Subtle melody, find solace

as fingers ride the wind like wings.
Side walk top hats are my wallet,
as heartache grips the listening crowd
and just like that, the wind too sings
along with my torn fingered strings,
that fly like heartache sung aloud,
and come alive like Spring.

My fingers know which notes to tear away.
The violin knows what wind it needs for tune.
I'll rest the base against my neck and play,
Street corners my rehearsal room,
in coldest winter or sunniest spring;
In frigid night, in scorching day,
I'll play. My blistered fingers know the way.

Seasons come and go astray.
Plucking fingers freeze and burn.
But everywhere by bow resolves to turn,
the wind follows, waiting for my word;
His cue to take the stage and sing
songs that come alive like Spring
and my smiling fingers know which string
will permit the wind be heard.

You are the sun while I am asleep

You are the sun as I stand to my feet

You are the sun when my mind becomes dark

You are the sun

Poets** were put on this earth to suffer because without it where would our thoughts come we thrive under hard times when life leaves you breathing nothing but sulfur but when in serenity we find we finally unwind and calm our troubled minds until the rug is pulled from under our feet down back to the deep we venture writing of sorrow surviving for the serenity to return to our world again

I tell my nightmares to go to sleep.
I tell my breath to stay some longer.
I tell tomorrow to bark at yesterday.
I tell sins to forgive what's left of me.
I tell lies to give truth some warm company.

I tell me a lot to tell a lot little.

Sensual entrapment,
Heart, mind, soul, unifying in
Emotional *******.