we sit in the peaceful edge of paradise's parking lot
where nature has stained manmade perfections
with its vibrant life
eating the salty butter bread sipping the **** wine
and wait for my pen to find its words again
waiting for the time to pass

others say there are no more pages
in our romance novel
but we just keep writing beautiful songs of the heart for each other
endings and beginnings
places others don't dare go

to get lost in each others gaze
as the sun and moon walk over the sky holding hands
we keep dancing in the ballroom long after the music stopped
while the night fades away
cause your heartbeat is all i hear

to dance moonlights glow wrapped your arms
cause you make me crazy with dreamy eyed memories
to live moonlights dream wrapped in your eyes
all the nights mysteries to show themselves to me
to be found only by you at long last

so we can run fast and laughing in the fall leaves
so we can breath quick in lovers embrace
wrapped in each others heartstrings
cause you are my song
and im ready to sing

how do you feel
lost and alone at the end of your dime
someplace on the road between the here and the now
out of smokes and outa luck
barefaced to the carnival of night
the day passes slowly into the vastness of the past
hungry eyes puddled with traces of regret
for all the places you've been and think you belong
for all the treasures of the past yet to be plundered
and all the sweetness to which your heart has succumb
convinced of the need to find a home
a place to breath easy
you take a few tentative steps to the road
in hopes of finding its easier than it seems
to kickstart your old bones
and write a new tale for you to sing
how do you feel down here at the end of your last dime
finger-licking good or foretastes of gloom
waiting here for the prize you know aint comin'
waiting here for the explanation you aint buyin'
thin and looking a little like a ghost
see you on the other side

her empty heart keeps beating...
her empty gaze still sees
her voice a shell filled with the cold sand
sluggish monotone wet
of a violent empty sea....
she romances the dark masterpiece
of your voiceless screaming....
she sits with you in the gray room
her fists balled up in limp rage...
she is the daughter of her cherished heartbreak
the end result of her old lover dark and bittersweet...
a tasty gem all bright and beautiful
wrapped up in the bandages
of her battlefield romances...
her empty heart keeps beating...
her empty gaze still sees...
her warm hand still gives comfort
she is still the life behind your unmoveable force
she is a woman of these modern days
strong in ways not even she can see
beautiful beyond what any mirror can see
her heart will find its way
the love will return to eyes
her voice will grow strong once again
await her heart's spring
await her and she will see
you are the man
that was meant to be

if i sit perfectly still
if i hold my breath
i can almost picture you here
my heart captivated
but nothing compares
like being next to you
in all the sublime scents tastes sounds feelings that
that flood my senses when your here
you are an ocean of existence i swim
that place where the heart blooms like springtime's kiss
you are light as air
filled with flowers and sunshine
your summers joys and sweet romances
you are timeless
from the moment i set eyes on you time ceases
like deep winters night safe in the arms of love
you are a woman
the only woman that has ever been
will ever be
you are....perfect
if i sit perfectly still
if i hold my breath
and close my eyes
i can feel you
and you feel like sunlight

it was a crisp winters day
the air was sharp and stung like knives
the sun approached me like a brutal man
and flexed his muscle at my weak heart
trying to make me afraid
i tried to insist that he didn't know what he spoke of
but he was as deaf as he was mute
so i left him standing high up in the sky
on his soapbox on the illusions of light
i walked from my boarding house
to the train station
and climbed aboard its warm casket
and falling into the seat i did say to my companion
that i fear this every day existence
she only peered at me from over her tortoise shell glasses
and cursed the sun for his audacity
setting on her dreams without having been realized
she now keeps them in a hatbox
in her mothers closet
a mystical box coved in runes and drawings of unicorns
but the very things that make it magical
makes her afraid that its uncool
i stand aghast at such blind evil in sheep's clothing
and still the cold creeps in through
from neath the door
and i retreat from its touch
like i fall away from the argument
a coward to the songs ending
i go on seeking beginnings
and hide my face from the sun
the sun he crept back to his cold tomb and wept there all night
and try as could to cheer him
he swore from the bottom of his bottle of *****
that he would never again rise
that he would forsake her
and when i asked of whom he spoke
he only whispered that the moon was a lover that could not be easily forsaken
and so i left him there in the vaults of night
with his pools of sorrow gathering into a nor'easter
with his sorrows gathering into a broken ship
for a fool like me to venture forth in
flexed his muscle at my weak heart
and i did go home once again
to hide my face from the sun
i will wait for a spring day

she lingers on my mind
so beautiful in her strange way
and oh so tragic
we never had but a moment under a wonderful sun
but what a moment it had been
so full of promise and heartfelt light
so full of the emblems of brighter futures
so filled with the dance of hearts discovering sweet loves
it happened the way it should happen
it happened the way a 52nd street accidental preview should
and then it was gone
she just rose up and rode away waving her fare thee well
like some strange dream
never been able to place where it all went bad
or to place exactly why it all happened that way
other than to say it was meant to be
that she was just quick summer dreams
and she will always be fond to me as i am to her
sitting on a milk crate in the pouring rain
outside a closed supermarket at the midnight hour
just where i would picture her twenty years on
just where she would be night like this
in the beautiful light
a beautiful sight
in the midnight

the trees give way to large open space
with a road running its center
fields of wild grass and shrub border its sides
above the sky has forgotten the sun
under the swift grey silent river of storm clouds
it will rain any moment
the air is thick with its taste

a mass of small birds suddenly take to wing
moving as one swinging up into the treeline
the silence implied is full of birdsong
and the wood sounds
we walk hand in hand through the grass
to the cracked and **** strewn road
that has not see a soul in years
she stops to pick a wild rose
and we resume walking while she holds it with gentle care
like a kitten she is taking home to feed warm milk

thunder rolls off just to the east
we have crossed the road and plunge back into
wild grass and ****
passing the rusted skeletal frame of some car
engulfed by a small tree
i pitch a rock at the hood and with the rewarding metal retort
press on to the far side of the clearing
the large oaks looming in our path
seem like ancient sentinels guarding the gates to eden
we pause as we reach the treeline
i look back
i will never forget the beauty of this day
with my sweet lover
and this quiet peaceful place

there was a desperate plea
from his television face
which is drawn for maximum sorrow
and moderate crowd appeal
i'm sure they had it all on paper somewhere in LA
under the guise of a eight by ten portrait in words
of mad king george
he wanted to be a better man
but his desperate plea went unanswered
by everyone but some little kid in a cowboy outfit
carrying his six shooter and a plastic pony
guess you take whatever salvation gets dealt you way
so the last we saw of him that day
he was sitting on the floor
doing a sock puppet show for the masses
on the dangers of being the king of england
without a crown
she called him a looser
but i asked her to put aide such notions
who better to get acquainted with the heights
than somebody who has fallen to the depths
his blues are tried and true
he wont try and double deal
be trying to hard to prove that he never should have left
and the kid with the plastic pony
turned out to be the next president
cause he knows what horse to back
plastic ponys and kings are all the same anyway
his television face finally got redrawn
for a more sympathetic crowd approval
and soon he will be a celebrated name once again
while id prefer to jut slip back into obscurity
if i could just have a girl to love
and roof over my aching head
but time will tell
cause mad king george is long since
retired to miami

innocence eyes and the social smile
and her neatly carved appearence
is what strikes me as she flows across
the doorstep
because everything about that
face is false and it speaks for itself loudly
in a harsh and violent voice
but the world accepts that
better that the face of things
are neat and clean
it matters little what lay benith
but reality is pornographic
and it will skull *******
death has a hardon for more death

the darkness has an allure
may look so attractive
mystery and adventure
silence the things chasing you

but take care my friend
its a bitterman who eats bitter breads
and stands back from his fellow man
its a mindful man who shares the warmth of
his hearth and home

no good will ever come from this thing
this darkness that you adore
it gives you a sense of belonging
that is really the feelin of being consumed alive
no fitting fate for one such as you
she is beyond all aid
or recourse of the worlds cold hand


long pause
filled with the soft sound of her bringing herself to
******
in the bed
across the vast dark room


her voice reached out to me
with a feeling of tears
soft and smooth as silk
'this is not how it was supposed to be'


her voice captivates me
captures me with feather bonds
entice me down the dim hall
in the humid night
to the sanctuary of her arms

headlong into the night
this memory is like a mountain that i must climb
no ordinary woman
no beer hall dance song

this is no ordinary love
this is passion
this is what life is meant to be

the center of my passing moment
her face profiled into the corner shadow
pale and delightful

her beach sand picker outfit
gives an upscale look of leisure
but her eyes
shout her intense inner demons
nervous energy dance her fingers
on the kitchen table

a fine sheen of sweat
covers her cleavage
which she opens further to cool off
oh my....

her wrist sparkles
with bands of silver and jewels
and makes small metallic sounds
as she reaches up to brush away a strand of hair
with a swift soft movement
that is almost ******
as her perfumed and lithe form leans toward me  
as i in one sweeping moment get a glimpse
of what it must be like to be in her arms
and that intense and absolute beautiful moment
in the near presence of this goddess
leaves me without the ability to speak for several moments
she asks if i am allright and becomes alarmed
when i do not respond
i manage to assure her

i adore women
i love being with them
i love just being around them
they make the world a beautiful place

the road was a dusty grey
in the early morning light
shadowed by a thick fog
quiet with late summer breeze
his footloose wandering had brought him
through all the long years
and all the long miles
to this strange place

the old wood fence
broken down in places was
all that separated from the woods
cool and rich with the scents of summer
and it looked like a wonderful place
to take his rest from midday sun

so sat neith a tall oak
has his supper and did fall fast asleep
lulled by the warm summer day
and he dreamed

a dream of all the worlds wonders
dream of loving warm things that give the heart ease

he woke well after the sun had fled
to a forest strangely silent
to a foreboding to chill to the soul
he cast about seeking the source of ill-ease
but nothing there was so it seemed

deep in distance he began to perceive
the small sound of a woman's voice singing soft an sweet
drawing near
and he could see distant light moving through
the trees
drawing near
and he did marvel at the ideal of sweet maiden
coming to ease him
so sweet was the sounds of her approach
he had only thought of beauty
only had thought of lusts
but narrow is the edge of reality we perceive
and swift is reality's vengeance for the unguarded heart

and then he saw her
and swore within his heart that he was in love
so fair was her face
so enticing was her form
so he was ensnared
so he was doomed
she is a siren of the dark wood
her fair face hides the sharp teeth of her viper heart
her fair figure hides her dark nature
she fell upon him
and murdered poor traveler without even a thought
left his bare bones to dry in the morning sun

the dark wood
contains many things to chill the soul
but none so gruesome
as the fair maiden

time
no timid creature
its  leathery skin
its unseeing eye
moves thru the dark
between our worlds
a shattered place of promises we had
thought to keep
things we had gathered thinking to
build a world with
loves we had vowed
to keep or a avenge

time is making a new man of me
time is making new roads of your future
time is our lover and our nemesis
time is the jackal that feeds on
our hopes'
time is the farmer who sows the seed
of the growing hope you have in your cold cold eye

time is the reason i am now
so afraid
in this dim light motel room
with paper winged nightmares spreading across
the landscape of my dreams
time is the reason i hope
that we can flee

time is a viper
that is in the dust and dark
your grasping fingers
and your weeping
your educated whispers in denial
are just invitation
to the vipers kiss

release me from your side
release me fool
i dont share your wish to die
time is drawing near
i must flee
i must flee

by a proxy delivered
a days sour face
its painted eye fixed on jacob's ladder
and salvation's cherubs
who seven times sevenfold tell the tale
but the tale is threadbare by the time they have spun the spin
all call each other rookies as they verbally fistfight
over the breadcrumb leavings

charred remains of her melted mind
smoulder weakly in the
interment rain
she would sit in the dirt
sketching beautiful things
known for being pretty for all the eyes that don't see
leaving the brick and mortar life
for everything imagination tells you
is so beautiful
you don't want to change the world
just want your world to change

the face turned into the haze of the sun
and in the corner of its unseeing eye
i perceived the nature
of these truths
its in that turned face
its empty gaze cast over the far distant landscape
we all seek to sate the thirst
for a sweeter wine
unleash the mystery of self
unlock the untamed within

its smooth plastic features
hides nothing
but some would say that only reveals that it hides all truth
in its pastel faceless features
that we all see ourselfs

in its pastel faceless features
i see all my loneliness
all my shared joys
all loves all sorrows
all my years struggling against the tide
mishap and perchance
its in that man made  face
that we perceive the distance we must travel to find ourselfs
the trials we must endure to discover the truth
behind our own eyes

coiled in its depths are the answers we all seek
after all isnt it that simple
we create the troubles we seek to destroy
in its smooth plastic skin
she finds comfort
free from the fear of another's unpredictable madness
she can explore her own illusions
and that too seems sure
we destroy what we live for

on the beaches of my puddles
and in the forests between my lawn
and the kitchens back door
of my childhood home
the ages have worn away the questions
that once kept me staring off hopeful to the dawn
trying to decipher the meanings
from patterns of a gods casual breath

and so here i linger
these lifetimes later
waiting for the answers
that an inhuman human face hides
pastel kaleidescope
of the turned face
the barren night filled with wishes
and wishes filled with regrets

its pastel tones
haunt the night
its dark mutterings
play along the road that she bicycles on
whistling a girlhood tune
as she fades into loss
the light in her eyes gone forever
sometimes answers are the last thing we need

twelve days in july
and i carry tokens of each of them
in the pocket of my filthy jeans
each has a face
each has a story and its own trail
of rages or tears

she danced alone in the room
of the redhouse bodega
a spanish tune twisting slowly from the player
its sound thin but the song robust
spinning spinning round and round
she was shadow and light
flashes of rich color
in her best dress and boots of leather
hear them still hitting the hardpack floor
like thunder
she was a goddess that night
she was the worlds that night
let her stay there forever in the limelight
happy in the moment

he waited dressed in his finest clothes
pressed and neat from head to toe
with a single rose
in the moonlight a mile down from the redhouse
in his heart he sings that song to her
in his heart he holds her in his arms
theres nothing that will stop us he says
theres nothing that will ever stand in our way
and his heart dances thru all the days with her
that he will love her
that they will share
there in the moonlight a mile down from the redhouse
singing a song in his heart for her
let him abide there forever
happy in the moment

i see dawn sneaking in the window
pull the blanket from my shoulder
shake off the chill
cough the sickhouse regret and
feel my lungs fill with  slow death
twelve days in july
but i keep dreamin of one night in febuary
a shopping cart and smiles
hope
i could use some
all the places i could have ended
did not see this one
alone in an empty broken room
an empty broken man
dont leave me here alone
in this moment

she lay in the grass
public park just before dawn
looking up at the stars fade
holding a small budda
rubbing the belly
smile on her face
but thoughts run deep and swift
with one finger she traces the edges of clouds
in her heart she paints masterpieces
she illustrates the world with a carefree hand
and is loved by all who behold
in her heart
the last sliver of moonlight is hers alone
on the road from the redhouse
an ambulance ride to saving
a quick journey to hope
on the road from the redhouse
she just wants to stay here where its safe
where nothing dangerous can get at her
in this moment of moonlight
happiness

twelve days in july
seem like years to me
where am i bound
will i make it
i just want that night
shopping carts and smiles
hope
just a glimmer of hope

the grave diggers son
rises before the dawn
out into the cold morning
out into the vast fields of the dead
this is not the future he saw
for himself
a farmer of the macabre
he plants them
firmly underground
but nothing grows
nothing good comes of it

this vast architecture of finality
this field of mourning and tears
this cold place of death
a place that others would rather forget
yet they build miles of marble
and years of art
in this quiet foreboding place
afraid if we dont honor the power
that can ****** the
life from us at any time
then perhaps it will come seeking vengeance

the gravediggers son
his hands ache from all the death he must
touch
from all the loss he sees and feels

this is not the life for me
he swears to himself in a whisper
as he has every day for thirty years
i will escape this place
dont plant me in the fields of the dead

it all ways seemed to me
that its a simple affair
knowing which way to head your feet
which way to dip your hat
to cast off that west wind
seems like a logical kinda thing
to know what kind of man is standing behind ya
when you come up to bat
and are counting on a fair shake

but wouldn't ya know it
that just as you cross the fine line
between all your yester-years mistakes
and all the things you came to regret
in hindsight
you discover that the fine line
is more like a razor blade cut
dividing you from all the things
you could change if you could
and the man behind ya has got his eye
on your wallet and position
on your two car one kid garage

so you step back and take stock
but even as you count
life is pulling the slippery
sands of possession slip
through your fingers
so your tally just don't make sense
and you cant keep track of who's knives
you have stuck in your back

it all ways seemed to me
to be a simple affair
of picking the right way to proceed
but there are all ways
three hundred things to know to every choice
and none of em ever leaves me
holding the girls **** hand
hey serenity where the hell are you
i wanna kiss ya
no i don't
i want to laugh with ya

seemed like such a logical thing to do
but now i begin to see
that no choice you make
be the right one all the time

i miss ya

obscenity isnt always
in the words written or images sketched
but sometimes in the hearts and minds of
thouse you look within for it least

sometimes the images
overwhelm the idea within them with their simple verse
and he must hurry behind and clean like a proper butler
dusting and polishing to meet the standard
making a home for the love felt
a true home for the misbegotten

but these come thundering out of the dust and noise
hard and swift on massive waves of
untamed emotion
like the sudden shout of peril of the last watchman standing
knowing his warning falls to deaf ears
but he must fulfill his destiny and creed
to be the only one who could have stayed the downfall

but within the sweet reprise of finding
is the void and capitulation
as if the celluloid heroine
steps gently from the screen to the empty room
your weeping occupy's
to comfort as only true royalty of worth can
as only dignity's angel can

you are left with your own cage of
your own doubting thoughts and tread-worn dreams
while she journeys onward with her own
on a cold mist strewn road
far to the north
in some unforgiving land of harlots and liars

the end of this night approaches
bearing its regrets
gently in its arms like comfort and peace of mind
can be purchased with well wishes
and happy thoughts

the last solider limps slowly away from the battlements
wailing his souls song of friends fallen
and blood that never should have been spilled
over such foolish proposition
as words spoken are equal to those written
as such an expensive toll should be paid for some rich mans pocket
overflowing and wasted