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https://rivislives.wordpress.com/2018/01/17/new-poem-skulls-in-the-sand-video/

Cobwebs
in the eyes of the skull
long forgotten
left behind
in time
cobwebs
in the eyes of the skull
like an empty hour glass
bottom heavy with sand
as the hands chip away
as time passes by
as the spiders legs
weave its web
creating a symbol of death
but also... life
a pretty mirror
in which sits the grim reaper
his reflection
hidden in the strands
strands from which beads of life
do glisten
clinging dearly
and just like the web
reliant on a thread
life hangs delicately in the wind
like a basket full of flowers
in an abandoned back garden
the owners no longer exist...
hanging
and waiting
hanging
and waiting
awaiting its own destruction
a fleeting work of art
soon lost in the winds of time
and the forgotten skulls
sit laughing in the sand
a silent kind of laughter
only they understand
so laugh
while you can
says the sand
says the sand
*laugh
while you can
while you can
while you can

I left my heart with a girl from brazil
'you remind me of a tiger'
I thought
as she walked in the bar
she had brown eyes
bronze curves
copper curls
a camera hung from her neck
a denim rucksack on her back
she was an oasis
in the desert of my boredom
a ray of sunshine in my darkness
but was she a miracle
or just a mirage?
only one way to know
and that meant having the ***** to approach her
I reached down between my thighs
to check on the gentlemen.
yep, still there.
so I approached her
and she smiled with great curiosity
as our conversation began
her voice was soft as sand
being washed by waves on the ocean shore
she was like
a walking talking
bossa nova sound track
she was a gift from the favelas
a flower from brazil
and I was drawn to her
like a sad man to a violin

to write like me
you must first review my routine
lift weights
take boxing lessons
drink beer in bars
laugh loudly in the street
sing karaoke every week
date women from different backgrounds
kiss like you mean it
and make love that soaks the sheets
take random trains
to far off places
work jobs until you hate them
and quit as you slowly go mad
then you will be half the poet I am
because I am still only half the poet
I know I can be
it's a challenge to balance
to juggle this routine
I am trapped between two loves
my love for life
and my love to write
between living life
and writing about it
between being alive
and writing about it
to me writing and living go hand in hand
but they cannot always co-exist
when you burn your light to the brink
as I do
i must find the line
but the line is hard to find
because there are only so many hours in a day
and life swoops us by like an owl
with a mouse in its mouth
leaving us with only a brief window
in which to carve a lasting legacy
beware this life style isn't for everyone
only the chosen few can pull it off
this artful existence
this vagabond life
a tiresome gift
from mischievious gods
who see themselves in us
but never mind kid
you are probably a better poet than me anyway

I spend more money
on books and *****
than I do on women
than I do on food
this is my necessity
my foolish bare necessity
this is my fire
my coal
my fuel

drifting alone
through this desert
through these solitary sands
isolated
and deserted
the desert fox
without thought or reason
without cause or purpose
this old heart
these young hands
this love I have to give
but no you to give it to
I am wasted without you
my life is shattered
my dreams are lost
where are you?
if not here?
where are you
when I am without you?
I am withering without you
abandoned here
in this barren wasteland
like a flower in the desert
without hope
without water
without love
won’t you free me from this heat?
this unbearable sunlight
too harsh for my eyes
the truth is just so bright sometimes
I do not wish to see myself
not like this
lost like this
but there is no cure
for all that ails me
only time they say
can heal these wounds
that sorry old adage
so I sit and wait
for something else to happen
and I say
**** me or set me free
twisting these sad young hands
as my old heart melts
in the memory of you