Your face was like wind
A cooling breeze
A brisk coolness passing through me
On a hot summer day
The sun is bright and warm
And your face was the wind
Keeping the temperature right
Now it's a hurricane
It throws me down and hurls me through the air
Making me gasp for breath
I used to fill my lungs with you in a deep calming breath
But now im suffocating
I can't blame you
I was just in your path
You tried to pass through
I must have ran in front of you
Your storm wasn't meant for me
I don't know who it was meant for
But I'm just a bystander
One of hundreds and hundreds
Thousands, even

I can feel the love,
fading from my heart,
or rather,
it's not fading,
it's being torn out.

Piece by piece,
people steal it,
when I would have given it,
when I had given it,
and then demand more,
as if I'm holding back.

But I'm not,
I'm loving with my whole heart,
loving them more than me,
loving their flaws and insecurities,
their hatred and inconstancy,
while I let my own drown me,
in their wake.

So complicated,
is this word.

So heavy,
is its weight.

So sad,
is its ending.

So wondrous,
is its beginning.

So relieved,
when both hear it.

So heartbreaking,
when one rejects it.

So troublesome,
is its burden.

So blessed,
is its meaning.

where did you go?

Building Walls

To build a wall beside your neighbor,
(though he be not dearest neighbor) -
Build a wall to hide your neighbor
And to hide yourself,
Is wrong as wrong can be.
Don’t you agree?

What neighbor has no overflow?
Is not magnifico?
Has not a folk to which we owe
Our history:  our languages, our citizenry, heroes and mythology;
Poverty an un-destroy-able
“The poor are always with us” still, will always be.

What neighbor doesn’t ebb and flow,
Fail then grow?
He next store or ‘cross the border.
Not our job to build a fort  
Against a fancied enemy.

Building Walls 5.22.2017
War Book II; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin;

My bass guitar  & I
It's a weird relationship I know,
See, I can slap her, but all she does is sing.
See, I can pull her strings, but she sets the rhythm.
See, I can run my fingers down her neck and she moans so ****.
It's a weird relationship I know,
But **** do I love it,

How we intertwine in the heat of the moment,
To create a song  you can feel in your chest.
How we play with each other, until we reach our peak.
And slowly fade away with one last grunt.

Listening to smooth jazz
As valentine roses -not mine- wilt.

Well
I guess
It's over
And I've
Got nothing
To do, other than
Get over myself, now.