It's quiet now
The wedding vows are said
and all that's left is picking up
   the pieces of your life.
You can't make her love you
You can't make her live her vows
You can't make the beauty happen
   that you thought this step would bring
And all you have is that
   It's quiet now.

It's quiet now
The funeral is over
and all that's left is picking up
   the pieces of your life.
You can't fight death
You can't bring back your son
You can't make yourself a father
   like you thought this step would do
And all you have is that
   It's quiet now.

It's quiet now
Her boyfriend has gone home
and all that's left is picking up
   the pieces of your life.
You can't make her leave him
You can't make her face that resent death
You can't make her love you
   no matter what you do
And all you have is that
   It's quiet now.

It's quiet now
Your faith is left in shatters
and all that's left is picking up
   the pieces of your life.
You can't make God help you
You can't deny He's real
You can't make yourself love Him
   with all that you've been through
And all you have is that
   It's quiet now.

She looks like springtime
Fresh and new
She walks like the rain
Her breath is dew
Her voice is moonlight
On the sea
With sunlight's warmth
She touches me

Is she a dream
This lady fair
As soft as mist
As sweet as air
Or is she real
And will she stay
To help me chase
The gloom away

She is a song
In harmony
With the one
Sung within me
Just as the moon
Will move the tide
So with her mind
Does my heart ride

Biscuits baking in the oven,
Rain pours down outside -
My head is full of internal noise;
It hurts, but I am not unhappy.
I have learned to ignore those things
which stand in the way of life.
The bass player up stairs is trying,
he practices his riffs
but does not form a song.
A cat sleeps on curtains that have fallen
and no one seems concerned.
I have no thoughts, just feelings
ill formed and unclear yet there.
Stuffed with things I did not choose,
The smell of biscuits bring me back.
They are my anchor to here and now.

In the trees outside the birds are whistling
In my mind's eye their feathers glistening
Some how I know that they are listening
To sunrise colours of the day

My heart is filled with sweet old memories
And I recall what it is to be at ease
On a day like this life still can really please
And I smile at the sound of their song

I knew a time when the days were all like this
From dawn to dawn my life was filled with bliss
Birds called my name and the sun and moon would kiss
At the start and the end of each day

So now I stop every time I hear them sing
And I accept any moment that their song might bring
For in their notes is the hidden breath of spring
And the thoughts of the joys not quite gone

within the deepness of my soul,
I have found you living there
in my dreams - a burning coal
passion filled, a feeling rare

I have found you living there
the sweetness of it fills my heart
passion filled, a feeling rare
I do not know just how to start

the sweetness of it fills my heart
though what we say may not be heard
I do not know just how to start
this feeling, more than any word

though what we say may not be heard
it matters not what others say,
this feeling, more than any word,
keeps me warm through night till day

it matters not what others say,
in my dreams - a burning coal
keeps me warm through night till day
within the deepness of my soul.

We fell in love, that is all that I know,
no matter what happens it will remain,
When we were young, just a while ago,
my heart made a choice that shall never wain

No matter what happens it will remain,
though our life has not been always so kind,
my heart made a choice that shall never wain
if I am with you, then I do not mind

Though our life has not been always so kind,
in better or worse it is all the same,
if I am with you then I do not mind,
I am at your side in health or in pain

In better or worse it is all the same
though some may question or say it is wrong,
I am at your side in health or in pain
I do not care about what says the throng

Though some may question or say it is wrong,
nothing has changed from what I remember,
I do not care about what says the throng,
this shall remain til life's cold December

Nothing has changed from what I remember,
When we were young, just a while ago,
this shall remain til life's cold December
We fell in love, that is all that I know.

How do I miss thee?
Let me count the ways:
I miss your loving heart
that beats with a deep caring for others
to the limits of its strength
and perhaps beyond.
I miss the warm communication of your arms
when, from time to time, they say the things that words fail
with a touch, a hug, a gentle pat.
I miss the wit and wisdom that is you
that warms my soul and helps my heart to beat
when life has dragged it down.
I step outside to clear my head,
for the heat of the day lingers in my room
heavy, as if to echo my heart,
and find that the sky cries down
with gentle tears as though it too feels
the longing of my heart at this parting.
For though I have not yet left,
the knowledge that I shall makes me feel
as though the leaving was too long ago
and though I know in my head that it will be
only a short time in hours that I am gone
my soul feels the weight of it as if
those hours might be years.
I miss thee with all my being
for you complete me
in ways that words can not express.
And so I wait the appointed hour
with the desire that I might already be returning,
Your side is where I am meant to be
You are my strength, more so than you might know.
When I do things alone, they have no meaning
when I do things with you, they give me purpose.
You are the moon that lights my path
and keeps me safe in the darkness.

The Write of the Emo Poet
Of course is doomed to fail
Yet even so they raise their pen
Against the world to rail
Through glasses fashioned out of angst
They view a graying sky
And know that it will only end
Upon the day they die
With blood black ink they write the words
That cause the moon to cry
And tell of all the things gone wrong
But never answer why

The Write of the Emo Poet
Is dipped in bitter sweet
Its forged on long walks through the fog
And drizzle on the street
For every thing that might be good
They find some hidden wrong
Which others cannot understand
Alone they sing their song
In mournful tones that rip the heart
And bind even the strong
Their only joy is knowing of
The sorrows of the throng

what can you do about the monkey?
well you know he can't be trained,
oh, he can learn some lovely tricks,
but he never can be tamed.

you can dress him up in a tux and tails,
but don't take him to the ball.
he just won't behave like he's supposed to do,
he doesn't get that scene at all.

so what can you do about the monkey?
you got to take him as he is,
and you know he'll always be there,
if you're a friend of his.

but the monkey does his own thing,
and he's always on the go.
yet he'll make you laugh and have some fun,
that's the way he is you know.

I wonder,
did I smile that day?
Did some dreamy absent look
draw her eye?
I don't recall, in truth
I don't remember anything much about the day.
Somehow though I guess she chose
I guess it was alright with me
I guess I never did say no
Somehow it seemed that we were spending time
and somehow all that time just seemed to grow.

Did I ask her? Really?
I guess I did and somehow I should recall
but looking back it all was such a blur
I guess she answered yes.
But that was a million years ago
and what did we know back then?

I guess I should have known
that something wasn't right
I should have wondered why certain words
just never came from her
I should have known but I was young

She always liked me, no doubt of that,
and I knew what she wanted
I knew she wanted to escape
but I never realized that I was just
a safe way out

But that was a million years ago
it hardly matters now
We were young
what did we know of love?

I reach to touch but all I find
is fragrant vapor in my hand
That once had been perfume, I think
and now is not but ghostly form

I look to see but everything
is faded moonlight on the breeze
The shadow of a dream forgot
with nothing but specter's life

I try to hear but all is silence
the scream of snails across the sea
muffled by fleecy clouds between
leaves only dim remembered sighs

Wild blows the wind while the darkness burns
In the deepest winter when the moonlight turns
As the snow falls down on the burdened trees
In the secret places that no one sees

The shades that gather are just whispered form
As the world is waiting for the coming morn'
Though the windows rattle or the door might creak
Just close your eyes and go to sleep

The things that might be, are running late
The things you fear will have to wait
For now it's time for gentle dreams
You know that nothing's as it seems

Long shadows grow and cast their dread
But the sun will rise leaving shadows dead
Never mind those mysteries
If they're important then we shall see

Lay down your head, all the rest will wait
The morning comes with it's new slate
so sleep a time while the planet turns
And the wild wind blows as the darkness burns

And we, as is the want of man, have dreamed our dreams
We have built within our minds the future that should have been
Then, in the silence of reality's shadow,
Our perfect story has melted to reveal the imperfect truth.

Where is time and does it come at our call?
The hours of pain and sorrow seem to come in waves beyond measure
Each moment containing it's own Forever
And so, in these we live Eternities
And yet the moments of joy are swiftly past
And what of us?

Was there a moment that once we might have had a chance
That we could have held it in our palms?
But if it was ever so, it slipped away
and left only the fragrant sweetness of memories that fade.

Where was our chance, did we not deserve one?
And at the end of the day, having laboured long and hard
Where was our reward?
For it is as if some unseen hand has swept away all the value of our deeds
As if the future, like the past, was decided without consultation
and we are left with only shattered dreams

There was a moment, once
Of that I am sure
We dared to believe
But as if the universe itself could not bare the thought
That moment fled from us
Leaving only tears

And now we have only now
The past might never have been
The future might never come
This now is all we can hope for
This now must be forever for we will come no closer

I would kiss away our tears,
But I fear they are too fragile
and the pressure of my lips might
destroy the shadow of who you were

You were
Never doubt that
Do not let that dream die completely
Once you were the person your dream claims you were
and I shall remember that forever

In all this world of wonders, where is the place for us?
In all the vastness of history, what time is there for us?
In the midst of claims of freedom, do we have a choice?
Is the singular moment that once glistened
The only moment we shall ever see?
I fear that if we lived a thousand years
We might never have our time in the sun.
We who move in shadows to make a life for others
We who toil unnoticed who give and yet seem destined never to receive.
I do not speak for myself - that would seem too strange,
But for the others who, hidden from sight, are drained,
Not by some enemy or creature of vile nature,
But by those very people they have given themself to nuture.
Is this the price we must pay?
Not only abandoned but denied.

Love is our survival when the north wind blows
When the night is crying and nobody knows
In you I find my strength
I look and see you truly
When there is nothing left to hold onto
My hand will still be there
And I know your hand will steady me
We are more than friends yet less than lovers
But whatever name we might give it
You sustain me as I support you
We two are but half shells alone
Yet together we become whole
When we are apart there is an emptiness
When we are together there is a purpose
I do not pretend to understand it
I only know what my heart and soul tells me
Love is our survival when the north wind blows

Let us speak in silent words
Our hearts crying out
With the thoughts our minds cannot bear
Crossing over dark waves and through dense fog
As if by smokey lantern we wander
Aimless down the corridors of some unknown place
Confused by a dream that does not seem right
Only to wake and find it is no dream
And when I feel I can no more bear the weight of these hours
I turn and see a window with
Moonlight flooding in like a river of molten silver
And in that moment I know
I am not alone

It is not the loud screaming roar nor the overt display
Which in the end leaves on us indelible it's mark
But rather the tiny voice scarce heard which whispers
Words we did not wish to hear
Oh we deny it of course but there it is
The simple sight will touch us,
A kitten, a child at play, a smile and no more
These are the images that last long past the splash
Of colour and light that assaults our eyes in an obscene mix
The pure tone of a tiny bell or the whisper of a child
Some silly song once heard in our youth
These are the sounds we remember when
The crashing bands have faded away into numbed silence
The touch of two lips brushing momentarily on our cheek
A finger stroke along our jaw or breath on the back of our neck
These are the sensations we remember
Years after we forget the throb of dropping that couch on our foot
Or smashing our shin in the dark
The taste of popcorn or apple pie
Perhaps a slice of pumpkin or bowl of ice cream
A piece of chocolate or fresh baked bread just buttered
These linger longer than the five star meal we spent too much to have
Jasmine or Evening Scented Stocks
Vanilla and nutmeg or cinnamon in the kitchen
These are the fragrances we recall when in our age we long to remember
Long after all those strange exotic scents that once flooded our lives
We think it is the big moments, the flashy moments, the impressive moments
That will be matter in the end
But those are not where the hinges of our lives are fixed
It's the little things that fill us with awe
Small sights and sounds
Tiny touches and tastes
Subtle smells and minor seeming events
These are what we remember in the end

It's ok to be exhausted as you're speeding through the night
As you race along the freeway, it's alright to look a fright
No one there is going to blame you because they've all done it too
And they know just how you're feeling when there's nothing left to do
So just jot the thoughts down quickly, don't take time to find a rhyme
If it happens then it happens if it doesn't no one minds
Spit those thoughts out as you think them
It's the feelings that will count
    But remember no one's scoring you.
There's nothing you should flaunt.
As the darkness whizzes past you
and the cold air stings your face
Even though the pavement 's still hot down below...
and the fumes from the exhaust pipe might be seeping in someplace
You turn on the radio
                                 [even though you know] -
All you get is country music filled with static
and the crackle seems as much a part as song -
and the coffee 's black and burnt like it was brewed somewhere in hell
                                 [and that howling isn't from the radio]
We can't bother to keep rhythm we don't care about the rhyme
We don't really even ask ourselves if this word or that is fine
And maybe we're just sleeping as we drive along the road
or we might be only dreaming in our beds somewhere back home.
Can I hear a kitty purring or is that just the engine roar
and when does this journey finish - cause I don't want it any more
but I haven't reached the depot so I can't disembark my ride
so another cup of coffee and again I'm going to hide
But the few who really count are never fooled by that for long
They know where I am really when I'm weak and when I'm strong
And they help make life worth living, not that we really have a choice
But I'm glad I have someone with me even when I have no voice.

Grey is not a colour, it is a state of being:
When arms cannot reach far enough
And cold is not dry enough;
When everything tightens around
But there is nothing left to hold you;
When you are left naked in the night alone
And the lights are dark as they pass you by
With a rhythmic hum that numbs you;
When sleep is all around but you cannot find it within.
Cold air blows in your face from nowhere
But it means nothing.
You stop somewhere to have a smoke
And can't be bothered to light it
Because you can't remember why you should.
Somewhere you think there was a reason
But you do not know what it was
Because it is numb and there is nothing left to say.

Clouds part like
        tatters cloth ------------ Thunder grumbles back
                        \                           /              \
                       The River of Mist - A Magpie scolds the sky
                            looks down               above it
                            /                 \
   Sudden beauty                     Though I try
      is glimpsed                            to capture it all
                /                                     with threads of rhyme
The Silence                                                  \
   is forever --------- I live in --------- I sing it yet I
        \               A room of shadows        forget the words
          \                                                         I have not written
            \                                                       /
         **The Jade river flows benieth it all

We are told that all of this,
All that was and is and will exist
Began with the speaking of a word
A simple set of sounds
                Hayah 'owr
Which echoed through the nothing
The first of every sound
Not a comment or an observation
But emphatically a command!
                   LIGHT!
We say, “Let there be -” but
That first sound gave no option
It was almost more implied
            EXIST LIGHT!
And light could do nothing else
And from that moment existence flowed

This is the power of words
This is the poet's craft
Do not use it lightly for
Words will not forgive
Their careless use

They stood before the mountains grew their roots
Before the sky had yet turned blue
Before the first thought could coalesce
Words were the first things to exist
And words will be the last.

So if we create laughter or tears
Provoke thoughts or plant fears
Capture an instant or tell a full life
Bring peace or stir up strife
To us falls the duty to use our word
Remembering its power
Choose carefully with which you gird
Yourself to write when comes that hour
And know that nothing stands
Against the power of *words.

The sun's slowly sinking
Why doesn't the ocean boil
I'm sitting here thinking
In all of the fresh dug soil
With rainbows and dew
And all the other things too
I guess I don't know
Why should it be

The sun now is quite low
I guess that's where it should be
Maybe it's time to go
It's just that I cannot see
What is with this game
And why do we take the blame
It all seems pointless
It seems so sad

Where is our happiness
Or was that a passing fad
It's been a while I guess
Now I can't even be mad
From start to the end
No matter the words I've penned
I finish crying
For all will spoil

Curled up beside me
Sweet yet fierce
Swift and clever
Maybe even wise
What secrets does she know
How is she always at the door
Whenever I come home
Why does she always choose
That moment when I most need
To decide to curl up, head on my leg
How did she know I needed her now?

Golden chrysanthemums litter the path
With the superfluous dusting of pine pollen gold
As the Phoenix perches in the chocolate tree
And the fairies twitter of stories untold
The mighty river flows down t'ward the sea
Can anyone make it return where it came
As the birds flying high in their journey down south
And bleached white rainbows seem to whisper my name
Delicate and fragile as an orchid's petals
My mind slips down a sunbeam's shaft
As through my closed eyes I can still smell the perfume
And hear the sweet music as the shadowed ones laughed

A world of harsh solids and stern ways to think
Is held to accounting by that dimly seen
For the world of the hidden, the shadows, the fay
Is so much desired by those who have been
I live in a world which men may call real
But I've seen so much more than the dull mind can think
I've heard colours that sing and seen the taste of laughter
And I've traveled the journey right up to the brink
For those who can hear me and know what I speak
Can we ever go back to the start
For all of the visions that gather around us
Will always be part of our heart

Youth comes but for a while
And we sometimes forget
That as the dew will leave the flower
So to that moment passes yet
But though the dew returns next day
Our youth will not do so
Until our winter comes to stay
And the cold north wind will blow
And loss will come along the path
It can not be turned back
Until the day when winter's wrath
Makes clear the things we lack

The daylight seems to fade and the darkness bleeds right through
Although my eyes are open there is nothing I can see
And my body tries to breath but no air will fill my lungs
There is something deep inside that chokes the life right out of me

Although I'm strong and fast there is nothing I can do
Though I practice long it all has spun out of control
Til the light won't help me see and the sound won't let me hear
And so I can not bear to face the toll

The past has gone by and the future will not come
I couldn't help it then and I can not help it now
All that anyone can do is to watch it all unfold
And to the press of time we all must bow

Will you hear?
                      Will you come?
Will you face the things unknown?
Will you pass the test of fire,
Can you face you own desire?
What name shall I call you by
If you think that you might try?

Can you see?
                     Can you tell?
Can you do the things that must be done?
Can you know the truth that is unheard,
Will you stand by me without a word?
What are you prepared to do
If the question has been put to you?

Death dropped by this morning  
With espresso in a mug
Not a dainty little demitasse  
And he sat down on my rug
His face was rough with stubble
But I didn't ask him why
Some things you just don't ask
So I let some time run by

In course he gazed upon me
And in a hoarse voice spoke
“I really do not mean you harm
It's just that when I woke
I found that I was lonely
And I hoped you wouldn't mind
If I dropped by for just a while -
If that's not out of line.”

“You see I know about you,
I've seen you once or twice
And I watched you comfort others
And I thought that you seemed nice
So though your own appointment
Is a fair time away
I hoped you might allow me
A few moments here today”

“I know that people fear me
Though I never knew just why
I do a vital service
I'm really a nice guy
Do people really want to live
Forever without end?
Because that's not as good as it
Might sound to you, my friend.”

“The life you live is precious
But it's not all that there is
You can take my word on that
Or if you like, take His
There really is a purpose
And I'm part of the plan
Even though you might not see
It from this mortal land.”

You may not think all of this real
But I tell now, it's what he claimed
And when he finished up his mug
I feared I would be maimed
But that much of his words were true
He did no harm as he did say
As for the rest, who knows for sure
I guess we'll see another day.

Pieces broken everywhere
   There!
by the coffee *** I see one,
   who knows why it was left
and over by the chair,

I do not think this used to happen,
but these days I find the pieces all the time...
sometimes they're plain
sometimes they rhyme
Little pieces of my mind...

a buzzer sounds to say it's time
   now where is that fragment of my mind?
I better set the next alarm
Or surely something won't get done -
   Oh yes, I guess I need a drink,
that would have been the one
   I saw beside the coffee ***,
and wasn't I about to write
but wait there's art that must get done
   or was it – oh a buzz again
there's something else that needs
   attention from another piece
how did I do it way back when?

Never do I lack for words to speak
Yet often the words say so little
Please forgive me if they are just noise
For what I think and feel is so much more

Sometimes when your eyes touch mine
For a moment only in the passing
A hundred emotions thunder through my veins
I do not ask if this is so for you, nor shall I ever

The sun sets in beauty
yet with it come the shadows of the night
to consume the last vestiges of the day
Like time fading old memories
those pools where the last rays blur with the first shadows
lay there like sorrows almost forgotten.

Why didn't I meet you sooner
Before the pain, before the crazy days?
Why didn't I meet you soon enough to save you
   from the fate that awaited you
and to be saved
   from the one that awaited me?

We were young once,
we could have healed
I could have given you
two perfect tears to wear as earrings
and you could have given me the same
as cuff links or to hold my tie

But we did not meet until we were broken
yet even now I could, if you could still accept
have given you frost on snow as pure as light from Heaven
but you do not wear earrings anymore
and I no longer have a tie

I walk bravely in fear
and know that I will fail
for what other outcome is there?
And yet,
                   I can not think of not proceeding.
This is my life -
This is my all -
                                without it there is nothing.
No point to Be
                             even though I would still exist.
No
I do not do this because I must
I do this because it is what I am.
and if I do not, than why am I?

It is my choice
                                mine alone
and yet
                could there ever be a choice
I do this because
I have always done this
                                                and
I will always have done this.
Is it free will or destiny?
I can choose to become
                                                 nothing...
but is that a choice?

Well it's "Famous This" and "Famous That"
   Though few might ever have
   heard of any of them, still
We use the words because we love them
And not just us but everybody
Walking down the street
There's Plenty Bright and
Double Happiness,
   as if it's not enough
   to just have happiness
But then, perhaps a little extra
wouldn't hurt because
We could,
   if we perhaps might choose
then offer some to others on the street

but all of this.....
   I just can't speak
and still there's more to come

The signs upon the walls and over doors
I see them in the people's eyes and
on the floors
They're written in the skies
As close as air
   Sometimes I think I see them everywhere
and yet
As I stop and stare
I ask,
   or would if I could bear
   to hear an answer
What does all of it mean?

Let us pray in the dying of the day
   in the strange glow that comes
   from somewhere we cannot tell
That these words we throw so causually about
will not turn upon us
or we will then discover that
   if the pen is mighter than the sword
the power in the pen is in the words
and these we do not own
but only borrow for a time.

silence falls a paler shade
it blends unseen into the night
and easy would its passing be
to those who do not watch the fight
as what might be and what might have been
are measured up against
what things were and what things could have
these that leave us tense

I'm a humble little Monkey
I can't help it if I'm cute
I just do my little Monkey things all day
It may be that I'm amazing
I wouldn't really know
If it happens that things just turn out that way
I never asked to be this clever
So sleek and smart and trim
I don't know why fate has blessed me with so much
I can't help it if the ladies
Melt when e'er they hear me speak
And I don't know why they shiver at my touch
I'm a humble little Monkey
Please don't hate me for my looks
Please don't blame me for my mesmerising voice
It's not as if I made myself as amazing as I am
I really didn't ever have a choice.

Before the time of man before his petty squabbles,
When great deeds once were done and giants walked the land,
The mighty of the heavens walked freely where they might,
And the heavens and the earth resounded with their fights.
But power is not always strength nor are the strong the victors,
For strength can never overcome the wisdom of the clever.

A hero once of no reknown, a man of name unknown,
did seek to win a might prize of treasures yet unseen.
He girded up himself to go and no one cheered his way,
he travelled out against the cold and journeyed through the day.
And no one wondered why he did and no one saw his path,
alone as none had been before he faced the winter's storms.
He was a man with youthful face yet laughter he knew not,
there was a kindness in his ways and depth to all he thought.
As he walked out along a trail he heard the erie howl
of wolves as they track down their prey and he went to look about.

A cottage neat was in the woods, nearby a forge it stood,
and hungry wolves were all about the cottage in the wood.
And by the forge a man lay dead, his body torn and burned,
for when the wolves they had attacked upon his forge he fell.
The grizzly scene struck terror in the heart of the young man,
but then he heard a child call to her father as she ran.
Without a thought of self he went quick down from where he stood,
and grabbed a sword from out the forge and ran to aid the child.
The blade it burned deep into his hand but he dare not let it go,
and with the burning blade he fought and he dispatched the foe.
Then taking up the frightened child he took her to her home,
and first he tended to her fears before he did his hands.

The sword which came out of the forge and cooled in the fight
he kept there at his side as he sat waiting out the night.
And when the morning light it came a woman's wails he heard,
and stepping out he saw her kneel there at the dead man's side.
She was the mother of the child returning back from town,
to find the horror of the sight, her world had been torn down.
The hero stayed with her a while and helped her with the child,
and in return she gave the sword with which he'd saved the girl.

And on he went to seek that prize he knew to be so grand,
not realizing all the while he held it in his hand.
Alone once more and still unknown the hero walked the road,
his every action noble and his every thought was good.
And many times he used the blade to fight for what was right,
and never was a finer blade e'er seen in human sight.
One day he stopped a while to drink at an inn along the way,
and a woman saw his still scarred hand and asked if she might sit.
She said she had a tale to tell of a man who had been brave,
and who had found her as a child and who her life did save.
She said she knew that man by sight for his hands were deeply scarred,
by the burning blade which he had used to protect her from the wolves.
Kind sir, she said, why do you search for the thing already found?
You have the Burning Blade of Truth, the treasure most renowned.
My mother often speaks of you in words of glowing praise,
and it would be an honor if you came and lived with us.
At last he knew that she was right and that his search was over,
and so he came to settle down and married the girl's mother.

The Toves came by again last night
To rant and rave at me
But what they asked they had no right
As any fool could see

To rant and rave at me
Its pointless as I could not say
As any fool could see
And if I could I wouldn't anyway

Its pointless as I could not say
I do not talk with Toves
And if I could I wouldn't anyway
As everybody knows

I do not talk with Toves
They always treat me with contempt  
As everybody knows
They just came barging in my tent  

Demanding that I tell them things
But what they asked they had no right
Lording around as if they're kings
The Toves came by again last night

A swan flew across the moon
The image in my mind remains
It touched my heart and made me swoon
I do not know the reason why
But if the swan had not been free
I would not have seen it fly

I heard the flowers whisper
as sometimes they tend to do,
And I bent my ear to hear them
Perhaps to learn a thing or two
I listened quite intently
Past the sounds of morning dew
But the flowers said,
  “We do not speak
  to the likes of you!”
A buttercup then deigned to add,
  “Come back when you are young,
  and then perhaps we might just talk
  and we can have some fun.”

“But how,” asked I, “can I be younger
then I am right now?”
The buttercup in silence stood
and wouldn't tell me how.

So when you're young,
please realize the possibilities
And maybe then a time will come
for chances such as these
And if by chance you hear a flower
whispering nearby
be sure to stop and take the time
to politely just say “Hi!”

In fleeting moments we discover happiness
Only to have the moments fade
Like white clouds that hang in the sky
Until the winds come and they are gone.
Walking down the street I see
The beauty of flowers blooming in the fall
Chrysanthemums in a yard as I walk by
I stop to see them,
But their fragrance is bitter
Best seen from a distance
Is this the way of life?
Time comes and time goes
We see the spring, the summer
Autumn and winter
and each in their turn
Gives us things from which we build life
But we do not own the seasons
The sun rises high and shines upon the world
And then it sets and the moon takes it's place
and each reveal things to us
But we can not stop them or even make them pause
The years are water - we cannot hold them in our hands
Should we mourn for what we do not have
For things, not lost, for they were never ours?
Or should we simply ride the river
Enjoy the passing scene
Accept what gifts we are given and live our alloted time?

Unseen and yet
the phoenix rises
over head from ashes now grown cold.

Unheard and yet
the crystal fountain rushes
with jade and emeralds,
their essence sounding delicately like
a bell of golden light that rings
with laughing sounds.

Unfelt and yet
the darkness of the night
blows bottomless through the room,
a tangible presence
like the chanting prayers of monks
long since gone from this world.

Unsmelt and yet
the perfume of the flowers
we once thought of
exhale a breath
of yellow dust
that makes us weep.

Untasted and yet
the sleepless moments
we cannot run from
linger like a bitter wine
who's taste will not quite
wash away.

And here for just a second
we almost sense these things
and a shiver passes over us
and we do not know why.

The air hangs heavy with incense smell,
The mist has turned to fog and
the world melts away.

The seasons have drunk up all my tears,
Though others do not see
I am frail – and not what they think.

The Monkey's Moon is rising,
Another year is passing,
And this day is endless -
But I smile when they ask me
Some half heard question.

They believe I am a rock
But I am the petals of a flower.

Like drunken wildfire
splashed about the walls
some crude beast that lumbers
recklessly through the camp
the years leave their mark
and there is little I can do
The one hope that we might have
as age thunders towards us
and the ghosts pile up
like so much cord wood
is that we might not sing the songs of our lives
alone.

There is a silence that muffles sound
  or is that just the wine
I tuned my guitar but
  it still sounds odd to my ear
The strings are hard and cold to my touch
  and I wonder how they can sound so warm when played
Giving myself over to the falling darkness
I sit with only a candle lit,
  a single candle on a cold evening
  too early in spring to be warm
and I let the evening wash over me
like an icy stream in a rocky mountain pass.

I am lost but it does not frighten me
the path is hidden and perhaps forgotten
but I am not sure I want to find it again.
Instead I let my fingers touch the strings and
listen to the tentative notes
as I become empty and quiet
adrift and without fear.

Beneath the waning moon the forest lies
Illuminated oddly in stripes and patches
A brook babbles into darkness and is seen no more.

Above me the branches arch as if to form a thatched roof
and through it shine the stars like a dusting of fairy lights
While beside me a path of flowers leads the way
to places unreal.

I raise my mournful flute to my lips and it sings
of long gone pasts now only half remembered
The somber notes are bitter-sweet
and they carry me away.

In every life there comes a moment
Poised between what was and what may be -
A pause in which our lives draw to a silence profound
As everything freezes
And there, on a pinnacle waiting
We cannot tell if our world
Is about to come apart and fall
Into that dark oblivion of sleepless night
Or if it is drawing together
To take anew some form
As of yet unseen.

The past is gone and beyond our reach
The future is unknown and beyond our control
The present only do we have and yet
This too seems to lurch as if with a mind of its own
And we, helpless to effect it, must stand
Silent and breathless
As the gyre of desolation spins wildly
And the pieces of our lives are drawn
Into its vortex
And slowly swept away
Beyond our grasp.

We are left, forlorn and forsaken
And if that gyre should widen enough
Then we too might cease and know no more
Lost in the blackness between what we hoped
And what we found
As uncaring, the Universe looks upon us
As nothing more than a fragment
No longer needed for some greater purpose
And now discarded, our part played out.

And if perchance there had been some moment
When a better choice we might have made
That moment is lost and we must hope
If even hope we still might have
That some benevolent hand might yet,
Seeing our plight, ****** us up
And save us from this final fate
Lest this spirit end its journey
Making way for the next to begin.