Shank that darkness
    and let the
        light bleed through.

Bringing up
    the past,
overturning a rock
      while the insects scurry

Tropical storms
   brewing, just a
      blow-hard knocking down
         weaker trees,
    pulling the plug
         on the power,
           scattering memories.

  Up all night,
    beating the early bird
       to the worm,
Caressing the morning's
      dew dampened grass,
           chuckling,
laughing to keep from crying.

I owe a great deal
To the friends I hardly knew
For granting me memories
Of happiness and adventure
I thought possible only in dream
To laughter with each meal
Heartfelt tears in Shanghai grew
Sprouting lifetimes of stories
Of a fantasy
Against all odd
To the tunes of Parisian melody
Boasting a Holy Romantic seal
Beyond what possibly may seem

To the friends I hardly knew
May life smile on you
Bring you fortunes
And faithful kinships
To aid you when we part
Know what I say is true
From the run through Thai dew
And admiration of tropical art
It is but I thank you
From the truest extents of my heart
Though lost in Dublin street
Even though we may again never meet
From the highest of Highlands
We will never truly part

Reap the fields of dying holly
and sow the fields with red berries.

Dream of sunny spring awakening,
before the dew sets in the morning.

I live in North East Florida
That's just a hop, skip, and a jump
From the land known as Georgia
Where "Honey Boo Boo" once held court with her mom

If'n you never knew "Honey Boo Boo"
You're in for a treat or more than one
She was a multi car train wreak
That you couldn't turn your bugged eyes away from

First let me explain the state of Georgia
So this family ya'll will understand
Not long ago they re-dirted both paved roads
Said progress was getting way out of hand

So with that said and done son
With formalities out of the way
Lets turn our attention back to our star attraction
And see what all she had to say

Her fame started out on Toddlers & Tiaras
Reality shows we all seem to love
From The Crazed Housewives to The Kardashion's
America can not get enough

And since it's on T.V. it's gotta be true
Did you ever try her drink sensation
Of Red Bull and Mountain Dew, she liked to call "Go Go Juice"
It'll put hair on your derriere for extra pad in relaxation

And who wouldn't want to see a six year old
With that kind of Hellacious Buzz
What went through my mind when I looked at it was
Ahhh, Redneck Motherly Love

So now do you redneckonize her
Where all I just said is quite true
A dolla used to make her holla!
I sure miss "Honey Boo Boo" on the **** Tube
As I'm sure all of you do too...

A world of dew
And in every drop
A world of struggle

you lied to me
about who you were

did not tell me
that you were the morning dew
waking me up

with the sweet drop
of your love

Everything had gone wrong on that bright sunny day,

I felt like the sky had come tumbling down on my head,

All my hope had diminished like a leaf consumed by fire,

A fire that never receded, but continued forever

My worst memories kept coming back into my mind,

Like a swarm of flies feeding on the inert and lifeless,

Flies I had to let out before they consumed me whole,

So I left my home for a walk on the street,

A street all ravaged by hunger, poverty and deceit,

As I was walking along, suddenly out of the blue,

Appeared two little eyes as beautiful as morning dew,

As I gazed at them enthralled, I became aware of their owner,

A fragile little girl with disheveled auburn hair,

Hope in her eyes, her petite hand reached out to me,

As I let a coin drop into her palm her little fingers curled up,

A smile breaking out upon her miniscule sooty face,

Her face seemed to shine with the light of a thousand suns,

In her I saw happiness like I had never felt before,

Soon she trotted away leaving me humbled and ashamed,

A little girl had taught me to find hope, where there was none

Just As enigmatic like exotic roses
She can be and seem
Surreal like dreams
She can be down to earth
And sweet as honey dew
Upon the morning glories
With the sunflowers mirth
And evening stars rebirth
Iris moon
Golden
Blossoms of Spring fine wine love

Reynaldo Casison

Have you ever had one of those Astral Weeks?
Asks the man with sunshine in his eyes,
It was all looking a little bleak
Before finding another one of those highs
Let it flow, let it go? Let us listen to the slow river speak:

-“There has not been for a long time a spring
as beautiful as this one; the grass, just before mowing,
is thick and wet with dew. At night bird cries come up from the edge of the marsh, a crimson shoal lies in the east till the morning hours.”

Flowing through those undercurrents:
Under a sky filled with towering cumulonimbus,
The chill of a long, long night always nipping, now slipping
Maybe, it is a simple reminder,
To go out and find her,
As I long just to hold her tight.

And the slow river speaks:

“The gates of the earth torn open, the key
to the earth revealed. A star is greeting the day.”

Awaken Trickster, bring on the nefarious and teach
us to laugh gregarious-
ly at the shames we allow others to install
deep in our sub
ordinates, can’t figure out these coordinates. Where
are those landmarks that will guide me back.
Earth dividing, plates colliding. The thrombosis
compells me to dive yet a little deeper. More pressure, I hope,
will let me see a little clearer. And mitosis: the warrior is there
and always has been: my impeccable self. Maybe I am
a little closer to filling this vessel

And the train whistle blows

Do not let it pull you under
these currents, that thunder, or maybe don’t fight it
alight it
let your soul and spirit and fly

Have you ever had one of those astral weeks?
I ask as I look at the sunshine in my eyes, I think
it was all looking a little bleak
before finding another one of those highs

Let it flow, let it go, let the slow river speak:

-“Three times must the wheel of blindness
turn, before I look without fear at the power
sleeping in my own hand, and recognize spring,
the sky, the seas, and the dark, massed land.”

Welcome to my castle
as we flow out of the mystic

Sky blue, blue sky
Even when the spine to spine feels there is inseparable
between the fog in the mountains and the dew on the foliage
We split up looking for direction, and in the rice fields I saw hands waving
"Come here, honey," so you say
Above the mountains Helicopters hovering with banners waving
"Didn't you wanna see the city?" written on it

That man slammed the shadow of the sun glare
There is a desired but never found
There are left and should be interpreted as its own
The purest

December 19, 2014

So if I look at a star-struck night, or a dim one here in Fredericton,
If I walk these silent streets and think of the hum in the stillness,
may I think of You, Breather, Your heart beating and gentle hand.
How am I still here?
When I think of the 'big' world there is and my insides knot with ambition,
And I turn to look for adventure, magic, for something different,
may I realize there's Your gaze draping everything,
with beauty, cognition.

To know the dew that sprinkles over this life,
comes from Your love, Your own existence–
may this earth and all that comes alive raise its voice to say,

Jesus,

be glorified, forever and ever,
Amen.

The dew on grass
Stars in the night sky.
Your arms wrapped around me.
There is nowhere else I would rather be.

The dew turned into a crystallized ice
It's a good day yet I shiver
the sun looks nice saying hi
Rubbing my hand for friction
Time for school, I'm all set
Stopped in the hallway, I'm lost
New faces and gazes
Seems like a challenge
That's what I love best
Handing the white sheet,
wanting for directions
Took a deep breath and actiooon!
Smile and be yourself
Smile and be yourself
Smile and be yourself
The mantra keeps chanting
inside my head
Then, I thought it's not a bad thing
First day... really is something :)

-A

09/11/14

I'm a passenger here..
When was it last
Morning dew soaked my shoes
When we'd watch red skies rise
On a rocking ocean float
After nights watching stars
In our time without cars.

Now I'm a passenger here,
So I've long since feared
Something new has a hold of me
What am I supposed to be?
What replaces those nights
Of laying upon lawns
Where the only thing wrong
Was sharing headphones
And she picked a bad song.

So sad and lonely
Is the little girl blue.
But you'd be the same
If you were hurt too.
So sad and lonely
Is the little girl blue.
She's always left behind,
None of it is new.
So sad and lonely
Is the little girl blue.
You would understand
If you saw what she went through.
So sad and lonely
Is the little girl blue.
So sweet and pretty,
Like early morning dew.
So sad and lonely
Is the little girl blue...

Growing older by the minute.
The world was silent as it listened.
Piercing was the sound of the bullet.

The dew hung low and glistened,
resting on the edges of the wound.
The blood ran dry as it thickened.

Comforting, the woman crooned.
His breathing began to slow;
his heartbeat far from tuned.

The river nearby refused to flow.
Alive with a ruthless stream,
around the bend it began to grow.

The image is one I will never escape,
on my mind it rewinds like a tape.

Everyone absorbs the emotions
like the pores soaking dew up.
Overflow! Overflow! Runs down the cup.
Drips flowing, falling.Wild commotion.

Nights like theses, only few
Anger radiates like bursts of rays from the sun
Tears of fear, scurry and flee for the open.
Only this can source from a pit of compassion for you.

The mix of people bellow the words "They CAN'T change it"
That may be, however are the deceptive mind games innocent too?
"YOU did this to ME. I am going to **** myself because of YOU."
A punch much more than a painful blow,more like a life shattering hit.

The trembles,violently shaking of emptiness.
In one flash of an innocence, the roles reverse
Child cut by icy cold lyrics rehearsed
Each fraud affection emphasized in every verse

My youthful eyes sought to help
The purest bits of my love induced soul reached out.
You flooded my life with responsibilities, rarely a shout
With age, shadowed by wisdom of what you were really about.

Child lost in a hazy mist of false love.
You used your forgiving child as a door mat.
Wiped your feelings all over my heart,
Stomped on my childhood,
And left me in the dust.

There she blows
at last;
have to tip-tap
type into the night but
somebody else has left a light on -
feels as if somebody half-naked has told me of beauty
but in a dream &

I escape to a nether-world where a dark-eyed dog is faithful & I can hear
myself whisper ' will never forget this moment'
The blue dew is a thousand separate universes shimmering; at once the lawn is sea,
but she is huge & pleasant & warming &, I walk glowing within

© Copyright David Bosworth March 2013

Creeping honeysuckle drapes around the door
and in it there is a cute and tidy nest
In the honeysuckle tasty insects explore
Popular with the young Robin red breast.

Water fowl swim on the pond, there are breeds
that just naturally live on the water.
But there is something staring beyond the reeds
it is the playful antics of the otter.

Slithering along the frozen morning dew
is the unhappy to be out grass snake
Now is not the time - not thought this through
and he can hear the voice of the drake.

The call of the raven is heard
they all stop to listen and respond
The distinctive call of this bird
is respected below above and beyond.

The glistening snow melts
On the mountain top
Into rivulets
Fragmenting as
Beads like glass bubbles

Containing
The essence
Dew dripping
Dew drops
Portions of
Infinite sky
Where stars are poets
Declaring love
In musical spheres cascading

Shattering corrupted auras
Of lost souls
Triggering their metamorphosis
Into the resurrection of eternal light
On the fields
Of emergent
Possibilities
Nascent paths
Unlocked from this prison earth
And its microcosm of dwindling
Probabilities

This is the panorama
Across endless star lanes
The ever self creating
Universe

The dew eyed boy went with you as you hastened off to meet them
with the lonesome dove above to give you comfort in your sorrow and
the morning stretched forever until the noon day came to collect you with the remnants of the night still on your clothes.

then they came because they'd heard about a sermon to be given on the mountainside where Eden was a memory to the living and they sat to ponder over words that flowed like salted water,
words that stung with bitter kindness
words that opened up their blindness and
the dew eyed boy was bound up in the movement of the moment,
tied to words of hope and
passion raced across the opened faces,

these are places we call home.

Grip grip grasping at words dangling from the tips of thousands of tongues tied to the sky gasping.

Drip drip dripping in viscous dew they slip slip easily from frantic fingers.

The cup held with patient hands is being ever filled forever overflowing drip drip drip.

See sentences swingin' from spit slingin' serpents.

Don't be rippin' 'em down.
Try listenin'. It's a
trip trip trip

palms out

There is no such thing as awake
Anymore.
I wake up asleep, and dream the colors for the day.

What I dream is better than what I see.
Seeing is scary and dreaming isn't so much.

The pillow is comforting and the "fresh" air
Smells like cigarettes and floats curse words
Around as the clouds do.

The rustle of leaves beneath my feet are loud and alive and dew is gross and makes my socks wet.

I close my eyes to shut out the light you left in the sky
I don't like it.
It tastes like chloraseptic,
and my throat hurts from crying all day
but I don't want to be healed.

When I lay down and close my eyes I'm
Awake.
And when I dream I'm awake reliving your last car ride.
So sleep isn't nice to me anymore
and I shiver and sweat.

I press my hands into my eyes
like pushing an emergency stop button.
I hate my sleepy dreams and wish reality was a dream.

So my head hurts
my eyes are sore
and in every cough a piece of my voice falls into my lap.

This is my life now,
Not insomnia
but medicine
Since you're not breathing
and you're not here
anymore.

Hair flying like lace all undone in the wind,
Flaxen and golden and fine in the sun,
Scented with hay mown fresh before dew,
A laugh on her breath and the mention of you.

She came in from the chores
Bearing Dolly's warm milk in a pail,
A tabby young kitten threading her heels,
And baby was greeting his mother in squeals.

She came in with the cold, blown by the wind,
And shuttered the heavy old door.
She stirred up the coals in the rusty old stove,
Cheeks all afire with the ice and the snow,
Stamping her feet by the fire's warm glow.

She came in from the spring,
A pail in her hand, and butter, packed in a jar,
Humming a tune with mud on her shoes,
A meadowlark's call on her mind,
First signs of green and new life on the wind.

She came in from the walk,
Frown on her face, mail in her hand,
Letters from home, black ribbon adorned,
News that made tears find their place,
And saddened her heart as it raced.

She came in from the fields
Weary and worn, old from the sun and the wind,
And she settled herself by the rusty old stove,
And she rocked in her battered old chair,
Reflecting a life both bonny and rare.

She came in from the fields,
And she'll go back again
When the evening sun makes its way
Round the flickering stairs to new day;
She'll rise just a bit before dawn
To stoke up the dwindling fire,
And go feed the new lamb
Whose mother has left her alone,
Whose mother has left her alone.

let bleed
like the morning dew
upon uncovered feet
spreading through the warm morning air
the sleeping flowers
seeking to obtain the last remnants
of an empty kiss
placed upon their lips
before the sun returns to the sky
and the peaceful wake of sleep
can no longer remain