The solar song is born
And a dream is wished

With hope to sky
       I birthed a star

I invented a thousand moons
In maternal orbit

I wished to see you again
Stilled forever in my universe

          The Blue Sun dawns
          Evoking the crystalline moon

I made a new world
        Where mine was before

With my mind I made new oceans
And lovers on a lone island

         I made new flowers
         From all the spectral lights

And I taught the a new language
Of song

I watch this place from the departing
Home

I'm the Stargazer
            With a broken heart

I don't know the name of this....
This...empty thing inside me,
    Though its been a companion;
    Or a leech.
And in the tranquility of a curving sky,
Somehow it still finds me,
    That lone cloud hovers above me
    Drinking the light.
Eventually it will **** me
And end up in words, like here and now:
  
Tell me of the abyss inside you,
The daily grind like bees in
Your throat,
Tell me if you cry when you
Write your inner grey,
Humbly, when you look at stars
So far away,
Are your  lost hopes and dreams
With them?
I know of this truly,
Its an embodiment,
And only the Creator knows why,
And we have not penetrated the why.
   I confess to you the divine thirst
   For something to fill this hole,
   Yet were it not for this hole
   I would not know the blue
   Beside the grey,
   The light that stretches the dark,
   The smile of a moment
   Caught in forever's slim memory,
   The Him,
   The Her,
   The whitest petals from a lily
   Born out of the storm;
And we walk as the grey
And all that we do to fill-
Grey, yes somehow grey,
Between the light and the dark
We flow.

I planted a garden,
Like the ones I used
To run over in my youth,
I figured at this age
That i liked plants.
It took some time
To put it out there,
The fact that I like plants.
I wondered why it
Took me so long to
Realize such a giving
Hobby.
And the garden
I ran across with no
Thought was my Mother's.
How she was toiling
And watching so small,
Her smile stilled in my thoughts.
Her hands full of maternal
Earth, and a hug that
I seem to remember in
Slow motion.
I'm older now,
Enough to know she planted
Those seeds so many years ago.

I read that book with the opposite
Title, Great Expectations,
And I realised it revolved
Around the dream in a dream,
You know the one where after
A long suffered road,
You win.
      I don't win much, I forgot what
It feels like to be that go to guy,
That one everyone wants to be around
When your aura suddenly fills
A room, I was never terribly handsome.
    So I decided to lower my expectations,
    I watch CNN, Fox, and see the world
    Lowering expectations for the future,
    I'm just going with popular culture.
And now, I'm a winner,
I surpass everything I
Want to accomplish.
Like today, I said to my self,
"Self, your gonna treat yourself
To any item on the McDonald's
Value menu"
And I did, A dollar and nine cents
For an ice cream, and who doesn't
Like ice cream?
So I won, because
I seized the day,
Captured the momentum,
And evey day I accomplish
Little dreams,
I win and them some,
Because if life is a marathon
And I'm jogging slow,
I might as well feel the air
And watch everything as I go,
I'm here and now,
Not Tomorrowlands dream,
If I want what I want,
I go and get that ice cream.

And I answered:
To see and touch all that I forgot,
To remember the delta where
Immense waters rushed to
My memory's melodic forms.
     To remember that ***** that
     Broke my heart,
     How I loved her,
     Look at all the poems
     I wrote for her!
To feel the livid wounds
Of everyone fester about
Like domesticated bipeds,
Watch them grow entangled
Beneath a shivering sun.
        To read the crazy beautiful
        Of other people's thoughts
        And get in their heads without
        Psychological babblings
        And manipulation.
To watch the shadowless sun
Create a phantom city
In the concrete swarms,
To stretch every sense
Into the living moment.
      To catch myself from splitting,
      Or perhaps to split from myself
      And call me crazy,
      Laugh it off and cry
      When I read it again.
To embody what I miss
With these fucken cell phones
And internet opinions
With elongated voices
Lonely, their kind of
Misery loves company after all.

      Why the poem?
      Ask yourself,
      What else is there??

And they walk a storm,
Mind's thunder and lightning,
Held down to the soil
Keeping themselves from heightening.

As though sorrow gives off
A fragrance,
They wonder alone in the masses
Like hollowed vagrants.

The morbid crusade that
Wears the grace of pain,
The crule caverns of life
With a black rose's stain.

The glacial pace of thoughts
With so little time,
Weary and tired
On the abyss they do dine.

I can't get lost in romanticism
When I'm losing with nice guy
Scenarios,
But you wish for me to fill
Your daytime novels,
Fantastical kisses on the nape
Of your curving neck,
Your body quivering at the
Touch of your thighs that blind
Me into a thorough seduction,
And yet remain the bad boy
You so diligently deny you want,
Yet here you are and it's
7am wondering just where
The hell I went.

A self crowned sorrow
Wears the plumaged men,
And beauty is in the momentary truth:

    The concrete jungle offers
    Dazzling constraints,
    Into the ruins of their cities
    They become broken statues
    Gnawed by thoughts.
    The sun sets for a last time
    In the lively ruins.

Hearts break, minds suffer.
A man of stone passes
A man of stone,
They unearth lucid dreams
Passing by and only wondering
What resurrection could be had
In a simple "hello".

    To each an island
    In a tower of silence,
    Their light builds
    Shadows that haunt.

They pass the lovely forms,
Green pines on a shore,
Rolling hills of oak,
The swaying wind
Kissing the sea.

     In the ruins they dwell,
     Propping high into empty skies,
     To stretch their senses
     Into the living hour:
     The truth escapes
     Their brimming cups.

The mouthful of universe
    Sprang from a universal tongue,
Armed with the Words in a corridor
    Of birth before the abstract divinity,
The benevolent assault of creation
    In the circular currents away from
No place and no where
     The whiteness bound into the sun,
Lonely tears birth the oceans
   And with a finger provoked eruption
      Of earthly space,
He sings the solar song,
     The words with roots in invisible
Trees, the yellow surf of dusks,
    In the beginning was a dream
Forming the constellation of life......

It is as though the fire wears
Them,
     A slow burning sacrifice between
Ecstatic generations,
    A sort of martyrdom comes in the
Line of each death,
    The endlessly bloodstained embers
Burnt beneath the tears
   Of those left in the wounds of time.
Alas,
    Every seedling is a grain of energy
In the marrow of the earth,
    So alone with so many
Spilling themselves like fountains
In an anonymous well.
     The question remains
As their days become fewer
Like the few Winter's leaves.
        They enter one another
By the eyes,
They speak in tongues of season
      And yet come upon a last dawn
Seemingly with great depths
Of abyss in a solemn heart.
        The dreams that survive them
Are children lost in a mist,
    Stuck in a whirlwind
Surrounded by Dust.