I see your beautiful mouth as you edge forward.
Your lips open, almost caressing the mic
And then honey pours out.

Your lyrics curl around those sitting here
Like smoke from a lone cigarette in a tray
And bind us all together.

Eyes close with tender inflection
Dragging us into his pain, again and again.
The music ends and his pain is gone

But will resurface the next time he sings.

I smell the damp earth.
The scent rises into my nostrils.
Under this pine rain drips down
Dimpling the ground all about me.

Some distant bird flutters up
Making a whirring, whistling sound.
It echoes across the field of thoughts,
Brings me back to my reality.

That truth is sharp and pain-filled.
It stealthily digs under your skin.
You are gone, but life continues.
Tell me it does.  Your answer, "Life,

It is in the scent of earth,
The whirring of the distant bird,
The dimpling of raindrops on soil.
And in each molecule of the universe."

You invaded minds
Like a brain-worm
Munched your way
Until all is in decay

He is like a cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong

Alternate version:
Mania Munch
He is like a zombie cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong
And then wears the skin, because
He believes he can embody its strength
He drinks from the skulls of his many victims
As he consumes their life's blood
And cares not a modicum, nor understand
Other people's fears, feelings, or lives, for
He is incapable of actual feeling or love
All he can do is feed his many manias
You must have a heart to be human

My heart holds no reason
Other than this love
Eros fills my senses
Agape guides my way

No reasoning with my heart
Though I talk to it
Love for you remains
Mania, mania, mania

My heart needs no other reason
My love is a golden apple
Ripe for the bite
That your lips might

O, that your sweet lips might

Mountain crocus'
Reach purple arms
Towards the sky
Spring twinkles
In their yellow eyes

They walked into the booth
“Pulled the lever,” pull out their gun
Then shoot themselves in the foot

And hobble away.

Now these days, as they slap themselves
Upside the head it is heard them say,
"I could have had a V8!"

Now is the time to
"Break glass in case of emergency"
Anybody got a hammer?

Evil is a light sleeper
Hate is a light sleeper
Prejudice is a light sleeper

Bedfellows who keep one eye open
Rouse at the slightest vibration
Of their wicked spiderweb

Pink bald skin shines through
A few plastered strands of hair.
That is just the back view, there.

O, this silly, psychotic old man
With the reigns of power
Held tightly in tiny wrinkled hands!

Make no mistake you need to quake
Because all this crap is very real,
Pretty much it’s a done deal.

Straight up it's a ******-land.
We’re living in a reality show
And in reality, we all know.

As he listens on a private call,
Step-by-step instructions from
"How To - The Manual," y'all.

"Say my name, say my name,"
I heard it on the radio,
Saw it in a commercial,
Screamed it
In the dark hours of my night
Where I screamed yours.

The sky is gray, today
Imprinted on its face
Marks like ancient text
That when read says
Behind this veil is hope

I have so many snapshots of life in my old brain.
Some truly amazing things reside there. I wish
I could hook up to a printer and press "print."
Sadly, when I die, they die.  So, it goes with all of us.

You broke my heart.
I searched for clover blooms
from which to weave chains
and crowns for the both of us.
But you with your urban sensibilities
Kept the lawn mowed too often.  You,
Hobby-like in your ankle-length socks
Bermuda tangoed, with your mower.
I eventually came under its blades.

You wash in the flood of the tears of mothers.
We lay at your feet the broken bodies of children
And wrap you in the very skin of so many victims.

As you paint your face and hands in their blood
To add a million scalps to your beastly belt
You should not be called "leader", for you are not.

In time you will ultimately fail and you will pay
For when love prevails, evil shrivels and dies
In the dense darkness that was created for others.

Then you will take your final "perp" walk.

Oh, Butterbean,
My bovine queen,

Tell me what you've seen
In yon field of grass and buds.

I heard your bell tinkling
As you were exploring

Seeking out the most tender
Of the luscious blades to wrap

That massive tongue around.
You are a grand lass,

I must say,
Grand among the cattle.

You could just as well
Turn off the sky

Or block the sun from view
As to stop my loving you

Could one take the stars
And place them on Mars

Or grab the moon
And to place in your room

No!  For time rushes on
And opportunities can be gone

Yet, there are universal truths
That offer us much proof

Love is mightier than the universe
If only I could put time in reverse

I'd still be with you

Who has agency to guide?
The one with the most likes
Can be used to divide.

Wealth makes you elite
Favoring blind submission.
Your charisma is highly valued.

Now we live underneath
A flinty harsh heavy-handedness.
Ram your authoritarianism

Somewhere else.
Concentration of only your power
Is called a cult, a regime.

Constitutionally respond to the people.

It is feeding time.  Time to push the hay
from the back of the truck.  Whistling,
calling for the cows to come up.

I see the morning mist among the cattle,
smell the scent of pine hanging in the crisp air,
in my heart and mind, I want to be there.

The forested pastures, the open grazing fields
wrap around my soul memorized comfort, where
I can reach out to touch and to feel.

As for me, that place will always be there,
yet, it is gone.  Gone for many a year.  All gone,
the pond dried, the forest overtook the fields.

Gone is the truck, the hay, the cattle too.
Yet, my memory is a place where all it lives on.
And memories turn my thoughts to you,
- as they always do;

Beautiful you.  You are gone, too.

I am just an old woman who has read
And written poetry for many years.  
It is like daily bread to me,
Sustenance on which to feed
And to fill a deep soul need.

Poetry is like the essential oil
In an exceptional perfume,
Refined down to its essence.  
A distillation to what is pure.
It is the molecular structure,
The scent of the blossom.

Its scent deeply impacts all  
Who are privileged to inhale it.  
Smell a high quality rose otto,
Immediately you know it as a rose.  
You do not wonder what else it is.  
It is a note of singular distinction
Because it has been distilled down
To the very soul of the plant.  

Good poetry makes you feel that.
It does not rely on cliché,
Nor unsophisticated childish notions.
Poetry must not be superfluous.
But must be succinct, the essence
Of the feelings being expressed
Without the fluff.

You must tear a poem down,
Rewrite it, set it aside for a while
Then come back to it with fresh eyes.
Poetry is work and an inner struggle.
We must be willing to give the time
Each poem needs from our loving attention.  
They are our children, born of us, part of us.  
No child should go nameless,
Each one deserves a name to be given it.
We owe them nurturing as loving parents.

Give me your eyes
In love, look solely at me
Give me your body, wholly,
To be part of mine

Your hands are mine
For only my caresses.
Your feet are mine, also,
To walk straight back to me.

I give unto you the "all" of me,
All who I am or might be.
All that I become is yours
And you are my gift, as well.

True love does not vary
Nor change like shifting shadows
True love remains ever in the light
For all to see its honesty

A love that maintains its vow
To love, respect, and cherish
It does not alter or "bend
With the remover to remove"

Love is everlasting and true
Real love is yielding to the other
It does not possess, nor smother
It trusts because it gives it to receive

Love is the very soul of equality
It does not reveal but protects intimacy
Love grows with time and with maturity
True love by all is easily seen

Only fools poke out their own eyes
Mistaking true love for hypocrisy
True love is from celestial heights above
And lights the way to unfaltering love

Strong my castle walls!
For it has been so long
Since any hand has touched
Her imposing gates.

Please do, cross this mote
Of my desires, I
The cry within my throat.
And must you wonder why?

What is a queen without any hope?

Some whom you feel you knew so well
Fade from the mind, in time.  Why?
Who forgot first?  
They once were real.

Time taken is time gone,
Only the memories linger on,
And remain there in the brain's folds
Even though we become old

Let them flash before your eyes
Long before time for you to die
Grab them like the precious gems
That they are, reclaimed

It takes time, little elephant, so try
It takes time, tiny baby, you'll crawl
It takes time to build a relationship
It takes time for one to dissipate

It takes time, my heart, so break
It takes time, You broken heart, now heal
It takes time, so dream, realize and feel
It all takes time

In the style of John Martyn, songwriter

You speak but I know
It's just some cliche to mouth
As your truth trickles from my eyes

I wish we could wash mourning away
To dissolve on a rushing tide, and
Hear the sound of the rushing sea
As it conquers and divides

Look inside your own mind, 'cause
You are the lining for mine as you
Roam the corridors round and round
Leaving echoes of our love behind

I wish I could change ignorance to light
But we've already burned out
Like stars burning too long and too bright
So, just lay down your sword

'Cause I'm already too tired to fight
Then you can have what's left
From the spoils of my mind

You choose the vehicle,
You choose the road.

Can you really complain

As you go tearing down
An interstate headed for where?

Long life equals a safe drive.

Many more roads, lanes, and highways
There are to travel, my friend.

Slow down and cruise.

Turn up the music, put on some Blues.
Listen and just groove.

It's a long journey, friend,
If you're smart.  Luck has little to do with it.

As "they" say, "Enjoy the ride!"

You choose the vehicle,
You choose the road.

Can you really complain

As you go tearing down
An interstate headed for where?

Long life equals a safe drive.

Twisted together an intertwined weave
Encircle, enfold, stretch to move in a sinuous manner

Coils support meandering threads, two twined in interlacing part
Interwoven and embracing curls cleave unto themselves

You are part of me

Metamorphosis of all things
Is waiting to be discovered

It is no mystery

You are alive inside
See it with your own eyes

It is no mystery

The time has arrived, yet
In time you will find it was always here

It is no mystery

With the absence of fear
Go be the warrior of dreamers who fight

It is no mystery

You will get it right if you continue to try
That time has arrived for you to bloom

Metamorphosis is no mystery

Until the cycle
Of co-dependencies is broken,
It will always be like that.
But, keep doing the work,
For you can arrive at a place
Where love no longer hurts.

"I'm not much of a poet," he said,
As he broke my heart with his words
On the pages that I read.

Deep pains leave the best scars
Like braille on your skin

Follow the story as you feel your way
Through a history written on thin sheets

You burst my groove-bubble
Let the air out of me
Like an untied balloon 'flubbers'
Whizzing through the room
Doomed to be deflated
Until I'm no longer in the mood
To watch or listen

Your symphony plays
A soundtrack to my life
Tiny feet run through pine forests
Growing to exploring pecan orchards
And walk peacefully through many fields, more
You play and I sing, then begin to soar on wings
Which you gifted me

I want to see through your eyes,
For you see such beauty.

And you see such when looking at me.
Smoke and mirrors, I say.

You say, "No, I see you every day."
And so, my love,

I want to see through your beautiful eyes,
For you give me precious value as no one else.

And on those wings, alone, I soar.

You rise high, my Queen
To kiss the day
Wearing a rosy blush today

The night was long
Now the King has gone
Away, away

Light my day with your beauty

I see your beauty through cables and wires,
Lines that marked "progress" in other ages.
I watch and wait for you to be wire free,

When suddenly it occurs to me,
You move like musical notes up a scale.
O, play your glorious symphony for me!

As I watch you rise in my sky, shaking free, so bright
Your image is superimposed behind lids closed tight
I may go blind from your splendored beauty.

And see a million suns for all eternity.

I was one thing now I'm another
You touched me deep

I try to peek into what I used to be
But it's been smothered

I gave it a funeral the other day
And I have to say

I bloomed beneath your touch
Felt the spring bouquet was too much

But you wrapped it with a big fat bow
Then you turn to let me know

I love you

And in a breath, I melt away
A new me is here to stay

Because I love you, too

You ******* a kiss from across the room
Boom

I catch it in my hand, but it escapes to the moon
Too soon

I reach for you as you draw near
No fear

I know we are tethered even if we stretch
It far

You rubber-band back to me
See

Later we get into our car
Drive

Then like a wisp of fog
Disappear

Dissipating into each other
Forever together

Succeed

Love, it's a beautiful thought.  I find,
However, in my many long years wrought
That love is what you make it.  

It is an animal you ride
And whose spirit you break in its taming.  
Love is what you make it,

It is there for the claiming.
It bucks and throws you off, and yet
With each fall you get up and each time

Climb back onto a more ruled beast
And you, a more seasoned rider.
Love is how you break it.

So, try to enjoy the ride.

Metamorphosis
The art of embracing transformation
The butterfly knows

The magical chrysalis
A curtain surrounding and hiding
Lead to gold

Alchemy's
Noble metals embrace the change
Molecular royalty

Elements in crucibles
Heat within Earth's crust
Pressure making diamonds

Plasticity, purposed
Life withdraws and reemerges
Days shorten and lengthen

Seasons of Earth's cycles
Re-emergence of life after winter dormancy
Flowers burst from buds

With each revolution
Hidden dynamics await explosions of change
Adapting to an evolving will

Evocative
Liquidating what something once was
Wrought from the inside out

Life itself
Bursting with a sense of possibilities
Moments of physicality

And we imagine
We dream possibilities
We crave fantastical change

If we are brave
If we are flexible as is nature
A mind is our most valuable instrument

Filled with ephemeral nature,
Fragility, and beauty
Consistent change dependable

Retreat into self
Re-emerge as something new
Butterflies certainly do

Life is a vessel
Which holds both the real and the hypothetical
Creativity

Poor, stupid, and
Preferably Dead

Squashed like bugs
You’re no longer a drain

Their pockets bulge
While you become a husk

Problem solved

Listen to the slow blooming of these words
Unhurried in their ink soaking into paper,

Like flesh consuming and being consumed,
Like water drowning and being drowned.

They rush in, yet slowly are moving forward
Wrapping the brain in cellophane to smother.

It will decay and the rot will feed, be fed,
As the words and our brains grow anew.

Ephemeral like water on the moon
Or a whisper into an ear,

This man, lying like the bend of a tree
Elbows bent ready to cradle me.

I could reach out, touch and feel him, then.
Now he is an air current swirling round me.

I had a cherry
You had a kumquat

I found a key instead of a pit
And you found a lock

Together we fit

You are like the weight of an object picked up.
Like the endless depth of a jug when filling.

In these moments of surprise, one briefly falters,
Questioning their understanding of actuality.

We measure the breadth, the depth, the weight
Of all things encountered.  And you,

You speak and I hear beyond the words,
Then I am crushed by the weight of your wisdom.

And in a moment, it is done
It has passed like the rising of a sun
Like a season full-blown or a flower
In its last few hours

Like a frozen waterfall
Or a stopped river impeded
Or an ocean held within bounds
Only the mind can replay its reel

I borrowed a fabulous line used by Meira Love and changed the tone a bit.

Between a season
Warmer than autumn
Softer than summer
More temperate than winter
You lie ahead

No one is beyond the reach of your mercy
Not soiled tiny birds bathing in mud puddles
Nor slobbering drunks, nor fending addicts
Not angry ones who hold the weight of abuse
Nor those who suffer the pain of life here and now
We are all the little sparrows searching for seed