Awake, I am crawling toward another day,
another crazy day to rearrange.
Just one day to be the fly on the wall,
tell me now, what would you change?

All aware to hide and seek,
there's an ironic world to be wrought.
Sing a song for all the peace,
and for every cold war you've fought.

I could rechart my course for the beaten path,
I could turn and walk away.
I could muster up the strength to fake another smile,
I can still hear my mother say...

"You better learn how to run
when you're under the gun,
before you are circled in chalk.

Listen to me
while the advise is still free,
you better learn to run 'fore you walk."

Awake, I am crawling toward another day,
another jumbled day to rearrange.
Just one day to be the fly on the wall,
tell me now, what would you change.

All aware to hide and seek,
there's an ironic world to be wrought.
Sing a song for all the peace,
and for every cold war you've fought.

I could rechart my course for the beaten path,
I could turn and walk away.
I could muster up the strength to fake another smile,
I can still hear my mother say...

"You better learn how to run
when you're under the gun,
before you are circled in chalk.

Listen to me
while the advise is still free,
you better learn to run before you walk."

.Well, there's another idea that died in your mouth!Are you still waiting for eyes to see beyond the little door?What is behind it?An open shoe box full of your poetry?There's cliches clothed in their Sunday finest.Shiny shoes and a red bow-tie.To escape naked into the streets inthe middle of an uncomfortable conversation,only to find that your cigarette was lit and wasbackward in your lips.You screamed for the fire department andyour father just laughed.Just when the dust on your wine bottlewas finally at its thickest,someone entered the roomand polished it off.Pardon my smile, butyou are so funny!Did you cry asyour insect collectionwas flying away?Lace up your shoes,because I double checked your closetand there ain't no bears in there.And, yeah. I'd quit smoking if I were you..

.
Oh! Fragile martyr man--
your word play is so electric.

Therapy pulses magnetic
power
to your malignant
deformities.

Death becomes
your golden ticket
to enchantment.

The freedom revolution
evolves
from a badly broken,
bleeding humanity.

Certain
faces simply
whisper power
which question the spilled--
blood of thousands
on a daily
basis-

Another cliche war is
refilling the inkwells
of the blank page,
starving artist.  


Delicate tragic fairy tales remembered--

Layers of rust
encrust the tick and the tock
all throughout the grinding
gears of the clock.

Paintings of the Thinker
sit thinking in the
keenest calculable clarity.

The dreamers of darkness
bathe in the cold,
blinding sparks
of falling starlight.





.

.




Even in your eyes,
the malignancy took a bite.
It's eaten all your dreams,
and has you walking toward the light.

Now your pretty painted smile is
the only thing deceivin'.
Your pain has burrowed to the bone,
still there's nobody you'll believe in.

So when they slam the lid
at your tolling knell,
it is as simple
as ringing a bell.

To the novice unbeliever
I am the reaper of souls,
and you are the one
for whom the knell tolls.

Forever I have waited for you to turn blue,
now I have your permanent seal.
Just for the record, which lie did you buy
to make you believe that He wasn't real?






.

.

There's a light lunar wind
churning in the east.
The iridescent flame--

extinguished by the beast.

Its' cream colored flesh
echoed softly off the sea.
Wave after wavelight--

came rolling back to me.

Sea spray dispersed starlight
diffused softly o'er the sea.
Wave after wavelight--

came rolling back to me.

Roll your white light back to me
in the form of a simple bow,
arched beyond the man on the moon--

to float softly on the sea below.





.

.Soft confusion doth a great poem make.Poetry was born in the circus of the mind.Chaotic modern subconscious expression shaped our world.Surreal boulevards peopled with poets.Critics act as stop lights,although I don't stop untilthe thought's been driven home.Reality stones the muse, sadness levitates the quill.Welcome to the strange streets.

.When I finally holdthat mountain in my hands,after traveling to all of these wild distant lands--paradise will become mine to unfold.Always running from the cold city's temptation,as subdivided sectors seem to sink in frustration.Yet, tame in comparison to the lands I once knew,black diamonds surfaced in the rock garden I grew.What you get on your canvasis what you hold in your mind.Don't give up your brush,let's see what we will find.

. The pulse of least resistancelies hidden within the seed.Music makes each moment rise,fulfilling wavelengths' deed.The mighty beasts of ancient dayscast down a noble's heart.Unobtrusive in the end,yet, to end is but to start.Fused with atomic energy,and hopeful honest light;the prophets sought the living cave,the skies prepared to fight.Open-hearted ancient wayshave slain the kingly foe.New life burst forth from simple seed...the seed that we let grow..

.


In my mind I pull a blank--


The blank  comes  from a  
piece of paper, like point blank
from the barrel of your gun.

My platinum crucifix starts to twist.
It warmed slowly against my chest,
while sunbeams turns into starlight
on the popcorn ceiling--


I just pulled another blank!






.

.
She said that nothing makes the softest pillows--

Illusions get locked behind doors
in the dissolving sand castles,
to narrowly escape on the thin dangling threads of summer starlight.

Atlantis wants to surface and touch her hand--
To feel the warmth that rises to the surface of her olive skin.
As soft as the sea where the wind doesn't blow--

Until each baby blue eye mimics the sky.

She fluffed up her pillow and  she
disappeared.



.

.
Yeah, whoa! I must be out of my mind!
I've been running for miles just to make it on time.
Yeah, who do you think that you are?
Making me chase after you, but never getting that far.
Yeah, whoa! I must be out of my mind.
But, why must I fall in love with you tonight?

Yeah, your gravitational pull used to pull me along,
but tonight it's just impaling our song.
Whoa! We'd go...

Chorus:

Round and around
on this ride we call life.
Up and down, girl, Hey! We're out of sight!
And we can do anything that we want to do,
because nothing else matters when I'm with
somebody like you. (somebody like you)


Eighteen- I was out of my mind.
Nineteen, just another simple rhyme.
To do anything that we wanted to.
We'd play hide and seek, and I could never find you.
Yeah, then we pretended to have this all figured out.
It's like one, two, three, four.
L O V E
Whoa! We'd go

Chorus:

Round and around
on this ride we call life.
Up and down, girl, Hey! We're out of sight!
And we can do anything that we want to do,
because nothing else matters when I'm with
somebody like you. (somebody like you)

Yeah, now we're in our twenties
and we're still loving life.
Seems we're driving in the fast lane
just trying to get it right.

Whoa! Yeah! We must be out of our minds.
Always looking for trouble, but somehow staying alright.
Yeah whoa! Was I out of my mind
to look for somebody like you?
And yeah, we'd go...

Chorus:

Round and around
on this ride we call life.
Up and down, girl, Hey! We're out of sight!
And we can do anything that we want to do,
because nothing else matters when I'm with
somebody like you. (somebody like you)

.Times fly--Leaving calculating clocks behind.Tell me sir,What did you think you'd find?Hour by hourThe old man's losing his mind.After breaking every bone in the butterfly,No persuasion remained in his muddy blue eye.The ruddy questions grew from who, how, or why.He gave no solace after removing its' wing,Claims he just wanted to hear the bird sing.Then he removed each leg one by one--And he watched it flopping in the morning sun.Then he kissed his wifeThat's been dead for five years.He wiped away all of her falling tears.He asked politely if he could have this one dance,And he held out his hand, then he peed his pants--The demons made their way, screeching through his brain.The butterfly laid there, could use a little a pill for pain.Still, the old man stared as his life went down the drain.Then he seen two human-sized butterflies--Uncoiled their' fuzzy tongues and they poked out both his eyes.They broke the mans' legs and then they snapped his back.The old man died of a massive heart attack...I never believed the old man that day,Until he up and flew away--(singing...)"We don't need no education.  We don't need no...""Are you feeling O.K.?...Time to go. (beep, beep) Time to go...Are you..."Is there anybody out there?"

.A crucified mind
hangs like a brutal memory
as thin starlight falls
on the Mississippi river,

washing down a scream; illuminating
silenced shards of a broken life.
Thoughts fraught
with apology
get dragged down by the stone.

It feels like a double milk dawn
ever since
you've been gone.
Eternal friends,
your atomic God.
Your omnipresent
force
field.

.
A million glassy-eyed morning dewdrops falling easy--

We raise our empty glasses of daylight and salvation.

Disguised minds tell crazy stories through their blind eyes,
diamonds refract a symphony of dancing mother of pearl angels.

Love left the western heroes mothers dying in the sunset-

Questions waiting on your father, so old and ailing,
falling blinded, wind swollen eyes streaming tears.

The daylight blues swing as low as a wet December.

Where bee stings ache like exploding stars--

A hundred madman songs sang a thousand years ago.

Miracles always crystallize and slowly drip from Heaven,
prodigal points of view which had really never left my mind.

Children seem to look in the direction of greener worlds,
a lost lady sings soulful blues on the east side side streets.

Tonight the city will walk a mile in the devil's shoes...

Someone heard the cry of pilots at J.F.K. International,
where the street sounds wind through the streets like melting snow.

God knows your way is the alleyway to the Harlem House of Blues,
tell me my son, can you read my mind?

Listen to the simple sounds of
growing, gleaming, learning, laughing because-

New York's feet never touch the ground.








.

.
Your eye's light shines like our moon, her moon...
skipping stones upon the sea--

although we're just dancing between notions in this wild city rain.

How can I hold the soul of a girl while
she's walking little stars on a string?
The night sea crashes as the moon,
at lightspeed; is painting every wave.

Open your celestial door and let me touch you.

Sweeter words have flown,
but these are the only words I've ever known.
I'm so tired of chasing deep shadows
that disappear in the warm morning sun.

Some just wake up and walk out my door,--

It makes my face grow longer as
the world turns me to face my
forty seventh winter wind.








.

.

A thousand hellos
felled by the arrow of one goodbye--

Wordless bleeding...
a hollow hatred howls from
the ache of a dry summer,

withering her heart like a leaf on a limb.









.

.



.
If I had three wishes,
work days would be cut into thirds.
The words to songs remembered
by one billion humming birds.

If I had my way in a true blue world
I would never have to do the dishes.
The whole world would be fed and full,
and I could still wish for three more wishes.

Until the whole world can see
their own Gods' face.
Until then, let's make this world
a better place.

Let us love and fly
our own kites with smiles.
Let us stack all
our problems into piles.

If I were granted three wishes,
if I had my own way.
Both of you'd be alive
sitting with me here today.

.
The chase commenced
as a full moon rose,
life to death is
how it goes.

One last tree
before the cliff stole pride,
no stopping the beast,
they all died.

Tonight the
pipe is passed
and they'll dance for rain...

It was raining buffalo
before the belching train.

Tracks ran over the kyphosis tree
so gnarled in the full moon's light.
Over time it's been forgotten,
her roots became parched,
her trunk was suppressed.

God resurrect the kyphosis tree...




.

.
Her mind is such a mystery,
her thoughts, they slip away so free.
What did. she. think. of me?

Summer blues, summer blues-
you just do what-ever you choose;
Whenever you leave me -
You say you win, and I lose.

My skin still craves your tender touch.
Your lovelight just hides from me so much.
Will there be another us?

Summer blues, summer blues-
you just do what-ever you choose;
Every time you leave me -
You say you win, and I lose.






.

.


My father bought a granite slab,
he'd chip all day at stone.
Though his fingers bled so much,
he chipped until they were bone.

Night and day he'd chip away,
fragments filled the room.
What was his motivation?
What was in this granite womb?

Shards of light fell on the room,
dust clung to every beam.
His sculpture seemed to have a beating heart,
the sculptor fell back with a scream.

From within this lonely tomb,
the blind were made to see.
Forever, I'll have my fist to my brow,
forever my elbow to knee.

I think I am alive,
I think that I can think.
I think that I have eyes,
I just can't make them blink.

I think I'll stay in this position,
permanently ******.
You may never hear my voice,
from the stone, I've only groaned.








.

. ~I just wanna touch the sky--to grab the stars that dot your eyes.A shooting star's light tends to diminish,but I thought of you todayfor twenty two minutes.~.

.

I've got a problem,
one eye is shut and
my mouth is in the
middle of my face.

My nose leans to
the right while
the children in
the corner mock.

The brush
paints an ear
where there once
was none.

I look like I'm missing
a chromosome. X,y, or z-
It's a little bit of you,
and certain parts of me.




.

.

Set aside time for celestial night-
A million years to name every star,
Time in your eyes make them seem very far-
Preparing your soul for astral flight.
Tantalize your skies with your tailless kite;
While Orion is preparing for war-
And nobody knows just what war is for.
Discovery has been my life's delight!


To gaze into sky that's as black as tar-
Pinpoints -of- light... everywhere that I turn;
And the cage of my chest feels very tight.

You turn the key and you have the power-
Everyone wants to see Jupiter burn.
Ah! It's going to be one hell of a night!












.

.
Nectar from a knee-**** reaction
ran across my lips like
rusted railroad tracks out in the country.

I dove from the road when I heard the rubber
nervously grabbing for the asphalt below it.

She sure left in a hurry!

She took alot of time with her.
Mine!

(Just because...)
I told her about these,
and I told her of those.
I guess that's why she
had broken my nose.

She just rolled up her window,
and she drove away...
Back to a city that
has nothing to say.

And Silence of the
Lambs has nothing on her,
her tail-light escape
was lost in a blur.

Still, the joke'll be on her
by the end of the day
when her momma and daddy
take the T-Bird away.

Fun, fun...

.
     The path of least resistance
keeps me writing toward the madness,
     and slandering all the poets
still dredging ancient sadness.

When we stroke the simple minds
     of the massive multitude,
we'll slay the lonely dragons
      of fear and solitude.

    Let's save the poetry
before our thoughts just go black blind..
    Don't let that 'ol intruder
steal the darkness from your mind.
    (Steal the darkness from your mind...)

     As the four winds dry
the ink out of your soul,
     you just stand there crystal clear.

Where sparks, arcs
    and butterflies start flying.
I hear an old lady cry,
    perfecting the art of dying.

    Open your eyes,
here's your last chance.
    Perfect your art or
take your stance.

I will take you away
    because the stage ain't the play...

    Let me take you away,
because the stage ain't the play.

Let's run away,
   because the stage ain't the play.




.

Vaguely lit
--- by the summer moon,
starlight reigns from an ancient song.

Her sweet madness, shrouded like a child's secret;
--sang to her like she were a dying friend.
Their smiles twinkled as a banana spider spun
Venus into her web.
Moon shadows planted their face
in the tall grass
as shimmering willows sent their fingers feeling.
Memories from across the centuries
came flooding back like a retreating tsunami.
Her soft touch tingled on his skin,
something even Picasso couldn't capture on canvas.
His thoughts dove into the dark depths of her eyes,
swimming in the dancing starlight.
She tossed stones through the moon's reflection
and a million moons slow danced across the surface.
They caught shooting stars in their nets and
sealed them in jars,
and just like the moon...

I hung there.

~Death reminds me
of a certain summer day,
a mother's smile-

like a father
you've never known.

Like rain racing
down a foggy window pane,
or a child's pain passing
with a kiss.

Like:
just realizing
the butterfly's beautiful
purpose before
being hit
by a windshield.

Death is not
always black,
sometimes
it's blood red;
or just a mental
hesitation.

A hiccup
in the chasm of time.
A demise of
thought-
or

is it?

Just another invitation
for the stars
to fall with the rain,
to dance on your grave-
to wash away
the silver moon.

Until memories of
that one
summer day comes flooding
back to fill in that empty
six foot hole.




.

Today I seen my shadow
in a whole new light.
It stood tall and
didn't want to fight.

I couldn't tell if it was smilng,
or if it wore a frown.
I only knew that I needed to know
before this rising sun went down.

Who was this man cast before me?
I felt he needed to belong.
He couldn't talk with his eyes,
or sing it to me in song.

I never did hear
what he was dying to say.
I just shook his hand and
he walked away.

.

Love just like the dark night--
   scrapes its' cool wind across the
tossing face of the sea--
   Eyes on fire, so full of far away starlight
cast millions of years ago.

   Let us paint the world in lighter tones
to appreciate the midnight blues.



.

.

God tossed stars
tumbling across the universe--

a scintillating dream
so full of white rain falling.

This makes me think
deeper, and the light years
just roll across heaven
really,
really slow.

--Even a dark star casts a little light.








Published 04/09/2010

.


I'm a slave to your heart--

I'm where i want to be.
Chain me to your soul,
imprison me.

I was captured by your smile,
and held by your gaze---
throw away the key
for forty million days.

Your love became my sea
and I am going down
to wait for your tsunami--

I can't wait to drown.



.

.
Spiral City-

mocks far away eyes, where
rains' vibrant voice cries

out for pity.

Like an echo to a visionary,
darkness seeps in with a sigh.

Where small planets dart
in and out like honey bees.

Someday we'll all understand,
the day we hold cold wind in our hand.
When the downcast boys are fully grown,
when the magic candles are finally blown.

Unforgotten lullabies cascading on their own,
brings back to life each king and queen
that's fallen from their throne.

Someday we'll all understand...




.

.


~friendship-

-no water required
it sails on pure trust~


.

.
It's a black
and white
altering sky.

The mountains ******
their rocky
face through the clouds--

were about to cry.

And one day you wake up
and your dreams seem to scatter.
You gather what you can, and
the rest don't seem to matter.

The noise and the poison
splattered against the sky--

The mountains ******
their rocky face through
the clouds--

were about to cry.




.

.

So many summers and winters...
kissed by the light of a starlit moon.

The mouth of reason turns to song
as women of darkness
start walking into the light.

When you breathe darkness--
blindness is your curse.
Light is the key to the door,
the heart of every rainbow...

The effect to every cause.






.

.




raynebows are rayne's kite
raynebows are not too heavy-

they are pretty lyght






.

.
How deep will he go
inside his self?
Will he apprehend the poet--

or set him high on the shelf?

When given the chance
he tries and he tries
to release his words
like wild butterflies.

A prisoner in chains,
yet parchment bound.
He's a book full of sonnets--

He's a book come unbound.

He's an unspoken treasure
inside of a book.
He'll come up to play
if you drop him the hook.

When given the key,
my eyes never show it--

because you are the door,
and I am the poet.






.

And Just Like the Moon...


Vaguely lit
--- by the summer moon,
starlight sang her ancient song.

      Her sweet madness, well shrouded like a child's secret;
--sang to her like she were a dying friend.
Their smiles twinkled as a banana spider spun
Venus into her web.
Moon shadows planted their face
in the tall, dewy grass
as shimmering willows sent their fingers feeling.

       Memories from many centuries past
came flooding back like a retreating tsunami.
Her soft touch tingled on his skin,
something even Picasso couldn't capture on canvas.
        His thoughts dove into the dark depths of her eyes,
swimming off into the dancing starlight.
She tossed stones through the moon's watery reflection
and a million more moons slow danced across the surface.
     We caught shooting stars and sealed them in jars,

                                              and just like the moon...

                                                                 =========I hung there.