Wake like a Rose of Jericho,
Bringing fortune to your lips.
Swinging life forth, green
And delicate, to a desolate day.

There was something about the dreamer.
Paint in her hair, no care,
The world vast and empty but she fills
Voids with pastel static, words drip
From matte lipstick. Panic
Never takes air from her lungs,
She knows she belongs. A firefly in
A pillowed fog, not smog, but subtle
With tea latte sweetness, kept warm on
The mosaic countertop filled with
Broken glass, no longer shattered, together,
Making beauty out of severed past.
She will last through creation, motion
Lunging to brightened staircases.
She faces dilemmas by the dozen,
And will never be forgotten.

My body is broken
But doesn't really matter
How badly beat up I get
My soul still wants
To pick a fight

I guess we fighters
Are just made like that
We never really know
When and how to quit
We're too **** tough
For our own good

We just want that fire
So we keep pushing
On and forward
Forward and on

Assertion
Clammed-up
On the relay
Second guessing
The shrunken head
Of old therapies

The clock says
It's time
To nod off
Greet the morn
With withered fist
Rationalised fury

Trying to
Replace the
Pimply face
Of ******
Angst baseless in
Content
On the tether
Of just another

Addiction in a
Succession
Of spiritual
Vices perpetuated
By the nonchalant
Visage of a world

Uncaring
In derision
From calloused hands
Caused by
Hard work
With little or no
Monetary avail

Hand to mouth
Foot in mouth
Hand on crotch
Crotch saddle sore

What's the point
Of a worn-down point
Dull but
Double-edged  
Just to prove

The sword of Damocles
Is still hanging
Over the head
Of your enemies

Who pop
Their heads
Up over
The hedgerows
Like pictures
In a shooting gallery
At the carnival of
A battlefield distant

Filled with relics
Of another
Dead-end
Ill-purposed war
Of the worlds floating
On the crest of
Mine-dotted airwaves
Prompting viewers
To drown negativity
And to salvage
The positive

A broadcast from
Bipolar formats
In living colour

Double-edged          
Double-standards
Double-dealing        
Double-meaning
Double-minded      
Double-jeopardy
Double-troubl­e        
Double your money
Doppelganger leading
Double life

All propagated in
Double-time

Best
Double your efforts
And tune out!

We count time but don't know what we count
We feel time's flow in the sun, moon, and stars
And see it passed in our flesh and offspring
But without knowledge nor awareness if it is
Forward, backwards, circular, or not at all
Or if a second prior or after, is, shorter, or longer
But only the everlasting, now, past, future, illusionary
And time, the same as times, and so too half a time

The water, calm or rowdy, comes in, slowly.
Swarming tides soon become too much,
Drowning me-
And I remain motionless,
As I fear nothing or, am paralyzed by fear,
No, the real movement comes when I am lost.
As I try to find my way time and time again.
Begging for the waters to return,
For true motion to return,
And for my tears to freely flow into the water once more.

Soothe songs clear my way.
Winds continue to whimper on,
Clouds cuddled together in the sky,
The showers start,
Water weeps,
And puddles prosper.

To sit here and scale our memories
looking for worth in wondering
searching for pieces in the past
I left all my paints and colorful hues
and moved forward with potfuls of rain thinking that to love is constant
and to lose is momentary pain
but all these versions of lives lived
all the people we said we were
and all the things we hope to become
stir and boil in this water
and winter tells us to stay inside
but this heart keeps racing
aching to feel the sun and the snow
to tear apart the days
and take these fractures
as testimonies of all that we braved