All Day
I could stay by the window
Listening and watching
Clear gray skies
And the fall of the rain
On a Summer's day.

I woke up
and found my friend far away
as I ponder what a friend is
and how soon can we all Skype
if it really matters
when you come to visit
will I have gone
swallowed your abandoned names and words
as you pull upon my own discarded pages
and we miss us
as we long to be each other
be ourselves in muscled trueness
Sure the other's place
will round our arms with the strength we lack
walking new streets
exercising our tongues on the ancient, baby green phrases
watch our skin contract
as we learn to deftly act
and somersault through agate hoops
mine for yours
yours for mine
we love to change traditions

We fought to keep our balance
as the island burned around us

Tears mixing with the waves
like unbottled messages
sent to speak our sorrow to other shores

I'm afraid to jump the gun
And express the welling tide of feeling
Because how can I?

You would drown.

Or run away from the flood of my arms
And curse yourself for approaching the shore.

So I mark off the edge, and warn against those who would swim.

But I want you. And I'm sick of this island.

Though it is safe and though I can do no harm here, I can't be satisfied with the messages you send; delivery by bottle.

Drunk on the words they contain, I need more from the source.

So I'll jump the gun, and suffer a shot to the foot of course.

Nick

I thought we'd see the sunrise.
I thought we'd weather the storm.
Does it matter what I thought,
Since now you're gone?
Lost in a sea of everyone
You, my message in a bottle,
Float aimlessly away.
The sea closes around me.
Still, perched on my island,
I hope for a glint from your rim,
More than the beauty of the next sunset.
And, as your gorgeous glint passes over the horizon.
I beg the tide to change.

As the two lost lovers sat hopelessly in love. A crimson colored moon hung over the mountains. Shrouded by gloomy grey clouds it's ray shine down over the water of the dingy pond. The scent of freshly cut grass. The sounds of yelping bullfrogs. The splashing sounds of fish feeding. The wind howling in the background as the sat by the fire. Fire Flies flying by, buzzing as they pass. The fire snapping and cracks, smoking like a chimney. The putrid odor of smoked ripe jackfruit, cooking over the fire. The flame roasting the skin to ash, cooking the delicious fruit to perfection.

I am an island child,
Of dire rocks and thistle,
Clear lake and lone skies,
Of bonny birds who whistle,
I race the strands with tides,
Waiting for my lad to meet,
So lonely are the night stars
I dreamt in my loft to sleep,
Far is the isle of my mind,
To slip away on new voyage,
Near is the sorrow into kind,
As I wait for keep in marriage.

He pounded coffin nails
With a hammer forged of fear
Every word of spite nailing in and holding
Badged and vested
Death and bullets resting in his gun
But still frightened by this woman
Standing proud
Whom he could not bully
Nor subdue
Hammer, hammer, hammer
Testimony to the judge
That in all his years
He had never met a woman like her
Who acted like her
No respect
No fear
Of course not you fool
You charged into the camp
Of Boudicea
Come to **** and pillage
And fell beneath her sword
Hammer, hammer, hammer
You can lock her up
But you can never bury fear