i thought i understood the water,
the silver whispers of stream,
dying the way sadness sighs  
like a star.

the water didn't bring me to
you or you to me.

you were not the shimmer of a
fish.

you were the light reflecting,
bold splashes of colour
on a bold canvas. you

were night when i could
hardly bear the night and you
fell through me

like twilight bringing black
marble moons and watery ghosts.

i thought i understood the water.
i thought the stars painted your
reflection on my lips,

but the silver whispers were not
sad they were happy and
i wondered how i ever
found them sad.

She leans into the petals,
skin dissolving into soft color,
the green veins of leaves brushing her arms
as if they have always known her.

His voice, a thread of dusk,
winds around her wrists,
pulling without force,
settling in the quiet space
between her ribs.

Her breath, uneven,
presses against his mouth,
a drowning in tenderness,
a weight both unbearable and light.

She does not resist.
She does not speak.
She simply disappears
where the flowers open.

You know as you lie,
on the bedspread,
the wood creaks in distress, while the springs squeal in protest,
where dreams find their way
to your empty head.
While you lie still,
with ignorance and disrespect.

You know as you admire,
your empty headspace
the mirror's eye strongly so wishes
to go far far away
as though it fears if you stare too long
the linger of your spectre will forever taint its gaze
and be the source of its nightmares
till the end of time too long.

You know you bully
the ears of your victims
with your voice so unpleasant
to make deaf people
grateful, for once.
Of your vocals so poor
your ears wish
they could tear themselves apart
for this torture so painful
and seemingly so endless
as you go on and on
and never know how to stop.

You know the oxygen curses you
as it gets pulled into your lungs
through your disgraceful nostrils
ensuring your livelihood
always so unwanted
It blows fires big and strong
just for once, for once,
longing you to inhale
some of THAT instead
so that it wouldn't waste itself away with you.

So maybe, just maybe,
If you succumb, to correct
these qualities so uncalled for,
your existence might be something
worth
for.

Sadness
Grieving
Fear
Loneliness
Maybe it would be better for everyone including myself if I was dead
I try so hard
I really do
But it never seems to be enough
It never seems to get recognized
No one tells me they are glad I’m here
That they’re proud of me
I continue to struggle alone
And no one sees me
No one sees my pain
My hurt
My struggle
My stress
My cries for help
I’m really trying
But I’m just so tired of trying
I’m tired of struggling
I’m sick of this pain
Of this hurt
Of everything
Yes there’s some great things about life
But the future looks so bleak.

It’s that time once more.
Meeting between pastel colors.
I’m happy and free.
Singing our  song together.
When bluebirds meet
on wings of daffodils
there is hope all over.
Birth of new beginnings.


Shell ✨🐚

I should write
I must try
I wanna live
Not just cry

To be loved is to be dragged to the ends of the world.
To be hated is to be thrown hundreds of feet under the earth.
To be loved is to be forced to betray all that was important to you.
To be hated is to be held close and told lies.

German Industrial Music spurns —
pounding out its well oiled skirmishes
precision geared for optimal churn
dystopically torn and ragged dervishes
chemically masked in shrouded breathing
turn tables on society's expectant cadres
scrawling doodles on the walls of empire;
wired electrical schematics of stronger emotions
with exploded views of heart's spirited pistons

-cec

i think we got it wrong
when we think of strong

for its not a mind
that thinks of me and mine

or controlled
by need or greed

its one thats gone inside
and dissolved all internal needs
and turns towards the world
with hearts and hands of kind

The screams of fear and joy echoed throughout the ravine where the Violet Cascade waterfall fell.  Solan awaited Alston and his boys as they slid down the spiral ice bridge with a smile on his face.

Alston and his boys reached the bottom of the waterfall with eyes wide open with fear only to scream with joy and laughter.  Solan begin to laugh with them as he helped them on their feet. Alston then then turned to Solan.  " We must have saved a day in a half sliding down the waterfall like that! Yes, my friend, we can follow the riverbank to the gold dusk road bridge.  We should be able to reach the bridge at a steady pace by midday."  Leaves begin to fall beginning to write the lyrics of an autumn song soon to have melodies and verses. By midday the gold dusk road was reached.  The bridge was alive with caravans, vendors, tents, fires, small battalions and the moving of folk throughout the land all trying to reach the castle city of Oinotna.  Solan then spotted a Council of wizards deep in discussion smoking silver grass. Solan spoke out to the group.  " I will go into discussion with my fellow coven members and seek out knowledge of what they have experienced as well as share what we have seen. Very well Solan, I'll find us a place to camp nearby and find us some food. Alston, if chicken is burning somewhere please fetch me a thigh. Very well!"

Solan approached the Conclave of wizards as the smoke of the silver grass swayed through the air like a magical haze only dreams could conjure. Solan knew of three wizards there in discussion.  Rizen, from the coven Sun-wind. They wore the color red throughout the lands. Wizards that specialize in fire and wind spells. Olian, from the coven Metals of the light. Wizards that specialize in invocations, blessing weapons with immense powers and abilities. They mostly cloaked themselves in the color gray.  And finally, Tersia, from the coven Wings of the moon, Sorceresses specializing in the magic of water and healing. Wearing a pale white moon colored cloak.  As Solan arrived a wizard in a gold cloak called out to him " Solan from the coven 3 Stars shine." Solans coven had only three members which the other two members being his brother and sister.  3 stars shine specialized in ice magic as well as combustion magic.  " Come and sit with us Solan, Join the discussion."  A clump of silver grass was given to Solan as he fetched his pipe from his pocket.  He huffed up a huge smoke cloud and added to the magical haze that swirled about and joined the discussion.

En tanto que el hoyo cavan
a donde la cruz asienten,
en que el Cordero levanten
figurado por la sierpe,
aquella ropa inconsútil
que de Nazareth ausente
labró la hermosa María
después de su parto alegre,
de sus delicadas carnes
quitan con manos aleves
los camareros que tuvo
Cristo al tiempo de su muerte.
No bajan a desnudarle
los espíritus celestes,
sino soldados que luego
sobre su ropa echan suertes.
Quitáronle la corona,
y abriéronse tantas fuentes,
que todo el cuerpo divino
cubre la sangre que vierten.
Al despegarle la ropa
las heridas reverdecen,
pedazos de carne y sangre
salieron entre los pliegues.
Alma pegada en tus vicios,
si no puedes, o no quieres
despegarte tus costumbres,
piensa en esta ropa, y puede.
A la sangrienta cabeza
la dura corona vuelven,
que para mayor dolor
le coronaron dos veces.
Asió la soga un soldado,
tirando a Cristo, de suerte
que donde va por su gusto
quiere que por fuerza llegue.
Dio Cristo en la cruz de ojos,
arrojado de la gente,
que primero que la abrace,
quieren también que la bese.
¡Qué cama os está esperando,
mi Jesús, bien de mis bienes,
para que el cuerpo cansado
siquiera a morir se acueste!
¡Oh, qué almohada de rosas
las espinas os prometen!;
¡qué corredores dorados
los duros clavos crueles!
Dormid en ella, mi amor,
para que el hombre despierte,
aunque más dura se os haga
que en Belén entre la nieve.
Que en fin aquella tendría
abrigo de las paredes,
las tocas de vuestra Madre,
y el heno de aquellos bueyes.
¡Qué vergüenza le daría
al Cordero santo el verse,
siendo tan honesto y casto,
desnudo entre tanta gente!
¡Ay divina Madre suya!,
si agora llegáis a verle
en tan miserable estado,
¿quién ha de haber que os consuele?
Mirad, Reina de los cielos,
si el mismo Señor es éste,
cuyas carnes parecían
de azucenas y claveles.
Mas, ¡ay Madre de piedad!,
que sobre la cruz le tienden,
para tomar la medida
por donde los clavos entren.
¡Oh terrible desatino!,
medir al inmenso quieren,
pero bien cabrá en la cruz
el que cupo en el pesebre.
Ya Jesús está de espaldas,
y tantas penas padece,
que con ser la cruz tan dura,
ya por descanso la tiene.
Alma de pórfido y mármol,
mientras en tus vicios duermes,
dura cama tiene Cristo,
no te despierte la muerte.

Hands are where the hearts are
     Zelensky’s is in his gauche
        Macron’s is in his droit
    Trump’s is in both, because
  He’s holding The Royal Flush

Dopamine, drug of choice
Dopamine strengthens my voice
Dopamine, I create a scene
Dopamine a lot of attention
Dopamine to get my fix
I create a scene
Dopamine All Eyez On Me
Dopamine I’m insecure
Dopamine, you are the cure
Dopamine, life itself is dope to me.

We built
a tower
with hands
that did not know
how to touch.

It rose,
stone by stone.
Each word was a brick.
Each silence,
the mortar.
Promises—
now vanished in the air.

We stood
at the bottom,
blaming the height
for our aches—
but the tower
was never
what broke us.

Looking up at the treetops kissing the heavens,
I catch a fleeting glimpse of the night sky,
Through limbs and leaves entwined,
Dancing a silent waltz to the rhythm of a gentle breeze.

The shadows drifting down from above ripple softly beneath my feet,
The forest's lifeblood pulses through its veins,
As the restless winds quicken this delicate dance,
We, too, once knew these steps of three.

Once a gust, now barely a whisper,
The harmony quietens and an absence lingers,
Exhausted branches now lie still in silence,
As I gaze beyond their crowded reach.

Into the deepest, darkest blue,
My sight rests on our cherished string of stars,
Hoping they are reaching your eyes too.

Acúsome de haber hecho
por mi vida y por mi arte
poca cosa de mi parte
y que no estoy satisfecho.
Porque si ardía en mi pecho
hoguera de inspiración,
ansia de dominación,
no debí darme vagar...
La corriente fue soñar
y trabajar la excepción.

La conciencia despiadada
cada vez que acomete
me enrostra mucho tapete,
mucho beso y mucha almohada.
Mucha hora disipada
en nervioso caminar
so pretexto de tomar
ora la luna, ora el sol;
mucho café, a lo español,
mucho reír, mucho hablar.

Sin embargo, estoy contento;
esta vida a la ventura
me ha dejado una frescura
de niño desnudo al viento.
Sólo yo sé cómo siento
la belleza universal:
el oro, rosa y cristal
que arma la aurora al nacer,
y el talle de una mujer,
todo el bien y todo el mal.

I think of you
because I love you
and when I am no longer
do not forget to
reMember.

When a black sheet has been
thrown over the moon
and a million lazy stars
have fallen from view
I hear the wind has
grown tired of traveling
I hear the sound of mandolins
crying in the mountains
I hear the rattle of
gypsy wheels
I hear the heavy hearts
of horses upon the
restless roads of
broken poetry ...
Clay.M

You've got her stuck in your teeth
I taste her whenever you kiss me
The aftertaste of what could've been
a bitter sweet remembrance of everything you're missing
while I lay here in a space left by another person
barely fulfilling the taste after which you're thirsting.

Touch the surface
Touch the light
Touch my skin
Touch my eyes
With your eyes
Touch the surface
Touch the pond
Feel the ripples
Hold the gold
Let us love
The same light together

I cannot reach the fruit on the tall tree in the woods
And all the men next to me are always telling me
C'mon man, just reach up high and grab one
C'mon man, the fruit tastes so very delicious
C'mon man, every real man here can, go on
C'mon man, you can't be that small, grab one like the rest of us

Well I am
And I cannot reach the fruit they can
So I will walk further in the forest
To find a tree small enough for me

And I see
Another boy like me
Picking the fruit of the small tree
And I will say
C'mon man, let us eat the fruit together
Because surly
The tall tree is not meant for us boys.

They say it’s all in your head,
They say you’re making it up,
They say nothing is actually wrong,
They say your life could be worse
They say you’ll grow out of it,
They say it’s just doctors trying to make money,
They say all it is is you’re sad.
They say it’s all in my head… maybe it is, maybe it was.
but now it’s slowly spilling out onto my wrists.

I don’t think it’s just in my head anymore.

Courage
It can be found
In unexpected moments
When someone rises
Up to meet the challenge
Either through actions
Or words
Or both
It can be someone
That stands up
Even when it’s hard
For what’s right
What we know deeply
In our hearts of hearts
Or someone that walks
Into danger to help
Or a healer helping the ill
Courage is everywhere
In adults and children
Around the world
There are those
That stand up
Speak out
Even when it’s difficult
Unpopular
They do it
At a time of turmoil
In the world
With pandemics
Wars
Unrest and violence
We need the courageous
More than ever

Love ties bows
around garbage bins.

Turns losses into wins.

Brightens a sky,
shortens a queue.

Changes one into two.

You saw it coming,
you knew it
I had my chance,
I blew it
You held my hand
We walked to the edge

I couldn’t jump

a storm came yesterday dark and loud  the landscape veiled
awash a while
black things fade and all is grey

win or lose hedge your edge
write of parlay

I only just realized
what joy can be—
It is a small thing,
I think,

In the back office
at the bank,
If you leave the chair canted
towards the south window,
the sun will warm the small
blue seat around 11:45

It has always been
such an inconsequential thing to me
always out of reach—

But it’s there,
A quarter before noon
every day.