Heaven is like a green tree
   that blossoms,
in the Sun,
  it's the warmth of Spring
     but sitting in its shade.

     it's like a cool breeze on
       a chilly river-side
         that sways her branches
             and eases her spines;
            relieves her leaves.

it'll never leave-
       if we believe it to be true.
it continues-
       even after our end.

if I'm sorry
let's be sorry
together.
a weak embrace
is as
strong as
we hold it.

so hold tight,
we still have
the heavens to
soar in.

you make me feel like a Christmas piano /
your fingers play the way my heart speaks, right down to the beat /
fireside of crackling hewn timbers and smokey embers /
I am the fire, and you are the warmth of my desire /
hold me tight, and never let me go

dream catchers,
  dream makers,
    and children of the nation,
enable me to create more - please.
there are fireflies in July, wet grass by May,
  where the monkeys sway in the sky.
Samson and Ezekiel,
    Mary is a daughter,
Moses has his pain.
  Give thanks,
     to everyone and everything;
   especially everywhere.
         Love your neighbors,
   respect their wills, and
respect their testimonies.
I'll love you forever,
   even after I will die.
For dreams- they never stray;
   they won't ever go away,
but they change,
they change in the light of day.

sit next to me
in silence,
we shall converse
with our thoughts.

a blueberry sunrise
she's held up in his arms
mulitcolored daylight

the father kisses his daughter's cheek,
"promise you'll never leave me,
not even til the end of days"

" my love,
these stars
they shall sparkle
for you."

I'm a killer.
a western shooter.
my triggers
mark your
final punctuation,
and six shots
are your
final sentence.
a lifetime taken
to justice.
gunpowder
is your kind of
a last meal.

looks can be decieving,
and logic can be revealing.

there's a
monster that they make of me,
but they're in the dim light
in casks of shadows.

read my poems upon death
and that's where I'll be.
searching for light
through
sanctifiying flames.
and just when I'm going,
I'll be guided by my mother's
merciful grace.

the wound the wound,
yes, the wound.
it is still there
for it has not
yet healed to
a scar.

In May, may we ?
Don't say nothing- no,
don't say no.
Do you know you are the one that I
would write for ? So there
in May, may I ? So I may have every of my page have your name ?
For I feel this consent,
yes- I do. so please, don't say no-
for then I may not,
even when I can;
and maybe even
when we should.

if you feel not in control-

you are the paintbrush and
the world is the canvas in
which you paint.
with words, with actions
with thoughts, with everything.
if I am the paintbrush,
then who or what is the artist
painting ?
is it me ?
is it you ?
is it us ?
could it be everyone ?
do I allow you to use me ?
to write what it is
the audience so pleases ?
and are we all paintbrushes ?
and, if so, is each to a collection
of which is the art ?

where is the source of your ink ?
for a pen is like a brush.
and what pictures are drawn from it ?

and how do you love ?
is it so openly a suggestion
you breath it out like air ?
you breath it in like perfume ?

well, the woods are starting to burn again,
and I can not deny that it smells fantastic.

I feel she's letting go,
I'm still a part of her drift.
she's been watching and
hoping for me-
another angel of my guard;
she will find me in someone
else lovely,
and he will
be her
reminder.

hold me in your arms-
as tender if we were
to leave tomorrow evening.
for i want to know the future,
but we always die so
suddenly.
please understand,
you deserve it just as
well.
find me;
where I am
within any other.

i'll remember the shape of
your face as if
it the palm of my hand

cups of water
over the surface
of your plentiful
pool

every time ill kiss you
ill heal a little more of our
pride until we are there
in where
we shall lay like babes
of the green hills after
sun dance

i'll blow a light wind
just around
and between
and through
your house of cards

wouldn't want them tumbling
now,
would we ?

I might bury the books with your name in them
A big treasure chest
Ill record the coordinates,
and make sure its weather proof,
and I'll forget about it
until another day.

when my mom passed
i used to listen to the
ambient wildernesses
while i was off to sleeping.
crickets and windscapes,
ocean waves and raining water.
echoes from somewhere else.
it filled the room, and i drifted
to lands away where it was
calm as i could be, and i slept
soundly.

Bring me back to safety,
bring me back to my
sanctuary.

the angels are the lilies
the ponds are the clouds
the fairies are flying like the pixies
the butterflies are the reeds
the breezes are the glades
the cicadas are the shore

baby! baby! baby!
doggy soft, doggy good..
cutie smile, cutie fur..
woof! woof! woof!
so full of his ruffin' love !

the other day, dear,
the tears came from
your sunshine.

for as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed of us dancing melodies
and you tenderly gazing across my eyes.

but when I awoke dear, I was mistaken.
yet I had faith,
so I prayed
you not stay
from my side.

I'll always love you
and make you happy
if only that you would do the same.
I hope that we not regret it all
some day.

You are my sunshine,
my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

depth of horizons
hands climb higher
hands wary lower

There are hilly horizons.
Hazy, smooth.
Pine- hard prickly foliages.
Barrens and fields. Endless lungs
                             spread for multitudes.

   Rich pink wind castle staircases
   Lush blue water ballet pool
Our heavens are leaking. Our chase is like a spiral. like a dance. like a dive. like an ascent.
we sink deeper.
we float lighter.
which of any of this is just
our own wonderland ?
who's to take credit for
all this love ?

she feels
like cool rain landing on my skin
or harsh kisses sent through the wind

You're a better me
       than I could hope to be
So I'll learn from lesser
       reads that in which I see
Reaching for what is we,
       for there we fly like free

the love flows like water today,
can you feel it ?
i'm leaking into the wind.
the car windows are down.
it's flowing new;
cusping of old.

a motorbike turbo.
an anthem of courage.
resonant dynamos.
canted sliding streets.

I leaned my head
against the comfort
of my wall and
smiled with my shadow.

the tower fell and now
we speak in so many
different ways.
so many different languages
more than even spoken by the mouth.

language
and
logic.

you speak
through the canvas.
flash your brush
on every secret
we could hold to keep,
you lover.

those that would silence you
know of your power.
but within the loving civility,
the silence of their hatred
shall destroy them
with their own suffering.
trust these words;
like a sign posted on city hall.

deny false disgrace.
but sharpen your ego.
don't harm your body,
tattoo it on your hand.

be my wet beach
be my starry sky
be my mountain peaks
be like me when I die

I don't know if
            you know how
     much you mean to the worth.
   I'm immersed by you.
So please, sing, dance, work,
write. Whatever it takes.
Become the median, and
bear your realizations.
Smell the seas or feel the wind.
  And whatever they may be,
  your beauty is the integrity;
      integral to our love.

big cat
in a big pond,
have this rock.
the ground willn't
break.
safety where
i had found it yet
beside just myself.
and sure, swim to it in any time of need.
then where shall you sail ?
where will you see ?
will seas and seasons
be what time is to me ?

poetry wears her sunglasses and
walks the city sidewalks
in fits of warm smiles.
drives the streets
in some hotter heat
and you can feel all
of their sunshine.

i want to have faith in you
but i want you like i want air.
raspy gasps
of
repulsions
and hasps.
unlock your
potential.
break free from
referential.
inhibitions are
limiting conditions.
reenvision the unreedeming.

Oh yes,
you are an angel of light.
like gold, like sight.

blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The thoughts come out like
   a stream into my words. I don't mind them.
They mean whatever they do.
Whatever the semblance your eyes
come across.
           I'm yours in that way.
       I wish I could change
    that reality,
          but I have no desire
        to change what has already been beautifully
        made.
               I'll keep at it.
              Even if in there everyone would
                  darken my shine.   Just
          Like an unlit candle in
               a room of only shadow,
               we could find the use out of you -
                                                          but you
            won't turn the lights on for me, and
          I refuse to burn your wicker if
            that your case.

the times will come
where
       when is all desolate
    and the what is ruin amidst
           so many of how.
                  but within the love lost and love
found,
            I'll be thinking of you.

the best poems that have been
made haven't been fully written
down with just words.
little pieces ?
  sure.
     Our memory can
      only really keep
              so much.

      But to see the
          poems flow
like the crowds of the multitudes
       that are a part of city streets,
             it is there that I feel
                everything;

              it is all fully written
                      down.

              Presently, I watch the
         Writer writing unrivaled opus.
                            the waves of wind.
                                   honking horns.
                                 the steps of feet.

                                    a child laughs.

she's afraid he might just be more than everything she could have wanted.
the life, of endearment and comfort,
of excitement, of trouble, and the dreamy star-stuffs of the vision over hills.

but really, he is only just enough for her.
(he consists of only- like, hallmark platitudes)
and she deserves to be within " you are good and better of enough ".

you play off my instincts like a predator.
your bite is enough to drown in.
your fight is enough to dose in.
your lips are like 100 roses
and I'm aware your blood excites
my taste.
your tongue's touch perverts
from the wickedness.
and the love is wildly bountiful;
I am liberated.
just one of your kiss,
is enough for my benediction.

make your muse the poet
and you shall be the muse.
make your poet the muse
and you shall be the poet.

are we clashing when I pull you thus ?
closer to my beating chest.
the spirit of
spinning our bodies,
but we're also making our
mind.