This life ... the flock which inhabits its alleged happiness ...

happiness which leans heavy upon ****** satisfaction....

or hopes that fantasies of the flesh discover thee....

I implore all...

look beyond....

look beyond the lust ...

putrid lust and betrayal....

Look to what's pure ....

a newborn ...its breach..

Yearn for what's whole...

not tattered and used ....

Your life was not given ....

to wander.....confused.

Fairy tale stories are what most look for.....

when what's right in front ............is IT....... and much more!

My scars are a scrapbook
which tell many stories.
Some scream great times
while some whisper loneliness
some just are there, there in calm silence.
These scars are my friends,
unlike most people in my life.
They will always be with me,
they will never leave.
These scars are my secrets,
hidden and quiet.
Disguised and so sacred,
I will never tell a soul.
These scars are my scrapbook.
These scars are my friends.  
These scars are my secrets.
These scars.....
These scars are who I am.

I've seen a million faces
I've known the honesty or deceit that lied behind their eyes
The wolves that masquerade as sheep
A smile from a foe
Tears from a clown
The blue sky that yields rain
A storm cloud that brings a rainbow
The eagle that soars in incredible flight
The snake that lurks and slithers
Which one are you
One of the million faces
I think I know

I see my future
as a reflection in the waters,
the wind ripples the calm
distorts, as the image falters.
I try to recapture of which there once was,
the wind is too great,  
it brings with it storm clouds
my distorted image is now bait.
Arrival of torrential rains
now further hinders my quest,
what preys from the depths
there's pain I can't see, my soul is unrest.  
Trapped in between
trapped like a wind chime playing to a cross breeze ,
would it now be better
to allow my thoughts to freeze.

May I swing on your swings,
slide down on your slide
build castles in your sandbox
with your shovel and pail.
Is your playground for all
or just room for you,
if I had my own
included is you.
Share with me your fun,
share with me your fears
I'll share with you my life
I'll share with you my tears.

A pine tarred bat,  
that greets a frayed and soiled baseball.
Grass stained shortstop,
he leaps to pilfer your grin.
Anticipation from a crowd,
chants of lets go home team,
that echo through the sultry summer eve.
Bottom of the ninth, two outs and one run down,
it's now up to you to battle...........
to win.