It all comes cloudy, far away,
And naked as the storm,
In costumes to keep us quiet,
And stranger’s beds to keep us warm.

A lack of answers begs the question,
Would I still be standing here,
If there was no such thing as failure,
If there was no such thing as fear?

Would I see the open road tonight,
Passing cities, hills and farms?
Or would I wait here until the end,
Dreaming of your arms?

I was lost in the ether, subservient thrill,
Strong from the hunt, yet sick from the ****,
Give in and get over, sharp wits and clean swords,
One’s compass condemns what another’s good book rewards,
And all former rebellion, now practiced away,
I write all night long, but have nothing to say.

After the flowers had all withered,
The ribbons bleached and frayed,
Our faults, lost and forgiven,
The cost both felt and paid.

As sidewalks cracked and crumbled,
Your palm print turned to dust,
Only memories left to miss us,
No beauty in which to trust.

Maybe I’m the last pretender,
The only flower on his grave,
The lone stubborn reminder,
Of a world you couldn’t save.

We are so far from what was,
With no ending yet in sight,
Just take that as a blessing,
It’s all I have to give tonight.

On a small blue planet appeared a person,
It rocked back and forth screaming and crying.
It wanted a home and a safe place to go,
Where the unknown was not underlying.  

The person moved about this blue planet,
with wood it built a roof and four walls.
It called it a home, but didn't feel safe, as it
could still hear the whisper of danger's calls.  

With nothing to do but to continue with living,
It walked back and forth, laughing and crying.
Constantly searching for that feeling of warmth,
It's escape from the intense fear of dying.

Linear time dragged by on this planet,
This person was close to it's end.
It desperately fought to hold on to that place,
where it's thoughts would be constantly sent.

On a small planet then laid a person,
It closed it's eyes and looked into itself.
Discovered a universe where all was one,
and within the home of self, all was well.

Is it love or is it lies?
Perhaps both, or neither,
Inflamed by need,
Quenched by self,
Swollen with desire.
Imagination fans the fire
Until the floorboards creak outside my door
- Then I brink for her no more.

I sit with beer, all destitute, to write this alcoholic poem,
Tomorrow's far away, but a catastrophic omen
With beer in front, the task at hand, I should not have a chance,
Yet goggles clear, my writing dear, with future shaking hands,
I'll give a cheer, I'll down my beer, haste towards the achin',
So then I'll wake up, fill my coffee cup, and make some ******* bacon!

Sometimes
When I see you walk towards me
I hold my breath
Until you arrive
So I
Appreciate every
Breath
I get to have
With you.

As moments pass, so do we
Mindful, loving, learning to see
Passing as people, a staying friend
Hoping these moments never end.

Moments of clarity through pain, suffering.
Endless yearn for beauty yet it passes,
as it possesses, caresses, dissipates, clears.
Moments of endless thoughts of these moments,
of these moments of clear  blue skies.

Never forget them.

You must cherish, flourish, nurture.
Crushing waves of agony clears right up as you see the stars...
And skies...

And yourself reflected through the universe,
reflecting its beauty through eyes like merits
of eternal stardust reminding you that while your life is fleeting,
moments are forever.