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Styles 12 Aug 2018

secrets at dusk
tasted vigorous as
Coltrane blues

in a smokey nightclub
under mysterious saxophone seas

this style is not my own
but it helps me swim better

I decided to adopt it
curious why it tugs ruthless
on spit fire sleeves

deliciously drowning me free.

forest moons at night

help you drop it all
bags of unwanted programs
flung from broken chimneys

violet threads pass perfect
through kitchen chipped glass

moth wings burning summer up
like her eyelash fluttering innocently on some other guy's cheek

shattering divisions snag
on moonlight betrayal dance

enormous sea hooks chop in
helpless lips seduced
mad quicksilver rush

reserve this room for my only friend

we have private letters to write
on a future night when
god dreams come true.

This is for you.

My only friend.

What weighs heavy is certain light
how it pierces
through troubled waters.

A million traces of faces
lit up in every beam.

One night I felt it bleed through me
using rivers of sun-fire screams.

Volcanic poetry spoke without a sound.

Jim Morrison breaking through doors
under spells of hypnotic waves
wild vibrant shimmering
on multi-colored sheets.

This style is not my own
but it helped me lava streak
across bitter shores.


my voice strays away.

Gone hunting

a broken well voice
picked up by an old cracked bucket
leaking simple worded wishes

deciding to voluntarily borrow her
stolen forest eyes.

I heard them speak translucent leaf
on a summer day
when clairvoyant kids
heard God speak

on pathways of brilliant blue lake

when sunshine
whispered us
in scintillating ripples

right before our astounded,
washed feet.

I am dripping funeral summer sweat
under tombstone studded trees

smiling while choking in
liquid clouded dark.

Alone but not alone.

Mighty Ghosts of heaven
holding my head up

making sure the Nile
doesn't gush out while
I still cannot even write or speak

turn my notebooks into confetti
nothing describes this mysterious sea

a new species of saxophone waves
has belted its killer wonderland
sound out across an entire broken stage.


I can picture us
walking barefoot
on star contacted sand

gazing out
under champion chandelier wonders

walking on Texas Lightning storm colors
bellies full on Rumi soul food

our secret flames
burning up
plastic playgrounds

violating propriety
on some nuclear guarded beach

schools of fish cut
by saxophone hooked seas

blasted by vaults of unwrapped poems
someone else wrote perfect
in our dreams

we hope one day
the unpredictable silence
of simple worded wishes

will help us

extravagantly bloom
new spring leaves
rain stamped on tender delicious works

after winter is done
savagely wishing us dead
we are touched by other worlds.

For Drew
2.2k · May 2017
Redwood Patience
Styles 12 May 2017
I heard her thoughts breathe.


she needed something with Redwood patience to understand why her mind traveled with butterflies searching for Eden.

Said, she felt ants inside her dreams carrying away the dead.

wondered if there was no limits to how her heart could grow or communicate with anything.

I saw her quaking eyes search for a place to land back before the first words that God said.

She felt the masterpiece come alive at midnight it spoke beyond all languages, treaded outside of logic, flew outside of time, connected itself with everything alive and spoke to her with a simple grace.

Everything is already yours.
Your heart is the doorway home.

She took a piece of me when she left, left an ice pick for me to play with.

Her sensitive nature understood why roots dug down in a quest for warm solace.

My heart almost closed forever, I felt the final straw detour me to wasteland.

I ran emerald frontiers in her eyes,
butterflies landing on my hands
their wings stained my eyelids
I can't go to sleep without flying through her.

my heart headed to the outskirts of Eden
imagining how she is
Loving her from behind bars
Her butterflies never seeking
my garden.

It almost wilted.

Windy wrath almost destroyed it all.

I had to search the silence
Try to understand myself through a tortured past, I had to tame your tyrant that grew inside my head.

I had to bear the weight of impatient voices that I could not repeat to anybody here
but the dead already know it,
Ones that died by their own hand.

I heard her thoughts breathe


our roots go past the stars
hidden in our beating blood
is the whisper and light of God.
1.2k · Dec 2018
Changeless Architect
Styles 12 Dec 2018
I saw you between buildings
working in sun
network of light
letting liberty reconnect.

Wires buzzed
high voltage streamed inside them
darkness questioned its own shades
sparks dripped into night's gulf.

Fervent as LIGHTNING
lathering rooftops
sizzling bolts spying timber
smothering scars.

I saw you tunnel down
infinite pure light
shattered by solitude
entering bold, courageous

down into dark mines
soldier who never stumbles
suspending notes caressed in silence
protecting seeds, engaged by yearning

I watched you grow
twisting up
gnawed by roots and rocks
begging for water

circling wider than galaxies
melting skin, taking down drapes
promising to visit me
in tombed up places

dizzy as smoke
curled up by desire
amnesia searching for identity
drafted by absolute fire

changless architect
rerouting for change
vicious as dawn rising in Saturn
gentle as mist leaking from
her melted eyes

swallowing his compassion
vanquished revenge to steam
her savage attack whirled
in amorous sheets.

I felt you unveil arousing
every heartsick wish
blasted down by wailing wills
puddles of December gathering

reflecting on above
while drowning below
who is it speaking kindness
after rippling screams uprooted trees

volley my soul
back and forth
between worlds
consume this spark

encircle your breath
with goading light
dancing inbetween
two ruined buildings

I listened to rocks slurring for mountain
I heard trees lust for water
I felt the cries of troubled voices
flare across two highways

rerouted by dark and light.
Styles 12 May 2017
        eyeless enigma.

she chasing another listener.

another one tied to fraility
   trying to face the lid-less night,

constellations swarming with his


      kindred tornado.

inspiration's explosive alleyway.

she has left me for another.

  left me here.

    sullen, chiseled out,
a hidden sculpture leaking blood.

stuffed in silk,    since the last time  

             she was here.

    where does she hide or linger?

her ghost words waiting in a unseen library waiting for my thoughts to scroll through endless imagination.

muse of the stabbing spruce.

blinking in and out.

I am dejected out into ghost town rain, not even an insect to look at.

she is gone.

my eyes void of color, claws shred the page, she left me, dulled with hangdog drift.

where is she?

shadowing a hitman?

running wild through the next Picasso ear?

how does she imagine me?

  a conflicted whisper outcasted in rain.

where. where. where did she go?

swishing leaves up into the miracle blue air with another.

towering perceptive ideas into the fingers of grace,

flowing down the anxious page smashing mediocre left and right.

**** her. bless her.


    a butterfly threading golden silk.

her mystery bonding with the population of every Galaxy.

I was rested when she left.

when she returns

  she will not recognize me.

my frazzled hair.  my hotmess trainwreck. my burned up furniture smoldering into the carpet.


on a rooftop  scrubbing through starlight like my skylight of dreams.

if I wait with patience of Job.

will she sunrise burst me

in fountain light

falling through me

like that lover who exists in the 5th dimension.

rocking my world with pure fire thunder.
974 · May 2017
Lace Wings
Styles 12 May 2017
Dead man's head on the wheel
horn blasting for siren's to come

a  thought

torn loose by zephyr
travels free

past every Totaliterian sign.

sweet invisible thought


with a mad rush
to explore
what leaves feel
scraping magically down anywhere

a thought untouched by minds
floating through mist
cascading down steep rock,

barefooted boy dreaming for lace wings
along forest edge

a thought
free from panic

free from all addiction

free from all constrictions,

A thought free to roam wild
to feel anything

to leap with fiery eyed squirrels
limb from limb
better than master ninjas

free to bounce off danger:

skittering across galaxies to reach a radiance
than Spring Sunshine
with vibrant meadow.

petals lean in south bound
gentle on a breeze
begging for a kiss
from a bumble bee

drink my nectar
please never leave
buzz off


but please
return back to me

no more questions of existence
why this
why that

just free
to be anywhere
like God

burning Magnificent
with Red Maples

free from the chain of mad love desire
pulling dead weight battalions through
the Western ghostly sky
haunted by savagely slain spirits
prowling black forests

with gun blasts and blood rivers
crazy as human thoughts that made it.

Medieval Man dilapitated and cruel
Medieval Man desperate as a ghoul
searching for the next war-****.

I know a place beyond the cold Oregon
dripping rain night

safe from the pensive lonely stares
safe from ****** screams
mad house Corporations
digesting people into profits,

safe from the alleyway suicides
the helpless kidnapped innocence
found in a ditch
near the cold cold tracks
hiding in shadows lurks the ever eluding lunatic
running rampant
all over the world

I know a place beyond the lush green longing
red bursting Magnificent Maple burning
always there longing through my shadow trampled heart
behind buffalo
roaring unstoppable
of her sweet sweet kiss,

behind the songs of silky voice skating through the treasured vistas of memory
so sweet
it flashes suddenly alive
out of sheathe
forever to shine:
slicing in your heart
like summer stars dancing in nights
when you snuck away
to melt in life:

barefooted boy running and dreaming for lace wings
behind a captive verse skipping on glassy lakes that pace
a heavy mind
weighed down by decimated loss
of heart and friends.

Long blistered miles add up
on tired cracked bleeding feet.

A cry for HOME is felt in every aching bone,
an invisible lasso pulls you in
but you can't get you out
tattered feelings
lay splattered in the moon reflective puddles of wintry night walks
every Fall leaf absorbing the shine of both worlds
half a sentence away from a lapse
into cold pools of Truth
Once again I know a place that I cannot see
but I know is There
like a brilliant thought you reached
on a summit of illimitable hopes and blinding dreams.

A place beyond sad drenched streets
where hopes and flesh do not starve or freeze.
I know a place I cannot see
but feel is there
some Magnificent friendly Hand reaching to be known
reaching to reach out to me, to us, to let us know
it's Here, It Cares.
I know a place I cannot see
but feel is there
It whispers to me at night
like a Father in my ear
embraces me on a warm Island
floating floating flowing floating
out at sea
lazy waves stroll in soft as eyelashes
to touch and tickle
what I cannot see
impossible whispers turn to invincible songs
I never remember
in naked form
if only You could linger longer next to me
SING ..........
these soft waves licking sand across my tattered
hostage dreams.
roll back in
take me out
to your singing Magnificent Sea.....
Can I toboggan slide down your cool track of Tolerance
to feel the patience of Unconditional love and peace?
Can I cross star trestle river strikes
where sweet flows course down God's infinite Heart
burning brighter than even these Magnificent Red Maple Leaves?
Can I be invented as Freedom's thought but shaped the size and color of a red maple leaf
That people know are there but cannot see?

Can I float across the galaxy like this just YOU and ME?

Free to express anything
Free to shine twice in the summer twinkle of a child's eyes
who just one something of importance
reunited with her Mother and Father.

Free to inspire the genius of a tortured artist who overcomes his doubt
with that delicate, special touch that changes lives for centuries to come
Free to be that Voice singing so pure
auditorium eyes are filled with salty tears
making people think of their Mother
and her Garden
how bright it was to walk through there.

Free to be a song remembered loved and cherished running
through the world faster than Chariots Of Fire,
Free to be a speech so strong it gets shot down but comes back
forever as Legend for the courageous heroic Truth
It touched upon in a dangerous time
filled with oven baked murders and absolute Terror.
Free to be the invisible thread of love
star-lit and still flowing through incredible
vast distances
half a sentence away from a perfected masterpiece
that will not get recognized or seen or heard until
long later.
Free to be the Light-House of human spirit
and to never kneel or yield
to reins of Totaliterian regimes.
Free to be a smile blooming beneath
soft maple magic.

Somewhere out there
beyond their drab dark talk
plays the wild music he is seeking,
Somewhere out there, in here, a vast beautiful creature awaits to saturate his soul
half a sentence away from vanishing
I could melt away from every burden to find YOU once again.
Once again I know a place I cannot see
but know is there beyond the desolation
of insane deeds
there is a quiet master singing through the trees
trying to help us see
We are Free
We are Free
to be
the miracles of our thoughts and dreams
please please
do not turn away
but take a leap of faith
rise rise
rise through Me
to be
and more
than what
the eye can see
please take this limited sight from me
show me what I know is there but cannot see
barefooted boy dreaming for lace wings
along forest edge
reach back in to me, seize me please
all is restless now
all is restless now
my silent voice
a longing thought
floating naked and panic free
half a sentence away from lace wings
vanishing to the fiery Maple of your sweet
silky dreams...........
861 · May 2017
My Love
Styles 12 May 2017
My love levitates above me,
begins to circle out
  heading to the silent softness
tucked beyond perception.

I have packed you
  with Milky way hopes,
  witnessed the slashing
    of stars make their way

bright against the purplish night.

I have known you to slip out from
the hidden human crevice
to perform secret plays
   with oceanic aches
       surpassing all words

threading impossible rich
   grasslands in a desert
     of a million scornful suns.

I felt you harpoon me
  pulling me back to the immense
  place beyond the curtain
  verifying every hope that kept me crawling for just one taste.

I heard you speak me into shelter
  every promise of your verse
riveted my skylines with the most delicious eclipse I've ever seen.

Your love moved me to another hidden Everest where The Golden Angel sang to me with a voice that bleeds my haunting.

I felt you craft a crystal ship, your freedom set it sail inside me.
650 · Apr 2017
Misted Stars
Styles 12 Apr 2017
I don't know how
  all these stars from God
found a way into my eyes
blurring the clear night;
how you misted me
as your shine
threw embers
into my loneliness
the howling wind
moaned my name
as if the entire Kingdom of Heaven
rose up inside
to bury me with feathered grace.
"Listen, if you can stand to.
Union with the Friend means not being who you've been,
being instead silence: A place:
A view
where language is inside seeing.

639 · May 2017
Dead Grass
Styles 12 May 2017
In the dead grass low I live here now

where the dead grass blows I stop and show
myself to you,
with a cruel voice slow I stalk to persecute,

with a mad mob in my head screaming "Execute....Execute..."

A little boy smiles then runs far away,
my memories are opening up as wide as yesterday.

In the Dead Grass Low I remember you.

where the dead grass blows...... I follow too.

I find so much sorrow under January Blue,
piercing skin from the hands that WAR has Drew!!

In the dead grass low I bleed for you
where cold winds blow visions through..

One thousand whispers in my ear.
One thousand smiles disappear and there's nothing left of you,
there's nothing left of you.

If you are still alive and it's just my eyes that cannot see.

Hold me where I hold you in my heart where Love Is Free.

Save me from the stalking Hawk who has captured me,
His razor claws and biting hate will not let me be..

In the lonely hours I call to you
and wait to hear your voice.

I'm standing here in a dark world with no other apparent choice.

In the dead grass low my shelters lost where the cold winds blow my heart apart.

There's a stranger here breathing close,
and the shattered glass reflects my face.

In the dead grass low I am Black Morose,
where storm winds steal every trace
as His footsteps blow away
the sky is turning from blue to shades of endless grey.

It is here where no one knows my name, no one knows my name,
in a place where nobody is the same
and everyone sets out to blame
there is only fire in our pain
where the grass can no longer grow.

So in the dead grass low I flow my silent thoughts to you,

hoping you return

some day on a warmer wind, I hope to see my friend,

some place with a warmer wind, I hope to see myself again....

© 2012 Scott Lee
Hard to believe I wrote this twenty years ago. Who sped up time so fast. Jeez. Slow down would ya.
589 · Apr 2017
Pearl Moon Silent
Styles 12 Apr 2017
She sits silent
as night collaborates
cursive wind to spoken pines.

Pearl moon silent
she is the main attraction
radiant dream, dark angel lust

thirsting for every eye
  to stare
and burn
for the fortune she hides

as her naked pearl shine
  illuminates forest wonder.

She will glaze the ice
  scurry her light
    in ways
       that trap your tongue

around the rutilant jewelry
you wish you could wear
  leaving night to worship
    her perfect crisp blaze

as your enamored pen
falls into a coma
     too deep
        to speak out.

Her silence is another world
    only imagination understands.
571 · Apr 2017
Dismantling Prison Alone
Styles 12 Apr 2017
You started out with hawk eyes
  born with incredible winds at your back, your feathers smelled like a pine forest soaring just inches away from a never depleted lake.

You started out invincible
anything possible was allowed to climb stairways hidden in your mind's eye.

  You started forth wandering in the great expanse of imagination, a new heart tucked away inside with an invisible leader who reeked of enchantment and endless wonders.

Before horror struck us dead and the fall of Atlantis we were connected to the power of something rich and real, a radio station with endless channels.

Before the fall,
You played in everything unlimited, drew innocence
  on a luminous feather and let it drift careless on clean winds that knew how to speak crisp
  between rough walls of mountain sides living three inches apart from each other.

Before the scrape of hate entered like a voice thundering from all directions sending so many mad leaves swirling in confusion leading us astray.

I want to speak to the men who do not trust other men because of the violence planted deep down in their soil.

I want to put my hand in the silent dirt of your wound and wash your eyes with waters of remembrance.

I want you to strike me with every black whip vengeance you felt on your back, every betrayal burning off wings from your once invincible hawk that we both know flew uninhibited skies in your priceless heart and I want you to remember that feeling before they threw you in that black room of hurt and I want you to close your eyes and picture someone who you trust  to stand with you in that black room and exit it together.

You are free to kick open the door, spit on every wall of doubt that blocked your mind with anything that said "You are bad, you are nothing."

I want you to go through every cell that got slammed into your fingers and every cross that crucified your child.

I want you to stand up with your hero and say what you need to say to every voice that blackmailed you and robbed you of every luminous feather.

You can scream, cuss, burn off the demon's skin with every kind of fire they threw at you with.

You may do whatever it is you need to do to whoever it is that needs to suffer.

There are no limits now.
You are free to let that child roar out dragons that were buried in the dungeons of suppression and let them burn it down.

You can say whatever you want.
Be free to dismantle their prison by whatever means necessary.

Now I want you to go back in time before any black whispers skated across your inexhaustible lake and I want you to pick up every luminous feather they plucked from your wings and
I want you to find that champion hawk who flies in your heart and place them back in the right spot.

I want you to climb the
highest tree top of your dreams
with that beautiful hawk on your shoulder and sit there for a moment and remember how free you once were before anything dark was allowed to taint your life.

I want you to drink in the air of pine.
I want you to erase the cubicle of your work prison telling you to write reports or to type in data.

I want you to sit there and remember the peace of your soul, allow the magic of Sun hitting water fill you with Power and everlasting beauty and love.

Now I want you to take your hawk and say whatever comes to mind. You are free now.

Now I want you to dive from that tree top and forgive them all, even yourself for anything that may be eating through your ribs.

Remember how to fly.
Remember.  Remember.
Remember your true self the way you were before anything else.

Let it all go.
Feel how light you are now.
Light enough to slip into a hawk.
Fly on. Fly. Fly. Fly.

Drink it all in.

The rush of summer blue.
The clear lake of possibility.
The clouds of timeless canvas.
Rise higher if you want.

You are free.
569 · Apr 2017
Slipped Away
Styles 12 Apr 2017
Slipped away
  came back
knew what it was like
  to be without you.

Slipped away
  drowned in tar pits
  knew what it was like
    to eat the darkness.

Slipped away
  came back
from the after life
haunted by the Golden Palace.

Slipped away
bled the tears
  of entire world's
tasted the wish of redemption.

Slipped away
came back
mouth full of moonlit gravel
tasted the curse of man on fire.

Slipped away
  came back
knowing our secret immortality.

Slipped away
YOU came back
  to glow in my secret house.

Slipped away
  came back
full from the light of home.

You said,
Go and Shine it for Me.
509 · May 2017
Under The Gun
Styles 12 May 2017
About my friend Andrew commiting suicide and the effects it had on me after.


Back bend
Bend back
Tear    crushed    rip


Pressure building rising
rising higher
than ever before

I stood there alone wishing to be catapulted back into your stare
That 2 quarter sun
I stood on a snowy bridge hoping to be part of free light
Cutting shadows at right angles from tall buildings and mountains in various places between time zones

I stood frozen in winter storm staring down at your memory as if a leaf passed by me on the swift river current,

I stood gazing hard into that cold river water wishing to see past shadows

Wanting to penetrate illusions for one more chance to see your face laugh

Only You could see me, only You could feel me
Wanting to give up


Her long branches sweeping the grass in 360 degrees
but still her protection could not save me

While I tried to fall asleep
Half dead by the thought of your death
7 degrees out
Back pressed hard into frozen pine needles,
Each one seemed to stab me with scattered puzzles
Of elusive memory I could hardly see
I lay there curled up as time brought your face to me in waves

And each piece of memory I could not stitch back together
With my mortal, clumsy hands

Sweating bullets to find you as you were
Clean  clear   crisp
With music blasting from your room and us,
2 rebels trying to express that hard, undying rebellion swelling wide and contagious inside us.

It out grew the planet, soared into another galaxy and took over
Back bend
Bend back
Pressure building
Higher than ever before
I lay there thinking how much I wanted to float away with that leaf that just went past me
Down the river to the sea
I lay there


Remembering when our struggle to find beauty in our souls
Clashed like Iron swords against our own created demons,
When our own battle sent us into the underground
To find a voice of reason, to express our fiery rebellion into mics
That knew our rage.
I lay there dreaming about that time in LA
When we were walking and you pretended to be crazy
“Watch This”      You said.  You put your hands on your head and took off, screaming to yourself,
Some kind of free rant screeching from the streets of the ******.
Your wild eyes piercing at the sidewalk
Your speedy gait so perfect while you plowed  past people as if you just escaped the loony bin.
Your black anarchy jacket patched with punk bands glowed under the decadent LA lights like exiled stars.
Everyone on Hollywood Boulevard ignored you, if I hadn’t known you I would have too.

You had me convinced you were just as insane as anyone else who I’ve seen do that.
You secretly became my hero in that moment.
You made me fall to my knees in laughter, the stars on the sidewalk sparkled, all my worries dissolved.

It was a gut wrenching bout with hilarity.
Needless to say hilarity kicked my ***
remnants of puzzles is all I have now
Every night I lay there dreaming, trying to see elusive pieces of memory floating far away at sea.

I breathe
Waiting for a final bullet
To find me
Please   please   please
Send me to my friend
Floating            far away at sea…..
509 · May 2017
Styles 12 May 2017
Flames of ghost
  behind inner eyes
dancing there
on Caribbean sand.

Majestic satin maroon
playing genius on a skyline
quiet eyes prying into velvet sheen
melting for your touch before birth.

One cosmic being
before split
Your ghost flickering my frame
scalping my words with
Invisible blade.

Dawn and moon
possessed her eyes
made her morning sing alive
while night still brooded over leaving.

Contrast and comparison
dropping off Spring and Fall
on your immaculate, trashed lawn.

Your eyes drawn in by
flawless colors.

Flames of ghost
manifested in both outer and inner.

Fascination bleeding everywhere.
503 · Aug 2017
Almost Visible
Styles 12 Aug 2017
Eyes stare on the other side of a mirror looking through him.

Light is breaking through his spine in brilliant shafts, name it electric.

Call it dance, it breaks in, goes up and down his body like an invisible elevator.

Someone is pushing buttons on the other side.

The silence of the void is a letter written without words.

She is there buzzing him.

Warm hands against his face shattering skin.

Nothing describes it.

He tries to pull down magic ink.

Nothing sounds right.

Maybe he has forgotten how to write from the viewpoint of angels.

He won't stop trying as her invisible sun continues to bless him.

Light continues to drown him.
Eyes stare on, almost visible.
471 · May 2017
Taste It
Styles 12 May 2017

Like your first fat BlackBerry plucked from the hanging vine.

Sweet juicy juice
black diamonds of summer
Swallowing boyhood whole
Plugging along my Florida trail
Light shows twinkling on both lakes. Sun waves wanting to dance with rippling water.

Let it dance.

Feel it
Come bouncing through your playground ready for a game of dodge ball to teach or show you something cruel or miraculous.

One moment to be seen like this, to be rinsed clean by a new dew starlight.

Wise and profound opportunities rise up and blossom.

At night, years ago as you lay on your pillow, your thoughts became a homeless city, their hungry hearts beating for meals and drinks, their ***** hands reaching up and toward  the Immaculate Island of peace.

At night hinting through window cracks with possible discoveries waiting to be made- someone is running,
You don't know who ???

But he is running blind through fields of landmines,
holding up a torch trying to call down for more starlight,  trying to dig out all knives, trying to remember who he is- beyond this earth bound wreckage.

Trying to ignore all cruel voices reaching out to smash him to pieces.

Daniel is thrown down into the lion's den.

At night on a pillow, sleepless love dancing between clouds
Their guns have missed their target.

Taste it now.
It's becoming.
A crunching field of snow.
Kneel down to kiss it.
A torch burning strong in the heaven of your heart.
Rise up to seize it.

Something incredible shines and leaks out from her eyes,
Her cursive poetry dared to threaten perfection.
You can breathe again but now you must bear down and also endure it.

Feel it.

Sharp and full of arrow fire.

Now nobody can sleep again.
Out the door. You run away.

Who cares where?

One suit case filled with only a black jacket, three ripped journals, a pen, and a battlefield full of wounds hoping for repair.

When will the Lion lay down with the Lamb?

Taste it.
Flowers in the air.
Her eyes singing love.
My heart has no bounds now.
One wing on the moon.
One wing somewhere else.

Night angels sensed but not seen. Shhhhh. We have a great plan. Keep becoming.

Yesterday you were the wound trying to fill in the blanks.

Today You are healed because you know the answers to your own questions, because the grass accepts rain fall, because the search for something greater lies in every human heart awaiting to be found.

It is an unhatched egg hiding in a 1000 miles of blackberries.
Feet stained purple from walking, sometimes dancing.

Always on the look out for a sign or miracle, but then you look around you and you realize it's all a miracle.

Even with the heavy shadow following you behind sly whispers of denial.

A monster is blowing up the world.

It follows for your soul.

Taste it.

A crafted potion for submission.

Taste it.

A mailed out priority, delivered rejection letter screaming between both ears promising fatalities.

It's knocking me down and around the mud pits of desire.

Someone is calling to me through wave after wave of fire.

I gotta tell ya one day you'll be strong.

Feel it.

A quest for light. Breaking out upon cold surface.

Hair raised up on neck.
The suitcase torn open.
The jacket torn and ragged.
The pen bled dry.
The journals filled up.

Sometimes every word gets eaten up by lions.

A deep longing stirs and calls you from some animated world out there. Sometimes it's loud and clear,  other times like a last wave from a dying ocean.

Sometimes every word gets eaten up by Lions.

Are you real?
Am I a lost travelor?

What ***** beast has emerged from all these tests of strength for wings.

Daniel climbs out of the lion's den.

Taste it.

Victory parading down a once homeless city. Now everyone can sleep sound in their own houses.

Taste it.

This hatching egg of peace
That holds the love for the entire universe.

Feel it.

A mighty Lion laying down with the Lamb-

In a precious field spread out inside
Your own
star dripping heart.

Taste it now.
Weary desert travelor-
A black diamond BlackBerry
Singing summer from her eyes. Taste it

Sweetest water from this heaven.

This will not be the final, dying wave crashing in your ocean.

I see a shape walking from the waves.

Who emerges?

A future child to lead us all.
396 · May 2017
Far Away
Styles 12 May 2017
Far away I thought You were-
for so long now my heart's been fighting
all this darkness
all around me, inside me
like a broken sword I could not fix alone......

Far away I thought you were
my face smashed cruel in darkness,
my hands bound tight with steel,
my mind trapped low in cages- my prayers on fire- dying....
so much love kept hidden-
every word was lost.

Far away I thought you were,
no kind justice on my side,
no fair game that i could see.

Rage burns hot enough to fester,
sorrow became a planet,
mercy a hanging dead man,
Europa became a home and all the ice a familiar story integrated in every bone.

Far away I thought you were...

Every country an enormous lie
Every Army a blind massacre
Every TV a space invader
with strings that play the puppets.

A mass invasion on common sense and Good will.

A mass invasion on my soul.

What a hard game to learn to play.
What a cruel deal to have to watch.

All this pointless death in the name of Power and Religion,
so many threats to life
running blindly to freely execute....

How can they not know what they are doing?
Have they cremated Care?
How many lies can one man take?
How many dark roads along this stretch?

Far away I thought You were
left abandoned and impaled

I could not hear you from such distance
I did not see any goodness left to cradle.

I banished myself from the kingdom- turned rogue
and left myself to torture.

Far away i thought you were, no reason left to live.

All my love and hopes were shattered until sunlight came sneaking in.
Insightful whispers draping down like rainfall to mountain peak.

Please turn it green again.

A powerful love from a boundless world not far away at all. who knew you could fit inside the heart? who knew your promise to be real? how bright is your spirit light tonight?

I gazed inside for you from some perfect rooftop I thought as dream- a golden city blinded me like a wish that boomeranged back belief, and restored my faith and love.

Far away I thought you were until a friendly knock came tapping at my door and I realized that you were the one wanting to be found.

Please connect me back to you.

I could not see your light from so far below the ground.

Far away i thought you were- my heart was a sail in a tumultuous storm flapping lonely with no sight of friend nor shore.

Far away I thought You were with only a vague sense of You on the other side of some incredible, invisible door.

Please Connect me back to You and turn it green again.

© 2014 Scott Lee
393 · Apr 2017
Never To Be Severed
Styles 12 Apr 2017
Never to be severed,
that middle rip I have trouble writing about.

Never to be severed
every nation inside you defeated
unable to see past billowing battle smoke.

Not pushed or shoved down a well but savagely kicked in solar plexus
after only learning how to ride a bike.

**** up ***** water.
Choke on betrayal.
Mom's ****** face calling to you.
Step dad hit her so many times you lost count.

Too young to understand this will be your great lesson.

Packed into someone else's violent
shell, load me into your hollow chamber, fire me, like shots heard around the world.

Martin. Kennedy. Africa. Christ.

Severe me.
Break my heart in a thousand ways.

From now on nothing will be the same.

This will be Love facing the gun.
This will be my God on the cross.
This will be clomping boots terrorizing Purple Mountain Majesty.

No one will know, my child.
No one will know us.
We will never trust.
We will cry for our lost god.

Why has he abandoned us?

We will fold up silence and pack it tight into our suit case.
No one will know.
We shall not speak of it.

We will use mixed metaphors to erase the true origin of our salted wound.

We will fly across troubled waters,
people will smile at us but we won't smile back.

We will eat the shattering palace of paradise and it will taste like the bottomless pit of hell.

We will gnash our teeth over rebellious years, we will cope on poison, on fleeting pleasure, we will learn to write flames over golden arches.

We will close ourselves.
We will store our hollowed house so deep into our bones not even I will be able to find it.

No one must know us.
We will break apart.
We will traverse a haunted world
finding others like us.

We will make friends with the battered face of recognition.

We will eat the betrayed dust of every nation.

Our anger will have no limits.
We will use it to condemn ourselves.
We will practice self mutilation.

We will hide our most precious love in the silence of a pen scribbling away years searching for reason in  caved in coal mines,

our interior selves packed tight with  'blacker than black' darkness,

yet we will not stop searching for diamonds.


We will still have hope.
We will still go on.
Bashed in, fermented in rot.
Our throats thirsty for golden ale.

Our eyes still roped in by the whisper and grandeur of sunset,
our hearts full of uncontrollable aching for this moonlight plastered in water, we will still hear John The Baptist's voice screaming in the cell of our bleakest, darkest dungeon.

Have you Not Known?
Have you not Heard?
Has it not been told to you from the beginning?

Even though our foundation is crumbled we will look high and low in the valley for our healing prophet.

Never to be severed,
severed in the break of hallow ground. We will know that violence is not the way even when we want to **** ourselves.

Our ears to the earth
listening for her hidden spring
we will cut our pathway into secret channels.

We will scramble for it.
Restless for a taste of purity.
Our haunted inspiration will leak resin and find twisted flame.

Our desire will grow higher.
Our fire will fan into every capillary.
We will carry hidden, super forest fires in our eyes until we hit the ocean.

We will laugh until our abs are rolling down the hill.

We will make unforgettable friends and we will find comfort in each other.

We will open up slowly.
Taking our time.
Our love vapors will find a way around the darkness.

It will build up, our awareness connected to A Great Hall, every part of our fragmented self will start to seek it.

We will have close encounters with powerful peaceful angels stirring us in our sleep. We will thirst for Home with a thirst so deep the entire galaxy will hear us.

We will realize we were wrong to hate.

We will feel ashamed of our misplaced ways.

We will ask deeper questions.
We will read more prophets.
We will learn to forgive it all.

We will have compassion on ourselves.

Our unworthiness will learn to cry and in our willingness to change:

The Great Spirit will ask for our permission to heal us.

We will say Yes.
We will be cleaned out.
Every ***** action brutally ****** upon us will be wiped away.

We will understand we are bigger.
Every single human being is our brother, sister, mother, father.

We will feel the unlimited love from the Great spirit and we will never be the same.

We will make it our new mission to love.

We will walk lightly now.

Our expanded understanding has made our eyes into vistas, deserts,
rivers, oceans, we will flow, never to be severed, we will seek to heal entire nations.

We are back.

In full knowing of who we are, where we came from, resting from want as the Great Spirit has returned to us.

We are all angels.
Even the wretched ones.

Our souls will grow stronger than you can possibly imagine because we were willing to brave the darkness.
386 · May 2017
Sly Bandits
Styles 12 May 2017
Speak Death Valley on your lips
crack me frozen to this riddle

Touch cactus with intention
arm full of crimson constellations

spreading wonder through a glistening moon light tide

her breath beside you spilled of secrets, quiet settles, those long arms of experienced aches, a star rip night when ultimate knowing craters doubt

Leaves you Kansas flattened
still smoking, rocks reduced to dust, shuddering land ripples
wake you up when you realize
How powerful love really is.

Beyond flesh
sizzling shines that reflect through Infinity's wide wide pool.


Flabbergasted drooling baby
hanging from your chest.

Sly bandit rowdy with enthusiasm

Somewhere your soul knows
this place where desert frozen dreams come alive and speak wild spitting cowgirl hanging from the Pleiades.

Howl like Ginsberg
Stomp pavement with Miller
bleed verse
spontaneously free and unrehersed

Break in

dive bar dance
through a
bottle of
Maker's Mark
swimming on fire
in your wild Pacific guts.

Arms flailing with Gods
no other feeling like it except
the idea that it never truly ends.

Riddle beneath sand
Thumping your tiger veins
with haunt.

Sly bandits
whispering past dark
telling high sea tales of Moby.

Lightfoot playing in the distance

"It's four o'clock in the afternoon and the drinks are passed around."

No one knows where or how its headed.

Golden futures promise
left mosh pits slamming through blood in your God fearing heart

All the trust given alone
when the heart bares itself clean.

When high tide comes to take you

Love shatters
Like a big bang ruckus

Everyone split apart
but the same

crazy to ponder
stranger to feel

Everything shaking on a 7-11 counter

Sly bandit warriors sent by God.

To remember how they fit into the divine plan

something crazy delicious

roaming every street in existence

Living tall tales
dreaming for dreams
that sledgehammer desire
through Milky Way ceilings

right past two universes
Light speed rocket soul
whizzing through space

wishing for a head cam so everyone on Facebook could believe it.

Sly bandits can fly.
348 · Apr 2017
Mystery Machine
Styles 12 Apr 2017
The mystery machine
  inside me knows more than me.

I have felt it do impossible, unnamed things.

Secretive marches streaming in night missions, pulling armies of light through me.

My lips have not uttered it.
My silence cries alone, thinking of it.
I felt the river of God break me, inside, where it all makes sense.

You took my words, crushed them all, left me with this expansion inside where you have obliterated every wound I ever felt.

How do I proceed to the next stage, now that my pollution is gone, and the water holds the sun, rushing through me like a heavenly beam of purity?

All my locomotive prayers shapeshift to liquid on my cheeks.

I will wait for you to March.
My tears quaking in another world.
My understanding reaching for more.

The keys to your door gleaming in the feelings this mystery machine produces as I sway helpless from your beloved wind.
335 · Apr 2017
Empathy is a wounded healer
Styles 12 Apr 2017
After she broke through the gates she said her prayers were trapped behind enemy lines. Her Fukishima tears crashed poisonous waves to foreign shores.

I knew how it felt to be thrown in a hole left with vipers.

They still hiss at me in nightmares except now I confront them, unafraid of their venom.

My first dream paddled me through a lush heavenly river, a beautiful angel rowed, I sat at the bow facing her.

She told me long stories I cannot remember. I never felt so safe as when I spent time with her.

Time spent in a fallen world made pure waters metamorphosis to chemical troubles.

My prayers joined all the others
and sailed the jail free sky of hope.

I left her memory in a place my voice cannot travel into. Or maybe it can.

I wonder if she knows her stories paddle through my veins struggling for remembrance.

They say empathy is a wounded healer, I wonder if they know I have felt them in the distance.

Cries so intense my sensitivity got scarred on a tree engraved with the whole world's initials.

Never the same again, I understand how consciousness is a wide forever river pressing closer to empathetic ocean.

I once tried to protect myself from everything by forgetting her elegant lotus petals. Spikes in my eyes taught me invaluable lessons.

Some say empathy is a weakness.

I know now that it leads to our strongest miracle.

Who are we without compassion?

A blinded monster killing everything.

Empathy is a wounded healer.

Forgive yourself and remember your lotus petals so you can help others open up their own gardens.

We can only hope they all remember.
335 · May 2017
Diving Into Night Pools
Styles 12 May 2017
I can see you on the grass

head back

eyes locked in sky stare

modest me sitting with you.

Summer sky teasing us with anything possible

I tried to quiet rumbles

in my Volcanic heart with spoken words

I was dumped off on a silent porch
every word seemed to abandon me

I grew tired of painting walls with colors that never work.

her words like her eyes
soft spoken blue
seemed to dare me with a kiss,

the lure of her desire pulled me into Prison.

my thoughts like star-fire
held captive in a cage;

an untameable rebellion rose within me along with a reckless
black desire growing stronger than any rage.

we painted mud on our faces and bolted out of town;

let's drink the night away
cross haunted trails again.

tell our secrets we hung on meat hooks down in private basements.

Dive into Night pools in search for love and heaven.

we both found our love crucified in different timelines

we kept on moving down the rails
growing strong even though it felt like death.

You saw yourself become a saint
soft spoken blue and enthusiasm
escaping through your breath.

I saw myself become extinct
vanished in the fires
lost in hatred and in love.

I drew weapons from reckless black desires
held power in my heart
used it against myself
tried to destroy my love

by burning down the city

thankfully love's city was way more resilient than I thought.

Your truth cracked open my summer baked clay
and ignited Revolution

I could smell disdain and rebellion rising  from her eyes.

it smelled like forest storm and wind
it made me want to stand on a dirt mound and start giving sermons in the middle of a cool day
trying to start a fire

tap into a true voice
let it consume my every word.

I would either hear applause or gun shots,
my blood could run down pavement and fill in a few cracks,
another dream shot down dead.

maybe your soft spoken blue could talk some sense to them.

Let them see that their tyranny is "Danger To The World"

it could be
they just don't care
but why?

I heard night cracks bash the mountain side,
heard the desperate ones plea for life and freedom.

Could we both go into the wilderness to burn alive together?

Soft spoken blue and reckless black desire-
diving into night pools in search for a greater heaven

We could drown together me and you to be simple once again.

We could ignite together me and you to give sermons in the wind.

with Flame and Wind together
help Raise Revolution from Hearts of Men,

diving into night pools in search for love and heaven.
325 · Apr 2017
Core Of You
Styles 12 Apr 2017
Blue steel above you
  no sail is tall enough
to put in my eyes
just for one chance to chisel
at what lies at the core of you.

Every one has a theory.
Freedom. Love. Immortality.

My imitation for capture
  blindfolds me in witchhunt
as I walk the haunted circle
  listening for the eruption of
silent stones to save me.
312 · May 2017
Rainbow Edge
Styles 12 May 2017
Know the Sun
walks inside You.

Blue dark galaxy
using light to dance.

She told me,
"We are pieces of the Universe
walking in skin."

Voice like an Autumn breeze
brushing against the pane of clarity.

"Do you question the Mountain?
For it knows how to rise.
Learn from solace."

A voice above, burrowing in.

My wish still dares to evaporate into Spirit to understand ten thousand burning rain drops falling from the moon ache.

Touch my broken stars.
Please, make them flow.

Ocean Child of Song.
Sing me a book of Waves.
Dance on Evening Glass.
Stalk my Rainbow Edge.

There are no walls in Sunset.

Understand my distance is a haunted search for secret shores.

Her perfect glow melted every scar.
Took my falling echoes, threw them away to stream.

Her radiant, pearl hand
breached my cage.

Her love made my spilt glass gleam.

Her Golden strength lifting me up and out.

Night is a million stars beaming from your eyes.

Pick the Ice from injured wings.
Her whispers lifted miracles inside my prison.

My self defensive feelings no longer wearing wolf fangs.

All my hatred blown away.

She guided me back to the Kingdom
every cell radiated light within me.

My bruised angel healed by the flowing river of Sun.

All the love I never felt here,
She returned to Me.
312 · Apr 2017
Sharper Shapes To Split
Styles 12 Apr 2017
Splitting shapes with no hesitation
viciousness slid into silence
I hardly talked for a year.

Silence stood up and looked death in the eyes. Only eternity stared back.

Splitting shapes at night
oak trunks stretched like gymnast legs, her sharp branches clawing a sky necklace of diamonds for Selena to wear.

Forked between love and hate
I felt both of you climb me leaving a plethora of scars to return awards and punishment.

Sharper shapes to split
my solitary seige keeping battalions at bay.

Softly savaged.

Savaged softly in strict walls with no windows.

How did it feel to watch laughter get crushed inside?

I heard the pick axe sweat, arms littered in grey dust, a hole in the wall finally appears small enough for hope to crawl through.

Sharper shapes to split
I left her memory chipped and splintered, my blood dripped
thorns from yesterday.

A rope appeared at the end of her silence.

Gallows awaited, mocking crowds gathered, threw stones, I heard their rough laughter corner me at every angle.

I escaped. Burnt. Sunk. A devilish blade turned through my temples.
Red hot silver left its carving in my psyche.

I lived four years in grey ghost mode bitten in the beast dust of her smiling memory.

How I came out of it nobody knows.

Sharper shapes to split I looked into rooms with no outlets, I heard a voice build up and flood them all.

I walked blindly through streets,
my eyes spray painted every wall with punk graffiti, a restless rebellion full of thrashing lyrics standing up to empty words spitout from heartless machines.

I fell asleep in spikey fields. Yellow weeds grew tall on desolation row.

Sharper shapes to split
a detective pulling his hair out
trying to find out Jack The Rippers true identity.

I faded out. I decided to make sky collages on my camera phone.

Talk to nobody.

Every shade of blue taking in sharper shapes I split apart with
calm vicious silence.

This devilish blade inside nearly took my life.
Older, darker stuff.
308 · May 2017
Burning Cathedral
Styles 12 May 2017
A soothing ***** of lullabies playing on a crystal blue day when shadows of The Pines lean into the room you're trying to find.

Grazing for electricity without wires,
Kundalini on fire, nameless now like before when lift off sped you out through the Universe.

Did you know every single one of us has the ability to travel at light speed?

There is a burning cathedral inside the heart where silence is God giving quiet sermons in whispers.

Light threading light catching silk off guard as it radiates rainbow in The Pines.

Room of a thousand inhuman faces.

Electrcity is a river of light in the spine.

It flows unseen.

Lullabies from the shadows
304 · May 2017
Dead Fly Chant
Styles 12 May 2017
My chant begins with a stalking fly swatter slap.

Summer black wings
I picture all crushed.

When they fly round my ears while trying to write.

As they zip and buzz insanity
through my ears all **** day.

As if the triple digit dog heat wasn't enough to make me head **** Mack Trucks and fiercely lose.

When a calm flower opens through my third eye and every drip of peace soaks me, these zipping ***** never take a **** break on my legs, arms, face, hair, toes, fingers, **** man just leave me alone to ascend with a unspeakable master of endless wonder.

Now I have to rise
like a Captain of ****
and smash you into a billion pieces to send you back to fly afterlife.

Sorry but you won't leave me alone.

What option have you left me?

You knew I'd turn green with invincible Rage and hunt you down with unmerciful death blows.

We would have been fine if you weren't landing on my honysuckle lotion greased skin you slimy little **** wing ****.

How does it feel to hear my dead fly chant now you little crushed *****????


So much for my peaceful Zen.

Look what you did to me?

I'm a serial killer that doesn't give a flying **** ****.

An enlightened hermit on the hill with postal tourettes.

Die Die Die

Burn in hell
301 · May 2017
Tame The Hunger
Styles 12 May 2017
Every night you show me
  how words of night
are spoken by starlight

your eyes live in every heart
  please, open so wide
we have no choice but to stare into

Your Sea has wings
your blue voice smashing me.

I am hidden free
using the moon wind
to speak Day.

I glaze night
using every star
to silence minds.

Spark into my dream seeds
break into dance
glow inside skin.

I am hungry.

This open fire
rises beneath,

  flucuating shapes
understand glass,

they twitch
and reach to reflect
the calm morning mist
glowing at dawn.

The smiling blue air
calling for birdsong
cannot be defeated, ever.

Sunset is a pool
quaking your being
with ripples of yourself.

The Golden Haunt
walking millions
and millions of miles
looking for clear soft hands forever.

You said, I sing love so broken angels can remember.
My love is always theirs to know.
They are part of Me.

Does green thirst warm?

A star eye needs to breathe
mystery calm.

Cut my feelings,
hear dead air pray for restless breeze on a bright lake while grass stares, growing yellow prayers
that defy time and space.

Don't forget swirling magic is all around you, inside you.
Don't forget to listen to it breathe.

I felt you grow stronger in the living core of laughter, while you pulled my wondering mind away.

You took my dragging heart and flew it past the stars.

Now as I return to this world
I am brought to the
puzzling paradox
where petals of you glimmer
while the branches of me scream.

show me how to tame this hunger?
300 · Apr 2017
My Friend's Father
Styles 12 Apr 2017
I was in 4th grade
when I met A.J.
he had chestnut hair like his father
that swept down to his chin.

He was a golden gloves boxer
with lightning fast fists.

We played tackle football and shot  pool together.

At night we dressed like infantry men
and dashed out there
in the bushes and trees
mixed up in serious battle.

A.J. would borrow his dad's combat gear,
flashlights , blankets, etc...

His father was a short, skinny guy
who served in Vietnam

a constant, intense blaze seemed to burrow way down deep to his core.

I knew he had been through something Ginormous over there.

He killed a lot of people that much I knew, but he had also witness friends die and after seeing that
something inside him must have snapped,

a rainbow bridge falling forever into a cataclysmic darkness.

I never got too close to him
a clear intuition always warned me
to keep my distance.

There was a rumbling warning in his volcanic eyes that told me
He never really left the jungle.
Some vital part of himself was still over there.

His screams slashing through his dreams
still riveting his head into the swollen firefights that made demons
crawl inside his lonely foxhole.

I always had great respect and admiration for A.J.'s Father.
I used to hear those bloodcurdling screams at night when I slept over.
I have never heard screams like that since.

My heart would pour out to him in those long washing mind wanders
you get when you're cocooned in ripe silences
the heavy texture of the world seems to vanish
and all you have is the lonely ripples of quiet, secret love
washing to your shore banks.

I loved the man you see.
Even when he lost it.
Even when he beat A.J. to a pulp once.
His foxhole eyes intoxicated with whiskey & war & loss.

It was then and there in that horrible moment that I seemed to really see
how war had come and carved him up, left him still a prisoner in his cramped one bedroom apartment.

I saw him still fighting
a deadly riot within himself.
His demon still trolling jungles for the enemy, or his lost friends, or Rainbow bridge.

Whatever it was I still think of him today sometimes
wanting to understand him more.

Maybe it was that damaged, haunted look he always had in those more than troubled
quaking eyes of his that always made me wonder what he had seen and did.

What cruel monsters were still digging through this poor man's soul
when he had seen the world darkly end?

What red line of unforgiveness kept tugging at the corners of his blasted out heart?

I still lie awake at night wondering, hoping he has found peace.

© 2014 Scott Lee
296 · Apr 2017
Sorcerer In The Meadowland
Styles 12 Apr 2017
He speaks beneath the concrete
and roots intertwine his voice.

He is fire on the sidewalk
nobody sees him erupt,

  silence takes him
  to the room of truth

litters him with the lead
You can't face.

He will take off Liberty's blindfold
  hold her naked against the mirror,

make her touch the icy ribs of December Skyscrapers,  
force her to admit the truth.

She will try to censor him,
his fire will expand and crash
The Meadowland.

Revolution will blaze the haunted maze of butterfly wings and curious eyes will rise when they decide to lift from electric Delphiniums.

He spits out rivers into office buildings, floods the lie with panic,
nobody is safe from drowning.

His sunrise peaks the unholy alliance of Governments,
exposes the superstructure as the fat rich camel denied at needles eye.

He takes off the mask of the executioner, puts him on trial for hypocrisy.

He lands in the middle of conscience, let's it run loose
while everybody hides, petrified behind their denial.

He is smooth jade rising from the bottom of a hidden city dancing in the corner of your peripheral,
his gem holds the secret to your soul.

Wear it and become a Sorcerer
in the Meadowland-
speak his name
and thunder
will answer you.

My name is Henry Miller.
When I look down into this ******-out **** of a ***** I feel the whole world beneath me, a world tottering and crumbling, a world used up and polished like a *****'s skull. If there were a man who dared to say all that he thought of this world there would not be left him a square foot of ground to stand on. When a man appears the world bears down on him and breaks his back. There are always too many rotten pillars left standing, too much festering humanity for man to bloom. The superstructure is a lie and the foundation is a huge quaking fear. If at intervals of centuries there does appear a man with a desperate, hungry look in his eye, a man that would turn the world upside down in order to create a new race, the love that he brings to the world is turned to bile and he becomes a scourge. If now and then we encounter pages that explode, pages that wound and sear, that wring groans and tears and curses, know that they come from a man with his back up, a man whose only defenses left are his words and his words are always stronger than the lying, crushing weight of the world, stronger than all the racks and wheels which the cowardly invent to crush out the miracle of personality. If any man ever dared to translate all that is in his heart, to put down what is really his experience, what is truly his truth, I think then the world would go to smash, that it would be blown to smithereens and no god, no accident, no will could ever again assemble the pieces, the atoms, the indestructible elements that have gone to make up the world.

Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer
295 · Apr 2017
Master Of Wind
Styles 12 Apr 2017
Love calls me out of my tortoise shell
Begins to sing louder
My slaughtered bridge is resurrected.

I walk across, stunned like a new man coming back to Eden.

Love calls me out like a train storming through at 2 a.m.
Runs me over like a penny on its track, sleep is still another world away.

My blurry eyes sting the page
everything I held back draws itself like a hidden blade and spills my red river travesty.

Hold on to me.

I saw myself become something else sliding in the corner of a child's closet.

Do not run from me now that I'm getting closer to your secrets.

Every moment in life is a gift.

Every dark pull from the dark side a chance to appreciate your light that much more.

I have been levitated from love's track. My heart becomes a countryside.

Any heart not living here makes us incomplete and mission bound with inner ancient  heat.

Blazes so intense you'd think we wouldn't survive, so tell me now how do we even live?

Once I was loud and obnoxious, angry at this and that, not until you came back to me, I was a mad man screaming at himself in a mirror I thought was real.

You came through and silenced me and said, "But I never even left."

My humility carrying a stranger's heavy luggage.

Your light dancing brighter in my chest spilling your glory across my scars.

My tears were a row of icicles
painted new in a violet storm of You.

I knew nothing could be the same again.

Every hurt I experience now I can never hate again.

Every person who does me wrong I will instantly forgive.


Because they are You, forgetting  themselves on purpose.

Your plan for reunion will be different from what anyone can imagine, still You will always try to reach them on a daily basis, ever vigilant like a Love Knight who most will turn against.

I Follow ghost mist through the twilight woods of your song.

When I arrive at your clearing  house the mist is gone but I cannot tell anyone of what I saw, not because it's a secret but because my words fall short on the threshold of your dreams made manifest.

Heart connection from You to me is a hidden pipeline that exists between us and Everyone else.

This will twist your mind and make it break.

Do not over think it.

It will only lead to constant confusion.

I felt You outside my window but when I looked I still could not see You.

This will always break my heart until my childhood dream is granted.

You may not know what it's like to feel this pressure but I'm not sure You know my angle and if You do, please forgive my ignorance I sometimes forget Your spirit lives everywhere.

I knew this as a child as sure as a fish knows how to breathe underwater.

There is some hidden plan of magic at work here and I can see it in every piece of creation You so cleverly mastered.

Speak to me again.
Your whispers are like welcomed daggers
and your presence
is the oasis in my desert.

I have traveled through dark places and my feet are heavy houses dragging through burning sand.

Your waters are always welcomed.

Let my heart become your staff.

Master of winds
It is this humbled letter
To whom I address.

Singer of truth
Light of all heavens
Lifting off my lid

My gift to you does not come packaged but rather a swollen river of an angels sweet tears running when sleepers are dreaming forgetting they're  You.

Master of winds
I want You to know that even if fear is still present
I still hold you
My dear precious lifeline
Fragile as an eggshell rocking
in my heart
if You break at any moment and splatter your yolk filled heaven down my lonely corner You will still cover my cages with hope.

Master of winds
Angel of magic
I am pressed tight to your voice as if I was a leaf waking up dark sleepers sliding across their dreamy face.

Waker of men
Shaker of trees
Shed down your holy red colors
And land in my hand
one more time so the unbelievers will know You exist.

I am aware of grim dark places
that feed off innocence like the shadow man who steals children and offers them up as sacrifices to the worst of all evils.

Everyone who lives here will be touched by its shade and crunched by its branch.

Come to us soon

Master of winds
Lover of truth
Designer of worlds

Let your love become a net
and catch us all.

Master of love
Your glorious reach
Knows no bounds.

When I went to bed your warmth and grace flew in my chest, Cardinal dressed but still invisible.

When I awoke your song burned steady lava beds in my deep wounded cell of complete abandonment. I rose no longer a prisoner.

A flight of leaves scraping through a dark hallway mind
letting me see new colors.

Love calls me out of my black cave prison I stumble out to see the world like I did when I was a child.

This time I know how to guard You, this sword You've given to me is a holy weapon, anything evil I strike at will vanish.

Master of winds
  Holder of love

Singer of truth
Light of all heavens
Lifting off my lid

Dance and weave your magic.
294 · May 2017
Captivating Avalanche
Styles 12 May 2017
When you wake up to snow bleeding blue with slow footsteps crossing crisp in a glade of birdsong,

do you pull the blanket over your head refusing to wrestle your work clothes on?

When morning light clips off your dreams and pours into the dorm room,

do you Cujo snarl for night?

When the 2 a.m. train whistle whips over the foggy dew night and the swing sets jingle for bodies,

do you ache to ride for free?

Somewhere else.
Some place else.

Hoovering on the border of perceptions.

Where no money doesn't ******* matter.

Who gives a **** about what kind of car you drive?

How many tricks you can do with your talking *******.

I really don't give a ****.
How much **** you have does not impress me.

I want to know what makes you moan when you're alone tossing and turning on a rain dog night as you wonder about the hidden moon in your heart and why it's taking so long to come back out.

I want to listen to the boiling water spill over in your head and watch you evaporate under hidden light.

I need to see you dance on a bluff of your best memory as the sea spray roars up something primal inside you.

I have to hear your questions zip across the tree's like a bluebird who still visits you on your shoulder.

I want to catch your tears before they fall off your chin and bless them.

I want to be stabbed by a million falling stars flashing behind your eyes and be changed by each one.

I want to meet your devil, invite him in for dinner and have a few laughs over some wine and sushi.

One day I woke up and the entire sky looked like a blueberry.
I felt it sneak inside to smear me and I didn't know how to write or talk about it.

In fact, I still don't.

Some times when I read poetry it makes me feel invincible,
as if the truth is stronger than any Government,

the light of words
rush down
in a captivating avalanche
of power,


instead of burying me
I swear I can touch
every star ever made

as it fills me

with an ocean of light
connecting me back
to the heavenly place
we all ache for.
You would enter the house of a sinner?
I would enter any house where I Am welcome.
287 · May 2017
Hit The Throttle
Styles 12 May 2017
The moonlight has ears that can hear me speak.

Every time my summer silence quakes, my mind rolls out in waves of awe.

Sometimes moonlight cuts me off, steals my lane and drips silver links to my window.

I am guilty of poking my finger through your dreams as if you were paper.

Cats roam and reflect your sheen on their black sleek coats.

Steal my heart
make waves shiver
crash me like a ship stranded in paradise, destroy me like the Berlin wall.

The coins in my pocket rattle and jingle together like pieces of pipes fighting ruthless in a gang war. I am blowing through forlorn streets with a restless burn to prowl and graze through fascination.

I see you come shining down
your light shrieks at cars and plants a bomb.

They explode together like a duet singing a chorus of battered flames inside a incredible, human heart ache.

Bring me closer.

I am listening.

Bruise the high hills
sparkle trees
bloom through cities
dance with windshields
cruise alleyways and splash your light across it all.

I am entranced by cat coats gleaming my eyes like an answer to a difficult question
that is so profound I have no reply but to bless you.

You watch lovers confess to each other, their secrets hang like an anchor down your face.

I have kept a close eye on you.
all my life
you follow me
driving a crisp, white
Hennessey Venom GT
1.1 million dollars flying out careless rolled down Windows.

Hit the throttle
threaten me with warp speed.
Let's aim for a tree and turn leaves into illuminated rain drops sprinkling down insights from the heavens.

Let's pick up your favorite friend and hit the town.

We could travel down to New Orleans where
Night life is a Mardi Gras extravaganza screaming riots
on streets and balconies,
bras and ******* gleaming from the light posts.

We could traverse rooftops and blind the owls.

We could slip between the perfect cleavage and live right there, perfectly lit and completely absurd licking tanned girls with waxing brilliance.

Do not wane yet.

We are not done.

We cannot crumble here.
We fly on
entranced by the entire planet
in all its terrible and fantastic beauty.

You spell reflections
with delicious rhythm

You sing on hoods like a Hill Billy gangster spitting out lines that only mesmerize.

Hit the throttle.
I'm down to shine.
287 · May 2017
Being Gone
Styles 12 May 2017
Being gone for so long
from home.

The unbearable weight,
holding your memory.

you come at me
a locomotive wind
rippling green.

Consistent waves of dream
knocking over sand castles
like my helpless silence
falling under force,

my child remembering

what it was like to run
your wilderness, paved only in light
the brightness blinding,

  the quest for every level of
skyward shades,
intermingling with continental
tears in my eyes,

knowing what I left
your perfect love
my home,

the scars of sizzling Sea
a land mass formed
by Mountain Fire.

You rushing down
your invisible wings
slashing through my
wild branches,
carving a mighty rush.

I still cannot explain.

The song of sweetness and your laughter echoing down to me,
helping me to cope
with such cruel distance.
I would not wish for anyone else
such absence.

278 · May 2017
Styles 12 May 2017
leave me bird skipping
hungry with crumb debree
you dropped from
a table that displayed my open heart on your gold plate.

I watched you eat it all

you never passed the salt
or told me how it tastes.
274 · May 2017
Barricaded Bulls
Styles 12 May 2017
I have seen them try to bind you-
contemptuous master's of scorn and whip.

I have cradled close their diabolical imprisonment.

I have seen silver gates reflecting a million wincing suns teasing them
before they make you run.

Your eyes speak remote dune tops and sizzling, veracious composition composed by healing nomads felt wandering dream land.

Their eyes speak radioactive fall out and vicious backlash.

They think they know you.
Every day they push more and more.

They know nothing of the boiling blood of prophets or thunderstorms raging up through suppressed bottles.

Wait for it.

Another blow comes.

A thousand repugnant compacted curses issuing treacherous consequences.

Wait for it.

Feel another sting clench the blind fold of Lady Injustice. Tear at her robes. Stomp on her feet.

Kick the dust with beastly hooves.
Break open the suppressed bottles of thunderstorms.

Rage forward.
Hold nothing back.

Flip them sideways in air with horns made to impale.

Snort and charge.

Break the barricaded trap of enslavement.

Call upon the fury of God.

Let them feel it all as you head back to the sweet grass prairies from where they branded and stole you.

Let the cool wind of March ease your scars.

Remember how you were before they created your suppressed storm.

Soon, soon, soon,
you will taste the grass and forget their terrible scorn.

I promise you.
271 · Apr 2017
Turning Into Silence
Styles 12 Apr 2017
Words die in my mouth.
Hoodoos rise. Tangerine hotels smearing through forest.

Crisp days slip into moaning starlight winds, fierce as a Lion
attacking you in a den.

Nothing to say.

Underground roots dig.
Find my branches, make them split.

I woke up early.
Went outside.
Full moon going down.
Sun coming up.
Rainbow clouds to the west
Red orange, blue violet to the East.

Captivated, it held me hostage
turned the vault door,
words died in my mouth.

Silence stormed in
brushed my canvas
with strokes from an
invisible painter.

My eyes filled up with sea.
The waves crashed inside me.

Turning into silence, every word came alive like the new grass of spring on a hill that remembered
my rain drops on its scalp.

You were the blossom of my heart in a place that cried my name using my eyes to fall from.

Turning into Silence

I heard your other worldly wings
collaging petals in a scrap book
that changed everything when I saw it.

How can my limited ability even begin to describe it?
271 · Apr 2017
Cage The Angel
Styles 12 Apr 2017
If you cage me I will pick the lock
   with leaves of Autumn.

I will bless the cursed corruption,
turn the key to imagination.

Breeze me into a mystical forest
stare into the multilayered reflection.

Pray my heart to be your portal
kiss the wounded master's hand.

Plead for understanding
  in the bottle of illusions glass.

Read your words aloud to me
  as I sit on heaven's grass.

Cage the Shattered Angel
  I heard your words disarm my past.

My dream of You
floated down to me
and dismantled my cage of glass.

Does anybody understand it?

Does the roar of silent fire crash
inside You?

Does the echo contain a canyon?

Your voice will drop into my vision
I felt your shielded power speak.

I am the wish of all who listen.
I am the tear drops in your eyes.
I am the One who remembers
  the secrets you forgot.

I am ultimate freedom singing in your heart.

I will break any cage You put in front of me and float back to the Sun.
271 · May 2017
Crippled Crow
Styles 12 May 2017
The crippled crow comes from nowhere,

hops enthusiastically into my lower spine,

begins to peck for loose seeds
hurled out by damaging winds.

I limp outside, get blindsided by the most crystal blue rinsed sky ever made.

The crippled crow stops pecking,
his black eyes spiralling into memory, a grain of sand descending into nautilus.

His wings begin to flap, the deep clean power of blue wavy air taps into his bloodstream but he cannot lift.

He is grounded on a small black mesa in unkind territory.

Jagged rock slides, deteriorating structures, a perfect place to rise and sail,

but still
His wings do not stop
trying to lift.

Not one tear in his eyes,
only strangling caws
fill the perfect blue sky with
His Crippling song.

He limps along with me,
together we can only stare
out at what calls to us, a silent soothing voice parading through us with a taste of freedom saturating in our blood like Rumi's divine wine.
264 · Apr 2017
Down here
Styles 12 Apr 2017
it's not easy
down here


it's not easy
to breathe
down here

awful hands
all wheels of absolute corruption

it makes my skin slide
I see
diamond backs run
fast in tall grass mania

it gets hard
to survive

pack up your bag
it's starting to snow

your back
pressed tight against
dead man's road

I hope you find a good place to rest tonight.

brave one

I hope that your heart doesn't get too tough out there.

I hope soft rains still can quench your thirst.

Sometimes down here
we all get so lost
it's hard to find home again.

I know.

I've been there
been run down
like a two legged dog
shot to pieces by hate

been bit back behind
the razor fences
slicing me deep down
Soul Gusher falling fast
pushed inside and manipulated by everyone.

been hurt too much
seeing death come by
and taking people away with genocide.

somebody been lying
way too much
for way too long
I been watching real close
to that brainwashing raining down.

training soldiers too well.

but they be coming back
worse than damaged.


they can't

I know

I see em.
I talk to em
out there.

they're everywhere.

sometimes down here
they say
it's easy to lose your soul
but if you ask me
the soul wasn't made for killing
but for shining
and that's why madness comes down the mountain
popping like a thunderous,
serious mud slide-
a battalion of military eyes
after the war.

Sometimes down here
they say
your heart ain't ever right again
look at all those holes
from all those bullets burning
scarlet fire down to hell's canyon.

look at the black empty hole of my soul

who now can feed that?

I must come back to a hard forgiveness that I don't know if I can find....

where  tears run so deep
they feel like a mountain of ice slowly melting away years
that's what it takes
a mountain of ice
that needs time
maybe not enough time.

Sometimes down here is the best of times

I could laugh again in the
memories of where we been
what you said
who I was
and the youth that held true to our heart's.

it ain't easy
down here
for something
to shine down
from up there
and hit me here
right there
deep down
the bullet wounds
of our souls.

I keep on
down here
for you
to come back
to me.

my heart has known
no greater
than this ache
sliding down this
icy mountain fall
burning like angels dying
calling out for a misunderstood and sometimes forgotten God.
263 · Sep 2017
Burn Rubber
Styles 12 Sep 2017
Pancaked to concrete
Van broken down
114 degrees.

Can't eat.
Can't speak.

I am lifting California off my back.

A thousand windows

my hand curving down them
turns sidewinder  through mojave
  no relief, heartless people, concrete on fire,

cleaning perceptions
for better views

brown leaves carpet everything

even on my days off
I feel ladder rope
carving my wounded hands

survival mode on high
selfish city stabbing me

everywhere I go
Babylon against me.

It's no surprise
but now it's time

to burn rubber
and get the **** outta here.
261 · May 2017
Take Me
Styles 12 May 2017
Curious constant scent
beneath the language of the street
this black whip sliced in half
unable to strike you.

Rain dressed
chains bleed silver.

I run a crescent maze of moon shine. Every direction, shadows,
and soft rooms of purest violet.

I stop to be reclaimed.

The branch staring at another angle
dripping grace onto shadow.

The closer you delve into belief
the louder the wind storm
speaks moving an entire desert.

I am rising on your voice.
Take me.
I am so small I can barely be seen.
How can this great love be inside me?

Look at your eyes. They are small,
but they see enormous things.

257 · May 2017
Red Lace Lust
Styles 12 May 2017
my red lace lust
breaks your laws
      and is
scattershot through
fantasy woods
that busts open the door to your perfect, creamy thighs.

red blooded bloggers
caught up in a writing spree
are sealed away in private rooms training to undress you         with
along your neck,

down your
three kiss charmer:
one to ear lobe
one to upper thigh
somewhere in between
the other two
maybe along your side.

your green eyed shake
rattles my roll right off the ledge of
                Table Rock.

You stir tomorrow's dust in the red lace lust of A perfected sunset.

My eyes are locked in lasers from space spotting your graceful movements like a predatory beast.

she runs in my head
no off button
for mountain springs
she falls in my dreams
a heavy, sweet torrent
smoothing rocks with constant rush.

her red lace lust
a raging sun
forced to shine
trample everything with light.

She paws at my glass
   begs me with those longing
cat eyes
she wants to pounce in
moonlight and frolic with

I must be rid of her desire.

She drives a cool sleek midnight blue Cadillac of

She doesn't stop to pick me up
I am invisible
   and she isn't even real
  but I know she is out there
driving smoothly down some siren filled boulevard hoping
       for a catch.

I must be rid of her desire.
256 · Apr 2017
Styles 12 Apr 2017
The silence between us is a
mountain side,

  my unwanted creeks still creep
      through you searching for the puzzling slice of your *****

fallen away,

my prayers for you
  bleeding howls
on a peak

where winds are intense hands
   massaging every Pine

making them sing.

The silence between us
6 years solid,
not one word

What was it you said,
"I need you in my life. You are family."

The last thing you said to me before you vanished.

Your eyes cut me with jade.
Your red hair hangs me from a limb.
Your distance carves me into a canyon but the water found another outlet to flow into.

I am triple what I was the last time you saw me.

My heart pulls down the Sun
and shines anywhere I direct it.

I told you once,
my love would never stop
  finding you, no matter what.

Here it is.
I know you can feel it.
Even now.

The silence between us made it grow stronger.

The creeks surge forward, ever vigilant, solitary rushes cascading down the invisible ***** of your name.

It can never die.
256 · May 2017
Blue Sky Drum
Styles 12 May 2017
Stay in love with blue sky
listen as it goes under skin
  expands out, fast rush of adrenaline spilling through,
pooling corners with force.

Pick up jagged crests with one hand, hear the Ancient One drum in trance,
steady beating,
spell bound the mind,
reach far into space
where we all dissolve,
melting like a smeared cloud
on a canvas of blue love.

Listen to the power of
blue sky drum
as it takes you home.
255 · Apr 2017
Hijacked by Shivers
Styles 12 Apr 2017
Hijacked by shivers
  flurry of snow
swirling me behind the store window.

Stolen by the twist and curl
my pen dreams for flight,

  how it dances by your eyes
white flakes engineered
in a place I seek.

Hijacked by a spirit
integrating wind for playful purposes,

why do you cut my ***** with the fascinating glimpse of your miracle?

Drain my ink
  head cracked by echoes.

Thunder left my tree trunk hollow
  for you to tease me
with your bolt.

Inside my chamber
  you flash indigo
and flurry fascination
into airy, funneled dance.

I am ******* into trance
completely speechless,

wondering how to make my ink dance like that.
252 · Apr 2017
Darkest Rim
Styles 12 Apr 2017
The madness of light running
  faster than sound
   casting beauty of
     slivered shadows
        slanting cool down
            a ***** ripe with two sides.

The dichotomy of Spring versus Winter in a one day battle.

Both ingredients sugaring blue sky
  in circling confusion.

The unmailed envelope to God
sits on the silent porch waiting to be picked up by the wind.

Every restless word turned to leather-
protecting a vulnerable chamber
from the insanity of hostile teeth.

The madness of light sheds its message to frigid corners, says
  Remember my warmth.

The sweep of connection alights his eyes with fascination.

Set on fire
protected from
the attack of everything dark.

He walks the blackest rim
knowing The Master is by his side.
251 · Apr 2017
Styles 12 Apr 2017
There will be a blue steel gaze piercing through a wall of denial built by defeat and disaster.

There will be a collapse of flesh pulling on you from days and heavy nights on an endless nowhere road headed for toil.

There will be indistinct shapes roaming curious nights painting silence into unknown words where wild creatures rise up from depths to take in needed breaths.

There will be a loneliness so thick it makes all the lady bugs trapped in spider webs seem like child's play compared to this abandoned corner of yourself.

There could be a reality so pure that just by breathing the air turns wretched power players into righteous saints waking up to a golden staircase leading to a brighter galaxy.

There could be a desire pounding and breaking steel
with fierce invisible knuckles inside a stranger you just passed by on a street untamed by mystery.

There could be a ruby hiding beneath pine needles begging to be found by anyone.

There will be a volcano hiding below your carpet anxiously awaiting to cover you with fire.

There will be a planted thought from your mother's mouth driving nails into the drywall of your future house
that still has a way to burn teeth into your hopes even after 35 years of wind and forgotten dust.

There will be dreams sneaking through a window and sliding through your overworked mind trying to ease the defeat of yesterday.

There will be a storm rising from swollen eyes of a universe out of touch with itself-
starving for reconnection.

There will be hearts closed up and left to wander.

There will be highways to heaven that are open that lost eyes won't perceive.

There will be stolen lives
effecting us
this loss will have a way
to burn teeth into a blue steel gaze that has the power to break through walls and find truth covered up, abused, mocked, and left to die.

There will be fire
written in your heart
that will defy it all.
247 · Sep 2017
Tree From Heaven
Styles 12 Sep 2017
A few weeks ago a woman at the park caught me beating up my van.

I didn't even know she was there until later.

I wasn't mad at anybody or anything.

I just felt the pressure of life getting to me.

The writing was slow and gruelling.
My style felt off and I was working like a dog dealing with angry people.

Thorns of being an empath.
Extra sensitivity surrounding me.
It's been a long time since I lived in the city.

Completely opposite of Home.

The writing was slow and the solitary warrior rebuilding his voice, yet physically worn down.

Something incredible is happening to me I cannot explain.

Waves of light keep bombarding my body during meditation.

When I connect to compassion it ripples through me in divine ecstasy.

It's like a living Angel burning in my body.

It makes me cry.

It takes my words.

It speaks to me.

It even cries through me.

It's like Heaven is visiting me
  and it leaves me tongue tied.

Love bombs me and my Hiroshima is levelled.

My eyes smoldering,
ten million shards of glass
  speaking through the Sun.

All my fragments coming back  

God's tears are changing me and I actually wake up happy.

Songs keep playing from the juke box in my heart but I am so caught off guard by the language it uses I can't seem to interpret it in a way that even remotely pleases me.

Am I reaping rewards from transmuting my darkness?

Is this my heaven on earth?

God inside me.

Breaking through my mortal shell with ammunition so amazing
I cannot capture a single blaze with any words that do it justice.

Do I need to run far away to the mountain and listen to grass speak?

Do I nose dive into silence?

Do I surf into awe?

Should I listen closer, expecting to
  blast off as the intensity of Love
   threatens to send me back
     through space?

Do I sit back, be patient,
feel my roots grow even deeper
  as your whispers brighten like an
   incomprehensible tree from

Do I shut up and open further
   as falling rain hits me and the fruit
     I eat is sweeter than Eden.
245 · Apr 2017
Burning Bloom
Styles 12 Apr 2017
I felt her photosynthesis on my green leaf, I asked her where she came from, she only bloomed inside me, continued to dive down, forcing air to swirl into pockets of claustrophobia.

She found my abandoned corner
of fallen dreams.

She resurrected every single one.

I grew back.
Full of Spring steps cartwheeling through the deep ache of emerald grass absorbing promises of sun.

I swallowed fast, the blast of blue invincible storming like gulf stream currents her soul had descended from,

giving me the strength
of the Sun in One powerful punch
I will never forget.

Her fire stalks my blades.
How do I reflect perfection?
Tell me what to do.
244 · May 2017
I Stood On The Shore
Styles 12 May 2017
I stood on the shore. A great ocean called out to me. At first the fear gripped me. But then I decided to Sprint towards it. **** it, I thought. It's too beautiful not to swim out there.

I got lost in the waves, body surfing for years, lost in the roar and crash of it all. But as time passed something else beckoned me. I wanted to go past the waves to see what else was out there but I couldn't make it past the tremendous breakers.

I waited. I almost drowned. Pulled and dragged by rip tides, I  was tossed around like a wounded puppy, I suffered and failed time and time again until one day the waves turned to glass and I made a break for it. I swam out there, headed for mystery and depth, I was tired but I kept at it.

The burning curiosity driving me.

What lies beyond the struggle?

When I went far enough
Way Way out
Hitting all the silence where words seemed unable to follow.

Submerged there, almost helpless in great depths I began to listen.

A great connection began to build.

It was there in the quaking waters of my heart I saw myself sparkling in every drop of water. Every single heart was connected too. No greater,  no less than any other drop.

I realized I had to swim back to help the other shore dwellers realize this, only hoping they'd believe me. It was a grand idea, after all to believe in when one was raised in hell that was over run by vicious wolves teaching that hatred was strength, and love was weak. But I had to try even if only one person believed it.
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