We may be on different boats,
However, we are on same ocean.
Each fighting battles,
Same battles
Different battles.

My battles?
It is my family!
It is my father,
The man I don't want to be.
It is my mother,
The woman I don't want to get acquainted with, save some things.
It is my siblings,
The person I want them to be.
It is myself,
The man I want and don't want to be.

It is my thoughts...

I try to fight "mine" battles,
I try to win my own wars.
Alas, how do I win this war when my thought is my enemies,
And my foes are my own self?

Then comes the day...
cracks thrown across,  my gaunt old face;
and strength gives way...
these bones are tired, cannot keep pace.

What's that you say?
"How much time here?" "How did you place?"
I couldn't say...
but won't be long, finished this race.

And chunked to clay...
marble stone laid, runes carved on base;
then all will say...
I was called home, by the Lord's grace.

We want options but hate making choices.
Looking up to others waiting for their voices.
Easily swayed when someone claims.
This is the right one, no one to blame.

Dating, living, food it is all the same.
The abundance just makes it a game.
Who, what, where fits us best.
Giving up on the original moving onto the rest.

How to pick one and be happy.
When you are just another fish in the sea.
Not hunting for what you need.
Clouded by objects, luxuries.

They say lovebirds only need each other.
Fluff their feathers and stay together forever.
We are no different, no need for royalty.
Just make a decision and keep some loyalty.

the veil of sleep
within the veil of manmade time

I journeyed with you
part way

we will sleep together
the long sleep

and time
will be no more.

She was made up of earth and poetry
a silk garden of flames
that bloomed flowers of soft lust
the sun had adorned her skin
with small kisses that stained her face
with stars shaped like freckles
and the moon wove its magic
from the colors of her eyes
she was goddess and muse and woman
and all the things that made life feel beautiful
her blood ran with the indigo rivers
along the mountains of eternities horizon
and she hypnotized with slow poison
from the drunken haze of midnight ***
and her velvet lips could mend the broken
and raise the dead with just a dream of a kiss
and she only had to show the skin of her neck
to make fools out of mortal men
who let prayers of sin seep from their hardened
and wanting desire to know who she was
under her jeans and shirts and nakedness
when she unfolded and dripped and moaned
and took and gave and offered and devoured
from light morning kisses and drowsy eyes
to bending over the kitchen sink
with just enough skin exposed
to plow and grunt through the day
and fall into frenzied sheets
of ***** deeds under the moon
and exposed secrets of lost pleasures
only known by those that have swallowed
the fires of sin and the blood of honey
and in the aftertaste she lingered
with a hint of her earth and poetry