It would be easy for me
To be a princess on Halloween;
I would don my housecoat and jewels,
Paint my face and pretend,
Twirling, through the night of dead wishes
And cling to the dear transience,
Dreaming that it could last.

If I could hold the world
But only for a day
I'd marvel at such life
And watch it melt away

If I could kiss a star
And whisper in its ear
I'd like to tell a joke
So it twinkles bright all year

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

A crystal sun shines brighter
To crystal eyes
Than any golden sun ever could.

You've got to move to the rhythm and sway
Let the sound wash your troubles away
Its your turn to seize the day
So swim in the rhythm and sway

Hold your arms out to catch the beat
Lose your self in the music retreat
Spin on your new light feet;
Have the bad pounded out by the beat

Its not a song, its your soul
Feel it heal you until you're whole
It'll warm you when you're cold
Move to the music of your soul

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

Dear hands,
You have created me
As I have created with thee,
Not quite fine,  my dear
It's time,  my dear
to change.

And now,  
as sunlight turns to dusk,
Though you've scribed me in the dust
Peerless portrait on the floor,
The iron room has locked it's door
Behind me

My friends,  
it's time for me to rest
Though I know you did you best
But the light is growing dim
And you know I cannot swim
In shadow

My art
I had scrawled it in the dark
And now it is torn apart
Not quite fine,  my dear
Divine,  my dear
Goodnight

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'll see you next December
When the crisp leaves crack
And heads tilted back
To taste the snow- remember
Me, and our lovely flurry embers,
I'll never forget forever
***
With you next December
(I'll be)

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

We have
Too much confidence for competence,
Such deliberate disguises.
Our silly grins grimly thin.
We are the hollow men,
And insidious ideals appeal
In a dream stealing spiel with zeal.
No rest for a lost boy.
This is the way the world ends;
Not with a shout but a whisper

A new way
A new look
Its not the same
A wonderful change
And here to stay
So why not say
How beautiful it is
And will be.

History wasn't made
By people who were the same
They were all born different
And lived through the pain
To the gain.

Pave your own way
No matter what they do
'Cause nothing can deter
You beautiful you (:

The dark drapes of night
hang over a sea of twinkling city lights,
held up only by the dark towering trees and distant velvety mountains.
The hot air finally cooled to bliss.
This is why I love the night.

The rooms spins as I tilt my head back,
I see lightning behind my eyes
The floor rocks like stormy water
I waver, pudding arms shake,
Gripping the wall for strength
My belladonna fingers limply clentched
The silent thunder fading
The frozen storm waning,
And back to reality I go....

I never win,
Racing against dragonflies,
But I love it.

Soft cotton fingers
Gently lift my head
From rolling shoulders
Rising up like smoke,
A waking dreamless sleep.
Rest, wanderer
Be still.

The brontide words
Of a wounded man
Echo still,
Silent
From when they began
In this place.
...
A voice, not his!
But an Injured man anew
Casting the echoes back
To the stranded,
The echoes remain
Repeated in a new voice
From another wounded man
With brontide dreams

I love the energy of night
You can feel it, you know-
Seeping out of the ground,
Filling the air with and electric buzz
Sleepy people also release energy
Out, out to the night,
Until very late
When even it grows tired and still
And the energy condenses into dew
Until morning.

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.

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.

Hello, my darkness,
I found you at last.
I stifled the blinding lights,
And delight in your soft kiss,
Your velvet cloak pooling in the corners,
And the soft silk touch of the moon
Glowing silver behind your eyelids,
And your fathomless depths
Bleed like ink, and I breathe you In like smoke,
out like water from the abyss.
You surround me with your touch,
you fill me, even as we cut delicate missteps
In the sweet, swaying, firey silence
For I am as mystified with your cool secrets,
As you lay entranced with my light.

Do I dare disturb the universe?
I do not think that they will see me.
I have measured my life in coffee spoons
And hollow men,
But with these deliberate disguises
I should be glad of another death,
To purge the sores on innocent tongues,
This waiting is wanting!
Your eyes have their silence, true
But so do dying stars.
There is no rest for a lost boy,
Who searches for love
That was cast to the sea

Stars are the thing
That will be
From now until
Eternity

Sleep, sweet memories,
Let all your fears be rest.
Engage your dreams with frivolries,
For all your heart knows best

You fill me with sunsets,
Wrap the warm golden light around me,
Entrance me with midnight stars
And throw me to the heavens,
Where I fall to your safe arms

There is good rhythm in
Flawless, but broken words
Songs strung by birds in the rain
Spider silk trains of honeyed pain,
Love comes from delusions
Or straight from the soul
Ready to mend you or bend you
Or make you whole

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

Open the doors and purge
The stream of bleary people
A flood, pressing for escape
The eternal escape
And fighting the belated urge
To run

I took a class in psychology,
But who could ever hope to know
The inner wanderings of a lost soul,
The mechanisms making you tick,
You, conflicting conundrums and
Cautious contradictions...
You have classically conditioned my mind
To fumble over your chapter,
With your classical ways..
Heuristics never applied to you,
You are Freudian; hopelessly undefinable
And impossibly right

And the frost descends
Like dust,
Kissed by the freezing rain,
In glittering ecstasy

The moon is only a fantasy to me.
In life it seems so cold,
So distant,
Like numb fingers chipped ice
And flung it into the void
And it froze there,
Among lonely stars eternally far away,
Almost lost to the dark.

Jewelled dragons
Hover on glass wings,
Caressing the silky air
In an irredecent cascade
And rapidly ponders
The sky

Time is full of ethereal riches
And I, the thief
Eternally whisper my stolen minutes
So time passes me by

Rain
Gives life like angels
Falls without mercy
And storms like angry demons

Quicksilver screams shatter the night,
Blazing forth glory with all of its might
Rainbows of visions, and I without sight
Stare into the void, an inky goodnight.

'I was beautiful once,'
    she said,
                  her weathered hands mending another torn patch on an old travelling cloak;

"It was good in its own way, I suppose,
    But it no longer had use for me.
...
I wore the beauty over my shoulders like
  A second skin,
          like a gifted jacket
                                 which I one day outgrew.
...
My interests turned to other purposes,
          And she was tucked away alongside the other tokens of my youth"

She stood, shaking out the quilt on her lap
     which flared in kaleidoscopic colour -
an intricate map
                     of tiny knots and stitches which had layered over years of constant mending,


"I make my own clothes now"







.

The hard-packed gravel road in the woods
Winds and twists and meanders
And is lined on either side by sun-lit dusty branches
And thin twining trees with more leaves than trunk
Which turn into standing logs, tall and thin and dappled,
Branches high, dusky and shifting light,
Or a charred forest of once-was pointing out the sky
Or fields of soft baby pines in the sun,
Sometimes clearing to show
The sharp gentle curve of mountains
Rising green and falling blue,
Fuzzy edges of pine lining,
Slowly obscured again by one tree, then two
Then a small forest of thin trees
And dusty sunlit bushes
Lining a meandering, twisting, winding
Hard-packed gravel road in the woods

I like to get truely confused at the world.
At all the finicky things we avoid thinking about.
Like exactly how big the universe is,
Forever is hard to understand.
Or life.
Yes, life.
Not the meaning of it,
That's like 'what's the meaning of light?'
It just is.
No, I mean how.
How do plants grow?
That is, physically change size
What was before the big bang?
Or how aliens are like a cat
Well, Schrödinger's cat
See the universe is so big
They MUST exist!
But... At the same time, not at all.
Huh.
Also, what do things go 'boom'
Could animals swim inside the earth?
Is it possible to bend forces (like gravity)?
Yea, a lot of spacey questions.
Do we only think animals see black and white,
not just a different spectrum?

Sigh. I'll stop now.
Brain freeze.

The kitchen table is an altar
To the only god I've ever known
When I fail and when I falter
She makes my weariness feel like home

Honeycomb mazes
And sweet honey hazes
Thickly sweet, mind glazes
Confused, smoke blazes
Making a home unconscious races
Falling asleep in honeyed cases
Trusting those honeyed faces
Gold drips away from honeyed places
And left with confined spaces
Wax rooms, so smooth
And no longer honeyed, but true.
*wake up

I open the window
And the cool air glides to the floor,
Waltzing around my room
Sweeping past my ankles like ladies skirts,
While the room above
Leaks off hot air from stifled whispers
Then, the music stops
And the whole room sits
In a swampy,
Soapy silence
Until the clock strikes twelve

The sun beats down,
And heats tempers
Glaring in eyes
Boiling blood
The breeze rustles trees
And teases our sweaty labours
Until we find refuge in the shade,
Then work again

Too many tortured souls,
But here they found
A place to be set free.
Hello, poetry.

The famous here
Have many followers,
But the wise gather the dreams
Of many

What is this place
Where I am;
The people are so strange.
They glide around
With too many words,
But not one kind exchange