Let's pretend that I can dance tonight
Who needs friends? Who needs day's light?
I'll pretend I can whip and pirouette
Let's see how far into the night I get
One hour, two hours, three crowds and four
My vision is blurry but I'll dance some more
I wonder how that boy did his coat and his hair
I gotta get out to the garden's frigid air
Who needs the friends from schools that you know?
Who needs that cute guy when the dances get slow?
All I need is the beat that shakes the ground
And the dusk induced feeling of no one else being around
With the last song of the night
The cops push us out without a fight

I stood in the February snow
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury

My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me

So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing

I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week

We start from nothing
And spring from dreams
Reaching through dimensions
And time.
I stand like a rock
Rooted to the earth beneath my feet
Know this place
Own this space
Whilst possessing nothing at all
Still I fly
Pondering reality
Dreaming with clarity
Knowing only
Love survives all.

I'm going to dare the fates and speak openly

Julius Caesar, was a pompas *****, who consumed and never gave
A pudgy little waif of an excuse for a man
Cleopatra, wasn't a visual beauty,
She had wit, and the gift of gab
I was her hand maiden
I would know
Technology?!
We are so primitive in this age, Ha!
Nero,
History painted a vague, and awful picture of a great man of men
Indeed,
My Nero, did dance at the fall of Rome
Because we all would dance, at the loss of ignorance
He was beautiful, I loved him
And of DaVinci?
His mind was offset
He was GREAT
His was a traveling soul and mind
Leonardo, looked God himself in the face
And grinned
He was GREAT, as was his son
His son, painted a book
It resides in the Vatican Library
Check if you will
With your "Google"
Your generations wonder of mysteries,
You haven't a clue
Time isn't linear
It Is always
And I grow tired
Hoover, a Hunter
He knew of us
And we hid
Shielding ourselves in shadows
And lies
We are here
We watch
Wait....

A certain song the sea wind knows
it sends thru puckered lips,

like kisses blown, across the bows
of drowsing sailing ships;

and stirs their sleepy sails
from their slumber with it's tune,

unfurls their folded petals
and brings them back in bloom.