Axiom does not lie upon the
plush bed of the words I've said.
It doesn't flourish under influence of the
flowery texts I've written.
Axiom does not fully exist behind the
actions I've deliberately displayed.

It is ingrained within the subtle folds,
inexplicable nuances
and playful innuendos.
It is present in the lull you find in between
fleeting memories and faltering heartbeats.
It is scored into the unlyricised songs,
sung when our breaths do meet.
It's in the unplanned gazes that
stray into nothingness
only to be caught by yours.
It's evident in the void... The silence we've shared
without ever feeling awkward.

Axiom...
Is the fall that you had anticipated
only after having taken the leap.
It's that feeling of not knowing where the bottom is
but yet still certain that you are safe.

Axiom is...
My unseen heart as it beats hard
for none other than you.

It all began with Love. 

Love beheld our frame; 
He looked upon our wretchedness and saw beauty.
He looked upon the hatred in our hearts,
And saw Love.

Said Love, "I will shower my affection upon my beloved";
Then Love gave
His most treasured possession
—His only Son.

So Love humbled Himself; 
He minded not the frailty of our frame,
Nor the vainness of our nature.
But He robed Himself in flesh,
And came.

Love sent not an angel,
No, not even a cherub or seraph did He delegate.
He sent the best resource there ever was;
He came Himself.

Then Love took our hurt, 
suffered our pain,
experienced our rejection,
endured our death on the Cross,
and paid for our sins.

So Love repaired the breach,
and atoned for our misdeeds;
Himself the Sacrifice,
and Himself the Priest.

Love broke our chains,
that we may experience the Father's Love
—undying, unbridled, and unrestrained.

Then Love returned in the Person of the Holy Spirit;
and Love stayed.
Love taught,
and Love played.

Love sought,
and Love found;
Here is Love
— Love Unbound.

He is said to have been the last Red man
In Acton. And the Miller is said to have laughed—
If you like to call such a sound a laugh.
But he gave no one else a laugher’s license.
For he turned suddenly grave as if to say,
“Whose business,—if I take it on myself,
Whose business—but why talk round the barn?—
When it’s just that I hold with getting a thing done with.”
You can’t get back and see it as he saw it.
It’s too long a story to go into now.
You’d have to have been there and lived it.
They you wouldn’t have looked on it as just a matter
Of who began it between the two races.

Some guttural exclamation of surprise
The Red man gave in poking about the mill
Over the great big thumping shuffling millstone
Disgusted the Miller physically as coming
From one who had no right to be heard from.
“Come, John,” he said, “you want to see the wheel-pint?”

He took him down below a cramping rafter,
And showed him, through a manhole in the floor,
The water in desperate straits like frantic fish,
Salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails.
The he shut down the trap door with a ring in it
That jangled even above the general noise,
And came upstairs alone—and gave that laugh,
And said something to a man with a meal-sack
That the man with the meal-sack didn’t catch—then.
Oh, yes, he showed John the wheel-pit all right.

like a star
the girl shines
plastic packaging removed
double-a batteries inserted
and with a flick of a switch

she lights up
beaming twinkling
amidst a galaxy of stars
that look just like her
that smile just like her
that behave just like her

she is held together by her own gravity
set forever to whirl and twirl and swirl
about her own little axis

dancing prancing
for the sentinels
for the solar systems
for the universe

like a star
the girl dies
inwards not out
crumbling crumpling
from the weight of empty mascara bottles lipstick tubes-face paint
to the weightlessness of her own self

My plans were foiled
I fell down on my knees
My clothes got soiled

I've got Art on the wall
The telephone never gets a call
I'm five nine and my problems
Are ten feet tall

Just like taking the grey
When you could have sun all day

I have the rhythm but I don't have the blues
When it comes to trouble well I'm bad news

I look to my left and I look to my right
The whole world is falling apart

Washington, a reality show has become
Everybody has tired of hearing 'you're fired'
And has been waiting on the roll of the drum

Google is there but which answer is true
And when they steal your writing
Do you really think you can sue