Julia
I Should Have Known Better

I Want to Tell You
You've Really Got a Hold On Me

If I Needed Someone
Baby It's You

Come Together
Because
Oh! Darling
All You Need Is Love

I ask the Lord To be with me
as I journey through my day
it was so good to know His eye
was on me each step of the way

now I may stumble I may fall
and still he will remain
my precious friend though my failure
He keeps me safe and sane

He will be there till the end of strife
No matter where you are
He is there patiently waiting
no distance will be too far

He will reached down from heaven
with his tender hand
and show you His love
how much he really cares

Don't ever give up on his love
for he loves you and He's there
He will not allow more to happen
then what we can bear

we all have those days
when things goes wrong
to know inside our heart
we can always sing a song

he will hear your call loud or faint
and surely answer your prayer
there's never been a day I could say
my lord was never there

Your hair is the least substantial yet most outwardly striking
part of you
Like a pillow coming out of a dryer,
A perfect cliff before slowing descending back down
I can never get over your hair soft and with
allegedly no gel.
Either way Jesus ( who is not white) should be jealous.
It’s not just your granted stunning hair that makes
me fall for you.
Your ability to flip my reality on itself, then
twist me the other way before laughing and
confessing that you were facing another direction completely.
I will never know which direction you raced, nor
do I care all in good fun and to show off.
A laid back disposition calm, easy
a scholarly gentleman.


Don’t mistake me for some fool, finding music
then falling for the guy playing the harp.
Also for the readers if you have any problem
with this poem about how gay it is for a guy
to serenade another guy, I would
strongly advise you to make sure your calendar is set to
the correct decade.

Darkness nervously approaches people and
is quiet and awkward.
Rumors begin to swirl about what a mean person darknesses is
what she hides. As if a light was thrown people
stop hanging out with Darkness.
The rumors swirl into facts.
She is untrustworthy and her name
is now a bad word.

Dangerous people start doing their business with Darkness.
She allows it her, figuring they will
go away soon.
They don’t and soon people who don’t care for her
enter her house, only interested in what she hides.
Light sends a message to Darkness: What a loser,
only professionals and the slickest trust me.
Darkness stares into distant Light and is in awe of her
variety and how she is not herself just the opposite of light.
Darkness looks at her spots and cries about the uneven
distance between her spots about how everyone sees her
differently.

Just one star, Light feels for Darkness.
Slowly Light’s feelings light up, and like a
series of candles random pockets of her pop on.


Light and Darkness grow used to seeing other’s silhouettes and
slowly start hanging out closer, sharing the sky, careful
not to negate each other
Light starts to defend Darkness.
Slowly, saying Darkness sure is a pain but
she adds another layer to everything,
she doesn’t like those who visit her any more
than you do. She just has to be everywhere that I’m not.

Darkness starts to grow fond of Light and has
a light-bulb moment when she realizes that Light needs her
the same way she needs Light, yet they can never grow
too close, always a barrier in-between them, weather
it be distance or a wall.
Long distance friends, they settle
knowing that they will negate each other,
almost seeing each other.

I must apologize for writing about something as
well traversed as life.
I could try to say
something new about how life is decades made of
milliseconds and how its the madness of individual seconds
infinitely similar and different from the last,
how even in this poem another baby was born
a person
selling their soul has had their soul stolen,
a family now cry’s in the sunlit  hospital room
, a final laugh.


And many have continued watching their show
and many more have scrolled farther down on Facebook.
I could get into how much of a waste Facebook is
but the internet has plenty of that, about how
Facebook is hiding its bodies
behind your likes. People getting curious
and now catacombs of
relationships for static pictures,
new friends.
How what makes madness is mundanity.
Seconds are indifferent to your pleas of
slowing them in glory, or
killing them in frequent fights.
All this has been said by far more fluent and affluent writers,
if I dare call myself a writer.

The most valuable currency, more than the purest
gold, endless mansions, yet discarded completely.

No
more believers of a flat world to chase in circles.
It is not the flat world getting rounded edges.
A mortal crowned immortal leaps
off a cliff,
. Over and over again.
The flies indifferent, to the valiant cries.
Forests cleared out for the
bodies. For leftovers.

Perhaps I’m being a pessimist.
Maybe I’m over thinking, maybe
this is a fools outburst.

A parade of innovation, each float welcomed
with happy smiles. If a wheel pauses
smiles soon give way
to confusion and disappointment, if the parade
stops without rockets (those dancers)
or a marching band playing, faces all to
quick to sour.  

The parade playing out
perminately.
And Happy citizens dance to
the same ******* song, over and over.
Now that ******* parade the most important
thing, the center piece of
the capital.

Meanwhile gensiusis and gods alike
tinker away at the rusty gears.
Yet with the new machines
new gears must rust over.
Excellent minds, ending witch hunts, apartheid,
inventing computers, creating tanks
ending slavery and supposedly racism.
Where do they go?
Would the lack of rusty gears cause
the whole dam thing to explode?
Do we need problems so we can
relish the moment of vanishing
them!?
What would it look like, if we had justice
and peace and fair non
racist police?
If we didn’t have scummy bankers?
Could we exist without Satin?
Would those gods and geniuses  be
put down? Should I be writing a letter,
Dear Satin thanks for keeping those gods in
business,
with love and respect
your faithful subjects.  


I do apologize if this has been said
by far fluent and affluent writers if I dare call myself
a writer, or if this was an outburst often
shouted by a believer in the flat world.

There is fun no
more in chasing believers of a flat in world in
circles. A  dry preacher, evoking hell.  
This journey always started with others
and ends with others wise ghosts watching
hoping to be seen as a ghost to have made
a footprint on the most trodden path.
Life without fear of it.
A magician with the knowledge
of an ace always able to come up
next yet I still bust.

The white marble embraces me,
the old white marble tries to embrace me.
Only seaweed floats.
A City of canyons built for climbers.
The fish saw death yet death waited off the hook
Better odds on the hook.
Now she’s
given her coin and
crossed the river
and I sit at the shore
confused at why
I suddenly care.

I close my eyes
Silently I listen
A voice that's vanished
That will sound forever
The voice that will always slingshot
The poetic words
Of the nightingale
Into the world
For a second I start to dream
I forget
What I saw
When my eyes were still open

Ik sluit mijn ogen
Zwijgend luister ik
Een stem die is weggestorven
Die voor eeuwig zal klinken        
De stem die voor altijd
De poëtische woorden                  
Van de zanger                                  
De lucht inslingerd
Even droom ik weg
Vergeet ik
Wat ik zag
Toen mijn ogen nog open waren

in size
the earth is but a thought
passing through your mind
but you spoke a spark
and magnified in kind
the importance of this little park
to the words upon your tongue
none can fall or go to waste
the universe expansion just begun

slowly carving, you do not haste
the adolescence of a race
whose lives are flashes in a glass
Your countenance of tears
a God of suffering
a God of rain
the God who takes our pain
and forms it into golden coloring

Time, Love in action
is a forever forward dance
it never ends
and stretches on
like the twinkling light that bends
down to us from the stars

Dashing hither, dashing thither,
Dashing in the winter weather,
John the dashing haberdasher
Dashed a hat upon his head

Not some lace cap fit for ladies,
Nor a bonnet stitched for babies,
John the dashing haberdasher
Dashed a top hat there instead!

Never had a hat so fine,
So tall and silken, so refined,
Regaled upon the daily grind
Of prince or pauper in the Strand

Ladies stalled to see it's lustre,
Swooned and swayed before it's bluster,
Fell and fainted in a fluster,
Startled by a hat so grand!

Children screamed in dreadful fright
And yelping dogs began to bite
As crowds began to brawl and fight
And riots claimed the London street

In the chaos thus ensuing,
Folks began to run, pursuing
John the dashing haberdasher
Chasing him from Strand to Fleet!

John was taken to the prison,
Chided by the crowds derision,
There to wait the Mayor's decision
On his wanton heinous crime

Charged with breaching lawful peace,
He paid a fine for his release
And ordered to desist and cease,
He left his top hat well behind

Thus is told the tale of John
Who dared to bravely dash and don
A silken top hat high upon
His noble head in London town

Heed his tale and take this warning,
When you wake one winter morning
With desire to be less boring,
Careful how you dress that crown!