I found a pretty little box
In a pretty shade of blue,
In it I sat to wait;
Both for change and you.
And if it starts to rain,
I'll wear it as a hat,
And wait for you again.

But, I wonder what I'd see,
From my box of blue,
If first came change, not you
And I'd wonder what I'd do


After all, you were supposed to come...
     Together

I wait upon the morning star
Beneath the sullen trees
And from the lonly wind I hear
A bittersweet melody

Well, it was a voice, truth be told,
A maiden dressed in black
And as she turned, and stood I saw
The tears fall down her back

I knew she was crying for the star,
The new one in the sky
Perhaps hers would keep mine well,
Though old, it shone nearby

Beneath the trees I met her,
The willows weeping too,
Side by side, she and I cried
While the world carried on its tune

Mind shifting
Wet face feircly dripping
Puddles and puddles of wax
Spectacular mind attacks
Twisting and churning
And missing and yearning
And waiting for something,
Not sure what, you're tiring
Crumple in slowly from the weight
And finally succumb to the endless fate

The night whispers
Things the stars told them
Lines of truth to sound like ink
And stolen murmers, he didn't think
That, for all their wisdom, stars
Have wild mischief in their hearts
And oh, the things they make you dream
But still, all things I'm glad I've seen
But night soon grows too weary and old
And the stars fade in shining gold
Before night can tell me what he's told
From the stars who live so silver-bright
And so good morning, and goodnight

In the middle of the night I pretend
With my make believe glitters
And shoes filled with spiders,
That I could be Cinderella
On that night before the ball.

Only with invisible step sisters
And God mother who never came.
-I didn't particularly care
About the prince!

The thin skeleton trees 
in midnight blue dresses
Sway in the sparkling streets,
And reach their arms to the sky
Some still boast a firey red,
And blow Ruby kisses from high

Tired mumblings
The distant drone of twirling fans
And lights
Numbers spoken
Motion for swift end.
Seconded.
Thank you,
Goodbye

Watching my days on a crimson slide,
Born with the moon and run with the tide.
Faces in the shapes and the shifts to hide
Running to the wind on my crimson tide.

Reaching for the places, the faces all shied,
Saving all the graces and the races were tied.
The lock has a key and a bolt to hide,
The faces had the traces of a crimson lie.

The moonlight shone with the sun and sea,
The silver sickles tickled as they struck at me.
I'm free to be trapped and trapped to be free,
A world awash in crimson is all I see.

I'm all that I am and I will try to be,
Stuck to the sand and poured in the sea.
Rough to the hands, and cool and sweet
Crimson is no prison when you are born free

Taking two hands and a soul full of hope,
I hang over water, the seaweed like rope
It's true the sun sets not long from its rise,
But I've waited all day to see your true eyes

Of things you can see through; glass, air and me
The lies you've been told, still you can't see
So come to the water, where I hang like a cloak
And together, us two, we can mend what we've broke

Dizzily trilling  flight
And a soprano of feathers;
Dancing dark with a warble,
Spinning crescendo from the beak:
A blazing duet with the wind,
And a circus of flightful singers,
Wheeling around tuneless
Through the air of musical trills,
And feathers and bills.

And our devious ways
Hide our smiles behind upturned cups
As we gaze; half lidded iridescent moons
Swirling in misty lakes,
And we raise our chilly glass to our lips
But not to drink,
For then we would be forgotten.

I've learned to doubt purple,
When fat white flakes cascade,
In ice blue eyes and winter skies
In a December rain parade

I savour the red,
Umbrellas and scarves unshed,
The blood doesn't pour, but the fireplace roars
Soft and alone in my bed

I swim in the grey,
Soft skies like seeing seas sway,
Puddles on tar,  frost on the cars,
Fat drops, like the birds, fly away

Midnight stars in clear black skies
Wink solemnly with their many friends,
Dancing eternally, the silent centennials
Stand Intensely aloof,
..
And with diamond voices, crystal breath
Sing boldly to the waning night;
The thin, velvet night

Late night resolutions
Never seem to stay;
As though the wings of my dreams
Carry them away.

I meant to get up early..
And woke an hour late.
And in my rush I forgot
To eat healthy from my plate.

And by the time I got to school,
Looking like a giant fool
The homework due, I didn't do
And on my PJ's, spots of drool.

And though it didn't go as planned...
I swear, tomorrow- this is no lie!
Ill get out of my soft warm bed
Well....at least for once I'll actually try

Probably.

The ends of my fingers trail dust,
Creating forgotten memories,
And leaving no trace,
No fingerprints,
Just the dusky film of the setting sun,
That shadow-gold twilight
And my reflection in broken mirrors

(you also know your mind lies, how do you determine truth?
-You'll be able to feel it if you listen closely)
(you know with your heart;
You have disconnected from your body, which is why you doubt yourself)

Your mind thinks
Your heart knows
Your feelings confirm
Your mind thinks, gets anxious, ungrounded and turns on yourself
.
Your heart, bitter at being ignored, lashes out in hopes that if you could only feel the damage you are doing to yourself,
you might pay attention

A poem isn't like somthing,
It is.
A poem is everything
Or nothing at all.
A poem does not need to rhyme,
Just because.
A poem can be anything
   -a fear or a dream
But a poem by an artist
Is a work of art.

The gentle giant,
Furiously calming
With peaceful power,
Pushing forward, endlessly on
Frothing and abating
Against the blemished shore,
Wiping away the disaster
And washing it out for more.

Do I dare disturb the universe;
With dreams so much more
Than dreams?

Sharp hands
Grasping at the light like straws
But the light drips though
the sharp fingers
Rolls down the Bony wrist
Falls
And puddles on the floor,
Like inverted shadows.
Lost, to the longing hands

Music in silence
Is the swish of leaves on trees
The shush of the breeze
The smiles on buttercups
The sweet clovers wishing you luck
The coy wiles of roses
And the big blue sky that never imposes
The sound of frost creeping over every
         blade of grass at night
The first, and last, few rays of light
The brush of feathers
And dew straining on silken tethers
The silhouette of seas afar
The promise and hush of sleepy stars
The sun warmed dirt beneath our feet;
The song of silence never misses a beat

The day's more lovely than a rose
Which under temperate climate grows
But soft, the sun and warm wind blows
The day's far more lovely than a rose

The rose, though lush, will fade away
And on the grass limp petals play
All in all, rose pales to day
Whose skies do dance on lands away

Flowers fade but day sustained
Melt to night and stars are gained
Flowers pulled from weak roots strain
But always, always day remains

I would write about love
If I knew what it was
My prince is just lost....
Its the most probable cause

I've never been held
All through the night
Or had what he says
Make me feel right

I've heard of love though;
Deep, strong and slow.
You know, the kind
That can stand against time

Or like fireworks so bright
Passion in the night
Sweet love in summer
To make your heart flutter

When you look into eyes
That can see though your soul
Or be held in the hands
That make you feel whole

Its better to have loved and lost
Than to never haved loved at all.
But I ask, what's worse?
Your heart ripped out
Or empty forever.

I see the skies within your eyes
And oceans in the underneath
Do you ever get the feeling
Like summertime stuck in your teeth?
The stars they shine, like candlelight
Holding vigil through the night
I hear the wind, like whispers fade
A story for another day
Oh,
the cities fall down...With fire
And forgotten enemies, oh
They burnt... with desire
A city built on locks and keys..

I do not dare myself compare
Against the flame within your state
My love, you fill each breath of air
So that each word may expell hate

You soar so high, you bring me low
To roots, to nourished earth - I grow
For you, my sun
You tend to life, and love and play-
You ease my nights and brighten my day

Wafting through your home in a housecoat,
Ends trailing, you hold the railing.
Put cereal in your bowl, and eat it cold;
Thoughts dragged to dreams,
Your hands to your pen,
Putting words to emote the leaves
And they cling falteringly to starving trees
On the brink of release-
You sit back in your hard chair,
Almost not even there,
Gaze an empty stare,
You see beyond your caging walls,
Magic is alive! Songs in the skies and wind!
Who said crazy was a sin?
I'll say its amazing, go back to your dream
And draw it, paint it, write it again
See it, live it again.
And then, share some with me
So I, too can see.

How soft you are
On my nose
When it runs
And when I blow

Pulled from a box
Like a magic mans hat
Clean as my conscience
(But don't ask about that)

When dinner becomes a dance,
Standing in the kitchen as the clock strikes 12,
Tomato juice dripping to my elbows
Spices spilled over vegetables raw in my hands,
The carving knife wet with sauce
Eating fistfuls of my own hunger and joy
Until I reach the end of that deep and driving primal hole
The meat pads my bones
And fills my aching soul
.
And standing for midnight mass
In the holiest place in my home
I catch my glance in the window's gleam
And am introduced to a woman I've only met
In my deepest and sweetest of dreams

My eyes plead for sleep, for sleep
But night entreats me to creep, to creep
Out in the black so deep, so deep
And follow the fence so neat, so neat
Up the hill so steep, so steep
Where light shines so meek, so meek
In a cold breeze so weak, so weak
Under a tree that's sharp, not bleak
And do the wild dance for dreams

Before you break man,
You must first tell me;
What are the color of his eyes?

My heart in the morning is a sweet little thing,
It rises with sunshine, and will timidly sing,
At noon she's ablaze with the force of the sun
On evenings folds weary, of a hard battle won
And under the stars, beneath twilight blue,
She flies free and wild, and happy, and true

I am a slave to sight and sound
And touch, to which I know no bounds
But, oh, to see what can't be seen..
I dream to live within a dream

There was no witness,
No prosecutor or defense,
No jury,
Only one man in a room of judges,
Waiting

I went out in the rain last night
With a soothing tap-pat on the roof
It nearly lulled me to sleep all right
But dream-spoke to come out for a gift
  and said only the truth

I padded, I glided to the door
And was rushed by the fresh rain-air,
I sunk my toes in puddles for more;
Arms flung wide, head back, feet bare

Lilacs and thunder smelled on the rain
And so I spun 'round and 'round
Not out for long, but I'll go back again;
To soak in the cold, fresh and the sound

The birds fall still,
The night grows chill
The bright stars shine,
The air, fine wine.
The silver moon glows,
The lonely wind blows
The streetlights beam,
The people dream
Dawn will rise
And lighten skies
But the midnight clock
Right now, might stop
And leave the world in dreams;
The silent world in dreams

Soft, the night,
As liquid air heals
The ravages of day
The red sun burns
And lights the tiresome path,
But rest now, my darling
Under the gentle wrap of night
Water for the weary
Sleep, my darling, sleep

Death,
an absence of life.
A disconnection of the soul from the body,
The extrapolation of nothingness
The encroachment of cold
The cessation of zest
Betrayal.

I notice how eyes,
So easily drawn in quick, uncaring lines
Are always attracted to the light
And always adjust to the dark,
But refuse to look
at the brightest suns,
Or the deepest shadows

There is beauty in suffering too sweetheart,
to revel in the pains of existence
I think maybe I suffer and love
in equal measure
and, God!- what a way to be alive

A frizz of hair and froth of cloudy breath
Walk down the dimly lit, puddled mirror
Of wet sidewalks
Shushed by the rush of the stampede
of bullets that shoot along beside
Pushed by an exodus of ex bus surplus minds
Flowing with the tide

Feathers flit and twitter overhead
With sticks and bits to make their bed
A sparse sea for company
Drops down to flow alongside me
And wet the grass
Which grows between the sidewalk slits
And rocky pothole pits
Beside the dark leaf stains and plodding feet
That beat a slow, releived retreat
From crowded bus seat

Winter leaves
Settle uneasily on cold sidewalks
Stirred into frenzy
By the sweeping feet
And wind that seldom taunts
With the promise of spring
Remember spring?
It sounded like golden bells,
And smelled like honey.

Words flow like water
Brushing past my fingers, quickly
An unobtainable river
But taking the drops from my palms
Dipped in the tide
I shake a precious dew
Hopefully settling
Into some thing,
Some great being of vastness
To drink, drench, quench even,
It's multitude of worries
and curiosities
To flow in like an ocean,
Setting wonders in motion,
And healing animosities

My grandmothers skin is pickled rainbows
Bright from life, and crumpled with use
Every painstaking line a story
Of her joys and sorrows;

The day she met my grandfather
Her first day of school
Stealing cookies from the jar
The day she had my mother,
The day her mother passed on.
Riding horses,
Colder winters,
Cheaper candy,
Family picnics in summer,
And sneaking out of the house ...

My grandmother is beautiful,
And I love every story
That her rainbow shows.