if grass were blue
and sky was green
in the oceans open field
i'd float in dreams
to the outer banks
of in between
under a chartreuse sun
in waves of tangerine

as pink dolphins*
come together as one
and sing out loud
to the purple sirens song
near the jagged rock
where the sailors warn
of the changing colors
of the coming storm

i'd still think of you
as if grass were blue
on the changing tide
of the oceans hue
as i live by
what i thought i knew
with sky's of green
*and grass of blue

Do not look at me with those eyes
Those sorrow-filled eyes that believe those lies
Which come from a Monster, in beauty disguised
Do not look at me with those eyes.

Do not silence me when I speak
Of hope that glimmers through moments bleak
As if my pity is all you seek
Do not silence me when I speak.

I cannot bear to see you broken
For though my heart remains unspoken,
In my dreams, you smile 'til I have woken
I cannot bear to see you broken.

Do not look at me with those eyes
Because in them, I recognize
I love you more than I realized
Please, do not look at me with those eyes.

Buildings for the most part are boxes square.
But Pentecost circles and spirals,
they turn and burn wild.

Of those who would tame
and make comprehensible any fire--
apt tongues have gone titch titch
and beautiful catch 'til words and music
and parlor diplomacies fortify
much which is untrue.

Fear has no finish, even in our dying.
The path is a cliff edge.

Let us turn, un-adult-like, and strip ourselves  
of civilized persuasions. Usher
Earth's children into primordial worlds.

Water shall love and receive us, as it always has.
The naked ground will speak up,
into our touching feet.

Listen to the tongues of the wind.
Unhinge the body, which is you.

Let all creation fly.

This the inspiration from the same old songs
Painting memories as the sunrise sways to moonlight
Writing out immaculate fantasies in which I long
To see vividly in reality as an endearing sight
Seducing fixated thoughts into a surrealist abstract
A senseless halucination seperated from common fact

Spilling out vague accounts of thoughts days before
Monotonous literal interpretations of living dreams
Dwindling epiphanies leaking from persepections pore
Forgotten pieces of satisfaction that we can't redeem
Except on these tattered memoires I've come to resent
Piles upon piles of dying highs rotting on parchment

Despondent attempts to reanimate decaying emotion
Through a larger than life sincerity hidden in rhyme
Showcasing empty facades and uncertainties devotion
In vain of the first conception that changed as time
Makes a mockering of the beauty lost in every moment
Restless sensations trapped within all the verses spent

Broken words of rememberance that a poem leaves behind
Untimely rhythms growing more useless as days pass by
From the deliverance of meaning in our star-lit minds
To the desperate hour where we can't find a reason to try
We're searching for an excuse to have our names defined
A theme on a story that will mean something once we die

there is the world so much i think i have felt it

have felt by it
and by it felt

so much it
(the world)

who in droves presses ugly Spring against me
who in heards comes dying and immortal
who in sleeping flowers laughs most
(the world

by sting invisible
impulses each rotund death
of lungs upon heaps of dying
to go out and wear more gladly it

it girls laughing
it boys sweating to be first
it arcuate of hips
it thundering of industry
it of millions tinly each


each pointless
each fathomless
each more than last
each next than other
each the other than the next

i think and i have seen by it
and have i?
way north over the barn where goes the winter
when in neatish crimson hulking ****** comes

first small coming

then steadily gargantuan

Summer

in deep veins of failing gold
only to brittle
only to fold and tousle
only to rubble and quake

alas

and i have thought

alas

and i have read

alas

and i have felt so proud to get at the meanings of poems

) but ever have i known it?

No.

i have not been my feet to push of it a million splendors

i have not been my throat to scream so loud my body shook

i have not been amongst its people

i have not tasted

i have not been by the skinny bank of a winding stream in the middle of Summer when the cool water tickles across the span of each toe the wholeness of being

i have not kissed so long to love

i have not breathed so long to speak

what then can i say?
but do i say it?
of course

i say it by hands between quick thighs
uncurling hurting bruises of hot sharpness

i say it in the hunched play of a girl's wetness

i say it in the calm stroke of a withered dog's scalp

i say in quiet moments as in loud moments

i speak(and i always speak)

and i think i have the world so much by it felt as to know it

and i think i do not know it

and i think it is not so much

and i think i have not felt it

The mother told the daughter  not to cross the line,
But she didn't listen, she was so blind.        She saw a beautiful  flower, and saw another flower,                                                   she took the beautiful flower just for the mother.                                                                                                The person from the underworld was driving his horse and adupted her.                  Her mother was worried and it was very late,                                                             she started to think that she was yesterdays bate,
She went to ask zoos for help and told them they have the daughter.                                She thought that it would be easy like drinking water.                                              the devil told the daughter to eat a parmergrant seed.                                         They kept her for six months.                       She should of listen. If she didn't do that junk.                                                            The mother got angry and started to bleed

Then I think when I was young, I didn't stop to ponder
only went to gather - days of sun and flowers
little feet to storm the street of puddles
splashing ever homeward, popsicles
my tiny toes, to warm again
my love like a fire

they’re made of fleshy water, i could put my hand right through them
they’re not you. you make everything a shadow of itself.
i talk to them as if i care, carry out their light, wet business out of duty
longing to return to the land of your body, words, breaths

when i find you again, each night, i am enraptured by your words,
how your flesh stops my hand like a tree limb against a stone wall
it lays there, listening to your stories piqued by small laughter,
quietly growing over days, until the stone and fiber interlock

until  they forget about where they met, first touched, and shared.

From white sakura in the garden way,
had gone the milky odor sprey.
and icy heart of flooding sense
that is not me ....
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
The sun kisses mountines , fields
Reflect on Caspian black waters ...
May be i dream of early twilight moon,
Ridding the pinky horse ....
that is not me ...
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
I sent the doves with posts
three or four indeed....but...
They hadnt been read .
may be they still in net...
You sang me the song on the old quatar,
fingers dance a melody ...Habibi ...
Are you alive ?
Then i greet you with hugs
Then ...i will die from hapiness
Just for you...Habibi !
Please be alive ...let me know ....
that is not me ...
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...

Far, is where you are from where I am...
My alarm won't wake me up anymore, and the sounds from beyond my room only seem to be getting louder...I stood behind my closed door, letting the tears hit the ground as I sink closer to the floor... Dad why are you not here? Will it be to late before I can spend anytime with you?

I opened my chest sitting by my window and under all the dry, wrinkled roses and dust I found the lat picture of you and mom together.. I held it close to my heart and laid in my bed pretending that your hand was stroking my hair like you always do... I pretended that you kissed my forehead and said goodnight... And aloud through my choked up voice I said it back... Of only you were here daddy.