Roses bloomed just below her eyes
The battle with the wind raged on
And as the Earth turned a tired gaze
It was left speechless by the energy
Contained in this slight figure

In her mind, she lives atop a great cliff
Threatening clouds of maroon on the horizon
And she gathers herself up
And she gathers herself up
To stand amidst it all

The roses flashing crimson
Signal to the world a soul who
Will not yield to adversity

But great rains fall and a massive wave
Crashes upon her
Her feet are swept out from underneath
And water closes in

The Earth holds its breath
Unbelieving, unwilling to accept what it has witnessed
Yet she surfaces atop a mountain
And she gathers herself up
And she gathers herself up
And she gathers herself up
To smile.

You're warm
A welcome change in temperature
from my surroundings

Not to say they're cold
Just not as warm nor as
comfortable
As I find you to be

It's more of a preference, really

So anyways...

I can see the light
That is, transportation
The ability to drive myself places
(to go visit you)

Maybe we could go get some conversation?

I hear it's delicious.

Only for two though
Which is funny
but warm.

Like you are

Come back around and make me
smile when I expect clouds on the
horizon and we're instead greeted
with a warm sunny afternoon and
our dogs' laughter when they know
what we are only beginning to find
out of the bleakest fogs a welcome
to the home that lifts the spirit

Love is what I feel in each breath, in the
synchronization,
                and in the punctuated stillness
     like sun through blanketing clouds

And, best of all
                 neither you
                        nor I
        have the slightest
    desire to move

Why do I make music?

            well, dear
to drown out the god-awful silence
                         you give me

Squish down below the
                                  filmy line
                    Eyes buckled, buttoned

Snap          
                          ped in half

            to achieve a  
                             tepid calm
                              
                                        is all

so many laughs and
loves and glasses of watered-
down whiskey to share with
all of you

out of concern for your
general well-being, let's
boil all of the sludge and drivel
down to choice words (it'll
slide down your
arms more smoothly)

not what is wanted or
wanting, never allowed
whistles to get into the
dreams that keep you
up at night, down when-
ever they appear in your
periphery

only words, syllables (only
an overpass at night, halogen
halos on a concrete angel) can
carry the undeniable weight
of my thoughts

living and dying every day
in silence

Good morning
splashing a sunrise across my
pillow to remember only
fifteen days before the
sky dreams of dirt, rich
ripe and golden

all the clouds can do
is watch

trails of smoke in the night sky
      where are we?
  the occasional glimmer of stars through the curtain
       it doesn't matter where
    each flower
       keep the pedal down
    a rainbow on your pillowcase
       *we are now.

Might I be the first to allow, with
cold drawing near and burnished
autumn in revolt against vivid-scorched
months, all crisp words and bare
arms,
           reflection on these nineteen
years is done with great anticipation, for
purpose and love and vision and dreams, the
foundations envelop my years, stamp
me with 35 cents and a kiss for luck, good
heavens
                  I'm on my way.

who says love
has died?

he's alive and well, reading
a newspaper by the corner store

and shaking our world together (turn
to page 5)

swept up in the most
beautiful night

there are no
words right now

Somewhere between the pillow and
the motivation of a Sunday brunch lies
relative stillness and steady
progression of time like a
lightbulb, growing
brighter each second

hey, sorry
I think I ended on the wrong
note- (supposed to be a C but anyways)

I didn't mean to cry, honest
sat there in the car after you had left just
replaying all the time we've spent out here
and how we probably won't be back
ever (what a powerful word that is) or
at least for a considerable while

it overwhelmed me a bit, that and
our candle selves burning to ashes while
they set your pants on fire (I will find you
some new ones tomorrow, I promise)

only I can never free the words from my heart
(they want) so (badly to be heard by you)

please hold me and tell me you'll miss me, even
if that's (stretching the truth a little)

because I'm fizzling like a
flame under tears
and smiling at the same time, so
happy to know you for
who you are

the other night
   after you were kidnapped
              I ran
lost behind in the shadow of taxi
                    cabs parked at green lights
jumping statues and sleeping smiles
               until my heart's wheezing kept time with
cellophane yellows, reds and
                                   popped like a bubble, still
not suppressing any bit of you, only
                        anxious to learn more about what
lights your fires and soaks your skin
                  desperate to discover whether
jumping into rain-showers curls your lips upward
           in half-melted lazy warmth that
I might drown in you and
     be happy

There's nothing to do about nothing.

Nothing can, but nothing won't be there for you
It isn't really that something can't be done about nothing
It's that no one cares to do it

There's a funny little saying I remind myself of every now and then
It goes something like

I can do it; I can do anything; I cannot fail.

It's never actually voiced like this, of course.
Rather, it exists primarily as a sort of mantra that pops up during a particularly hard workout or when my fingers get sore practicing a tricky run; it replaces lost strength from within.

I think it's extremely important that each of us has a mantra or mindset that we can fall back on when we need to.

If not, we fall back on nothing, and we've stated already that nothing has no reason whatsoever to help you or to break your fall

Nothing will simply dissolve and reappear elsewhere, having already forgotten your cry.

But there's nothing to do about nothing.

Yet.

"say what you
mean to say"

isn't as easy as french bread when
all the words build up inside your
skull like ideas born to a warm
dim place with inadequate
space to learn, convinced
to fight rather than
reason amongst themselves for
rationed pleasures like inspiration,
expansion, acknowledgement from the
conflicted world they call home, someone
that allows for only one or two
survivors every so
often, two bold witnesses
battle-scarred and cynical

limping to your ears

Impossibly close, I'm
beginning to believe you were
actually here with me, dreaming
away all doubts

When it rains
You know I feel what you feel
Everything you've ever known
All your wounds that never heal

Yeah, when it rains
I feel the same
Don't let just anybody
Come take your breath away
When it rains

When it rains
You know I see what you see
All the vivid colors, shapes, and sounds
Come out and surround me

Yeah, when it rains
Don't be ashamed
You have every right to
Speak up and say your name
When it rains.

"Gone away to
dream forgotten places up, rising
like a helium balloon in the lilac
sky, really"

"I intend to return soon, but who can
tell where the horizon will let
down, in which direction life's
tides might drift"

(that when you next scratch your
back I should appear an instant
later in dismay, a
bit too late to feel your skin
warm my fingertips on this
cold autumn afternoon)

As if sunshine and rain got
together to play a trick on poor
cloud

Remember the time you asked
    why we can't just fast forward to the
        house and the wooded state and
                our well-trodden garden?

I understand now.

         And I would.

1 mouse lived in the forest with
2 pieces of cheese to his name.
3 days before his hole was to be dug, his
4 whiskers quivered with anticipation so violently the
5 friends who shared his burrow were tickled mad by the happenings and found
6 weasels to eat various parts of the mouse in the hopes of making still his
7 days that remained before the farmer would have killed him anyway with his trowel

How cruel the world can be to a poor little mouse.

We're composing, you and I
Composing something greater than
Either of us can imagine
And it makes sense
For one to find the other
On occasion, the universe demonstrates
The greatest of compassions

I'm afraid
No work will be done today
As happy as I am
It is hard to attempt math
Equations on a cloud

She kissed my scars
That moment lingers on, whispering
I like you for who you are
All of you

And I do
My heart giving me
Away at times
I do

Nothing will ever be the same
Least of all my life

Cold winds blow the autumn leaf from its stand
Twisting and turning in waves of air as it slowly
Falls to the ground.
Until the mighty tree, once so full of green
Lies barren under darkening clouds.
But all is not lost, its sacrifice is not in vain, for
Even as the last leaf falls
As the final animal settles down to wait out the months
The winds are changing.
Glorious green returns and claims its home among the wood
Plants reach up to the sun
Animals crawl out of their burrows to greet the rising day

It was winter.
Now it is spring.

Believe in the unabashed wonder plain on my
open face

         we sow the future now, and my veins flow with the
                best for you

     nothing is torn down like walls, we'll live a long life, we
                                    will, as beautiful as the leaning forest before this mighty breath

   close your eyes, you
know I share my voice, now
         take comfort, everything
   is alright.

dreams as validation for smooth
     rhythmic notions cascading like
              fingers, waterfalls slipped from
          tongues laced with crisp sheets
  
  (the ivory ladders fallen sideways and
    forgotten in the wake of racing hearts)

            slow down, reconvene behind mirrored
          aspiration, compose stars that pulse with each
             ache for your company, flicker to the pace of
                   water running, an escapee from the space of
                 world around you conformed, blanketed
                        sleep like a waterwheel

I want to see you
Every moment of every day
Never grow tired
And never grow old

It must be convection
      this circulation of thought
  but I appreciate you, I
              do
                      like a fish in the desert
         wonderfully alive for no reason
                   scientists can explain but
            hey, if the fish is happy

  when this energy is
              put to paper and
         vibration
               in the near
      future, all the desert fish in the
                    world's sands will
         stop their party and
  sing out
          hallelujah

Hey there
              fish fry hey there
muscle goose hey there
       red hair atop a plastic horse that
     spins in endless circles

Hey
     there
   in-between the trees don't you see it it's a
       cloud but floats higher it's a
               great puff of white, so distant it
          must be someone's forgotten dream
  set free to wander
                  
      hey
   there it goes, oh here it comes no
        don't feed it or it will stick around give it a
  good kick in the ribs like this see?
            he won't be coming back

I stare into the sun, twisted and
Aching from the things I put myself through to ensure
I am strong enough for you
And dream of a day that we will live
In a short while

It's impossible to fake who you are
Improbable and although conceivable
Absolutely undeniably impossible

Discovery comes with time and it's a mutual
Reimbursement when time leads to discovery
Please don't take too long, I don't know how to
Wait here

I write all the time.

There is nothing I would rather do, nothing I can see myself doing in the future, nothing that makes my fire burn like writing.

That being said, my writing has yet to reach the ears of those who would appreciate it. Pending my inevitable gain of transportation, I will embark on a euphoric journey to havens of people who revere this art to the level that I do.

Case and point: where I call home at the moment is full of phony faces. Everyone, with a few brilliant exceptions, is afraid for one reason or another to make their true feelings and selves known. It's not that these writers I seek do not exist; it's that they are hesitant to show their faces, for fear of ridicule?

Ridicule for what?

Succeeding in capturing fleeting moments, powerful emotions that others balk at? Confronting head-on the darkest parts of their own soul and being? Not being afraid of what will come out in their writing, so long as it is true?

There is no need for ridicule, of course.

Excuse me, I have become sidetracked.

Ah, yes.

The world and our community of Johns Creek will be immeasurably bettered when we come to the understanding that masks just won't cut it anymore.

The truth is what we need, and until this is what we get, there will be a number of horrible side-effects of our disguises.

War, Distrust, Confusion, Sadness, Apprehension.

In truth, they dissolve.

Whomever you referred to, Allie, thank them for me as well. You have great things ahead of, behind, and beside you. Never forget your potential or your accomplishments.

Fumble mumble jumble
Words or are they thoughts
Or are they notes or are
They voices in my head in my thoughts

mind you I'm not mind you I am not
mind YOU I'm in no way
out of it
I'm in it am I I am I'm in on it
It all makes sense
And no need for cents or dollars
or nickels or the lot of it all

trade in happys in melancholys in smiles
in everything that matters not things
we assign false meaning to

the first step (to
   one two three life)
        is this place
     looking back at the red cliffs
and remembering our jump
             so many months ago (it
                feels like a second and
                         then twenty years)

       in its footsteps (dreams win
            all the races), we find I'll
          carry you will carry
                   me and leave now
               from the rearview, roaming
                       to wonder when
                    nothing can
                            find the way
                  your laughter conjures
                       my smile
                       
                                (rally around
                                       shared heart)

glitter in the light we'll
            give birth to pouring
       warm wax
                      
                        fire inside
                  eyes ringing like
             xylophone bars while
                              we remember where
                     these times find us (and  
                          why the only nightmare is
                                   waking up)

I would scream
                     But that's not what I do
I would rebound
                     But that would be blasphemous
I will be strong
I will be strong

Time will stand still

We will fall for time

Yellow is the color of the banana you ate
before you died in that beautiful place

Surrounded by faces

I want to fall asleep with you in my arms
You know I trust you

You know.

Yesterday morning, I woke up to find birds of all colors swirling around me
Yesterday afternoon, I cooked lunch for my friend Steve (he's an elephant)
Yesterday evening, I composed a symphony and entranced sixty hippos with it, lest they should be unhappy
Yesterday night, I died in the arms of my enemies

Tomorrow, I will be born again.

Just you
right?
                 intense
                   fiery
                    explosive
                  you
                                        an­d it's
                                       crazy outside right
                                               now
                                                             ­                people
                                                                ­           are killing each
                                                                ­           other for money
                                                                ­                                               but that's never
                                                                ­                                                           news.

freedom

~
inhibitions lost
within a din of
heart

~ ~
hearts lost without a
din of inhibitions

~ ~ ~
delicate, you
need not remind what
is found

seeing the same colors, not
all about interpretation but perspective

overanalyzed ice cream breaks down into glucose

overanalyzed puppies break down into proteins

only overanalyzed love continues
to defy all constraints, eluding
mental grasp as easily as an eel
in a bathtub, sought by a spoon

You know what I mean when I say that it's strange
To come down from heaven and walk through a range
And serve as a target for all of your pain
You should know what I mean by now

                                            You know what I mean when I say that it's true
                                             I haven't found anyone who's close to you
                                             But I couldn't start looking because I'm a fool
                                             You should know what I mean by now

You know what I mean when I say that I'm tired
Of all of the cheats and the ****** and the liars
Yet I'll sit and roast with them above the fires
You should know what I mean by now

                                              You know what I mean when I say that I'm done
                                              And your little mind games have lost all their fun
                                              And I'm through with sitting here, I'd rather run
                                              You should know what I mean by now

I lift my eyes
Up from the dirt where I am standing
Up from the hurt that I've been handed
To the river where I find myself again
To the hands that offer me a second chance

I loved every thing, every inch
                                            and the song-streams never ceased
    But now my moon has left and the tides
         are
                  all
                       a
                         s
                           kew
                     so why should I be able to channel anything?

             the group mentality is to reject the sober and drink until

        nothing
        matters
                          ­                                                               oh
                       we're so far ahead of the group
                                                           ­                  [correction]
                       I am.