A million white balloons
cover the clouds
they hide the sunrise
away from her eyes
we’ve breathed nine hundred thousand
and ninety-nine lies
one among the many
hides in the cries
one as pure as any
among the heavy on high
for one day they'll turn
flip like an urn full of tears
and pour down
like a crying sky

The yet expressed won’t stay repressed, won’t rest until we find a way to say out loud what lies within our still breathing, beating breast – grieving and weeping to attest to the love we feel even now though we can no longer confess that love to the one we miss but nevertheless can’t stop but manifest in our words, our deeds and indeed in our tears

- staining our chest where once we held them close and long to hold them once again.

Dry of  heart
thirsting
for love.

By end' land
across
ocean' sand,
on a tiny raft
crafted
by hand.

Singing a hymn
in tongues
only he
can understand

In calm whispers
his head
is on display
like an ornament
for a
Christmas day.

Christ is quiet
and holds
onto his love
man brushes his
dry lips together
crackling loud!

He is about to
starve.

'Are you in
the sky
empty and dry
can I see you
as Sun stabs
at my eye?'

Still a quiet
response.

Soon end of
day slowly nears
vastness of dust
in place of seas.

Cries of man
cracked of voice
humid air holds
onto his
throat.

Heaven heard
children' cries
shedding her tears
ten thousand tears
kissing on land.

Covering all
with neither
a bit of shy
sweet rain, the
sweetest that ever
came.

.
.
what I feel is,
confusing, fragile,
and rapidly changing

I am no Shakespeare;
not good in words but,
just a person who chained themselves
and lost the key

I write to feel, to procrastinate,
and maybe to blow off steam;
Hoping that each work bleeds
the feelings I want you to feel

being a crybaby is hard,
when you can't cry;
being emotional is frustrating,
when everything is too much

you bleed inside,
when you want to
act on those feelings,
[Not everything; can be expressed freely.]
That feeling is clawing
from the very depths of your being

They want to be free, do they not?
Despite that, they'll call you crazy
for feeling such things

Better to be rational
yet, they'll call you heartless.
maybe, something balanced would do

overwhelming feelings is a crime,
I guess dad told me why.

Society and its reality is relentless
a few several mistakes and
everything is in flames,
before you know it

.
.
what I feel is,
confusing, fragile,
and rapidly changing

I am no Shakespeare;
not good in words but,
just a person who chained themselves
and lost the key

I write to feel, to procrastinate,
and maybe to blow off steam;
Hoping that each work bleeds
the feelings I want you to feel

being a crybaby is hard,
when you can't cry;
being emotional is frustrating,
when everything is too much

you bleed inside,
when you want to
act on those feelings,
[Not everything; can be expressed freely.]
That feeling is clawing
from the very depths of your being

They want to be free, do they not?
Despite that, they'll call you crazy
for feeling such things

Better to be rational
yet, they'll call you heartless
maybe something balanced would do

overwhelming feelings is a crime,
I guess dad told me why.

Society and its reality is relentless
a few several mistakes and
everything is in flames,
before you know it

AND if you go -- love goes away?  No, it's understood.
My love stays as freedom is a breakfast food
as if love can live with right or wrong (undestood)
or rolly-pollies are from frightful mountains made---
long enough just for you and me.

As though pain can pay the rent
regardless of genius please the talentgang comes
to collect the fallen minds and hearts upon
the sidewalks of understanding.  Everywhere.

So as it is;  my whole life:  as my coalwood eyes
burn wint-air oh waiting (my love) for spring ?(y)(w)ou(w)
un-air-stan?me
crazy
me like

evry-ting
we can do it for just Me and You.  So bring it (with love)
for a landing -- without misunderstanding -- as there is no
end what we can do together without end.

see shebert lips of babies and their beating exploding Love-hearts
: with a little luck we can help it out.

:: 10.24.2021 ::