I begin my walk
on the circled asphalt path
behind the old Lutheran church
founded in 1790
the crickets chirp
a defiant roar
as I descend upon their quiet space
clouds are dark and a bit threatening
are they spirits taking form above me?
mistral winds on a windless day
seem to gather and fuse into words
sentences
held for a moment...clear
then lost to fuzzy and distorted whispers
'They are here...'
'Isaac'
'Listen to me...I must ****'
'I have an angel'
'power'

before departing
I stop at a headstone
I'm not sure why
but I attempt
to pronounce the last name of this departed soul
3 times
on the 3rd try I am interrupted by a young boy
who corrects me with the proper pronunciation
I turn at the gate and advise the spirits
that I am leaving
a friendly 'okay' came back to me

my God
I have walked in the living room of the dead

Close your eyes

Your world, not extending
beyond the soft quilt under
your skin, unending


Soft ripples of cloth, and picturesque seams
Nothing here but
You, me, the sky, and soft dreams

I'll reach up and take the stars from the sky
If only to lay them at your feet
to place them in your hands
to bring light into those glazed eyes
or give a glow to a world so bland

and each one would be folded
into a beautiful origami castle
I, the lord, and you, the vassal
Or perhaps me as the king
and you as a queen, whichever
My gentle playmate.. which one is better?

I'm a majestic creature of the sky
You're an empty-faced child on a quilt
Each star shall be used as a stepping stone
so I might meet you in the place I built


Let us meet, as lovers, or
at least equals
on this starry floor

After years of aimless wanderings
Leaving behind the cities of midnight revels
And the fevered journey in metro rails,
I am back at the land of my people.

Wherever I went,
Under which ever roof I slept,
I had carried my land,
As a jewel in a casket
And ensured it rested safe
Ever under my pillow

As I moved with aliens
Unable to merge with their cultural mores,
I saw my land glimmer in darkness
Like a dew drop on a moon blanched leaf

When I sweated in the blistering sands
A patch of green landscape, like an oasis
Wafted me in a cool embrace
Then dreams poured in like star light
And I wandered in the meadows of my youthful love
My heart struggling to forget old longings
And memories lashing upon me like tidal waves

Pursued by that inalienable shadow
Suddenly being born in flesh and blood
I hastened to the streets of my youth
With hopes galore and plans vivid

But alas! There is none to recognize me
Oh! I am a stranger here
An unwelcome stranger among total strangers
Now I wonder which is truly my land?
The one left behind or the one just landed in?

Oscillating between these two worlds,
My fractured identity looms large
With worms of memories wriggling in my flesh
And a myth suddenly dying in my brain

It's a wide open art,
from the start.
Rules are for schools.
Dont fret em,
forget em.
So
Relax with a syntax,
clown around,
with a pronoun.
Squeeze the ******,
of a dangling participle.

Free flying like geese,
creative words release,
make it up if you please.
Example--the plural of mice is meese.

Flowery language isn't the exclusive domain of the professional writer, it's for everyone!
To continue then,
about the writers pen.
No write or wrong,
nothings too short or long.
Mangled,
bungled,
butchered,
bumbled, don't matter.
We don't need a librarian to admire what we have done.

Words aren't hard,
fling them unbarred.
It's not arithmetic,
or teaching a cat a trick.
Crunch them uniting,
mix them combining.
Fling them,
meld them,
Verb them,
sell them.
We don't need a New York Times best seller to enjoy the art of writing.

Uncrate it,
create it.
Use it,
and abuse it.
Don't bar us
from a thesaurus
Or a dictionary.
The spiel
is to write real
tell the tale
seal the deal.
WORD HATERS live in the town called Fictionary.

If I could paint I would paint you
if I were a musician
I’d write you a symphony
But there’s no art piece even the greatest of artists could devise that would come close in emulating my love for you

I love you so
My muse but more than temporary
My forever indefinitely
My love eternally

You are my sunshine that seeps through the clouds after rain.
You are my Poppy flower that continues to bloom through all the pain.
And you’re my hot evening shower after a long day.

Watch me as I fall
without you.
I've spent years
perfecting this dark energy;
you are not the first
to leave me longing.
Watch closely.
I can build a statue
from ashes,
inhabit order
surrounded
by chaos.
Watch as I consume,
without myself,
myself.
I can fall,
but I cannot fail.
Watch.
You only scratched
the surface
of who I was
and am,
but you let loose this
agony -
my flood,
my fuel.

Lying embedded in velvet gloom and night,
You and I are gazing up the northern hemisphere.
Within the sea of darkness is the stars' stained light.

Hidden inside the fabric of interstellar space,
Might be a kind of universal truth
That answers all the questions of human race.

Sensing the pull of the universe
I feel like we're lost between the infinite vastness
That none of us could ever dream to traverse.

Suddenly you get up on your knees -
Head in the sky and feet on the ground.
“Perhaps the stars only made us feel lost,
because we both wanted to be found.”