On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.

Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day—  I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.

There is a God in Heaven
I know it deep inside
For He has carried me across the great divide
And though in His grasp I struggle
Not knowing on jagged rocks I can fall
He only tightens His hold on me through time, all in all
And His grasp may be harsh or gentle
But it’s always assuredly strong
To show no matter when I fall, I will not fall for long
For He tells me Heaven’s on my side
And love’s His safety net
And I believe it, for though I may curse Him, He carries me nonetheless
And He looks not only into my eyes
But into me as a whole
He says He’s the Alpha and Omega, the holder of my soul
And maybe someday I’ll stop struggling
And look into His eyes
And see the Creator of me created my blue skies
Fr there is a God in Heaven
I know it deep inside
For even now He carries me across the great divide

There are certain things I will take to my grave
Wishes, dreams and desires that noone will ever know
I would love to tell you them
You who makes me laugh and realize
Sometimes
I
Take
Life
Too Seriously
Maybe in another place or another time I would tell you
But in this lifetime, I'll keep them to myself

What do infants dream of?
Do they dream of wombs?
Places dark
and comfortable
and perfect beyond comparison.
Sedating heartbeat above regular
and comforting
like a vascular clock.
Always keeping time;
always breathing life.
Do they dream of mothers *******?
Soft pillows of nurturing flesh.
The source of life on their planet.
Flowing ivory elixir,
from soft rose *******.
Do they dream of us?
Of grotesk giants
that pinch cheeks
and speak in meaningless howls.
Smiling oversized faces
that clean the **** that builds below
where that sweet tube once provided life.
Gnawing white stumps
eating indigestible hunks of flesh,
or plants.
Do they understand love?
Can they dream of pure emotion?
Without the words and representations of it interfering?
I wish to be like this.
I wish to be swaddled,
to have dreams about nothing,
and real.
Dreams as pure and amazed
as a teary eyed infant.

I must not gaze at them although
Your eyes are dawning day;
I must not watch you as you go
Your sun-illumined way;

I hear but I must never heed
The fascinating note,
Which, fluting like a river reed,
Comes from your trembing throat;

I must not see upon your face
Love's softly glowing spark;
For there's the barrier of race,
You're fair and I am dark.

It is early morning.
I can't sleep.
I sit here in front of my computer's light.
Reading of other people's plights.

I analyze and I empathize.
Is this a story poem or is this a real poem?
I am drawn closer & I see reflections of myself.
It's some how comforting to know,
I 'm not alone after all.

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Beneath an old oak tree.
I'll stop and visit it once in a while,
And tell it stories of me.
The life I live and places I've been,
All the best places to see.
The men and women who make up my life,
Who know a story or three.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Six feet beneath cold clay.
Deep enough to protect it from you,
Shallow enough to retrieve it one day.
To dig it up and check it for wear,
Protecting it from decay.
My poor heart is never safe,
With you never that far away.

I buried my heart out in a field,
Far from prying eyes.
Hiding the scars from my own sight,
Wrapping it up in lies.
I want to pretend that everything's fine;
That the pain's been cut down to size.
But that's not true, it's right near the surface,
As my one and only tear dries.

I buried my heart out in a field,
I did it for selfish reasons.
To shield it from this treacherous life,
And all its mercurial seasons.
The lies, the scars, the six feet of dirt,
Just a few more little treasons.
I buried my heart out in a field,
And I forgot to mark the spot