Animas,
A coin toss
The rippling ends of lungs
Spread as butterfly wings
Carting untreated days of insanity
Between you and me
Seasons no longer fling Rites of time
As days Intermittently
Woven of boiling creativity
Beading atop the surface football scrimmages
Sliding links of clothing, slipping virginity…
They escape between treated fingertips
And run the sun from our lips
Mother Nature dancing from the hip
God’s unauthorized authorship

Every
     Place

A      Trace

   Of
              His face

BILLBOARED

Coarse, no .. REFINED dining.
Mined for charm and croquettes bronzed
With sunset
History, I regret
Is written by the sold
(And they never get old)

Alcohol is your soul
Next to the comet tail
Igniting solar systems
With colors set to sail

The swirls of Jupiter
Are your doubts at war  
Time is the fuel  
Our blood the roar

Our mad minds,
Teutonic shifts and pyroclast
We are  stardust,
Never meant to last

A nectar symphony created this forest for you and me
The way that Time uses eternity
Like a wind by which our creator we see
Words that are crafted meaningfully
They rhyme with love and sing our history

They call from the trees and they breed
They dive from the sky and touch the sun
We wait from the wings for their poetry
They are our hearts in our Harmony

This is our world, our years they breathe
They nurture with hands held delicately
Your hopes and my desires, hymns of matrimony
We are the love of which Gods dream

Alcohol is
The warming of your soul
Next to the comet tail
Igniting the dark infinity
With colors to set sail

The swirls of Jupiter are your
Doubts at war with themselves
Time is the fuel to stoke
Our blood the tempests we delve

Your soul is inter kindling
Dried fibers of lunged thatch
Made of Butterfly parchment  
                                          and poetry
So  light a match

Oh, heavenly kingdom
Above their burning flesh
Above their screams,
Above the rivers weaned
On sentiment and sucrose laughter
The palace walls stretch to an infinity
The emblazoned ceilings of the ever after

The only scribes are the stars expanding
In their language of no understanding
They watch and we wonder, wet with earth
They are the forest of our birth

We know of Time;  we have met
It inspires our final sin, Regret
Still the stars they stare and never speak
In the heavenly kingdom... just out of reach