I was on a ship in the dead of night,
The sky black with tiny sparkles
And un-named constellations,
For a long time I stood staring
At the night sky and sometimes
At the blackened dark sea.
I gathered my imagination
And made shapes of all sizes and kinds.
I had visions of lovers reaching
But never quite touching;
I saw the mercy of a man and his
Dog in the woods finding
A lost child.
And suddenly in the darkness
All alone I heard the ocean make
A hiccup, a small fish I glimpsed
Under the moonlight.
Suddenly I realised the fish was making
Constellations too,
In his own world
In the sea making shapes as well.
And when I searched the sea
Once again, I swear
I could almost see the fish swimming
Through the stars
And through the moon,
And the reflection of the sea
Was a galaxy all its own.

Before the fog aligns itself
To clog the vision behind your mask,
Before the death of life clouded
Your trust in the Heavens,
Before the desolate wave of sadness
Clouded the very star that guided you,
Before the savage tears you shed
When the lie killed your truth,
Before the door closed in the night
And you drowned in the silence,

You left behind a fleeting light
That was created nust for you,
But as darkness falls the words
That were like children,
The days that were like
A thousand lakes under the sun,
The words that scattered like
Light through the crystal memory,
Came forth a boundless vacancy.

And the night is torn apart,
Deep into the hours where
Memory and names do not matter,
When it seems the hope has sailed forever,
The words will echo deep
Into the mind and eternal
Poetry will be born unto thee
The death of the present will
Be owed to the loss of who you once were....

I slow to a yellow crawl,
I watch the meadows filled
With bloodstained roses,
Beneath crystalline eyelids
I see the fire burns in all directions.

I rush a rush to nowhere,
Everywhere standing still.
I yearn to claw the sky black,
I speak in a the archaic language,
The sorrow understands.

I come forth by action
And spew tattered verses,
I sleep in the blood of dreams
And awaken in secular ******,
Alone with everyone.

The curtain closes on my being,
Neither here or there,
My steps like an echo
Chasing my future steps;
Only the words to me are real.

Did I win or lose?
Perhaps-maybe nature won.
One less spin cycle,
Gallons of life water saved.
In my intellectual hemitage
I find a difference can be made,
Oh underwear,
Spirit of nature,
First I wear you proper,
And the day is good.
I walk forward into the morrow
And turn the world backwards.
Yes the tag now goes to front,
And wedgies aside, all is well.
In the instantaneous moment
Ina departure of normalities,
Confronted with a bundle of reflections,
I move into day three,
Inside out.
The days have dispersed,
I wreak of the third day,
Still a difference has been made.
I take off the underwear,
Crispy and tainted,
With a lump in my throat
And a little hope I made a difference,
The underwear is sacrificed to the hamper.

Heavenly body,
Unseen like the unwritten,
Unkissed like the eclipse,
Down the pit of the universe....

There is a person here,
Alone in their sorrow,
Wishing on bright lights
And stuttering prayers,
They are alone in a dark
Few can see,
Alone in a way where no one
Can understand.

They opened the eyelids of the stars
And found there a lonely star,
Without beginning,
        Without end,
Without planets,
Without any friends.

And here a lonely heart does wish,
The star unseen like scripture
Cracked on a tablet of stone,
They have branded a star,
With a darkness so bright,
It matches the sadness in the heart.

When summer came in 98'
And the eyes of the momentary
Eternal swam into the Canyon Lake,
It was then the sway of skin
Took me to the place hungry eyes
And kids seeking stimulation went
To cool themselves off.

Under sky bright
I saw her with hips of light,
A second beer and I was grown
Into a man worthy of any woman.
No adults with experience
To guide my ill advised tactic.

A smack on the ***.

At first she turned in complete anger,
Her curves had stiffened her body,
Combat mode and my buddies
Giggling in the backround.
I saw her beautifully frightful hand,
Her slap before we met eyes,
It was mighty and meaningful,
But when I turned from the wallop
To my face,
We met eyes once again,
The most timid of smiles
And a soft apology from me.
She smiled and slapped me once agin,
It was then I knew....
It was then I knew.

.....Lo, forth I do march,
Hell's scorch fuels the ascendancy
Into solemn inner battle amongst
Myselves,
I am a poem at war with words,
The pen a bride like some spectral
Verbiage- luminosity antagonisong
The swell of ferocity, I do cling
As the audascious hope gathers its wounds
And scatters like petals in the furious winds,
The forbearance of that knife
Wielded within the self,
Self against self,
The battle rages against the heart,
Against the mind,
Down to the very soul!

In the craftmans tomb,
A poem floods the inner sanctum
And the march forward seems
Like a depression plowing
The fields of memory,
Oh what dreams may come
May also haunt.

And one drops many a word,
The war inside like flock
Of crows into the blinding light,
I still here could not give in,
The soul still battles its flesh....

So Im alive,
But I died a little inside.
Because I am dead
And now alive and reborn
Into a thousand words never written,
I will become no one again.
Did you metaphorically cry?
Sad as thinking how well
You truly knew me?

" But we were poets!"

And so you live and die by the
Stroke of the passionate lie
That are the words that well
Up inside like a brutal indignity,
Outraged at my shamelessness
Did I ever truly puncture your heart?
I am Ded inside,
And I dont know you,
But I just love your poetry!

So we sever the ties from reality
And divorce the facts
In a hopeful serenade to the deaf,
See how I magnify the ignorance
With brazeness?
Such splendid grandoisity!
And a poem is just a word,
There is no poem without action.
I am me,
No metaphor needed,
Just who the hell do you think
You are?

Bonnie, Bonnie Burning Bright
Patrols the wilds of her yard
Where frogs and lizards live in fear
And fearsome squirrels must ever guard

They shrink from Clydesdale for her size
Though Bonnie is the faster
Perceiving her as less a threat
Unknowing, court disaster

When Bonnie gives in to the chase
A shining blur of black and white
Yet in the sun stretched eyes half-closed
Seems farthest possible from flight

For Bonnie's vices stem entire
From being fully cat
As clearly all her virtues do
And Clydesdale's too, at that

My Bonnie is my wayward child
My friend belonging not to me
For even purring in my lap
Her tyger soul is wild and free

14Apr99

When You hear the name Blake
I bet you think of someone

They could be a person who is full of love
Who is always smiling and just a ball of sunshine
Or
Someone who crushed you
who left you in the rain, eyes on fire
Charred a soul-rending black from the pain
The 3 A.M. Acid of a conversation splashed in your eyes
Or maybe you don't think of anyone when you hear that name.
Maybe just a shillouette

But when I hear the name Blake
I see a seventeen year old boy
With short light brown hair
And deep, brown eyes

I see him every day,
for all of my days
On most he adorns a smile
A genuine curve on his face

But There are days
Where he's become hollow
Only a Shadow, frozen
in his black drift of a nightmare he's caught in
But I will always see him

I see him angrily try to style his hair in the morning
I see him in the dead of night
Feels like everything falls apart, and slips through his fingers
But still I persist, to be so distantly close to him

We are one and the same, black as to white
But if this is true
Then the black can be gray
And so can the white
This is the that confusion that dwells in their subconscious
This is the infinite limbo in which they both reside

He is a bundle of joy stuck between happiness and sadness
And me...I'm broken

I'm Confused
on why I hide him from others
When he is me and I am him.

Maybe I fear what they'll say
When he comes out hoping for open arms
But receives the pain he expects too well
Be it judgement Or hate.

So I hide him
But I want him to know
I'm not ashamed of him
That I love him because he's who I really am
And that one day
Which I hope is soon

I'll no longer introduce myself as Mercedes
The person who feels out of place in their body
But As Blake
The person who is happy and feels like they are finally who there suppose to be.