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morning,
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Her
  .eyes

As i swim as i,m submerged,
relaxed inthe waters that
surround me.

Not a breath needed relaxed
in the feeling that i,m safe, as
the waters are warm i hear
noises not knowing what
they are or where theycome from.

surrounded in darkness, this
homein the water this place i
call the womb.

There were people in every room
Inthe hallway
In the street
There was no where safe
No escape
No secret harbour
Nothing
Eventually he found an alleyway
Wonderfully empty
Until he noticed the human canvas
Sitting crosslegged in the corner
That's the day he painted his first masterpiece
Thats the day that he met me

it's the middle of
the afternoon
on one of those warm
winter days,
that hold the promise
of summer inthe brightness
of the sun..

and we three are at the park
having swung to the sky
on the swings, gone up and slid down the slippery dip
a dozen times
and made ourselves dizzy
on the merrygoround
we now sit quietly, watching
pelicans and ducks
icecream, soft serves melt
in hands and on toungue.

when we are down here
we will go down to the jetty
and throw our bread upon
the water for ducks and pelicans to squabble over

and then home to play
in the garden....
before dinner.......
there is a simplicity
to this.....yet it deserves
to be written... for it is too beautiful an afternoon
to be forgotten

We used to like to stay up all night
Drink from sundown until it shined again
******* inthe morning dew with whiskey tainted breath
Smoking cigarettes until our lungs blackened
We all knew, in the backs of our heads
That we were having a little too much fun
Coming home drunk and stumbling up stairs
Is only satisfying until you realize that people care

We liked *****, whiskey and ***
Irish breakfasts were the only ones for us
Getting ****** up was the only constant
Going to school hungover and not caring if we bombed it
We were in for that rude awakening
We never knew how far we had to run

Those fateful, wilderness years
Very well could've been the best time of my life
Underneath the alcohol, blood and tears
You could cut the immaturity with a knife
It's really all kind of sad to think
About all the things I can't remember now
Lost in the cosmic consciousness
Innocent brain cells killed in the name of cowardice

But now I couldn't be any more thankful
Those years taught what no person could
I was only nineteen but now I know
That if I want to drink, I should double think if I should
I'm only human, despite the previous display
Of thinking foolishly or immortality
The weird thing is that I regret nothing
Everything progressed as it would, naturally
After all

.Ah! Beautiful Selene-Bathe your naked body inThe waters of the ocean,Set your long hair against The wind,So lustrous in the moonlight.Your shepherd prince Endymion,You prayed his soul to keep.A cold cave for his sanctuary,You make love in his sleep.Against the archingBlack canopy of sky,Your tears fall andWe call it rain-As your fiery chariotPrepares to touch downOn a planet so full-Of the clinically insane.The sea of Tranquility calls outyour name.

i used to pace my room
in confusion of why i couldn't get over
the single month we spent together
sharing coffee, kisses, stories, bodies
i barely knew your middle name
but we talked again a few days ago
and i asked you, "do you think
if the people we are now were to
have met eachother before the
people we were then, we would've
had a chance?"

inthe moment it took
for you to reply
i finally figured it out
me and him, we are the
connection, as opposed
to the attraction i have
mistaken it for, he taught
me how to love softly, he
talks like he still knows me
and i still don't trust it but
i have never experienced
anything like this and
now i am pacing my room
again, caught on a simple
text message, sent 11:29am,
that reads "yes, i do."

on the opposite side of
the world
the green budded fingernails
of the frangipani unfurl
to their lush full verdancy

all the flowers stand tall
to see the sun
and open coloured arms
for a full-scented hug

the birds are all a twitter
with nursery nests
and sqeaking chirking beaks
and in the pond small rafts of gelatinous eggs are watched over by frogs

there is that wonderful
tang of warm salt and
eucalypt wafting inthe breeze

autumn for us down
under just a pleasant
memory...
here we now look forward
to the summer sun..

And I think that your eyes
could rival the night skies  
inthe language of
brilliance and starstruck

A small smile from you
makes the wait work the view
and I love
when it's pointed at me.

Because your brilliant shyness
at any attention
(that is well deserved)
is enough to make a poet stop writi

If I rewrote  the story and  somehow  are paths
did not cross.
In temptations fire.
We would only know the cold of others.

Freezing in the silent agony unable
to speak.
The statue remains its meaning  erased.

As into others we will seek.
The emotions we no longer share.
Alone I am now inthe isolation of many blank
stares.

The jokes are but a wall built to conceal.
All that I am.
That I could never reveal.

Use the substances  to keep you numb.
And let the voices  take you to another place.

Beyond the madness there lies
beauthy in pain.
And always truth.
Destruction breeds art.

I light up in a room of vacant stares
and empty lives.
To blind in addiction to know the other does exist.

In this den like some scene  from a ***** parlor from the west.
Ashes hit the floor  along with my pride.

This battle im losing with devilish glee.
All but nothing is left.
so in the shadows I confide.

Am unsure about the interactions I make with people
Do they hold friendship or carry enemies ?

Am unsure about the way the wind roars
Does it carry rain or hold tsunamis
Am unsure about the changes of the colors Inthe Sky change
Do they only mean dask and dawn ?
Am unsure about  technology
Does it really benefit man or it's a complete waste?

Am unsure about the way  am trying to relay this poem on a piece of technology
Will anyone want to grab the baton ?
And if I do run will I be able to finish or just wasting my time ?

.Well, there's another idea that died in your mouth!Are you still waiting for eyes to see beyond the little door?What is behind it?An open shoe box full of your poetry?There's cliches clothed in their Sunday finest.Shiny shoes and a red bow-tie.To escape naked into the streets inthe middle of an uncomfortable conversation,only to find that your cigarette was lit and wasbackward in your lips.You screamed for the fire department andyour father just laughed.Just when the dust on your wine bottlewas finally at its thickest,someone entered the roomand polished it off.Pardon my smile, butyou are so funny!Did you cry asyour insect collectionwas flying away?Lace up your shoes,because I double checked your closetand there ain't no bears in there.And, yeah. I'd quit smoking if I were you..