Hey spider,
dangle there
on the spout
until morning
if you dare
of the fiberglass
off-white tub-
I have no fear
of your silken web
now,
you go about your business
as if I am
not there sitting
on my throne-
just hoping,
when morning comes you are
way far up in the corner
sleeping, as it seems our schedules
rarely overlap

I met a man who claimed him and I came from the same home,
I told him I've never been.

he didn't understand my disconnected nostalgia,
Instead he trusted place and time.
I guess he hasn't had much experience with drafty windows or closed mouths.

I tried to explain to him, home is where you hide your skeletons,
and I've used people and words as closet doors,
when that didn't work I buried them in shallow graves under my skin.

he said he noticed the bones sticking out of my body and I told him,
my search for home as left me starving and unstable,

that after a lifetime of asking for directions
to churches and cemeteries,
I've become envious of comfortable beds and worn-in floor boards.

It,s  a  lovely  crisp  early  spring  morning.
After  a  sharp  frost.
Clear  blue  sky  has  far
as  the  eye  can  see.
Very  quiet, no  wind  at  all.
The  snow  capped  mountains
stand  proudly  on  the  horizon.
A  few  holiday  makers  arriving.
For  a  brand  new  season.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2017.

It's easy to hear the loneliness in her voice
As she speaks she has no one to talk about, there's just no choice

She talks about the good old days
Filled with love and compassion all was just a faze

Loneliness is when you cry
There's no one there to make her smile or dry her eyes

No one to help with the demons inside her head
No one to subside the discomfort of pain from deep inside

The demons are here to prey on the misguided brain
She continues to hide her pain

Only to give into the loneliness of despair
Her loneliness has only become a reality because nobody cares

Trying to fade away loneliness has taken its toll
On her soul

Sound of loneliness is silent
She doesn't hear the birds singing with great talent

She doesn't feel the sun shining
People pass her by as if she doesn't exist so she starts declining

She wishes her heart could love again highly unlikely loneliness has become her only way of life
She remains unable to feel due to the coldness in her heart stuck by a knife

Oh my dear Lord
Your beautiful creation of the dandelions...
Oh my great God
Your beautiful creation of my heart...
Oh the beautiful dandelions
The owners of the blue sky
Ask God whether I can imagine
your dress carrying Jasmines !!!
I haven't told the sky how much I love you
but I've told God...


ای خدای من
...قاصدک ها را زیبا آفریدی
ای خدای بزرگ
...قلب من را زیبا آفریدی
ای قاصدک های زیبا
که آسمانی آبی دارید
به خدا بگویید
اشکالی ندارد
اگر فکر کنم
!!! پیراهن شما گل یاسمن دارد
من به آسمان نگفته بودم
شما را دوست دارم
...به خدا گفته بودم

Rain colder than the word no
Into wind revealed painful secrets I go
Across sheets of lightning induced anxiety ,
through 'Downdays' filled with rumbling thunder
insecurity and finality* ...

the ebb and flow
the back and forth
the wind carrying sand and salt water breath.
the current takes us in it's rhythmic side to side sway,
almost matching us to the waves completely.
the beauty of a paradise
juxtaposed with the nearing reality of less.
the stillness of life like distant ships,
carried away by time and tide.
fleeting, but no less beautiful because of it.