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As the last
petal
      falls
from the stem
of
    your beautiful heart,
I will
catch  
         it
then own  
in my hands,  

              the most
        tenderest
                       part  
of your
          ALL !
 Mar 10 S R Mats
K
0 Tolerance
 Mar 10 S R Mats
K
Is there ever
A day without thinking of you?
The sun gaps of light
Aren’t even bright anymore
I used to
stare at them and
visualize your
beautiful, beautiful face
Inspiration gone: CHECK
 Mar 10 S R Mats
K
Moonlight
 Mar 10 S R Mats
K
The light hits my skin different
the sun would never
leave behind traces of love
I have yet to see the same artistic expression
during the day
This contrast
leaves blisters on my hands
Waking up under a spell
my feet hurt
Photographic memories of you
make love
to my soul  
Full of dreary absence
and dozy
my large tears brim
Let them fall
Splash
 Mar 10 S R Mats
Eryck
The alarm clock rings
and once again
the rooster sings
the morning new.
Slumbering flowers
lift their petals to drink
the drops of dew.
  Reliable Sun
vanquishes the darkness
as he lightens the sky.
  I see an honored guest
is in the garden,
his tiny nametag reads... butterfly.

       But on the other side of town
       someone struggles with
       addiction.

 Habits grab hard,
break will powers  in two.
The will becomes won't
and the power is all through.
Satiated,
temporaneously satisfied.
only till the next time the habit has to be gratified.
The victim moves on trying to reassemble his day
Avoid
a crooked roaded relapse,
along the way.

Oh ghost of the host why must repitition repeat the most
and feel so good in its continuation?
Why must familiarity breed the need
for more familiar feelings?
To the point of killing control, sealing a fate,
dealing defeat,
stifle healing.

     If your out there guardian soul, spirit helper, what's your roll, your goal? 
 Guiding with helping hand or let stand the habitualized
habit man.

Isn't there  a self preservation station within?
A gland or impulse control button to switch from sin to win?

Even Edgar Allan Poe stubbed his toe on a ten step program trying to get in the door.
Ill-begotten and craven, drunken and unshaven cried the raven...never more.

Guiding spirit it ends here!         

No more slave to the crave
or impulse picking from the addiction tree.
The need to repeat and repeat
the pattern becomes a self fulfilling prophesy.

Back to normalacy, complacency,
it's a moderation that one seeks.
To enjoy the ****** of bells, hallalulah wails,
a babies dimpled cheeks.

Can you do that Spirit helper, please.
Let sing the bodies vibration.
 No more internal damnation.
No more self flagellation.
Allow to draw power from these words.
Think of this all as an intervention!
A tribute to Edgar Allan Poe who wrote the greatest of poems,"The Raven" and died young of alcoholism. Listen to Christopher Walken recite "The Raven" on you tube.
Once you drew me naked,
And I did not recognize the man,
A stranger in my skin,
I couldn’t trace where I began.
I know you have the picture
Tucked between your pages
I know I have your heart
Tucked between my teeth
If you return,
do not knock,
the door has memorized your hands.

If you leave,
do not turn back,
the wind carries only forward.
Flesh—latticed in hush,
pinions bloom along their span—
pearled ache, ascending.

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