Procrastination
the greatest motivator,
eventually.

Why is it that petals fall from the rose,
Leaving only thorns upon the stem?
And why do lilies bend low to the ground?
It's so out of character for them

Well, roses know when love has deceived,
The petals they let fall are their tears;
Strangely, flowers can sense love's fickle ways,
In their own way, they vent mortal fears

And when lilies are seen bending their heads,
You can be sure they're in deep despair;
Love has once again shattered someone's heart,
Setting dreams adrift on sullied air

But Love will not be held accountable,
A free spirit -- thus it must remain,
Bringing unbelievable happiness,
Or rendering unbearable pain

And so I just glue the petals back on,
(The rose thinks my tears are morning's dew);
While I run a wire through the lily's stem,
I lift its head, and say "This love is true"

O, I'm aware such folly has its price --
Pretense stains life in a somber hue;
But when Love dons a dark, deceitful robe,
Just what is a broken heart to do?

So I start each day with my hope renewed,
Yet, anticipating old sorrow;
Full well I know as long as this life lasts,
A new love will find me tomorrow

And my life goes on - it's a brand new day,
Another rose is starting to bloom,
As I wait for petals to fall -- and they will,
I'll plant more lilies -- just in case -- if there's room

Lab coat on
I stand in a cold morgue
Scalpel in one hand
My heart in the other.

Hands tremble
Making the first incision
Cutting through the sweet memories
And stripping it from the bitterness
you left behind

It lays open
Displayed on a silver tray
Tied down by your half truths
And compassionate lies
Held down by the “I love you”
And trapped by your “Don’t go”

A beaten heart
That no longer beats
No longer pumps love
But instead is filled with tears
And regrets

It has lost its color
A vibrant red
was turned into
a Coal-black
As dark as the bruises
You left behind

Yet
Flatlined
And without pulse
I still live
With nothing on my sleeve
And an empty hole
on my chest.

Blackbird sing, a horizon all your own,
A morning with no veil, dew fading as the
Sun, on *******, whisks it away to wonder
Of a home,
no rest, but hours to mourn;
The oak tree and the poplar waltz,
But not together, the reach of arms beg to love,
Toward each other, toward the sky, but prayers
Follow the breeze to the sea,
and drown
Blackbird dream, the day is rising,
the mystery of dawn replaced with horns and screams louder than your questions,
What you've seen from your branch
and felt on your floor can't follow you,
A time for each breath dies in each note,
Bearing the vision of your field,
but flying away to forget without
writing down the words.