An eye awoken in the dark,
It swayed and gazed out the window,
Answering it was time to leave,
A lumbering placid frame took off,
The day's ramblings already starting,
What would the next moment hold.

Beyond the great gloomy road,
Past the amethyst bleeding sky,
Time stood still as steel flashed by,
Mind thickened at the jolt,
May not have gotten to write this.

It must be melancholy, meaning the world
to somebody, who means nothing
to the world

being mere acquaintances
with a musician
or perhaps a movie star
must be much more fullfilling

shaking hands with a king
now that could probably equate
to more then my
Indefinitely inconsistent friendship

i long to give you a better man

so should you chose a seat
next to a man who competes
i won't hate you
I will only drown

in the love that i have for you
it is all the love i have ever known
it is all the love, that there is
it is my entirety
I live in your world

I sit next to you every day.

Don't worry,
I'm not under any delusion
That you could ever be interested in me.

I know that you are young,
Carefree and maybe unaware.
I imagine you think about
Sororities and fraternities
And all of the other whimsical things
That I've never been a party to.

I can't imagine any way
For a meaningful conversation
To occur between us.
I think I'm just too jaded (afraid).
I am older, guarded,
And too much in my own head.

Yet I sit beside you every day.
Because you are the most beautiful
Woman I have ever seen.

If I were Adam
And the Lord, God Himself
Plucked the idea of beauty from my thoughts
To create an Eve
She wouldn't be as stunning as you.

And I know that sitting next to you
Is the closest I will ever get to
Beauty like yours.

Heavy breathing
lighters bought too often from a walk right down the street
and for once I don't care what this boy thinks of me.
Our bodies mesh so nicely and my mind only puts out
whatever's said in whispers I cannot bear to think about.
Squeaking bed
and sleeping has now become the norm
rather than staying up til past six in the morn-ing to hear the other's voice.
Don't care if it's my lovers voice
knowing I hadn't made the choice to
stop
let me be on top.
I've never had a lover before that one,
not once had I stayed up until the dawn
waiting for the alarm to sound
to hear a voice that could make my heart pound.
Now it's a rhythmic beat
beat
beat
and I don't feel any true warmth underneath my sheets.

"Go forth, little one." I said as I reached my hand up-towards the heavens. A single **** escapes my unclasped hands towards the sky, and then beyond. Soaring tactfully on the cool breeze.
"You're free at last." And at that very moment, the last of my ***** were given.

*Fin

When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide,
He dropped where he loved on the burst pavement stone
And the funeral grains of the slaughtered floor.
Tell his street on its back he stopped a sun
And the craters of his eyes grew springshots and fire
When all the keys shot from the locks, and rang.
Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart.
The heavenly ambulance drawn by a wound
Assembling waits for the *****'s ring on the cage.
O keep his bones away from the common cart,
The morning is flying on the wings of his age
And a hundred storks perch on the sun's right hand.

i still hear the screams
of the tortured souls
as i walk the path
which runs though
the meadows of pain

i still smell the blood
that spilled from the bodies
i stepoff the path
and images of death
race through my mind

cursed meadows of pain
tearing a hole so deep
so sinister and dark
i lose myself

the wrath of a lunatic
cursed this land
now i am reliving
the dreaded nightmare
in the meadows of pain

these meadows known as
the meadow of pain
took lives destroyed families
now i am honored
by burning these memories
in the meadows of pain

as the inferno blazes
i see the smiles of those
who have been murdered
and the hatred
in the eyes of the maniac

with nothing left of
the meadows of pain
all that remains is ash
no more will there be
the meadow of pain

Stolen words
Silenced by emotion
Unsure of its own momentum
or direction

And Sunday’s birds
Lead old aged couples
On leafy walks
to park benches strewn in sunlight
in memory to someone they hadn’t met.

Porous arms of light outstretched
Rebuffed by the lapis lazuli hue of night
Frantic star-bursts
On every street corner
Facing south-east

I head North.

Yours is not a caged minor bird
That has forgotten how to fly
Who has not wings to unfurl
Or a voice to sing harks of warm air
Even on winter mornings

Glide the up-draft and all it’s edges
Where you said you’d fallen from
And where I could see my footprints
Lost in the distance
Far below

I have no fear of falling.
Dive bomb the rocks below
or take faith in the air beneath -
Flap and talk of leaving someday
Ready a perch in wanton relief
and take what you’re given

I am not a bird
I have forgotten how to sing sweetly
Others make noise
Blissfully unawares
of the harmonium which awaits

As a sound or a note overheard,
captured on the ear.
Without knowing the scale
Or the instrument
But the sounds or an urban minor bird

You are in essence
as effortless
as air Itself