blow out your yesterdays....
they want to leave..and nest among the clouds
dive into your today.....
ripple in your tomorrow.....
they beckons thee.....
let the dormant seeds sprout....
let your today bloom.....

We are selfish
Why?
Well,
Because we think this world is ours.
It is ours to run
It is ours to cherish
It is ours to ruin
Why?
Because we think that flowers are beautiful
We pick them, we pluck them
As if they bloom for us
Why?
Because we think birdsong is charming
We imitate it
We sell it, we listen to it
As if they sing for us
Well we are selfish
I am selfish
You are selfish
Don't deny it
We are all selfish
We are all human
We are all the same

She was a lost and beautiful skeleton,
Caught looking at the sunrise,
Torn by images of him; like firelight,
They flickered in her eyes,
Burning; the smoke clouded blue skies.

He was a big and invisible boulder,
She kept heavy on her shoulders,
Her body trembling under the weight,
Her mind, riddled with love and hate.

But show your cat teeth to the lion,
And carry it no longer,
For with time, we’ll make it into sand,
So agreed, you’re keeping my hand.

Like a flower in a human skin coat,
You’ll wilt before you bloom,
Like a gardener in your colorful, cool, garden,
I’ll care for your tomb.
So keep your eyes on the sky skeleton girl,
Soon you’ll see the sun.

No way for her to ascertain
the ashen carpets of erasure
randomly assigned to the tapestry of garish
hope's circumstantial hopscotch squares
with a body already incommodiously perched
upon legs submissive to the here and now's
drunken mercury
Alone she has been left to sweep up
the gravity that hobbles optimism
in the hops of faith around the ambivalence
of horizontal authenticity
Left alone to weep on twitching roots
and theorize a rally bloom in spite
of severance in tune with sparks of closure
The shadow of her sunken chin emits
embroiled tributaries of respawning yesterdays
Queen of checkerboard embodiment
her rhythmic rule entails zephyrs of endurance
in the vacuum of fulfilling prophecies

His voice reminded me of night rain
Deep intelligence sprung from the core of his mind
and bloomed into words
and I could sit for hours
listening to the night rain fall
without understanding why a single drop fell
so far away from home
Maybe it’s the comfort of words washing away the doubt
that creeps in on the brightest of mornings
that would cause me to welcome
a somber night of rain
with open arms
And when the rain stops
-as it has before
I will continue
stepping out of bus shelters
without thinking twice
and leaving umbrellas alone and forgotten
in the coffee shop
on the nights when I need them most
If I should be lucky enough
to feel again
I will speak in the night rain
to the lost souls hiding
in the bus shelters and forgotten umbrellas
looking out at the rain drops
and wondering why each one falls
so far from home

The tree's knarled,
melted bark dripped down
the warm, burnt umber
in its spokes, dropping mellowed honey as we climbed the branches.
We spoke of sweet things
like the kind frosts creeping into the valleys of misted bloom, as the silver crescents rise higher by day,
entangled by wreathes of smoke.
We spoke of that very oak tree and how it's palsied trunk had witnesses so many fires.
We spoke of love and how (despite the cliche) we can not live without each other. We together will beat on through the charms of the cold thistle.
We dance round the dusky colonnades as the stars shatter around us and the moon's cancerous head rides higher.

Love is like a gorgeous rose
with time and care beauty grows

A beautiful aroma fills the air
from all the love and all the care
vibrant colors warm the eyes
rose flourishing, reach for the sky

There are times when the rose won't bloom
That doesn't mean I'm through with you
Although it appears a barren bush
This love just needs a little push

Though the thorns may cause a heart to bleed
Through the pain you soon will see
All these pains can be healed
Just as long as you don't yield

Learn from each moment
Forever enjoy it
The rose is just a metaphor of
An ever growing love