How the silence greeted her
1-2-3-4-5-alive-next five
We dug deeper get-up
sleepyhead Zzzz
Clock 5:O clock went boom*
Who met her expectation
Oh! Dear feeling deprived
Things exposed
On the Network 5
But not like a **** painting
Dear Boom all your relatives
came in five
Let's save your heart
It goes boom
Didn't come with gifts
to bloom

High expectations realizing
how low your smile five
degree angle
He's the high hands five
mighty spirit
didn't show to really live it
The revelation he had this
clock-wise reaction
Hush hush sweet Charlotte
curved her position
Heirloom she was seated
The pendulum going back and forth

Mr. Fort William Henry
Lake George new birth
  It was all she could say
she looked up at him
Hearing a boom her eyes were his
golden flames soothing piercing
but painful as we know the
war was heartbreaking

She wasn't sure what to
make of the time
He elapsed like the war
within her legs of her flow
Mommy Dearest Heirloom clocks
At her beach house those
charming ducks
She hopes so strongly
she didn’t jump
into his frying pan of words
like trying to read the top of the hour
Her newspaper eating lemon chicken
with capers

  His second-hand clock tick tock
But first, most importantly we
cannot turn the clock
back to undo the harm it caused
But we certainly need new steps
singing in the rain
And relieving our dear ones
  how there stuck
Getting unstuck  but the stick of
the worst Tacky glue
   Dealing with our negativity but keeping
your chin high positive energy
Here it is the song
Day in and Day out how we listened
to it over again

All you do is dig dig dig…
how we conserve energy per unit time
We put our energies into our brains
With the things that don't have
any use for us
Whoa what a dig of nervous love energy
fighting trying so hard to focus on sexuality
Our bird and the bees
Trying to balance our energy
E=MC -2  that mass movement
He booms my speed of light

the truth of things will set us free

Your the one going solo just go
That pounding and higher ground
How I feel like the piece of rare meat
Clank  clink there he goes boom
Another drink
  What's to think my dead nail beat
Strongheart needs attention
to smooth the beats
How he leveled all his baking cups
to show
her she was his equal

What happens to you
when your day begins
Do we have a second to think
Have a  French kiss Vermouth the warm drink
How can we undo something
How everything remains deep in our hearts?
Something touched your hands it spooked
your thoughts having a retouch
being a good sports nothing gets to me
I am not getting  touched by your words me
My dear boom wasn't enough
explosive words
We develop like a wasp of yellow jackets
How does this entire world deal
with such terrorism? Bloodstain pockets

But not having the time
to tell someone
you love them
because your days come to
close to the end
The drummer boy or the
a thousand drums
marching soldiers
like a bomb will succumb
still on his limb

We visualize more what love really is
All the basic pleasures or nightmares
day in and day out like the song continues on
your digging way down to find something
it's huge so major song flat minor to the surface

The game isn’t over were out
of love down to zero
Like time management oxymoron time
beyond like anger management
regardless of our lives
He retreated one arm against the
mantelpiece his eyes surprised
engagement turned clockwork
burnt orange
so irritated beyond a different time
She was expressing her love and pain
moment of time how she couldn’t
gasp for air

The sensation got stronger how
she was being watched making the
right or wrong moves
With an effort, she forced herself to
straighten her body to behave but her
the mind really needed to function
He sensed the last word rock paper
scissor boom of logs into the
stillness of the room
Emboldened she allowed herself
to see the contour of destined time
contours shaped his face

Like the French Emperor Napoleon
power request so many derogatory
stereotypes
The morning mist was lifted by the time
The Robin responsible for the
past and future
how different time became wanting
my time back
Like the Rehma time flow electric
mechanical clock numbers
How the Heirloom perhaps her time
might have been doomed those deep digs
Like the women movement
Ane her deep mind Goddess of  yoga
her terra cotta hacienda
Her name is Gina he was digging her nails
She had the grace of a ballerina
That dear core of our brain
That cozy warm inviting library
Orient train
Digging out our old grandfather clocks
some of the names
Ingram 1828 Ansonia 1850 and Gilbert
rocking pendulum newton equation
of physics how were fighting for time
and space getting into the light
How someone is born with the
proverbial silver spoon those compounding
assets of his time clock heirloom faces
To dig relive to hug a dear moment
just goes boom
But I will never change my old room

.
Honeybees, birds and blooms unfurl
an enchanting spell
when spring comes by here

Memories waft 'neath burled rustic trellis
where flowered tendrils grasp fleshly
like the newness a love once tenderly embraced

Songbirds in your garden sing
of swooning memories rapture.., of velvet eyes,  
the fragrant spicy nectar hidden within her walls                            

A song of honeyed bees'  sweetest stinger,
and the poignant ***** of intoxicating surrender
lingers, bemused spellbound by a thorny heirloom rose

Sharp beauty beloved like a blameless trap
caught blissfully, breathlessly inbetween
all you wish for and all your wanton needs

Desire 's wellspring an unspoken passion
coquet swollen buds adorn blossoming,
sensual, untamed carnal grace

A picture perfect natural beauty;
sunlit chassé … feathered brush, demure blush
dancing with basket of lace petal’d perfume

For to colour a heart's blank pages
rapt in the poesy a joyous ecstasy ..,
enrapture with rainbow's luscious taste

What seems lost is but a tender vestige unfound
a passing moments innocence lost
to steal away like rumors of gold

These silent reveries seep from a hole in my heart,  
as if ripe strawberries of yore, gently weeping sweetness
when pricked by a thorny rose  

The ides of spring do still bleed a timeless ache
onto the page ... sweet naivety stung
by a mesmerizing dart to the heart

Songbirds in your garden do sing
of sweetest things immersed in nature's nectar
blissful memories sleeping in the petals of a rose



Sung to the wind by a song sparrow — ♪ ♫...✩ ☼✩ ✩☺✩

When I grew up my mom would cut coupons and scrounge for change in the sofa to buy me a chicken nugget happy meal McDonalds. She would cut coupons and would only buy nectarines if they were on sale. I grew up eating bologna sandwiches with kraft cheese slices and potato chips.

I think your mom had different priorities.

The man at Starbucks, told me that opposites attract and I think that is why were together. He told me a Intuitive Innovative Feeler. Does that mean that you are oblivious and emotionless ***? I don't think so?

Lately I have been whining a lot. Whining about where we live, what we do, what we don't do, how you act, how you don't act, about how your mom wants us to water the brussels sprouts that no one likes and clean the toilets no one uses.

Sometimes I say things to hurt your feelings. Sometimes I mean it. I word them so that they are as hurtful as can be and you never react. Is it bad to want to make you cry? You test my sanity everyday, you break me every day, and here I am still trying to chip away at the facade, the make up you cover up with.

I think living in the mountains has taught me about all the things that I don't want to be. I don't want to be cut off, I don't want to be nice, I don't want to be liberal, I don't want to be conservative, I don't want to see the same people everyday, and I definitely don't want to spend eleven dollars on heirloom tomatoes.

You've held my heart in your hands
.. many times ..
and yet you've never known it
But you're like that you know
.. because ..
You treat a person's heart
better than an heirloom
Not 'handle with care'
but .. stroke gently with caring ...

your "friends" that we meet,
i forget their names,
my calloused palms are greased,
by their  squeezing hands

i remember one's a banker,
or he could have said a thief,
his ******* words were flanked,
by my misbelief

i was held hostage,
you were a smiling drone,
i remember when i lost
to Stockholm Syndrome

their Heirloom Suffix changes,
on tuxedos and trust funds,
my rental wears just fine,
i'm not the danger

shorting stocks on tuesday,
while playing ball in hand,
what a shame to lose me,
busted seams this man

I am not a banker,
I am not a saint,
I cannot to be trusted,
I won't place the blame.
I am not a proxy,
I am an astronaut,
But this distant world you live on,
Is far from my plot

You've heard this tale
A thousand times,
Take one more spin,
This version's mine.
And this telling tale
Is its first time.
My theme is fitting,
The message sublime,
For the Season of giving,
And gifting one's time.

For my first Christmas
I was three,
But the warmth on that night
Never cooled,
And indeed,
It was
A cold Christmas Eve.

We stuck branches of pine
In a bucket of sand,
That's the snapshot I've got
Of our Christrmas tree then.
Here's the memory that Eve
Of a lad of three,
Yet this story is true,
It's a family heirloom.

We weren't many then,
There was Mammy and Daddy
And six children, soon seven.
Daddy was an Operator
Of cranes and loaders
Dirt packers and graders.
He was working North,
Far North,
Manning a dozer,
Distant from family
Near the Quebec border.
That's where he was
Days before,
When his pant-leg caught fire,
When the diesel was spilled.

We were only three months
In our chosen homeland,
It was 1958,
And fresh from Ireland.

No way to get to him,
Nor him to get home,
No car,  no friends yet,
Little money, no phone.
Yet somebody knew
We were out on our own.

And the snow started falling,
It was Christmas Eve,
I stood at the window,
Saw the snow fill the trees.
I was still and staring,
At what I don't know,
But I remember quite vividly
All that I saw.

Like a scene from a movie
Starring Barry or Bing,
A fire-engine red no-top
Stopped and parked with high beams,
Highlighting the snow,
On that Christmas Eve.

A big man in a red suit
Slid off of the trunk,
Literally carrying a sack,
And calling, **! **!
The family joined me
At the window to see
The big man's helpers
Carry a big Christmas Tree.

When they entered the house
Kevin, Sean, Gerald and I,
Cowered and crouched
Behind the second-hand couch.
We must have resembled
Three monkeys plus me;
I hadn't a clue,
I was dumb-founded and three.

In through the front door
They clattered and sang,
Unloading their boxes
Of food, clothes and toys,
*****, bats and dolls
For two girls and four boys;
And I'm sure there was something
For the coming bundle of joy.

I don't remember their departure,
Or where he went,
But they called Merry Christmas
And left all else unsaid.

Mammy understood
Some good persons had called,
Who'd heard of our plight
And couldn't be calmed
Til they knew for certain
We'd some peace in our storm.

So, that's my first Christmas,
Since then this my creed:
The gift of giving
Isn't under the Tree.

This is me trying to be better.
This is me trying to move on.
I'm writing a goodbye letter
to the person I was, frowned upon.
From all the scars, cuts and bruises,
fresh scented flowers will bloom.
The heartaches are my muses,
and my recovery will be a heirloom.

-m.b

once upon a time I commited a sin
only it wasn't one you'd ever heard of
my sin was so great
they invented a name for it
and it became my heirloom
passed generation
to generation
a curse for all to recognize
it burned my soul away
and cleansed me of any good
left me to wander unconcerned
with whether I could be absolved
now I'm a jealous wraith
hellbent on serving justice