Walking Along The Vine
So many walk along the skinny vines
scared to look down among the rolling seas of want
are the lives of so many that created their dreams
that was buried inside this body of mine..*

with trepidation on this tightwire act
no safety net lies below
and where the heart goes the body follows
trusting kindred souls to catch us when we fall

We have this shelter above our heads
from auto pilot to cruise control we speed along
being stuck in the rat race from nine to five
exchanging time for money of a life that is dead...

surrounded by a violently swirling
and turbulent , tempestuous world
trying to find peace and dignity
in a passionless and brutal place
we have only ourselves to run this race

In all moments of silence come the breaking news
I let you see the authentic me, the release of my destiny
lifting me to higher vibration, is my poetic contemplation
In this very moment ,We are free....

free to be, or not to be
but freedom is relative
as all at this event horizon can plainly see
waiting to be drawn into the singularity
where all is one and one is we

The sweetness of your smile, your look of love covers me
it makes me walk a mile, and the more time we spend talking
the more I start to feel your warmth, our intimate moments
last all night, as I sleepwalk through your dreams....

as Morpheus guides us along that ethereal plane
drawn toward what we do not fathom
a glittering paradise, resplendent with the dew of tomorrow
journey, do we, hand in hand to the edge of then
and open to possibility

Deborah and Wolf

Growing up is making me anxious because
I'm not ready to be an adult when
I still fear like a child with my flashlight
Under the covers

At what age does my blanket in a dark room
No longer protect me from the
Monsters I cannot see?

Every week a different lover,
A change of clothes and back under the covers,
“****”
“*****”
All these names and more,
Hurled, like knives, at my back throughout the town,
All because I refuse to be tied down.

I
Brilliant red encased in morning dew
Effulgent in the dull bayou
All is silent in the tranquil air
So different from the hellish nightmare
Of the hussle and bussle of city life
Out here among the wildlife
A single spark of beauty
Absolutely beyond reality
The first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon
Breathless glamour, set to enliven
Yes, it is without question
The rose is the lucky one
II
The peace is but yet a guise
As thunder clouds form in the skies
For under those verdant covers
Lies several sneaky lovers
Oh what deceiving beauty to
Fool the mind in this dreary venue
For nothing is ever as it seems
Except, of course, in dreams
It draws in love mercilessly
So people simply say blankly
Yes, it is without question
The rose is the lucky one
III**
Rain drops glimmer on the leaves
As the sun is pulled down beyond the trees
The stars come out
And not a noise can be heard throughout
Will the rose ever shine as bright
As they who twinkle throughout the night
Its marvelous beauty is diminished
As the day is finished
The darkness whispers good night, a silent farewell
Silence ringing much like a bell
Upon the night falling,
Without a single warning,
The rose falls into an endless slumber
With the rise of the sun, it will no longer
Grow stronger
Death takes yet another toll
And as I go for my evening stroll
In my mind, there is but a lone question:
Is the rose the lucky one?

Here’s to the poets;
Here’s to the lives
That started and ended
In short sentences,
Hiding behind the words and the commas,
In between the lines
There is a space;
There is a space for poets
To dream and dissect dreams,to
Examine the heights of their rationale
And the depth of their emotions,
Like teleporting from the tops of Adonis
To the bottom of dark alleys in Hamra.
Here’s to the artists,
Here’s to the works of art
Forgotten on sharp corners
Between the margins in a copybook
And light emerging from their classroom windows;
Here’s to the scribbles
That created life, when living
Seemed impossible.
Here’s to the outcasts,
Here’s to the girls
Who read comics
About super heroes
Hiding behind
Kashmir scarfs and ripped jeans,
Reading 6 words at a time
Because the area of a flashlight
Covers just enough to get her wondering,
To get her to forget how
Her tight jeans left scars on her untouched thighs,
And how her feet were painted red
Before and after
She had to wear twin towers to walk in.
Here’s to the jokers,
Here’s to the unappreciated laughter
To whatever happens after
Here’s to the grand stages you formed
Out of two desks put together
And a pencil/eraser microphone;
Here’s to us,
To our shattered talents and lost souls
Here’s to our oppressed minds
And distorted comprehension of ourselves
Here’s to us
And who ever falls in love with us.

The Roses he bought me were as red as her hair,
and brought just the same despair.
The Roses he bought me were as soft as her lips,
The petals contained the curve of her hips.
The Roses he bought me smelled of her perfume,
like the covers in my bedroom.
The Roses he bought me pricked my fingers,

As she my heart, but she still lingers.

anxiety doesn't suddenly appear
it's there because of others
and when we look drear
we try to drag our covers
up and up
hiding our tired faces
because we don't want to cleanup
and show others traces
of our weaknesses

When I, led sleepless through uneasy dark
sigh lonely for thee.
When moon rides high its wide curved arc
and cold falls crisp on flower and tree.
When sun bids farewell to skyline's blue
and a mist covers first starlight with dew
how I sigh for thee.

When I, dreaming walk lone ocean waves
again sigh for thee.
When wind rides high the sea's briny lace
and a moon turns pale its filters on me.
When Neptune roams his wild-water hall
and foaming white horses rise only to fall
how I sigh for thee.

When I, wakened bone-tired before dawn
sigh weary for thee.
When sun rides high as day becomes worn
and noon lies basking over calmed sea.
When distance between us taxes this heart
and needed commitment keeps love apart
how I sigh for thee.

I crouch under the covers
Reluctant to come into the harsh light
The cat's tongue rasps on my hand
The jarring alarm chants and honks his tune

I stumble and stub my toe
Leftover wrapping paper cracks under me
Stale smells sulk and bite the air
Cookie crumbs left from last night's massacre

I grit my teeth when the bell clangs
Cold snaps at my nose when the door opens
Too many people enter
I really hate the day after Christmas

You're standing on the front porch with your arms wrapped around yourself and you stare up at a spider weaving a web of every memory that ever left a hand print on the walls of your home. It all comes rushing back.
Do you remember the night after the fair when we sat quietly on the porch swing? "I believe when you tell me you love me," I whispered for the first time. I will never forget the way you grabbed my face and kissed me, because that was the first and last time I believed that it was possible for another human being to hold my demons safely.
Do you remember the time we sat on the bench in front of your house and we both stared blankly off the porch in hopes that my nervous shaky hands wouldn't upset your demons any longer and my tears wouldn't spill into your lap along with every other unsure promise you ever made me. Or have you tried to forget that as easily as you forgot how badly it bothered me when you wouldn't look into my eyes.
What about the time I first realized you were using me? It was summer then, and you begged me to tell you why I wouldn't leave that ******* swing. I did math problems in my head as you begged me to come back inside; back inside to that bed full of anxiety and I swear our smell was embedded in every ******* fiber of your sheets.
Do you remember the time I had given my innocence to you? Because I do; I remember how horribly planned and spontaneous it was, but after you had touched my face so softly and told me you loved me. You told me every time after that, too, and I think that's where we confused lust and love. But remember the couch in your living room, where we had laid ever so closely after our innocence had been taken. I had never felt so close to you, and I would do anything to have that safety back.
Close your eyes and picture us back on the couch in your living room. Feel every gentle touch and every "I love you" tangled between blankets that we used to keep each other warm when our bodies were cold and our hearts were even colder. Try to imagine the warmth we brought to each other between safety nets of our twisted legs and kisses that seemed to travel miles on our skin.
I try to forget the time I was an hour away for a whole week. It was our first time spending any time apart, and I had begged you to come to my rescue. You did, and I was thrilled to see you again, but we spent the majority of the time touching each other rather than talking and I guess I wish it had been reversed, because I hadn't heard your voice in days and my heart envied the attention you gave the rest of my body with your hands rather than your voice. I guess I just wished for more, and maybe you couldn't offer much more in that living room. I can't lay on that couch without imagining your weight upon me and I realize that maybe I should have given that couch more credit for keeping all our secrets locked inside it.
I can't help but remember the time you danced with my demons in my kitchen while telling me this is how things were supposed to be. A ghost in the form of steam raised from our cups as we spoke of our memories and watched each other laugh the same way we watched our goose bumps raise every time you said my name
My favorite memory of us was the first time you taught me how to Waltz in the middle of your kitchen. I was never really good, but you never stopped teaching me and your family became an audience of smiles and appreciation that was reflected within your own eyes.
but your eyes soon became puddles of tears when we grew further apart and our waltz became more of a sway between closeness and distance and the cold time floor in your kitchen were no longer covered in our footprints
Do you remember the time we had to go to a wedding, and I called you just an hour before because my hair wouldn't cooperate? You drove here as fast as you could in a fit of confusion and I still find it remarkable that you could fix all my problems, (including my hair of course), with just a smile and your creative hands. That bathroom had seen my insecurities, but you fixed them in just a few minutes. I wish it hadn't rained that day, because I felt beautiful for once, thanks to you.
your hands carefully crafted a smile on my face countless times. I can still see us laughing with our heads thrown back as we washed paint off of our legs which stained our hands more than the memory of your smile when I touched you ever would be engrained in my mind
The bathroom rug knew me well, because my tears stained it's cotton the day you told me you never loved me. Was it only days before that you had followed me into the shower? I wish you hadn't; I scrubbed the smell of rubber from my skin but soon enough we were back to touching. How foolish of us to think that there was nothing more to us than the feel of another's skin, because that bathroom rug knew far better then you ever will, just how much I loved you.
you undressed my body the same way you undressed my demons and stripped my heart of any walls I had ever put up to lock you out. I wonder if you still remember the way the hot water felt running down our skin or rather the way your lips felt like acid kissing my body one last time. I don't think you saw my tears through the water but my shaking body firmly pressed against yours was enough. Silent whispers of "this is all we'll ever be" came from the shower walls and I knew it was true
You left the bathroom. You had taken all you could and we moved into the yard. I remember the first time we were there; the wedding. Do you remember the way you squeezed my hand and looked at me as they said their vows? We talked so much about our future, and it was as if it was being displayed right before us.
I miss the time we helped your grandparents pick the garden and somehow ended up throwing berries at each other. It was such a waste, but we ended up playing tag and eventually you stopped me and kissed me in a way I don't think you ever had. There was not a cloud in the sky and there wasn't a cloud in your eye, and I think that was the first time I had seen you truly happy with me. I miss that yard and the childish comfort it brought.
It didn't take long for the rain clouds to roll in trapping us inside. It's funny how I've tried to forget this day over and over again but it keeps creeping back into my mind. I think that day in the office is when it hit me; or rather, you hit me. I was used to kisses on the cheek,  but not like this. Not with your knuckles. No force of impact could have possibly compared to the way it felt when you told me it was a lie all this time
I have never felt so content as the time I did when we laid under covers in your room and you fell asleep beside me. I watched your chest rise and fall and wondered to myself how something so beautiful could turn into someone I feared most
I remember the time I thought you'd be angry with my unwilling to let our unsacred touch happen another morning, but you held me close and said "It's okay, cuddling is far better." I had never felt so safe in your arms and the feel of you breathing was enough to regulate mine. I have never met another person who breathed at the same rate as me, and that saved me more times than I'm sure you could count.
But my breathing became far too unsteady for you to ever keep up with and my affectionate gestures became as boring as your excuses for why we needed to do more.
I guess our affection had run out, because four months of mixing up lust and love was getting old and eventually I had left. I swear everything became cold at that point; your once welcoming eyes, your words, the ground. I remember your comforting whispers in your bed, but I also remember your rough grasps and I guess we could never have both. I remember you, but do you remember me?

She sits all alone in an empty room
And silently watches it rain
She draws with her finger, a bride and groom
In her breath that's on the pane

Only twelve years old, and already grown
The chemo caused her to age
She'll never grow up and live on her own
She feels like she's trapped in a cage

She searches the window for locks of gold
Her reflection announces her shame
Her hair is all gone, she starts to look old
The cancer alone is the blame

Her breath once more, covers the glass
As a tear escapes to her cheek
She draws with her finger a stone in the grass
Her body keeps growing so weak

With one last breath she closes her eyes
And listens once more to the rain
She doesn't exhale, the little girl dies
Overcome by her horrible pain

A groom stands alone, frozen in glass
His bride was laid in the ground
Beside him stands a stone in the grass
Where the bride on the window is found

.

I was going to write a poem
but I just ran out of ink
I had the stanzas lined up nice,
I know I did, I think

It said how much I loved her,
and that she had gone away
Rhymes about my broken heart,
how it was here to stay

One verse filled with crying,
those endless falling tears
While hiding neath the covers
afraid to face my fears

Another said I miss her,
my days had all turned gray
There was no sun, there was no moon,
just sadness on display

I mentioned how I need her,
life will never be the same
Saying I was sorry,
that I knew I was to blame

My entire world is empty
and I couldn’t take much more
She’d always be my every thing,
the one I would adore

I really hoped to write it,
though I know she’d never see
These feelings that I’d write about
so deep inside of me

So now I’ll just forget it,
nothing else to do, I think
Except to sit here with my pen
that’s just run out of ink

The books whisper,
Painting pictures in empty air.
Spinning a spell around the heart,
Sticky as a spider's web.

Preserved like fresh flowers,
Memories cling to the printed page.
Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells,
Left between the covers.

A thousand unknown stories,
Strange and familiar,
Terrible and beautiful,
Filling the silence with words.

Comforters,
Companions in loneliness,
Keepers of secrets,
Speakers of truth,

Words are immortal.