Be patient.
     His heart is guarded and he has built walls around himself to keep others out. He deflects with humor and light words, he deflects by always being “okay”, he deflects by comically dunking on you—but one day his dams will break and his walls will crumble. You need to be patient for the day that this will happen. You need to be patient for the day that he will truly let you in, let you peek at his raw emotions, let you marvel at his strengths and weaknesses. Maybe it will not happen all at once, maybe it will happen as slowly as a river carves a canyon out of rock. You must be patient with him.

Be kind.
     He needs kindness like we all need air to breathe. He might not always think so, but he needs kind words, encouraging messages, thoughtful gestures. He needs kindness, the world hasn’t shown him enough of it.

Be compassionate.
     He pretends he doesn’t need these kind, gentle touches and kind, gentle words but he does. He is a desert parched for soft rainfall—give it to him. Be compassionate when he opens up about his mental health, his deepest fears, his family, and those who he loves. He is a man who loves deeply, and you must love deeply too. He is a man who cares deeply, and you must care deeply too.

Be understanding.
     He carries a lot of pain and a lot of tragedy—he has been dealt bad hand after bad hand. But he is trying. He is growing. He is making progress. Be understanding of his needs and his journey, be understanding of him.

Be resilient.
     He will try to shut down his feelings and shut out the world—it’s his tried and true way of survival. Don’t leave him just because he needs to do a hard reset on his emotions. Don’t leave him just because he seems like he’s okay. Don’t leave him just because he’s quiet when it rains. Don’t leave him just because he tries to push you away in his silence. Be resilient and never ending in your reassurance of him. Remind him quietly, or loudly, that he is yours and you’re not leaving.

Be honest.
     You must continually be honest because he’s been lied to, too many times. You must be honest and forceful whenever he refuses to accept compliments, because his truth about himself is poisoned by the pain he’s carried around in his lifetime. You must be honest with what you’re feeling, he just wants to help you and he cannot read your mind. You must be honest in letting him in. You must trust him and be honest in return.

Be yourself.
     He has no tolerance for fake smiles, fake feelings, or fake people. He has no need or want for mistruths, half-spun lies, or false claims. He needs authenticity. He needs someone who is genuine. He needs someone who said what they said and did what they did...maybe someone with the ability to know if they were wrong but not lie about their missteps. He needs someone who will show him all of their highs and lows, someone who will be unafraid of who they are, someone who will proudly be who they are instead of who they think he wants.

Be strong.
     He has been strong for everyone else for far too long. He needs someone to lean on, someone to support his aching arms, someone strong enough to share the weight he carries. He needs someone that will allow him to feel as deeply as he needs to, to be as weak as he needs to be. Be strong and be bold—for he is strong and bold, and needs the same to thrive.

Be hungry.
     He has a hunger for life, for laughter, for enjoyment, for smiling, for telling stories, for eating at his favorite Mexican places, for playing his favorite games. He has a bottomless hunger for affection, for great hamburgers, for passion, for art, for beautiful words, for learning new things, for dogs & cats, for white chocolate mochas, for jokes. You must be hungry enough to keep up with his appetite.

Be protective.
     He has been hurt too many times and he needs shelter from the world. He still cares so readily, so openly, and still gets hurt time and time again. Be protective of his sweetness, his softness, of his gentle moments. Be protective of his weaknesses, his shortcomings, of his darkest moments. Keep them safe, hold them close to you and protect them. Keep him safe, hold him close to you and protect him.

Be ready. Of course be prepared, but also:
   Be ready to laugh. He is the funniest man I know. He uses humor to show those around him that he cares. He uses humor to show those around him that he’s okay. He wields humor like a knight wields a sword to protect himself and others. Be ready to laugh, but be ready to see through his humor.      
     Be ready to adventure. He needs adventure. He needs little adventures throughout the days and months in trying new things and going new places. He needs big adventures to draw him out of his comfort zone, to take him to new cuisines and maybe new countries.
     Be ready to love. You will fall in love with him and his ocher eyes and calloused hands and strong shoulders. You need to be ready, because whether that love happens all at once like summer storm-clouds pour rain on cornfields or whether it grows slowly from a seedling to a honeysuckle vine twining through your heart and squeezing it, you will fall in love with him and you must be ready.
     Be ready to wake up early. He is a morning person and he wants someone to fix him/help him fix/help him pick breakfast. He is a morning person that wants to roll around in the sheets and play with your hair and skim his hand up and down your arm while you’re half awake. He is a morning person who wants to listen to music to start his day even though he almost never sings in the shower. He is a morning person by necessity who has come to love it by nature; try to get up and see sunrises with him, try to get up and share the breakfast table with him, try to get up and see him first thing in the morning with sleep in the corner of his eyes and a deep rumble in his chest.
     Be ready to listen. He has so many stories in his mind, in his eyes, and on his tongue that need to be told. From the stories of his day, the jokes of his coworkers, the songs he loves, the recipes he watches, the feelings he shares, the games he loves, right down to the things he doesn’t say aloud...he needs someone ready to listen.

Be steadfast.
     He needs commitment. He needs a white picket fence and a dog and two or three children. He needs someone to always hold his hand and stand by his side. He needs someone unafraid of his darkness. He needs someone steadfast, brave, loyal, etc. He needs someone to call his home. He needs someone who will look a storm in the eye, adjust her sails, and drop her anchors where she stands.

Be good.
     Actually, be better than good. Be better than great. He only deserves the best this world has to offer. Too often he is Atlas carrying his pain, others expectations, his past, his deep desires, and the world on his shoulders. He deserves the best to stand beside him and remind him he doesn’t have to be alone. He deserves the best of women to hold him through his lows and soar with him on his highs. Be yourself, but be the best version you can be. Because he deserves only the best this world can give him.

How this **** fable instructs
And mocks! Here's the parody of that moral mousetrap
Set in the proverbs stitched on samplers
Approving chased girls who get them to a tree
And put on bark's nun-black

Habit which deflects
All amorous arrows. For to sheathe the ****** shape
In a scabbard of wood baffles pursuers,
Whether goat-thighed or god-haloed. Ever since that first Daphne
Switched her incomparable back

For a bay-tree hide, respect's
Twined to her hard limbs like ivy: the puritan lip
Cries: 'Celebrate Syrinx whose demurs
Won her the frog-colored skin, pale pith and watery
Bed of a reed. Look:

Pine-needle armor protects
Pitys from Pan's assault! And though age drop
Their leafy crowns, their fame soars,
Eclipsing Eva, Cleo and Helen of Troy:
For which of those would speak

For a fashion that constricts
White bodies in a wooden girdle, root to top
Unfaced, unformed, the ******-flowers
Shrouded to suckle darkness? Only they
Who keep cool and holy make

A sanctum to attract
Green virgins, consecrating limb and lip
To chastity's service: like prophets, like preachers,
They descant on the serene and seraphic beauty
Of virgins for virginity's sake.'

Be certain some such pact's
Been struck to keep all glory in the grip
Of ugly spinsters and barren sirs
As you etch on the inner window of your eye
This ****** on her rack:

She, ripe and unplucked, 's
Lain splayed too long in the tortuous boughs: overripe
Now, dour-faced, her fingers
Stiff as twigs, her body woodenly
Askew, she'll ache and wake

Though doomsday bud. Neglect's
Given her lips that lemon-tasting droop:
Untongued, all beauty's bright juice sours.
Tree-twist will ape this gross anatomy
Till irony's bough break.

Would it Fease to make Connections secure,
The Outrageous Magic such Form does cast
Why not the Flu, whose Substance membered, cure
The Fly's own Happiness which would not last
With Furnace Embers burning your Hour's Spent
That Diamond Red of Sparkles unfade
Pride honours you well; Yet deflects on them
Would heal so if you can defer the *****
Intention, dear Victim of Absolute
How could one Comment subtract a Friend's Trust
When one lends a Hand for Innocent's Sake,
And Settle the Gnarbled Basket, we must.
When Integers apply, Truth should be Owned,
On Level Ground seen; But not to the Bone.

You gift me gold,
bringing back old habits,
remember though that
I never aimed for the stars
nor the way they shine,

I wear the gold around my neck,
with no sparkles in my eyes,
wishing it was silver instead,

you see;
gold bends and stretches,
but silver reflects and deflects,
it can handle reality,
even when things heat up.

Let it be known~
        Beyond the mere musings of tool bearing monkeys
               Lies an ineffable essence which deflects archaic labeling.
                      
This is the direct experience of non-discriminatory equalization
        Of conceived notions.
               All which may be considered good and true
                       Vaporizes in the blinding eye of this clarity.

Language is the battleground of ignorance and illiteracy
        Of what begs not be named~

Sitting staring at the swirls gently engraved upon the ceiling,
feeling faintly pessimistic that my hateful heart is healing.
Take apart the grace and art,
reveal my dated darkened past,
to harken back on wasted hours casting plaster for this mask.

It's cloudy colors cover up my crowded stream of conscience,
these teeming constants split between omitted and accomplished,
Scenes of trips and speeding fits
replaced by cleaner blips in truth
gleaning pictures of achievement, disconstruing youth uncouth.

Tall tales tinker with the crawling skin wherein my twin is toweled,
howling, hinting with appalling twitches, calling crying foul!
Small disguise in sprawling lies,
ensheathed, forestalling prying guests,
deflects the scrutinizing eyes of stressing restless wrecks.

My cranium co-ordinates claims stripped of contradiction,
wont to stitch the hidden patch on flaunted fabric fiction.
A daunting task, avaunt, at last,
concealed from haunting static force,
hiding flaws in paths of virtue drawn in divorced source and course.

Holding heaving out a haze, a cloud of extravented high,
sighs surrendered to the evening see my gracious ember die.
Praise condemns these sacred friends
with whom I stray from rendered paths,
preventing brash impatience from detaching this black mask.

there are rainbows and trenches
deep under ground; circles and
triangles and cacophonous sounds
there are stars and supernovas
and lovers at night, there's an
opaque barrier of which deflects
your misguided light. there are
satellites and sea turtles and
caterpillars in their cocoons, there
are butterflies and melodies sung
melancholy and out-of-tune
there are eyes and collarbones,
the arch of your back, too, there
are daffodils in your garden and
untied shoes. there are wishes
and wonders and a sea as grand
as the sky, there are gallivanting
fish whilst eagles dance mid-flight.
there's me there's you there's 7
billion others; there's a world
hellbent on destroying one another
there's war and destruction and
death uncomfortably close and
sometimes among it all, we forget
we're a rock mid-float. there's
life and there's breath and two
lips in sync, there's romance with
love letters written in ink; what's
important in life is living it
marvellously, take a second to
smile at the people you see,
a moment to give to the less
fortunate, generously. one life
to live and one heart to maintain,
a kindness to give and a world
to sustain. if we weren't so busy
breeding hate, we'd walk hand
in hand towards the horizon, and
create our own tumultuous fate.

Strength can be found all around us. No matter how high or how low.
There is always something there that reminds us of what we are truly capable of.
Always promise yourself to be the shield that deflects the storm.
Guarding your body, your mind.
Your loved ones.
Just as there are many different ways a picture could tell a thousand stories.
Just as there are many lessons within the reason for every season.
Let your joy be one of enthusiastic proportion.
As nothing can steal your joy.
Acknowledge yourself for all that you do as this life thing only comes around once

My love is more pure than a diamond,
even with a heart of dark, black coal.
Lately I've been expanding my mind and,
getting high on draining my soul.
I skip notes like a broken record,
and thus conversation is never relayed.
I make choices with how it will affect her,
we both know that's how the game is played.

But I know that I have the potential to destroy a life,
and that's why I decorate in caution tape.
Yes I know it reflects shining misery and strife,
but I've been strapped in so long; I can't escape.

I've got high hopes and low odds,
hearing only demons who act as gods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
even when I watch it bleed and peel.

My love is more pure than the deepest of seas,
even with affection that's coarse like sand.
Lately I've been biting and silencing my pleas,
and digging my nails straight into my hand.
I sink ships like a waiting ice field,
stopping it dead right in it's path,
and not even the greatest mirror shield,
could ever withstand my full wrath.

'Cause I know that I have the ability to stick around,
so I try to make sure that I am never really there.
My soul fears the day when it is chained and bound,
but the opportunities seem so very rare.

I've got high hopes and low odds,
rambling this nonsense with the nods.
I've got low morale but skin of steel,
it deflects the good and bad that I should feel.

Dastardly he dashed
To a damsel in distress
Unable to digest
The rippling
Recoiling
Through his chest

The resounding effects
Affecting his election
To shadow step
In the collection
Of her breaths

Tippy toeing
To the test
In his wonder
Toward her depth

As she deflects
His concepts
And attempts
To project
Some common sense
Into his denseness

Commencing
To undress him
Confessing
To her neglect
As limply she lets
Her guard down

Down that road
That road she knows so well

The O'wells she felt
So well to know

To know
He rides alone

And still

She fell for him
Fell before him
The only one
Who felt him

Befell him

And she put him
Before herself

As she swerved
Her life to his side
And subsided
Right beside him

Queen of the kingdom
Captured by his demons

She seen him seldom
But knew them well

Those hearts
She melts them

And loves them still

But he's alone and staring
From a window sill

Old and graying
Dreaming of fields

my statistical anomaly of a woman
dynamic and distinguishable
from the previous prospects that ever swarmed
and finessed their presence into mine
give me the gift of comfort and ease
so that I can finally trust again
the warmth, the fulfilling anxiety
that you're probably awake and consumed by the thought of me
invaluable I am,
except for when you pinch my cheeks and lecture me on how I need to work on loving myself
as much as you love me
as much as the wind loves the leaves
I'm so naturally drawn
to a woman so naturally defined
I fawn
from dusk til dawn
craving such organic eloquence,
in she who can give off certain grace and elegance
I seek it in her
who deflects the misogyny of a self proclaimed player
she who resonates soft moans and whispers cause when time doesn't exist, I'll still
kiss her

When my desires fail
when my wishes end in vain
I, a human, my soul feel pain
then, my heart is broken, I wail
My eyes are like perennial rivers
it doesn't matter the seasonal change
Flows continuously, as it has no range
I feel so lonely, in the world of tears

It's the feeling, where my mind topples
where my capillaries collapse
my limbs, my lips, my muscles
shiver in fear, vibrate in pain
A stone covers my vocal cord, my voice
Who can control my body organs, even I can't!
My sense organs are in a frozen state
My eyes flow still, without any evaporation

Life always deflects in different directions
My parents console me, relatives scold me
life is a trap from where we can't flee
cycle of life keeps rolling, inactivating our actions
OH! My Almighty, how terrible this pain is?
Who has the strength to hold my broken heart?
Who can give me the healing art?
Say me.....How can I escape from this?

to catch a drop of water
to change its chosen path
deflects where it was needed
altering how it lasts.

it will one day return
into the cycle it belongs
bringing with all the stories
that it has forgone.

it adjourns amongst its peers
sharing its life over the years
revealing the beauty and horror
of all our hopes and fears.

its seen the effort to maintain
just how things are
and also seen this effort
not getting very far.

its seen the disrespect
and lack of understanding
unwillingness to change
has killed us where we're standing.

it cannont change our choice
to do this to ourselves
it weeps of hope and fall tears
in attempts to break our spell.

it knows and sees its influence
and importance beyond our years
it lives within a system
it cannot change its gears.

to catch a drop of water
to hold it precious and true
will hopefully secure a place
meant for me and you.

[Brecht: ice | water | steam]

I. To Thaw

     an uncompromising war against emotion
    and its content         is of  total

            concession

closer   to   the   body   in   fervid   heat

you are a patron of this commerce

       after  you a water-lasting event:

your fluidity that deflects an accepted mass  as if sacrificial
    on a  venue  or a passage  fitting  the body

II. To Consume

and when you cut through with infinite fatigue
you    are proximal      to an agape     jar    housed

  the  question   how   vast   and  accurate  the  detainment and  the   quench  thereafter

             how when   a   flood   renames

a   corner    and  turns    number   to   record   of  wreckage

     making a memory  innumerable

III. To Dissipate

   is initiative    when anterior and disparate

cannot be held and accounted   for   in

   an   erroneous         register          whelms  in   hems right shut

passing   through    an   interstice   your   affinity   to    console

         and  when   in   a flash   of  a  scene


   unfound

The wall too high, the moat too deep; if I'd met him years ago he would have been more free.
The ache has obscured his sight so much, he can't even see me, refuses my touch.
So he guards, he deflects and strums his guitar, sings of past loves and looking at stars.

They say that stars are just little ***** of flaming gas
so basically, when you look at a star, you shouldn’t see its beauty,
you should see it at face value.

I started doing this when I looked at your face’s value,
and I think that’s when things started falling apart.

When a star’s life is ending, it becomes heavier with chemicals,
so I think when I started getting that suffocating feeling in my chest,
I should have dropped your hand,
but I read that it takes stars over a billion years to die, so I figured you and I still had some hope.

Supernovae are explosions that outshine entire galaxies,
reds, blues, purples, shimmering colors of every hue streak the otherwise black canvas of outer space, dusting every corner of the explosion site with magnificent shockwaves of intergalactic light.

Eventually they fade out, and you can never see them again,
but despite that they are still arguably the most important stellar event.
They are so powerful the Earth’s sphere can literally be affected if the explosion is too close,
sometimes they’re so powerful, when a supernova fades, a black hole is formed, because all the energy has nowhere to go.

I think I’m in my black hole stage now.
Everything is quiet-
except when the memories of our time together forcibly make their way on the planetarium ceiling,
and I just can’t look away from the twinkling stars that shine in your eyes for me.

And here’s another fact, stars only appear to twinkle because of the way the Earth’s atmosphere deflects light,
so maybe I should have turned up the brightness and realized the facade of your flickering eyes.

I remember sitting on my bed, and letting you trace the freckles on my cheeks with your fingertips,
forming constellations with your mind and when I asked what you were doing,
you replied with “stargazing”,
like I was the most beautiful galaxy you had ever had the privilege to study.

Galaxies are formed by gravitational attraction,
so without that force of intensity pulling you back to the linens on my mattress,
I think our binary star system fell apart, and a supernova of our own occurred between us.

A galaxy can hold up to one billion stars in its hands,
which makes it so hard for me to understand why I sifted through entire tons of burning gas,
just to pluck your star from the masses and add it to my horizons,
and then lose you in a shrouded nebula cloud.

Holding your hand never felt so right while we were watching the night sky in my backyard,
I’ll never forget the way you turned to me with your bright brown eyes that made every one of those stars look pathetic, and confessed that you had just seen your first shooting star.

I couldn’t help but correct you and say that there is no such thing as shooting stars,
only meteors, that somewhere along the line,
were granted the romanticized name, making them much more intriguing than they really are.

I pledge to write for an inner peace movement
To fill the void left on the blank page of a story we could not complete
I pledge to write more beginnings than endings, and if words fail to meet me where you left, I'll wait with the patience of a bookmark, holding down the gap we left pending
as if locked in stalemate: light paper vs dark ink because the way of the pen is the no-sword style of contending that deflects the black and blue thoughts that leave bruises where we think.
I pledge to erase, or at least, start over, only to toss each cumpled piece unfinished onto the pile of things I have no answers for- only hopeless questions, mailed into the static of heartbreaking silence, until it clicks, like a retractable pen, and finger flicks from an audience follow as this throwaway piece hits the mic on its head, drawing feedback, the static giving way to meaning and the audience now there, tuning in as if waking up while dreaming, now clicking, snapping, leaning forward as antennas to the right frequency we're streaming, snapping together now, a thousand pieces of a hidden picture completing, I write to throw captions around my own confusion, and watch them snap like photos of what I'm seeing beyond illusion on this train of thought leaving, the coast starlight from LA to Seattle, the lines of a notebook as my railway leading toward our emancipation from battle.
We are free from the places we are told define us. I write to move past them. Poems are what we leave behind us, in the graffiti'd nowheres of subway tunnels between the lights of the places we were meant to see.
Poems are the spaces between.
My mission is write
for you to read me.

a martian
is heathen
that deflects
abortion with
his artifice  
of adhesion
let superfluous
his connection
inside a
world that
always reeling
from monoxide  
now trigger  
of superior
intelligence to
defray sequence
of inhabitant.

There's a beating

down in my heart

and painful butterflies

in my stomach.



I worry that this

could be the

Beginning

of a repeat.



You watch my shows like him.

You play guitar like him.

You are awkward like him.

You could hurt me like him.



This heart,

well it's not ready

for another time

where sleep is sweet relief.



I don't want to wake up

and see you tomorrow

because it could be

one step closer.



Don't be him-

that's my plea.

My heart cries out

"Not again."



Before you hurt me,

tell me when.

Don't let me blindly

fall in love.



So let me know

even if it hurts

and I'll walk away

new and broken.



When you get a new bruise

it hurts to be touched.

I have one on my heart

that I must protect.



Is this how it goes?

The heart gets wounded

so it pretends not to care

so it deflects any blows.



Because if nothing touches,

nothing can hurt.

And if nothing can hurt

then it might be all right.



Should I tell you now

all the scary truths?

That I'm messed up and broken

and may never be right.



I have scars upon my skin

that I am afraid for you to see.

Will you turn away?

Will I no longer be beautiful?



I have scars upon my soul

that I am afraid for you to know.

Will I be to broken?

Will I no longer be worth the trouble?



I've been bruised and battered

like an old castle door.

The ramparts have been different,

but always there.

A hiss as pressurized fuel escapes as a gas,
Fumes escaping into the atmosphere.

The crackling of steel scraping on flint,
The cacophony of sparks following,
A fountain of brilliant orange light.

The ignition point is a dark blue,
As one of the sparks finally ignite the billowing fumes,
Spreading almost instantly,
Eating up the latchkey mixture of oxygen and fuel,
Produced in such a violent reaction was...


a singular light


Its flickering warmth
Dancing across the winds as they pass nearby.

The heat deflects off cold steel,
And soon a change was being made.

The Frontman took forth the Elixir,
The gift of the very helpful spider,
Providing him a way to save that which had been lost?

The Frontman looked at the Elixir,
Multicolored & unintelligible patterns flashing through the post mortem aqua vitae.

The Frontman drove the cure into his body,
Hoping to fill the long bleeding wound in his heart,
Hoping he could just speak to them again.

Too late to realize that the Elixir was gilded,
That the game had been rigged from the start,
The flashing covering up the milky white venom,
And the cure?

A nail in the coffin.

my world of phantasy is one
where I can save the universe
by the sheer power of my will

my force of thought
deflects the course of meteorites and comets
from collision with our globe

I make rain forests grow
   back to their former size
endangered species
   thrive and multiply

my will turns greedy politicians
into statesmen caring for the citizens
that voted them into their offices

all military hardware
becomes food
to feed the hungry of our world

wars are duels
fought between leaders
of contending states
no young soldiers die
for ambitions of their elders

cars only need hydrogen
recycling is the way of life
water and wind and plants
provide infinite energy

people I hurt
do understand
it was not done on purpose

and I can even tell my children
how much I love them

alas
my world of phantasy

remains just that

Errant thoughts glisten like
thick frost that appears long
before the clear indigo sky pales.
Icy air seeps through miniscule
gaps between window and sill,
cascading down the wall, slowly
splashing on and across the floor.
From the churning confluence,
images drift like mist above a
waterfall . He deflects. Reading,
searching, as if scripture
could shield him, could divert
the flood. He needs more than
an echo of his thoughts. More
than a crude, soulless golem,
or a shadowy doppelganger. He
needs essence: common, tangled,
roots that nourish and inspire, to
ground him in time and place.

Long sleepless nights like
this freeze time. Imagination
grips his heart, squeezing
until his chest pounds.
Singers accompany
his drumming heart.
If he looked out the window
he would see steam rising
from the vent as his clothes
tumble dry, as the dryer exhales
moist, hot air. Instead he sees
the breath of singers rising,
matching the rhythm spiraling
from the drum, accompanied by the
thunderous dances of buffalo and
holy chants of Yei-Be-Chai.
Rhythm fills the night.
It rises from his heart.

Night wraps him like
a second skin, a twisting
and pulling wave
charging a sandy beach.
Above thunderous surf
a voice wafts, riding the soft
mist haloing turbulent water
stampeding all around.
His spirit rises. In the powerful
grip of an undertow, his body cannot.
Near the sparkling surface
memory breaks free, breaches,
arching high in the air.
His first death. Murdered
by loving parents. Water
boarded before the CIA
had a name for it. Then a
second. Abandoned, he felt
the suffocation of banishment.
And a third, a forth.
No beacon to the other side.
He lingers.
He follows
the calming voice.

Opaque water undulate as
swells pass beneath the rippled
surface, reflecting the faint light
of stars, scattering the argent  
glow spilled by a full moon.
Polaris faintly glimmers and
winks, showing a way,
guiding.
Slowly,
unexpectedly,
he breaks the tension
separating ocean from air.
He sees man-shaped kelp
kissing the salty surface,
returning the indifferent
ocean’s kiss of life.

The rise and fall
has no rhythm.
His drum beats.
His blood dances.
The rhythm rises
from his heart.

btrue
19feb2014

The only way is to sever all ties,
to forge ahead,
forging new liaisons
better reasons
to challenge me.

In the sea of a million regrets where debts fall due
and make up but a few this is the thing that
that I will
and will do.

Solitaire is neither here nor there to
a soul who's survived the curse of the worst.

Bursting out of a shell where hell is not life but **** near
and my eyes quite clear unaffected by mist or the fog of those
who have ****** me off,
I am off.

Cutting the links and laying flat those links in the chain and every train sets me on and my thoughts ride upon a magnetic impulse.

Radar as far as it goes shows the way, but it's the internal compass that directs me, deflects me and ultimately at the end of each day wrecks me.

Thud Thud, The Boots of Warriors thunder onto the Boat.
Crash, Waves bang against the mighty longship.
Boom Boom, under the Jarls orders the drums of war sound.
Bang Bang, The mighty ships land on scottish shores.
***** *****, Viking Mail and shields clash with the Claymores of Highlanders
Bam, Bam, The chieftain and the Jarl do battle.
Bounce, the Jarl deflects the massive sword with his steel shield.
Whoosh, the Jarl has fallen to the ground, Will a sword clash with the Chieftains or does the Jarls Saga end in Valhalla.

So ...
What Does LOVE REALLY Mean To You .... ???  
Your Lovers' Touch ... Or The Things They DO .... ???
That Make You FEEL ... Your Love Is REAL ... ?!?  
  
Well I've Said Before That UNCONDITIONAL LOVE ...  
Came From My MUM And That's For ... SURE ... !!!!!  
  
A Love of STRENGTH Right To Her END.  
That Now Transcends ... BEYOND Her Death .......  
  
I LOVE You STILL Mum Because Your Love STILL RUNS ...
Right Through My Veins And KEEPS Me ... SANE ...  
  
Even Though Your Body's ....................... Gone .........................  
Your Love For ME ... STILL KEEPS Me STRONG ... !!!!!!!  
  
NOW THAT's LOVE To Me ... !!!  
  
... UNCONDITIONAL LOVE ... !!!!  
  
But What About YOU ... ???  
Does Love Consume The Air You Breathe ... ?  
Or Play A Tune To A ... DIFFERENT Theme ...  ???  
  
For Some It Seems Some NEW Nikes ...  
Or A Diamond Ring That ... Blings' And BLINGS ... !!!!!  
Is The Kind of STUFF They ... Choose To LOVE ... ?!?  
  
Or A NICE Sports Car With A Home That's ... LARGE ... !!!  
Where LOVE Gets SCARRED When Things Get HARD ... !!!!!!!  
  
But .....
Who Am I To Say That's NOT Okay ... !?!  
Love Can Be DISPLAYED In MANY Ways ... !!!!!  
  
Well Love To ME FILLS Empty Plates ... !!!!!  
And Does NOT Feed Off ... EXPENSIVE Tastes ... !!!!!!  
  
Love DON'T WATCH Face ... !!  
Or ... Colour Or Race ...    
  
Love Finds NO PLACE ...  
To ....... Sep - ar - at - e .........  

Because of .... HATE .... !!!  
  
Love ELEVATES And Infiltrates ...  
A Place In Hearts So That Hate ............................ DEPARTS ... !!!!!!  
  
But LOVE Can HURT ... !!!  
When Love FILLS URNS Or FILLS A HEARSE ... !!!  
  
Because THAT Love Is For Someone ...  
Whose Time Has Come To FACE QUESTIONS ...  
  
Questions Like ....  

"Son, what have you done, within your life  
to earn a shrine up in the sky ?  
Have you done enough, to not get dumped,  
in the devils' home, where evil roams ?"  
  
There's Love There TOO DON'T You Be FOOLED ... !!!  
  
In Hell Love Still UNSETTLES ... !!!!!  
The ******* of .... DEVILS ....  

Leaving Them ... DISHEVELLED ... !!!!!!  
  
And Then Makes Graves For Hate To Lay ...  
And FADE AWAY From ... Dormant Brains ...  
It's NEVER TOO LATE For Love To AWAKE ...  
A Body And Soul That Is ... HATE Controlled ... !!!!!  
  
So What Would Love Say To Hate ....  
If They Had A Debate ... ?!?  
  
"I understand you nurture war,  
so, exactly what cause are wars good for ?"  
  
"Well they're good for......."
  
"Whoa, hold on there bro, that question was a rhetorical one,
i'm the oracle son ! Wars like you are clearly dumb,
and lead to news that leaves mums numb,
when they have lost, daughters and sons !  
That's quite a cost for war actions !  
I seek PEACE and UNITY, better scenes than blood on streets,
I AM BEAUTY, DON'T YOU SEE !?!"  

See Love DEFINES Those Happy Times ...  
And Has NO PRICE or Things That SHINE ... !!!  
  
While HATE And WAR As I Said Before ...  
Costs SO MUCH More Than Securing Shores ...  
When Souls Are Mourned For A BOGUS Cause ... !!!!!
  
Soldiers SHOW LOVE When Shooting GUNS ... ?!?  
MISGUIDED Love ... From Those ABOVE ....

Whose LOVE For POWER Makes Them DEVOUR ...  
ANY Currency To FEED Their GREED ...
Like Count Dracs' Breed ... !!!  
  
What Part of LOVE Says SPILL SOME BLOOD ... ?!?  
Or Learn To **** For ... DOLLAR BILLS ... ???
  
Love NEEDS NO PAY To ELEVATE .....  
The Minds of Brains From Mental PAIN .... !!!
  
A Smile And A Joke Can Help Folk Cope ...  
To Deal With STRESS And IGNORANCE ... !!!  
  
FORGIVENESS ... And Love DEFLECTS .....  
THOSE ... POISONED Darts .... !!!  
Aimed At The Hearts of LOVE FILLED WILLS ... !!!  
Who'd Rather CHILL Than Get Caught Up ...
In Stuff That's ... DUMB ... !!!!  
  
Like Pulling GUNS To Prove You're TOUGH ... ?!?  
LOVE Can Be ROUGH And Be ... MESSED UP ... !!!!!!  
  
But SHOULD NOT Lead ...  
To ... HATE-FILLED Deeds ... !!!!!
  
You See LOVE .... Concedes ....  
And Walks AWAY .................................................................­­...  
So That It Can .........................  B R E A T H E........................... ! ! !  
  
And Find A Way To RISE AGAIN ...  
And DISMISS ........................................................ Pain ............ !!!!!!  
  
Love SUPERSEDES Petty Jealousies ...  
And QUICKLY Denies The Use of LIES ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Love IS DEEP ... Love IS ME ..... !!!!!  
Love IS YOU .... Love IS COOL ... !!!!!  
Love CAN Move And Love CAN SOOTHE ... !!!
  
And MOST of ALL Love Is THE TRUTH ... !!!!!  
  
I Guess That's Why I Write These Rhymes ...  
To Prove That There Is LOVE In .... ALL OF US .... !!!!!!  
  
These Words Have Come From .... UP ABOVE .... !!!
  
So I Now Give Them To You ...  
  
With THIS ....  
  
MY ...... " LOVE " .......

Static crackling ecstatically; manic pop
Transistor hissing and spitting; sideboard atop
                                      First when there’s nothing…
                                      But a slow glowing dream…

Pirouette such as whirling dervish makes
Adolescent prancer twirls; leg warmer fakes
                                      All alone I have cried…
                                      Silent tears full of pride…

Breathless incantation; future forged in dance
Performance fascination; leap upon the chance
                                      What a feeling...
                                      Bein’s believing…

Neon flashes bedeck wrists and bonce
Peers laughter flash like fire; a ponce
                                      Take your passion…
                                      And make it happen…

The music shields, deflects. Antacid; taunts abate
Rhyhmic dreamer energized; blind to all the hate
                                      Pictures come alive…
                                      You can dance right through your life…



As Bergen-Belsen ghost yet still aware
Lost dreamer segues silently on fetid air
                                       Bruised and battered, I couldn’t tell what I felt…
                                       I am unrecognizable to myself…

Shuffling as garish Geisha; white but not with paint
Breathless as fifties bombshell; heaving sick and feint
                                      At night I could hear the blood in my veins…
                                      It was black and whispering as the rain…

With steel partner; straight firm and slim of hip
Rigid in rigor’d waltz; moving labouredly with drip
                                      I walked the avenue, ‘til my legs felt like stone…
                                      I heard the voices of friends, vanished and gone…

Faithless rusting engine combusts toxic blood
Failing sack of sinew lies where dancer stood
                                      Night has fallen, I’m lyin’ awake…
                                      I can feel myself fading away…

Monotone white noise; assuring beep
Dancer dreams in endless sleep
                                     There was a time when men were kind…
                                     There was a time when love was blind…

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness – 2018 – All rights reserved)

Acknowledgements:

1. Flashdance… what a Feeling (1983 – Giorgio Moroder, Keith Forsey & Irene Cara)
2. The Streets of Philadelphia (1993 – Bruce Springsteen)
3. I Dreamed a Dream (Les Miserables – Claude Michel Schonberg, Herbert Kretzmer & Alain Boubil)