There's a place in my heart where an apple tree grows.
On warm Sunday afternoons my soul rests beneath it's unwavering shade,
And there amongst the long sweet grass my fears and sorrows all just seem to fade.
How it got there, what it's for, no one really knows.
Strangely still, the ground around it strangely, somehow glows.
But it's bulky bossom and entangled arms keep my worries abade.
And when I reach to pick an apple from it's gentle depths I simply make a trade.
One bite into the golden globe and one bad memory just goes...

It's stands solemn and contright beside the sands of time,
And from there the surreal sea of dreams just stretches on and on,
Merging with the sky as it disappears beyond.

On the branches of my hope there hangs a tickering chime.
And when it sings it's time to go, it's time to say anon.
There's a place in my heart where and apple tree grows of which I'm pretty fond.

The cinder longs burn after flame expires
A dim reminder of long past fires
As nostalgic warmth of embers glows
The biting chill of winter slows
A smile as cinders begins to fade
Knowing the cold you must abade
Seasons change and flames do flicker
Times shall pass with skin made thicker

The cynical mind does not enjoy,
the simple purity of a beating heart,
A truest pleasure sweet and coy,
Which gives life when it imparts,
The jaded mind does not know,
The light of luck's kiss,
Dreaming, rocking, to and fro,
Sweltering engorged on bliss.

Her eyes burn with a fire that lit my days

She moved with a grace that did not abade

When her lips touched mine my breath would fade

Lost in my love for her I would remain

But alas she was a spirit not to be tamed.

I danced with worlds, mid clouds of dreams
When I was young and you were sage
Imagination weaved in streams
Painted paeans for freedom's age
Cross jungles, waterfalls of joy
We skipped with wanton, childish glee
Dreaming, rocking to a fro
Loving seismically
Till the man shot me

My mortal carapace decayed
Became nature again
Back in the soul's truest abade
Where minds are one and zen
And how did you go on and cope
Me dear, gone from your den
Offensive they rank rude intrude
Upon the Peace we found my friend
Because the man shot me

I can't explain well but in time
My energy gestate
Became presence celestial
All light and love, no weight
The center of my heart lived on
In a bonny babe anew
Born in 1991
When Berlin's freedom grew
No shots can stop me

She a lover drift in dream
A playmate of cherubs
Who drift in streams upon a beam
Aura arrests and grabs
Year to year she grew afraid
Doth yet perceive the cynic's trade
And will for Love insatiate
No shot stopped her living like me

She grew a heart comely and plump
Like the marrow Thoreau craved
As through the wilds of life she tramps
Not wont to behave
Bears Love aloft, cherubic lamp
Through her the passion rave
Hearts for heroes; guns for knaves

"Rapture" is what we feel -
The Bliss - the sheer cascade -
Love - eclipse - the sorrow -
Lo - the soul's abade -
"Rapture" is all we hear -
The Beatitude - the Hymn -
Wherein Passion's kingdom -
Lo - a dwelling solemn -
"Rapture" is all we know -
Instinct - surpass - Reason -
Her art suffice to save the soul -
From Devil's liaison.

Why is thou, my Muse, bereft of care,
For all that my Heart doth hold in esteem?
To take a risk, perchance, to dare,
I divulged the diamond of my dream,
Of kin hearts united by love's native genius,
That knows not church or nation,
To labour for her treasure is a task grievous;
For she is meant to give with no ration.
Yet thou dost insist on our being cleft,
A fuel to incessant infatuation,
I give my Heart till there's nothing left,
In hope of effecting persuasion.
    But to thee no plea can e'er be made,
    Thou dost dwell in the jaded cynic's abade.

Upon her wings like Mockingbird,
Swinging sweetly to beleaguered babes,
Admits us to her Heart's herd,
Lo - the soul's sweetest abade,
A beatitude that makes me calm,
Bring joy and happiness,
Enveloping me in care to protect from fear, of harm,
A creature of most affecting tenderness,
To us, you will be always near,
Your light shrouds the sun and moon,
Your memory stokes not little tear,
But is a thought on which all heart's can swoon,
   Angel of Peace, thy heart is true,
   Proof of God's art in the creation of You.

Upon a wizened ancient lyre                                                                                 Harps music of irrepressible allure                                                                            Suffice to set the soul on fire                                                                                  With supreme reflection pure                                                                                Troubador of the city floor                                                                                        Irresistible tune to cherish and adore                                                                          Fluent in melodies of magor and minor                                                                  No magic no fires of heaven could outshine her                                                        Prophets clamor to hear her and wine her                                                                   She like thee a mystery                                                                                                      Riffs and riddles on the gems of history                                                                      myth and magic her mind's geography                                                                       love's philosophy her theosophy                                                                                 her psalms beget by ear wise trophy                                                                     which ne'er decay or wilt or atrophy                                                                        beget thy sweet and sonorous bars                                                                             WHICH DREAMS OF HEAVEN AND SINGS TO THE STARS                                         in harmony with the cosmic serenade                                                                          in which the soul's truest abade                                                                                    balladeer a renegade who told the truth because it paid                                               to not put one's soul up for trade                                                                                      a passion in love's furnace made                                                                                oh to listen in the dappled shade                                                                                   my mind waltzes with the lilt                                                                                         you have replete lilt to the hilt                                                                                    song stirs flowers sunk in silt                                                                                       they sway and sigh and soar and wilt                                                                          sensuous and attuned to the song                                                                                  that doth ring around the earth up and along                                                              raising the sound of the world in the throng                                                                  for half the world away is tianneman square or hong kong

I pledge to thee, my rainbow rose
An unrelenting love that grows
Inside our hearts, connected twins
Blessed by golden seraphim

Though art a divinity, that towers over rain
You start the world over again
Bereft of the evil schemes of Kings
Who shoot the bird and clip its wings

Suppress its songs and crush its abade
Actions in which hell is made
Hell's hills trees, can't stand the stench
As under them we shiver, blench

But force of love, irrepressible
Hate, by contrast, infintessimal
Triumphant, the light of love apace
We will redeem the human race

She has been one with a brighter day,
consoled by light’s reprieve.
With  hands clasped she has knelt to pray,
for this her sweet relief.

She has been one with a rising sun,
basked in golden rays.
She has sang a simple song of love,
and danced in fields of grace.

She has been one with a gentle breeze,
enhancing the sails cascade.
She has drifted in a harbor’s peace,
where often she abade.

She has been one with a bbrighter day,
darkness yet unseen.
She has been naive to life’s disdain,
she has been what she will bee.