And so you have finally found someone new
Does he look into your eyes like I used to...?
Does he cuddle up tenderly to you like I used to...?
Step along the stones, the sidewalk of peril
Sing him lullabies and Christmas carols...
Is he a mere placeholder or an imitation of me?
Does he like violence and staring at the sea?
Is he all you really need? Does he not see your inner beauty?
Mother may I, a sorrowful sonnet for two
Had I puked out my words, just for you...
While all the beaten ladies sit and pawn their hearts
To the husbands who'd beat them
Inside the fancy shopping mart
Fractured noses and lacerated arms
Now your words will do me no harm...

I am a blue bird exploding in a million bright beautiful colors and shades,
smooth spinning shapes.
Father always told me I was meant to take breeze beneath my wings and fly,  But all I want to do is roll around in the dirt;
***** dirt and I.   and I.   ||  the dirt, ***** dirt and I.   and   I.

Soothing bird songs, winds whisper along    In harmony you and I.   you and I.

I am a blue bird exploding not just in color, but in figure and scope.
On the next full moon I will pluck out of the sky and own
Every shimmering star, dreary dream, and hopeless hope.
I refuse to flap my wings like a feathery fool,
I'll keep my feet on the ground and my tail on a barstool.
Tapping talons to some beat, snapping and squawking at every fair fowl I meet.

Soothing bird songs, winds whistle along  
To every fair fowl face I greet, my hollow heart flutters, it fleets.

I am a blue bird eroding at all angles and ascensions;
savoring  such subtle and slithering sensations.
Wait for whipping winds to walk tenderly up my spine;
smelling the flowers, taking
its time
Pedals explode to expose
Ivy Iced Irises in fold
Within each bursting blossom I am swallowed
to sink in sublime.

Soothing bird songs, winds whirling strong

I am a blue bird eroding from outside and In.
The spectrum slid away--in this heavy blue I've hidden.
Praying for the pull of a pulsing red wind.
Please fill the hollow bones holding up my skin.
To lift my wings at long last and rescind.

Miles Davis was cool
and sort of invented the word
so when I was young
we all said this word
and I found out
that the next generation
says this word too
so I was angry today
because I thought
I was pathetic
when it dawned on me
that I was a cool guy
just like all my old friends
were cool guys and girls
so I thought about it
and decided that everybody
in my life
was pretty cool
so I thought
"I don't know if everybody
has the Buddha nature
like they say,
but I do know
that everybody
has the cool nature
to some degree"
so I felt better.

This was written for Tim Burris. My best friend.

Happy Birthday, Warchief.*



The sky will break open.

Meeting shades of red, black, and white, as the sun settles into the void.

This is his brow.



Anvil hands. He marks the moving beneath, like earthen plates in shift.

Affecting change. Symphonic strokes.



War is on his breath. Hidden behind a smile that shines like pax.

Don't dare him or he'll ask you to look down.



Heed the drums.

The warchief comes.



Your victory is written in the fabric of his kilt.

Gilded in the golden thread of kith and kin.

He was watching. He is always watching.



And though the black steed has gone gray,

He snorts storm clouds into the valley he looks down upon.

The tides ripple beneath his skin.

His chest swells in pride and laughter.



Alpha. Hands curled in furious fists of might and mirth,

Trained for love and war and so much more.



Heed the drums.

The warchief comes.



His hug a phalanx.

His word, unbroken steel.

His hands. Anvils.

His history, legendary.



Mighty.



He is the spirit horse.

He is the edgewalker.

He is the vibration playing across the drum skin.

Carrying outward on wind.

Settling peace in the hearts of his own.



Heed the drums.

The warchief comes.



We will stand beside him.

For we are mighty too.

We that tie our spines together, like coursing veins.

We that are family, not of blood.

But spirit.

We that match our heart beats as one powerful rhythm.

Pounding off canyon walls.

Ringing in ears.

Shaking the fabric of the never forgotten.



We that are woven together.

A tartan of our own.

We that stand as one to love.

And laugh.

And revel.

And fight.



We that never run.

But run like blood.



We that are bound with him.

Storm clouds.

A phalanx.

A fabric.

A family.

A drum beat.



We are the drums.

We are the drums.



Look to the horizon.



The warchief comes.

You,
And you've seem to have fallen like a soldier amongst
The leaves of autumn.
Oh is this the life you dreamed of?
And what is it that you're trying to whisper as the world disappears?
Dare I believe it’s my name?
Oh, Pray it’s my name.

Lets fall and entwine with the leaves together.
And as you look away into your world
I whisper one last farewell.

And,
What was once told has been lost in the child’s heart
As it grew into the man you have become.
Tell me, what heavenly creature descended upon you?
What was whispered in your ear that night?
Dare I believe it was my name?
Oh, pray it was my name.

Lets fall and entwine with the autumn leaves together
And as you look away into your world
I whisper one last goodbye.

And as you fall like a red-stained leaf
I’ll try to catch your last breath
And as you fall like my last tear
I’ll try to be the one for you
And as you become the man you were born to be
I’ll sit nearby and watch you cry.

Autumn whispers echo in the hallway
Of a forgotten love and his dreams
Autumn whispers lay nearby
Amongst the leaves of yesterday

Lets fall and entwine with the autumn leaves together
Lets be as one, forever
But as you look away into your own world
I’ll whisper one last goodbye...

I’ll whisper our Autumn gone

Hey, Grass. What's your point?
No sheep, no cows, no dog.
I hate You, venomously
grow it
cut It
repeat, ad infinitum.
until the mower breaks
because it does, every year
even the **** Sears
fix it,
break it
grow it
cut it,
**** it.
Hurry, Autumn
**** wacker
useless *******
buy it
pawn it
grow it
cut it
**** it.
Blacktop,
the whole yard
teach your punk ***.
Grass.