I used to have a lot of friends
Many leaves upon my tree
But time has taken all of them
and left me just with me

The wind has taken others
and some depart when sick
a few just up and left
but, others have been picked

And as the autumn greets me
I have no leave to lose
To lie, to die, to try to live.
Somehow, I cannot choose.

And I, in my confusion;
Of one thing I am sure.
Autumn leaves, just like my leaves
and I warmer once before.

I can see the shafts of sunlight
amber slices through the air.
Gilded rays of fair approval
favor the betters basking there.

But, we live in the shadows;
The often seen but rarely known.
We, the great unworthy
take their experiences for our own.

This is life in the penumbra;
Unacknowledged, though intended.
We live lives by implication.
Rights derived, but not defended.

Nothing grows in the penumbra's
un-illuminated spaces.
Except the mass of shifting shadows
that your compassion rarely graces.

Don't know how, but love has found me.
Came up fast, with arms around me!
I did not run. I did not hide.
I found my heart was open wide.

I'm married and I'm getting older.
Thought that love had passed me over.
But still it had something to teach me;
I'm not beyond where love can reach me.

So ashamed of what I had become.
Surprised at all I hadn't done.
Prepared to take what life had given.
Sad, resigned, and unforgiven.

And then she comes to rescue me.
Love and passion and a need to be.
Was I dead? For this is life.
For sure. And I must leave my wife.

And yet I don't know what to do...
she has a man and children, too.
And though I need her like no other,
can I take a child from his mother?

And so, from here? I cannot say.
For now I'll love her more each day.
I cannot lose this sustaining breath.
Life without love? I'd rather death.

It's the middle of the night and I'm still thinking of you.
Here, tired and blue. It's for you that I long.
But, it's more than just hours and miles between us.
It's you and your life, and I just don't belong.

Once I was sure. I knew I could claim you.
Then I got caught in your eyes...my confidence lost.
You smiled and said "Don't run. I may love you."
But I don't know what that means or what it may cost.

But I do know this feeling, I cannot turn away from.
Though my counselor tells me "Be realistic and strong."
I live in a fantasy from eight to four-thirty,
Yet, here lying awake, it does not feel wrong.

I know you're unsure. Each day is a battle.
Your heart insecure. Do you even need love?
Its to these depths of despair I come so convincing,
to rescue your heart and raise you above.

See, I too am unsettled. No idea if I'm living.
I'm supposed to be grieving, or dating, or such.
Yet I wait for your call to restart my breathing.
It's the hours between when it all gets too much.

Yes, its hours as days, and nights finally over.
Doubts and dreams fade. Of just one thing I'm sure;
You'll never be mine, despite what you've told me.
But your beauty and love will keep me at your door.

Oh magic Maiden
                      of the meadow,
get to the Garden
                      with your gifts.

The Sun is sailing
                      cloudless Kingdoms
and every shadow
                      shall be kissed!

Your beauty bares
                      itself in blossoms,
that none ill-natured
                      must behold.

So, swiftly now
                      sweet Maiden.
For every savage
                       seeks your gold!

Mister Blister, there he goes!
His shoes, they open for his toes.
His jacket has no sleeves at all.
His trousers, well, they just might fall.

He is a coarse and hairy sight.
He limps and dares not stand upright.
He has a shopping cart to push.
His bathroom is the nearest bush.

People yell and call him names,
and talk about the way he shames,
the neighborhood, and those who "care"
about the world they say we share.

But, Mister Blister is my friend.
He always has some time to spend.
He cares about what I say,
and remembers this from day to day.

He knows about my cares and fears
and what I try to say he hears.
Perhaps the others are too old
to see without life's blindfold.

I wish that he could freely live
and that the town, he could forgive.
They just don't know you like I do.
Mister Blister, I'm glad I do.

The battle was imminent.
The forces were joined.
No longer was time standing idle.
Outnumber and ******
by 100 to 1,
the Spartans stood fervid and vital.

The Greeks were united,
though the Spartans alone
were the ones charged with their protection.
At Thermopylae pass,
300 men stood
together in imperfect perfection.

"Surrender your arms"
King Xerxes demanded,
"Surrender, and let the Persians betake them."
Leonidas replied "Molon Labe!" my foe,
**"If you want them, then you come and take them."

We have the dream when we are falling.
It wakes us up so filled with dread.
I think its our subconscious calling
bringing ancient fears to us in bed.

The dream that is, the dream that was,
is what actually could have been.
No fantasy does what it does.
This is a gift from pre-man men.

Pre-man men, he lived in trees,
swinging, eating, sleeping, too.
Perhaps it was his greatest fear
to break the bough and fall on through.

At night they must have dreamt about it,
so afraid that they would fall.
And passed this dream into our minds
and at night we can recall.

Our collective mind, it is immortal
It won't forget for all of time.
So remember that this dream is but
a monkey on your mind.

My life is like a river
winding down unto the sea
and if you sail my waters
then you can get a look at me
I may not be the greatest
of the rivers which have been
but you'll never find a body
that is more proud or genuine

Starting at my source
My family and home
filling me with substance
as I flow off on my own
my water, crystal-clear
alive with plant and fish
and to always be that way
is the one thing that I wish

Friends contribute water
and it helps me as I grow
Flowing ever deeper
running faster as I go
Some would irrigate me
but i'll never be contained
others hope to **** me
but I cannot be restrained

Raging with my water
sometimes my borders overflow
as I give back the sediment
thad borrowed long ago
my water moving mountains
slicing channels through the land
I may not be the greatest
but my canyons have been grand

When I wished to merge
another river I did find
and at once our separate waters
had forever been combined
Our banks were overflowing
from the substance that we shared
and so we pass it on
into the rivers we did bear

Meandering through life
My river not as deep
My water not as clear
and my angle not as steep
But my inside still is living
and that's how I will always be
Until my waters do depart me
when I flow into the sea.

This late at night
my mind is numb
my pen has molded
to my thumb
yet, somehow words still seem to come.
Soon my body will succumb.

I cannot keep my head upright
It's been a long and useless night.
The words I write they seem so old.
How often can a poem be told?

Perhaps I'd do a world of good
if I laid my pen upon the wood
and instead of chasing every shred
I'll put my words and self to bed.

There is a place I like to go
at times I am feeling down.
A place where I can be at peace,
knowing I will not be found.

I found this place when I was young,
one time I hurt so bad.
Surprised I was to find a place,
that was as nice as I was sad.

I had spent so many afternoons
alone and feeling rotten.
But here, I found a world renewed
and cares were soon forgotten.

Ever since I've kept my place
a secret no one knows.
Worried I would lose my world
If I ever did expose.

But, I would like to tell you,
you're hurt, and I can see.
What you need is time, a place like mine,
so, I'm giving you the only key.

My place has done so much for me.
Every trial I've come through.
And if you come, with just some hope
then it can be a world for you.

Here you stand blowing raspberries
at my phonemic skills.
Please close your lips. Just listen.
Learn of bilabial trills.

You may call me an animal
for my alveolar clicks,
for in America its only real use
is for catcalling chicks.

And not many understand
a velar implosive stop,
that the words are the gurgle
of a doughnut shop cop.

And yes,  my pharyngeal fricative
sounds like something's amiss.
But its not always contempt,
like some puppet show hiss.

So, if you just could excuse
my pulmonic ingressive,
I promise, If it feels like it hurts,
I will be singly expressive.

I guess all I can say
is that when you hear what I say,
remember, it more than just words
that I try to convey.

Mom, on Mother's day I thank you
and I 'd like to tell you what you are
to a boy, who's now a man,
but still a son who's going far.

When I was young you gave me feelings,
and you took them from your own.
You built in me a person
strong enough to stand alone.

You taught me how to care.
It does not come naturally.
But, it makes me who I am,
and it's who I'm proud to be.

You showed me how to love
by loving me regardless,
of the pain I put you through
and the faults that I possess.

You put in me a need to know
the things I did not know.
You taught me how to learn.
You taught me how to grow.

You did so many things for me.
So much, I cannot say.
I am indebted to you mother.
To my own kids I'll repay.

On a chilly day of vacant skies
we came to watch the candle rise
by morning sun it took to flight
so men and the heavens could unite

But, our sons and daughters, strong and brave
were too far gone for us to save
there was no time to shed a tear
or give a cry we'd never hear

Across the land the people wept
for hopes and dreams that won't be kept
with ships and men we reach for stars
with blood and tears we mend the scars

But, there'll be a time when the tears are gone
and at that time we must move on
and allow our dreams to be reignited
for Man and Heaven have united.

prelude*

High above the world of Man
in the realm of Gods and Muses
Love exists just like a creature
in the spirit form it chooses.

One day it gallops gallantly,
spreading goodwill through the sky.
The next, it stomps so stubbornly,
refusing even just to try.


----------------------------- ( Enter the Hero ) ----------------------

Hero: "You who are the Poet
I pray, tell me now of Love.
You, the Guardian of the Good Heart,
I am one deserving of."

"I come searching here for answers.
For some way to understand.
Why has the greatest test of Manhood
left me so unmanned?"

"My soul lies broke and beaten.
My heart is all but dead
from bedogging dark desires,
and forceful feelings in my head"

"I seek the fiery affection
of a Good Heart girl of gold
Sir, your sonnets speak of pale perfection.
And, its of this magic I've been told!"
-----

Poet: "Yes, you've come to the right man.
The lonely look to me for Love,
and my poetic plays of passions.
For words are putty in my glove."

"You see, the heart is of the body;
but Love comes from beyond.
Through Muses I make contact
and with my words you'll make the bond."

"All you need is look to language
the realm of rhapsody and song.
It is in here you'll find your answers.
It is here your Lover's heart belongs."
-----

Hero: "But how can your words speak of wisdom
that I do not know myself?
Poet, your Love is but illusion.
Please put your pen upon the shelf."

"Words can be deceiving,
with meaning high above my ear.
In such ways I'm made a cuckold.
It is such ways of love I fear."

"It is too late that I awaken.
Misfortune mocks me in my heart.
My Lover sets an Eastern course
and soon she will depart!"
-----

Poet: "Do not doubt the Poet's power.
Your tongue will testify with ease.
My words will work their magic
and your Lover will be pleased."

"Let me tell you of the Ancients.
Rooted, uncomplicated men.
For he it was his family,
and Love bounded him to them"

"Words today are the decedents
of the Ancient's mother tongue.
Over time their words were altered
as they got passed from old to young"

"Each letter, was once a picture
with a meaning of its own.
And, as they join with other letters
a brand new meaning can be shown"

who knows what's in a paradox,
or what mystery in unlocks?
if all of space is in a box,
can time and space reach equinox?

if truth is put into the stocks,
and good is beaten down with rocks,
if different birds will fly in flocks,
has the rare become the orthodox?

when sheep run faster than the fox,
and jack will jump back in the box,
if the cart is found before the ox,
can time run faster than the clocks?

as you search the orthodox,
look to find the truth it blocks.
for truth should have no equinox.
you've found what's in a paradox

Once upon a time,
I had a story I could tell.
But, now the facts have changed
and as I suppose its just as well.

For you see, I say my story
it is one of scattered dreams.
And, I was looking for an ending
that would sew up all the seems.

But, somewhere in the patchwork,
in the throw rug of my mind,
there was a loose thread
that I just could never find.

So, when it comes to taking action
you know why I won't take part.
For, all it takes is one good tug
and my patchwork comes apart.

Please. Will
someone take this weight
from up on me?
It's killing me,
and I don't
know how to put it down.

Wait.
I do not like the light
that's up on me.
It’s seeing me,
and I know
I don't like what it's found.

I am alive inside this page.
You've but to read to set me free.
I beg, I plead to you who read;
read on to help me. Set me free!

I've been inside here for so long,
just waiting for someone to glance,
upon this page and then to read.
To unwittingly give me a chance.

I think you'll help me. Will you not?
You've read to far now just to stop.
Your instinct fools you. Your interest pulls you.
You find this page is hard to drop.

My freedom comes with every word,
with every verse that you will read.
I know you're empty. I will fill you.
I will become you when I'm freed.

Now its too late, for I am in you.
No longer shall you live as free.
I give you my prison of the page.
Your body and soul belong to me.

what once was just a simple doubt
becomes a fierce and fighting trout
which swims within the river shame
well set upon the hook of blame

the hook and line lead on to fury
pulled on through life, yet have no hurry
and dreading still the day I'm landed
when upon the rocks of fate I'm stranded

apathetic and pathetic. resigned to sighs and dreams
If I only could remember, life's never exactly what it seems

When did the fires ignite?
When did the patterns first reveal?
Was it when we first stood UPRIGHT,
or used a rock to **** our meal?

When did Man first emerge from prehuman?
When did we first begin to have a care?
Was it when we drew our hand upon the wall
That we first announced we're self-aware?

So much she doesn't know about me.
She thinks that she can live without me.
Just wait until she lets me in.
The real confusion will begin.

She'll wonder how she ever made it.
Life before me; over-rated.
And weeks alone feel like forever.
True love becomes her one endeavor.

My face so handsome, how she missed it.
Her neck on fire where I kissed it.
My touch, is there a feeling better?
My words so sweet in every letter.

I'll work magic and she will believe it.
My life and love, she cannot leave it.
If I'm good she won't suspect me.
And she finally know how she affects me.

Sister,
what it is
to be a brother to you
it is
more than I could hope for
although
perhaps I never said so
I would never care to be
a brother to any other

Sleep;
she is my mistress.
Her gentle love I can't deny.
Seduction.
Satisfaction.
How I lament an opened eye.

Oh,
what beauty I behold,
when I hold her in my eye.
But,
her face, behind a veil.
I cannot see it. How I try!

We meet in midnight hours.
Sometimes I go to her by day.
And I find her always anxious,
though she knows I cannot stay.

Solace,
she surrenders.
And what comfort I receive.
But,
it makes it only harder,
in the morning when I leave.

The desire in my eyes,
It is no secret for to see,
as I
awake
aside
a wife,
it is
asleep
I'd rather be.

I've felt the sun
I've felt the rain
I've felt your love
I've felt your pain
I've felt your smile
I've felt your tears
and this I've learned
throughout my fears
I don't lose hope
because it rains
For when the tears are gone
the love remains

The season that is playing now
          brings forth a sorry tune.
No more Southern breezes.
          Sweet memories of June.

I find I am outside the ring.
           Within I tend the fire.
Ablaze not only leaves and sticks.
           I burn my soul entire.

The flames lick my wounds,
            but do not heal the pain.
Fire condemns, it won't create.
           What's gone is gone and naught remains.

And yet, I cannot walk away.
          This fire, it is mine.
Born the fruit of friction;
           Immortal and Divine.

What purpose had I hoped to serve?
           It never works as planned.
The servant now the master,
          I must feed it on demand.

Eventually, I am consumed;
          A victim of attrition.
The flames will wear us all away
         once we provide ignition.

I find I am inside the ring.
         I no longer tend the fires.
Ablaze is only leaves and sticks.
         I've burnt my soul entire.

Swollen  clouds of passion
once  crashed* across my face
and Fires flared from friction
everywhere your lips did trace

our Chilly fingers sought their shelter
deep in the spaces inbetween
But these spaces,        now            so              spacious
have wicked the warmth from what I mean

And I,
the only audience to your absence,
unable to exist
For you stole from me my *reason;
the anticipation of your kiss.

a cool and windy morning
the sun upon a cloud
bring forth in me a wish to see
the forest and the tree

i continue to the forest
no idea of what i'll see
as Nature gives a magic show
within the canopy

the birds provide a concert
sweet music to the ears
squirrels do acrobatics
chasing friends and fun and fears

the Garden gives a bounty
your senses fancy feast
as we finally see the beauty
we never saw within a beast

Nature is a wonder show
so many splendid scenes
entertaining us forever
with every last routine

as a viewer we're responsible
we must give it support
we must take it to the white house
and fight for it in court.

it must be made as law
and forced through the legislature
or else i fear we're bound to see
the final act of Nature

When I was young and wooly
we all could laugh and tease
someone would say "your mom!"
I could always handle these

Now, as I've grown older
I've grown delicate and weak
My friends must check their tongues
They feel uneasy when we speak

There are some things they just don't say
some problems not addressed
Although I feel ashamed inside
Sometimes I think its best

And so I keep my hat on
and keep my dignity inside
My close friends I keep distant
In hopes my fears will soon subside

What they don't see can't hurt me
But, I can see it in their face
They know I feel uneasy
So they all give me my space

They know I have a problem
One that I cannot admit
And so, I have my hat
and I keep it under it

Despite my many friends I'm lonely
Despite my needs, I am alone
You see my problems now are bigger
It is my hair that hasn't grown

Perhaps one day my friends will help me
They won't be silent anymore
They will make me face the question
Why do I feel so insecure?

You see, I know my friends, they like me
With, or without my hat
It doesn't matter how I look
As long as I am honest
Then we all can live with that

A woman, old and poor,
               has a cabin by the shore.
Here she lives everyday.
Here she is content to stay.

The village people know her well
                from all the stories she will tell
about a warrior long ago.
A man she claims herself to know.

All the children gather 'round,
                  listening to her every sound.
As she speaks she looks about.
She speaks the truth there is no doubt.

"He was strong and brave" she'll say,
                   "and at the times he went away"
"his youthful wife would always cry."
"She knew not where he went, or why."

"All she knew was when he went
                     to all these places he was sent,
that he come back, just as he left,
and wipe the tears that she had wept."

"As he returned from every war,
                      he would come gently to the door.
He'd hold her close, and told her so,
he wished he'd never have to go."

"But, then one day of later years"
                        she says with eyes abound with tears,
"He left again, to not return,
and of his fate she'd never learn."

"She'd wait and wait to have him back,
                         but, he's one thing she'd always lack."
"And, so she waited everyday,"
and here she waits for him today.

I wasn't looking when I found you.
I was escaping. On the run.
My eyes were barely open.
I thought my life was all but done.

But you said "Slow. Slow. Slow it down.
Where are you running to so fast?
Don't you see me here beside you?
I'm not your future, or your past."

"I do not offer you solutions.
I'm not the answer to your prayers.
What I give you; absolution.
Permission to ignore your cares."

You said "both of us have problems.
Lives we'd like to start anew.
But second chances are a myth.
Some things in life you can't undo."

"But you and me, we can be happy.
We can give each other joy.
Just slow down, and stay beside me.
There is enough we can enjoy."

So, here I stay. I'm here beside you,
for a portion of the day.
No longer running. Not yet looking.
And I'm happy
almost every day.

i know about an unknown town
that has with some its own renown
such legends hold
since days of old
of a tale that’s told about this town

the tale is of the oral style
passed along through green and guile
he that hears it
ever fears it
yet adheres its cruel revile

around this town, there is a wood
so dark, and deep and long it stood
and there inside
the dark does hide
but from outside all seems as should

tormented by this telling tale
this tortured town within the vale
was soon to fall
unto its call
when one and all it would travail

not far away at forests edge
a sorry son breaks through the hedge
running gasping
sore throat rasping
but collapsing upon the sedge

as shameful tears begin to fall
the knowing winds begin their call
night brings dreary
wet with weary
earthly eerie set to enthrall

at night these woods protect the dark
awash with pitch both leaf and bark
and all he fears
it reappears
and yet his tears provide a spark

the secret moon provides the light
and then the smell of wood alight
a distant fire
he must inquire
if to retire but for the night

now moving on between the trees
perhaps a moment to be seized
dismissing chance
and circumstance
and so advance as fate decrees

upon approach he sees a man
with beard of grey and leathered tan
who says come here
and have no fear
i am a mere forsaken man

i am a carter of the wood
whose lived much longer than he should
i travel far
through lands bizarre
by wound and scar i understood

to this the boy a greeting gave
my name is Will and I am brave
it is your whim
should i come in
by discipline i will behave

this made the carter stop and think
he did not breathe he did not blink
two thoughts collide
and then divide
and so decide to cross the brink

since it is cold and wet about
and my fire far from dying out
come sit a spell
and warm ye well
and i will tell a tale of doubt

well to approve the boy does grin
up to the flame to warm his skin
without delay
he does obey
as if to say you can begin

the carter looks about the trail
in hopes to capture each detail
his egos fight
this is not right
and yet, despite, he tells the tale

i’ve traveled all the trails I care
and seen more than I think is fair
i’m growing old
my stories told
but i withhold this that i share

this is a story wrong and true
my time has come to tell it too
its with a sigh
that i must die
as soon as i tell it to you

there is a curse within the tale
the telling of which will unveil
a creature foul
of horrid howl
he’s on the prowl and will not fail

for he comes after those who tell
the tale that always will compel
the hearer who
must tell it too
but when you do he’ll know it well

you see this tale it has been told
by many men of ages old
and they like I
did question why
yet did comply as it is told

so please forgive my desperate soul
impending doom does take its toll
to fate be true
i can but do
one day so you will know its hold

at this the boy did squirm a bit
up to the flame to turn his spit
it’s just a tale
and somewhat stale
sir you will fail to get my wit

it is a tale, yes that is true
but cast no doubt on what i do
undone by hate
I meet my fate
so shall he wait one day for you

i once was young and brave like you
and i had dreams of triumph too
this foolish son
then hurt someone
and i did run, but what in to

he was a shepherd on his way
to find a lamb then gone astray
and i intrigued
so well believed
the tale of need he did convey

but as we searched about the glen
a dreaded feeling pierced my skin
a stranger’s hands
and strange demands
to r’move the bands and take him in

i did not understand the lie
and so he looked me in the eye
to make me see
the friend that he
would be to me if i’d comply

I never had known things before
to be so backwards or so sore
but, i obeyed
and he repaid
my wish to aid by taking more

and that is how the world has been
so little left to make me grin
except to see
young man to be
and so shall he share my chagrin

so, here we stand, alone and frail
both victims of this telling tale
and I undone
and you my son
your time has come to now unveil

the beast from whom all men descend
will come today to bring an end
to the hedon who
has followed through
on his promise to deceive and wrend

You didn't have to do it
it gets easier down the road
despair is but a signal
slow it down and ease your load

but you did it
I wish you wanted me to know
and now, as I walk on
I find it hard to even go

Don't give me excuses
Because of you I want to die?
I shake my head. No, I'll live
and I don't have to know why

I just know
I cannot die as yet
its one thing I cannot forget.
But the one thing that I wish I could
is the thought of you
and why you would.

Once I thought I would be rich.
My fame and name were certain.
But, long before I found my way
someone had drawn the curtain.

I realized then how wrong I was;
Egocentric and naive.
I renounced my pride and did decide
to be careful what I would believe.

What I found to be important then
was to find the truth in what I feel
To speak my mind
To cross the line
To let you know just what is real.

But, soon I realized something else;
I still was lying to myself.
Denying dreams and fantasies
I caused my flaming soul to freeze.

There is no answer in denial.
The truth has never been my style.
Go with whims.
Trust intuition.
Let my fantasies reach their own fruition.

I must appreciate the truth in fiction
while choosing carefully my diction.
I will follow fame behind my pen
and I realized I knew the answer then:

The curtain never had been closed.
It was my eyes and nothing more.
My ego driving and conniving
to keep my pride and name secure.

I know I must go by my heart;
It will decide just what is real.
And if it rules I'm due for fortune,
then my mind will not appeal.

I may look content in fine and lace
but the wilderness is my home.
It cares not what chaos brought me here.
Its paths are mine to roam.

When I need some space to understand
the choices I have made.
To compare my works to those of God
and confront this unafraid.

I start off for the mountain top
which I will likely never reach.
I care not, for life lives on its sides.
And what lesson does this teach?

There is a truth that’s shared along the trail
to cherish all we see,
For we may never pass this way again
but what we love will always be.

Every time I think its time
I open up my past.
I think of days now stored away
yet, wishing that they were today.
Just one more chance to try again.
I know the answers I need at last.

But,
that could never be,
and I, now forgotten, am the last of them to see.
People younger than me,
they leave me far behind.
Did I simply miss my shot
or is it that I'm blind?

Too long the years I did not care.
Too soon the signs of losing hair.
If time could stop
and give me slack.
If I could find a passage back!
I want to thrive, to drive, excel;
To have a story I could tell.

But, this fleeting chance
I'll never know.
Perhaps the world deserves it so.

This rose is for my baby
'cause I want her to know
that every day I spend with her
I never want to go

And every word I say to her,
Every word is true
and to hold her till the end of time
is all I want to do

A burning love,
just like a rose;
what beauty to behold.
But, try to touch it
and feel the thorns.
Much better to be cold.

When the reasons seem so empty
and expectations seem so grand
it is hard to find the courage
to satisfy demand

When the beck and call is silent
and the path before is gone
it is too much to just continue
although I know I must go on

All along I have been searching
an easy way to have it all
never trying just to do it
too afraid that I would fall

And now as I grow older
My time is running out
and if I do not do it now
than I will have to do without.

With the door closed and the window shut
its hard to hear the razor cut
and when the signs are not foreseen
its hard to hear the silent scream
and if your hand had shut the door
then the pain hurts all the more.

A friend who was my sturdy crutch
who brought me home when I had too much
He gave me strength with a word and touch
How do I thank him? I owe him so much.

In his hour of need I did not hear
The silence of his inner fear.
So, I am the one who is to blame?
He called for me, but I never came.
And now that I have come to him,
his eyes of hope have faded dim.

I am solely hurt because I know
that this problem started long ago
and though the signs don't always show
My eyes were blind, my actions slow

So, I am alone, without my friend
But, that doesn't mean our friendship ends
I will talk, and he will hear,
and I always know that he'll be near.

My only wish is that you'd been given
as good a friend as I was Kevin.

am i the bull or am i the man?
am i the action or the plan?
am i the canvas or the paint?
am i the miracle or the saint?

It's in the eyes
of youthful play
that true dominion lies.
Building dreams up
day by day.
No limit to their size.

Little minds
and giant hearts
do more than churches can,
to bring the light
into the world
and let it shine on man.

Upon a bed of nails I sleep,
because its cold and also cheap.
I never have to count the sheep,
nor toss and turn from fitful sleep.

A friend of mine, his head did peep,
into my room (my clothes a heap).
He asked about the place I sleep;
"What strange habits do you keep?"

I assured my friend I was no creep;
"I love sharp nails on which to sleep.
Oh, they go in, but not too deep.
But, when I get on I do not leap."

When I'm in bed, I am asleep.
There is no pain to make me weep.
And though my sleep is not too deep,
It couldn't be so cool or so cheap.

Perhaps that we are both but vines,
crawling cross the ground.
Searching for security.
Not knowing where it's found.

One day we find each other.
Our instincts are to twine.
I want you for your energy,
and you want me for mine.

Selfishly we use each other.
Still crawling as we grow.
Taking from each other,
no matter that we know.

How far can we get like this?
Never trying on our own.
Two vines can only get so high
if together they have grown.

We support, and we compete.
In the end, just one survives.
Now, I find it's from your shadow
that my nourishment derives.

I get so tired of you,
who use your voice
without first understanding that it is a choice.
When you speak,
you're obliged to handle with care
the words and the feelings
thrown out to the air.

Do you even know the language at all?
I do not think you do.
If so, how can such a waste of words occur
among the literate lucky few?

Words can weave the truth of the past
upon the present's very soul.
Yet, here you stand
with pen in hand,
unaware of your part in the whole.

No, I do not believe
you even know
where words come from at all.
They are not yours.
You did not make them.
You merely use them as you scrawl.

They are ancient spirits;
unchanged and unspoken,
breathed by men
more witted and wiser then you.
Please cease your distraction
before they are broken.
Their meaning too meaningful
to be fooled with by you.

And here I do tell you,
please hear what I mean;
If the words they elude you, as if too Byzantine,
then just give up from the start,
for only the wisest of hearts
can ever know love
and how it came to mean.

This notion absurd
goes beyond written word,
and it is here that you must understand me.
For only by meaning alone
can words ever atone
for the confusion in heart's understanding.

Where did it begin
and who is its author?
These things,
please let me explain.
For I have been at study;
My heart battered and ******
and my pen
now broken in twain.

Your shoulders are deceivers.
They let me nestle in your lies.
And your breaths,
so soft and measured;
They conspire with your eyes.

Together they convince me
that what I see and feel is true.
But, these expressions,
so well-practiced,
keep the truth beyond my view.

I came to you for answers;
For you knew I could not see.
But, you told me not the truth.
Just what I knew could never be.

It was your lips that told me everything,
strange, their passion overheard.
They said "leave before you cannot",
though they never voiced a word.

Who invented Mother's Day?
Shall I tell you what some people say?

I've heard that it was mothers
who wanted recognition,
for the thankless work they do
bringing us into fruition.

Some say that it was fathers
wanting just to thank their wives,
for all the pain that they endure
bringing joy into their lives.

Others say that it was babies
telling moms "I love you so".
"You protect and nurture me,
and give me comfort as I grow."

And yet others say its sons
who thought their mothers should be praised,
for teaching love, respect and honor.
Ensuring gentlemen were raised.

But, I say that it was daughters
to tell their moms they now can see,
all that it takes to be a mother,
and because of her, they now can be.

Somewhere in the Eden,
where man has lost his right to even go,
somewhere in this Garden
man killed all that once did grow.

To prove we are pathetic
we invade lands that have no walls
Claim the land, and all its living
and make them subject to our laws.

Now, the water dark with death,
and the shore line rich with crude,
and its the men who now can't fish
who are the one's so quick to sue.

But, who speaks for the otters?
or the eagles?
or the land?
What attorney represents them
in the unnatural court of man?

Yet, to even just repay them,
for destroying their families, lives and homes?
The best way we could start?
Is just get out. Leave them alone.