I have the willpower of a torrential flood
I have a tongue like a bolt of lightning
The drive of an ardent wildfire
With the serenity and Zen of a lake’s mirroring surface,
When the sun is just shy enough to hide away from the world five minutes before dawn.
I have traversed the Atlas and soul-searched in temples and nightclubs alike
As I navigated skyscrapers and mountains of mass media with a wrought-iron compass
I meditated and prostrated and repeated my Ex Corde mantra,
“Om mani padme hum, our Father in heaven,
I pledge allegiance to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth will set us free.”
These old words resound in the Information Age with feigned harmlessness,
Amplified with the subwoofers of today’s youth, screaming, “The only true victory is peace”,
Screaming, “Rise up, daughters and sons of Forever”,
Screaming, “Next stop, the Greater Good!”

Sometimes on the way out of Giant,
I’ll spend time freeing change
from the receipt paper
bindle in my coat pocket
for one two-twist mystery prize
from a Folz machine.

Two quarters:
just enough for a plastic, sapphire ring and a cheap
laugh while I juggle coffee cream cartons in both arms.

I strap them in the passenger seat,
sharing it as my sister
and I had just to sit up straight
and marvel at the maple branches
washing the windshield in green,
leaving helicopters and dew trails.

We watched slug trails glisten
like Berger Lake water
beneath the incandescent streetlight.
Bright like the last cigarette my grandma snuffed out
in a smokeless ash tray.
Bright like the first halogen headlights that stung my retinas.
Bright like the quarter my grandpa gave me for the Folz machine
in the Sylvania.
And bright like the plastic, emerald ring I showed him.

Bio Of Mario William Vitale

The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension:

Mario William Vitale Biography

I was born in 1970 Bristol hospital.
A young nurse took me in her arms and said that I would one day become a success,
As the years would pass I was heavy in the arts used to sing and act.
Was an altar boy at St. Pius Church.
In time I would act in my senior class play, "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood"
Where I had the lead role as the Narrator,
I touched many hearts with that performance in 1989,
Was hospitalized with mono that same year for two weeks long,
Also that same year I became prom king of my class Wolcott High School,
After the break up with my first grilfriend in 1989 I wrote the poem entitled, "Remembrance of a loved one" where I had it published on poetry.com
Attempted plays: Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade, (His poetic aspirations had derived at 18 in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum)
Attended Central Connecticut State University For Creative Writing: 1997
Next from 1989-1997 (Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry) , * Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ",
(1998)Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland".
Back with rave reviews!
* (From 1999-2008: Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: (1999- Sent Editorial to:
New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie; Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached,
* 2000-2007: Magazine: (Catholic)Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset!
2008- Wrote poem entitled: (The Heavy Cross)to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy;

(The Connecticut Poetry Society) * Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia Writers Quarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry.
Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return, Thankfulness toward family and friends.(To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted?
My contemporary artists include that of Ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and Carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry
Having been a member since 2006, My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe.
Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact
In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creative passion!
The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a very positive light.)
After experiencing a life transformation encounter.I had realized that poetry is my unique way to convey myself my work speaks from the heart with pure sentiments of though intact,

As the years passed I would write over 4,000 poems and 5 short stories toward my platform,
My poetry is based on the free verse style of writing,
Was published in 10 venues such as Writerscafe, Neopoet, Hello poetry, Poem Hunter, Booksie, Poetryvibe, Poetrysoup, Starlifecafe.com, Poets Know It & poetry.com...
I was saved by God at the tender age of nine in Charlotte Carolina where I came to know the Lord that was in 1979,
Today I continue to write poetry was published on Spillwords, High On Poetry, Tuck Magazine & Setu Magazine.
My main emphasis in writing poetry is to share with the mass populace touching many hearts.
Hope you can read my poetry.



Sea Stacks

skipped rocks through a stream today
the opening of a brand new day
its frame is in minor decay
the bleached wood massed in bone piles,
we pulled it from dark beach and built
fire in a fenced clearing
the posts' blunt stubs sank down
the circled and were roofed by milled
lumber dragged at one time to the coast
We slept there

Each morning the minus tide-
weeds flowed it like hair swimming
The starfish gripped rock, pastel,
rough. Fish bones lay in sun

Each noon the milk fog sank
from cloud cover, came in
our clothes and held them
tighter on us. Sea stacks
stood and disappeared
They came back when the sun
scrubbed out the inlet


Life Force

through the flame cover me
in silent sound dignity
for with what one is willing to achieve
valiantly
feel the breeze
nestled through the trees

shaped through your dreams
a piercing of the skin
new hearts to begin
again



Choices

Many have a hard time understanding
They live for self and that of society
They are the walking dead yet they don't even know it
Eyes with blackened spots having holes
Viscous fangs with blood dripping off the side
You share with them the truth
They choose to run away & hide
Yet deep inside they may still question
Why am i here ?
They can't even help you
Cause they won't help themselves
They are the **** of the land
Much too afraid to stand among the son of man
A bitter taste
Do they want salt or sugar coated messages
Positive reinforcement strengthens the heart
Negativity kills it
Each of us has been given a choice
We must lend a helping hand with a voice
All of us have been given a choice
Now which pathway will you choose ?


Emerald City
There’ll be no unemployment in heaven.
No worry about the next meal.
There’ll be no bills to harass us,
and thieves will not break in and steal.
In heaven, we’ll have no need for money;
Everything up there will be free.
We’ll enjoy God’s unsearchable riches,
and have unending security.
I’m looking forward to heaven,
that land that is fairer than day.
Where all will be joy and gladness,
and sorrow and care will flee away.
Up there, no mean words will be spoken.
Each heart will be filled with pure love.
We’ll never be hurt or rejected,
in the beautiful city above.
There will be no disappointment or heartache.
God will wipe all the tears from our eyes.
No one will ever be lonely,
and there’ll be no anguished good-byes.
Up there, the love we have for each other,
by each heart will be shared equally.
And we’ll have all the things that we’ve longed
for, and at last we will really be free


Little Angel

Hope springs a new
On a cloud in heaven
Stand a heavenly angel
With mere beauty of crystalized light
Golden emblems encrusted their frame
Sweet songs drifting to a very faint whisper
Eyes, hands & face
A real message sent down to earth
To care for those lonely souls all alone
There beauty is a surprise to encounter
Slipping through locked doors to appear
Many have shed a tear to numb the inner pain
Causing accidents not to happen
They appear in the form of brightened miracles
We see them with a heart all a glow
Come to the birth of a new born baby
Come to servicemen who just joined the navy
You will see them at a graveyard setting
Even among gamblers who do there betting
There all around us you see
For all of life is but a mystery






These Flames I Live
turn back the tear drop pillow
I'm sick to my stomach
suffering alone and hard
piercing cavity of viscious fangs that bite
illusive
impulsive
the rant

These flames I live
my right to forgive
undercover
beyond the means
living in a land of mean
barren sea

a shot in the dark
to light the spark

many are left in rebellion
what an incredible talent Vitale is
he is the poet of all poets
the moment you met him perfect ten

a chick lying with her hens
a quest...
flaws and failures
yes he wears Depends

a trip to the zoo nothing new


Laughter
Laughter fills the scented air
through days exposed
the timeless hour of a loathsome mast
expounded upon the cavity of debris

develop a grateful heart
that one may impart
look close through a pillar of glass
a vergence sea out beyond the interpass

a halo with a song
to help you get along
the sight of a fawn on the lawn
greed and materialism will crush out the light in your life

******* by the holy spirit
a heart change has to happen
one must be open to the message
care for your brother help for your pale sister

one ear on the floor
a cause for more
through fetters got it made to even out the score

Unending Brigade
I ask myself politely
what resistance flowers here
against love treaded lightly
or losing lovingness dear?

give cadence to the simple,
for I gave ammunition to the laughter
we should we ever falter
the timeless whisper of happening

golden nuggets of thought & inspiration
braids my hair with a great deal of wear
through the conclaves of love's fastened grip
shadows block the vortex to aid its message


The Dream Police
they come to my head
at the side of my bed
they are enforcing my sleep
give cadence to a treat
a far from ports unknown
like a dog without a bone
giving tickets to be enforced
every time I have a dream
forces scream


Of Time & Dreams
Father's gold pocket watch measured heartbeats,
times for surgery and the slow drip of an IV
all else in his life was overture
to main events, like birth and death
of those the family never knew

Steps from my childhood dreams to his were counted
in places where treasure were wet pebbles
and the pulse of life was seen in raindrops on the lake
now the watch is mine, and i yearn to throw it
like a pebble into the past,

to see it skip and yield to places we never shared,
like blue-green eddies near the shore
and grasses curled by the win
Yet, warming in my palm, the measurer of his days
seems to sing the music of turning points
where drying dreams meet others born anew,
emerging through images of caring
to rhythms more than metrical
that i've yet to understand



The Land Of Dreams
When you fall asleep at night,
your mind goes into an eerie flight
You can open the gate with the key of thought,
and don't have to do what you've been taught

You sing, and dance, and prance all day
and you act so happy and also gay
You run in circles and run into the trees,
and cut your elbows and scrape your knees

But sometimes you open the wrong gate,
and find yourself facing a terrible fate
There are monsters, ghouls and also grouches,
and then you wish you were on confortable couches

And when you're done and almost through,
your mind knows exactly what to do
you go back through that eerie flight
it may be day it may be night

And when your mind comes back to you,
you may wake up and have the flu
You could leave for school very late,
and find out that it's the wrong date

And you could play outside in the streams
but you will know that you entered "The Land Of Dreams."


Old Crow
Old crow
Tired and lazy' against the day
Dark skies
Lost in blacks and whites and grays
Howling north wind
Sure takes a man's fight away

Wastelands,
A dreamer's home on his best day
Hard rain
Drops the leaves and makes the colors fade
And talks cheap,
But for the words of time they'll ave the last say
Oh the words of time, they'll have the last say

And the harvest is in, it wasn't much
May I have enough to get by
The baskets were light, not a muscle ached
And somehow I feel I'm going to die
The winter is coming and the signs say hard
I've never seen such a haunting sky

For on the mountains, frost in the wind
And somehow I feel I'm going to die
Full moon
Lonely above the old oak tree line
Old crow
Hanging empty in the black sky
And a nighthawk
Circles her in silence as she flies
Old crow, all alone she flies


Pheonix
the blazing glory of a loving night
Disappears in the sun's bright morning light
All efforts to recall that glorious pain
Fade in the dawn to be sought in vain

but the memory clings of precious glory
that will not become an old, dull story
instead that memory promises anew
that love will spring forth and again renew

with every joining of two loving souls
again will emerge from the fading coals
a love renewed by the glowing embers
so that this night, too, will be remembered.


Soul Search
When I look into your eyes
I see the sunshine and rain,
The deeper I look and also see
Various kinds of pain;
I can see the kind, warm love that filters thru,
To surface at the top when you’re not blue,
I have seen and know your hopes and fears
The good and bad times you have thru years,
You have seen and felt so much
I’m glad our lives did touch
Look deep into my eyes and you will find
The heartaches and happiness that were also mine


Come With Me
Come with me and be my friend
Lets create a fantasy
just you & me
lets linger through the wind
and feel free
lets run through the sand
and make time stand still
so we can treasure this moment
Only until
The mystical ocean
touches our souls
and fills our hearts with love
come with me and I'll show you

What I have to give
come with and I'll describe
The life I dreamed we'd live
come with and hold me gently
and watch the retiring sun slowly set
Shower me with all your love
pretending we just met
Whenever you need me
I'll be there
To help lift your spirits
and I want to care
About you
come with and be my love
no longer a fantasy
just you & me
This time only
A reality...


Mario William Vitale. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform.

Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson.
Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct.
Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet

Personifications Of Oceanic Thoughts
whispers
sun lit morn
the surf hits the turf
smells of salt air through the moment
savor each moment as the memory lasts
bask in the vast expanse between time & space


sounds of children playing
seaweed next to the rocks along the cobblestone walkway
solace torn up in the derision of peace with solidarity
we were made for moments such as these
seagulls flock overhead

remember me in thoughts as these
whisk through the breeze
capture one's inner sense
alas with angelic fervor permeates a flame of life's torn reality
a new to face the day


Follow Your Heart
Magic breathes life in our hearts
Destiny resides in our souls
Our path now shimmers unshadowed by the night
With one embrace partnered by a tender kiss, the bounds

of time and distance crumble through fingers like drifting
grains of sand
Dream time is the place where I am alive
Green eyes ripple into lipid pools where miracles draw me

to your heart
I am free to swim by your side until the sun sets and
rises with you again
Life is my dream

I love you



Cynthia
When at night I close my eyes,
to think all the days gone by,
to feel again those passions past,
and feeble joy that never lasts,

I'm always drawn to thoughts of you, my only love my Cynthia
I think I found you in a dream then we celebrate,
the night I pressed beyond the seam,
where fantasy and reality meet

in summer mist so soft and sweet,
But you were all I ever felt, my deepest love, my Cynthia
But dreams just last within the night, when morning came,
Her soul took flight

I awake to find Her never there
She passes like the misty air
To leave me longing and alone, my painful love,
my Cynthia

Enigma love you swell the heart,
to crush the same when lovers part
But whether love and joy you bring
or bitter pain and Death's cold sting

I plead you come to me again, my final love,
My Cynthia


For My Precious Son
You're standing in the doorway.
Your workday is all done.
He waits to see you everyday,
this boy that is your son.

He hopes you will go fishing.
He hopes you'll shoot the gun.
He just wants to be with you,
this boy that is your son.

He is your spitting image.
To him you are ''The One''.
He hopes to be just like you,
this boy that is your son.

You show him what a man is.
You teach as you have fun.
You are admired as well as loved
by this boy that is your son.

You've got a friend forever.
Until the world is done.
Then, still you will be holding
this man that is your son.

I'm Just A Poetical Lyricist
I’m just having fun, but no doubt someone will take this serious
I’m about to take you on a lyrical experience
I’m having fun with words, like when a baby first starts reading books
Saying I’m good at rhyming, Is like saying Mike Tyson packs a decent punch
I best mention the Kardashians other wise you’ll have trouble keeping up
Me with a pen is more dangerous than Michael Myers on Halloween when he starts slashing with the knife
Telling me I can’t rhyme, is the biggest mistake you’ve made since you let your ex Back in to your life
Speaking of exes, will someone please date mine
I promise she’ll give you a great time
I’ll pay for the date, its all on me
All I ask, is please be good enough to get her to stop calling me
I love Hip Hop, and yeah I know I’m white
Please be creative and tell me how I’m the new Vanilla ice
Or how I should walk right back across 8 mile
I could have thrown this into my waste pile
But I just wanted to write some joke lines and have some fun
Sick of hearing rappers talk about drugs and how they pack a gun
“yeah I’m Bad. I’ll make this *** Squirt”
You don’t know who Nas is, And think the greatest rapper is Lil *** Vert
Or some other mumble rapper with lame rhymes
You deserve to have Biggie and Big Pun sit on you at the same time
Some guy called Young **** is wearing dresses
That’s not something I have a problem with
My problem is
There’s so much going on in the world and these rappers are scared to address it
What happened to Hip-Hop when rappers would share a message?
Nas, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick, I could name so many more
Now its a bunch of dudes who sound the same with empty thoughts
I’d pretend to be from the hood and blast guns but I’d fail
I’d rather be the real me, and I’m far too cute to go to Jail
I just love Hip Hop and the way it used to be
You always get the truth from me
someone tell Rihanna I’m ready to give her the best 30 seconds of her life
Tell her she’ll only regret it if I become a legend when I die
Knowing she could of had me
This is my last piece of paper, I’m now pad free
I was watching rap battles on YouTube, So took you on this lyrical experience
I’m just a poetical lyricist

Rapula
back in the day where hustlers stayed there were those very afraid
he was born in the gutter his momma was a vamp selling her junk in the trunk of a car
up all night slept all day he was blown from the frey
viscious fangs that bite two turn tables with a mic insisted on a fight
******* the innocent patrons for blood right in the hood like you knew he would
Rapula the man, the myth & the legend
could very often see him in the back of a seven eleven drinking red slurpees

took folks block by block like giving him a heart attack just to fit his mold
no one came against him until that day in the crib Rapula lost his lobster bib
very often you will see him at the 8th Street Station spinning his records
there will never be another blood ******* brother so move over he's taking cover
Rapula wore a high hat tip on his temple driving a white Benz looking like Baretta


I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me
Supernatural
but it's so true
the world hasn't a single clue
borrowed basement pews
stained glass windows
a reflection of the cross
some will go before the toss

he was there from the beginning
he is the only one that's winning
perfumed stockings and a breath of fresh air
the willingness to share how you really care
if you have seen him you have seen the father
Jesus

Stop The Madness
All of sudden reality happens
Ruining my mind that's already jumbled
"where the hell did i just go?"
I ask to myself no one listens
Obsecurity is still in me
Recognizing situation where i have been
Looking up the sky it's already dark
Worrying something, i need to get up
Home, i need to find home
Stepping forward to pass the crowd
The longer i go, the quieter it's so
Taking my glasses off because its fogged
Focusing my lens but the blur shows
sigh
Now melancholy does it again
Lack of knowledge about locations
Lack of someone to be asked for
And there is no light to guide me on
Vision, direction, companion
I wish i could make them clearer
But in reality, they just disappear

Shaman Within
I met a dead poem in the shade of spring.
I was so sad I could hear the door bell ring

through the furtherance of a smile I became unglued
shadows block the motive bruised.

Beyond the sky set flight

Prison Of The Mind
able to be smart without words
its a topic of conversation
through words spilled out on the ancient path
meditate
lights out
beg, ***** & pout
the underscore read stop
I'm keeping on keeping

transfused and weeping
table talking
swallow its extremities
move the levee
strong will survive
thank God I'm alive
the moments the solitude alone

vibrations fixed temptations
sensations...
take me to the prison
three squares a day
a pillow and I pray
nestled the mood away

Getting Ahead Of God
hearken onto the voice of a still small way
let God show you the new found way
look deep into the cause of wisdom seek the shelter
God give the children right parents to help bring them up

you never miss out in obeying God
when you start off in life without God your in the wrong direction
God will tell you what he wants you to do if you ask him to
your life will be filled with joy, peace & happiness

the issue is its not your age but what is the will of God for your life
God always has your best when we wait on God
you can't tell by the way it works by the way it counts
you may have get by in life but you must deny yourself

people have to go through disaster before you surrender your life
each time we take a leap of our own choice we lose
out of the will of God you'll be disapointed
the issue is what does God want for your life

he acts on behalf on the one who waits on him
you can't get God's guidance if your living in sin
happiness, joy, peace & satifaction are very valuable
you made some choices but God will forgive you if you repent for them

its a decision we make if we confess our sins he is faithful & just to forgive us
it is a choice you make
remember you reap what you sow
you can't avoid or escape the things of your soul

whether your 16 or 67 its time you made a decision and surrender to God
I pray that every person that hears this message will stop to think of what they have done in life

Take It All In
God is a closer friend
come back to New England
plants, rocks, shrubs & things
suddenly I'm waiting here for you

it's a tick or take Sunday afternoon
waiting by the rocks they surface with untimely leaves
the leagues plagued with devastation
the beef stock through the goldie locks of here hair

Summertime is no better time
got this crazy feeling
I'm so glad that your feeling for me
with your heart you can unite the heart


Changes
a smile from a lonesome child
transformed through the eyes
the timeless cavity unleashed
through diverse port of space in time

the child in time grew now in there teens
sees the world through a fine tooth comb
at home being alone the horrific scene
through adolescence its a coincidence

now as an adult able to leap tall buildings with a single bound
the smile deminishes onto sophistication
almost a loose cannon
pronounced news to its folly

cover me with those tender leaves
falling from the stream let loose on my caboose
the stars all glitter in the darkness of night


Pilgrims Progress
We need great golden copulations in the cemetery
bury your head beneath the limbs in part of a ghostly resolve
perhaps this was the path Brother Lawrence tred alone
underneath the interpass of denial of speculation

we have nursed path each quatrum with a deafening blow
to stand in one accord to each other as pilgrims rest after harvest time
Apple butter jam spread on fresh home made bread
the reflections of a timid squirrel on a limb

we have become immeasurable by your smile
she danced in a ring of fire yet throws of each challenge with a shrug
the cost of the pilgrims progress we shall never know
bust up the beat to promote its tempo

a beacon of light to a much hurting world in search of love
Does death hurt you the most or is it fear
beneath the timeless swell I live to tell
sought through the variation to its cosmic flame

Careless Whisper
a shoulder tender shelter to lie next together,
the swelter of a careless whisper left tempted
shelter lies dormant onto its beckoning plough
to thirst united with the throne

billow with asps of the new day's pride
thank God I'm still alive
to delve into the ridges of each dishes
kisses

the torment of each smile
bruisded reed tmpered on its poll
the thought of vanity
among humanity

the faint of your legacy

Spirit To Touchdown
Ten years since her husband's death
she still craved the sight of him and
his magnetic smile
coming in the door, his suitcoat
slung over his back. She yearned to
glance at him in a long black
coat, resembling a materialized
laser beam, as they
prepared to go out for an evening,
or in old bluejeans walking barefoot
with her on the seashore.
She knew he was always with her...
but wanted his spirit to touchdown

My Elephant
There is something about the Elephant I love very much,
I wish I could cuddle him but I know I cannot,
if they be my friend, I will play soccer with an Elephant on my side,
I will catch hold of his trunk and he’ll trumpet me to victory with pride.

There is something about the Elephant I love very much.
Although he is so big, he won’t give you a fright,
He lifts up his trunk and blesses you instead,
So different from the Lion and Tiger you meet,

There is something about the Elephant I love very much
He is a pure vegetarian, he won’t **** a mouse,
He is worshiped as God for all his good vice.
If we were to crown the king of the jungle again,
It will go to the Elephant our vegetarian friend

Proud To Be An American
I’m proud to be American
To live In a country that’s free
And we’re free to be who
We want to be!
We’re always
Free to try
New things.
And enjoy every
Experience that
Life may bring!
And I was taught
To stand up for what
You believe in
And never give up
On your hopes
And dreams
Because the sky
Is the limit!

Beach Canopy
The smell of fresh fry doe
Time had elapsed playing at the casino
Fresh lobster with a side order of fries
Those spacious wonderful sky's
Down at the shell the continental were playing
A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting
Flip flops and the sound of laughter
A playground for kids in the middle
The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head
Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer
Love We Go
through the sweet vortex of our inner frame
we can dream of far off places with kings and queens
shaped through the fragments of are exploits
someday you will be all alone in your room
there you will read a text to reflect upon your life
we each are on a journey in this life
some ponder the existence of God
other reflect in the day to day toil
love is the mere essence of are existence
shine your inner light upon the twilight hour

shadows block the mere reflection of my frame
not having you in my arms is driving me insane
lest I refrain another door by which to explore
there is so much more in this game of life
within its given strife we can learn
one soul soars and another will soon burn
we better wait are turn in this wheel in the sky
the faint lulabye in its scope
Elvis In Vegas
Viva Viva Los Vegas
he came alone with a guitar in his sack
romance with the dice
he's giving back

a whole host of onlookers looking upon
he waves his magic wand
with a favorable song
swivel hips stand tight in his sticks

Elvis
Fun House
a blade of grass blown in the wind
heros have erected its course
leading folks away from divorce
in times of remembrances
thoughts shattered in the wind
coming apart at the seams

a brigade of thoughts
What is a funhouse ?
It is when the eyes of all are upon you
It's not so, but when you go through it is true

The funhouse is a form of torture where everything unravels around you
It is a commotion of nervousness and you just want to hide from all that is around you
It is a secret that you don't want to share, but there is one who helps just by saying I care
It's not what you say it is what you do

When you enter my world of the funhouse, you assure me that God is in control
that with him I don't need to be afraid
It's the gentle way in which you talk when once you have entered into the realm of commotion...
It's the assurance of your sincerity that softens the blow
Soon with your special way the inner strife goes away
A Thief in The Night
Jesus
he that hath an ear let him hear
when all was said to be good
let it be said calamity

have you ever been down to the lowest pit
you look around and no one gave a ****
By His Hand
through long lines of being transformed to clean my room
in the late month of June we move too soon
we remain vital to the oncoming spirit of the game
filtered through those tiny reasons to spice up the season
the God Lord up above has carried us by his hand
Poison Ivy
there are pillars being built
for those who pusue the chase
we each are in a battle
some have retreated at death's door
lest I implore something more
a quaint visitation with your higher power
in a world torn up in misery & sorrow
hiding behind a false hidden garb of compromise
can't we easily see through those twised lies
yet we embark on a new journey of are own
having a house but living all alone
out in the street where people meet
had a gun at my head thought i was really dead
out of devastation I reached right for the bottle
like having a gun in hand to release its throttle
the world is in misery torn
some insist to curse they very day they were born
eyes to see but can't
hears to hear but won't
there's a true lesson to be learned
one soul soars while the other soon to be burned
we must all wait in line for are turn
each of us will have a day in the sun
now I'm off on the run
searching through pictures to put on my wall
to stand ten feet tall amidst the social resistance
join in now I must insist this
casualties are enormous
for a stated cause that's plain atrocious
have we taken the time out to notice
yet many of us have given up way to easy
caught in a rut in are society
out of desperation there still is a plan that we can see
someday be fulfilled as a reality
if we only believe one will be set free
Break Away
break away to a brand new day
perfect display we come to pray
faint sounds of grandeur
right down to the wire

share with those you have heard
Thirst
thirst after the water that has been spoken
look deep beneath the vines of realization through thought and mind
breath deep inside let your breath go complete
with words of heightened anticipation

go deep upon deeper be the keeper of the gate call it fate
the twist and turn of the music to loose it
the world spins like a top
negotiate your buyer

sweet songs of praise
sweet moments raised
in a time well spent in thought
the spinning wheel stop just like a top
remember me in times like these
sheltered through the breeze crushed upon the leaves
in midnight hour with pulse through the flame in moments of granduer
sharpen your arrows to calm the breeze nestled to your knees
cultivated with a smile to know all the great while
a helmet for the passing fawn the bear from its nap with a yawn
in columns of portals sprinkled dust in the wind
the habitation of a needle visible through the shadows

remember me in times like these
through the training of the leaves taunt the moment
an explosion until sunset the bill of sale
A Gun For Hire
there is a direct correlation between time & space
scented across your universe base
the climb to approach the summit peak
with words do you seek

famous qoutes and pictures for your desire
coming down to the wire
a gun for hire
Beyond Her Tea- Blurred Vision
The powerful voice of loneliness is screaming through her mind of twisted halls,
All too painful to hear, she absorbs them into her cotton ball walls
But, beyond her tea-blurred vision and through her pounding heart

She hears the voice inside her that is worse
than a dagger through her heart
Her shadow's darkest moments are filled with hopeless pride
And her tongue tied conscience is all whom she has to confide

But the rose that is trying to bloom, within
her salty hand, will never wither, and never be taken away,
Because this, and this alone, is
what keeps her going day by day

the embrace...
Shelter From The Storm
outside violence
inner silence
shadows now block the vortex
spaces for places & midnight traces
coming apart at the seams
jelly beans

breath deep my pale sister
confide my shady brother
undercover as lovers
sign so simple the *******


shelter from the storm
curse the very day you were actually born
a world that turns
suffer inside the place to hide


let go of any ambition
what are you *******
cap the cosmic clap
faces in the window having storms in the night
Celebrate In Twilight
the crimsome tide
we all want to run away & hide
although we suffer inside
enter through the canopy of a velvet song

lines drawn in the sand
when to understand
give yourself away
take heed to pray

no cornerstone
no bridge unknown
through the sunlit ravine
The Knight Of The 1,000 Eyes
softly now faintly
ode to the serpent's tale
dismiss the dread to reclaim its saga
in darkened dungeons fit for conquest
come away for a rest
most of life is but a test

treasure the mantle to the I am presence
delve into the sacred flames within your heart
enter the center of your being pull back on yourself
a still small voice within you saying be not afraid
I am here I am your heart I abide in the holy temple in the center of your being

you have climbed through mountains you have found me after a very long trek in the darkness of human misery
I am the pressence that looks through your eyes
the knight will rise of the 1, 000 eyes
filtered through the shame
who are we to blame
infinity is my measure
you beloved heart belong to me let us be one once again
allow the shell of outer human pass away

I will be the service to life that passes through you
do not accept as real to what is in the outer world
fear not I am the life inside your heart
I am inside you together we must intoduce ourselves onto the world.
A Gripping Fairy Tale
long ago let the truth be told
in a city far far away
lived a young hobbit who drank
there was woods to hide his visitation

a taste of hungry exoneration
A fare maiden was on the throne
ruling her army from the barren city
enclosed was a message of honor

high off traction from the waiting pool
the kingdom was now silent
These Words
these words are wrapped among a cordial smile
cemented like glue for what are we to do
come now let us leave the door opened,
a demonstration of trust in a world in quite a bit of a rush

the door swings wide to the enforced way
a beautiful flower display
ample time to pray
therefore everything will be o.k.

the knock on the door
lest I implore
a distant shuttter of languished circumstances
with a heart that's been renewed

these words stand still amidst the night's appeal
the even keal behind the spinning wheel
trust is completely most like a seagull off the coast
a reason to really trust
Surfing The Internet
Today I'm on point smoking a fat joint relaxing basking in the ambiance of the hour
folks need to take a cold shower as they admire the scented perfume through the room
we have become combersome with this world as a child as if you never really heard
Leonard Cohen with his famed song "Suzanne" really makes you think about life.
Through the negative light of affliction we have every bit of reason to be standing chosen
yet we have are back against the wall when all attempts of standing ten feet tall,


Each of us has a reason to discuss the mere notion of love sent from up above
Rat *** tat tat on that *** no one gets by on any free pass we need to make are way
look to your neighbor for any favors we can all learn to trust & savor
Each new moment that comes along with a fast paced moving vibrant song
you unleashed the inner lion in me with a whole host of chemistry

Surfing the internet may not be your thing but prayer can unleash the fires within
storms of life come to either make you or break you whats news for you might not be for you
life is like a jagged edge roller coaster with its twists and turns
one soul soars while the other one burns just wait your turn
Empty Leaves
onto the seventh hour of the seventh sun
beckon to rule the new day's dawn
the lovely fawn sitting on the lawn
vibrations to great temptations

captivated by a smile
to know all the great while
the wilderness beckons a response

of wild beasts among us
Light Brevity
thoughts of brevity about the city
stay close to me a whole host next to me
got rhymes of choice stretched to the opened door
the willingness to be explored

stand firm in the wheel chair you know my condition
to what I've been dishing
kissing
twisted stereo lies by the bars swift no surprise

captivated by her smile
still to know all the great while
as if a little child
faith pierced the scene

eating fantastic cuisine
the turning of the page
is it safe to ask you your age ?
the band played on
Agatha The Princess
she was on the throne
far away from her home
uniting hearts to ne fond heights
carrying herself with a song

Agatha the princess
will lose their influence
soaring to new frontiers
left her to tears

took walks in her garden
beautiful flower display
led to thoughts to pray
with tears in her eyes

came as a big surprise
delicate hue wth borrowed lies
she walks the flats on the lonely pier
rapers and dishes she would hide
leave behind

the careless whisper
a shoulder to cry
the soft cascading vamp
shine on her eyes

to beg or even borrow
moments of sorrow
to cleave to her young
the living stone

have we just begun
Back To The Front
plunged into uncertainty
the quest to be a want to be

shining on mental enhancement
there's joy in the progress

smoke on my ceiling

highway of what I'm dealing
******
bang bang shoot shoot
you took my nephew Shane
let me be the first to explain
Shane used to live with us so long ago
until he shot up ****** he died in are house

such a dark force
it starts with a promise to relieve
then one gets too deep
falling apart at the seams

beg, borrow & steal
for your next fix to even the deal
some take it with a needle others snort it up their nose
but do you suppose there's always a shipment coming from Rhode Island

dodge the bullet feel the passion why am I asking
****** scores a perfect 10 in the mind of an addict
it takes your body then your soul
engulfed in flames bust up the beat to promote its tempo
Soft Parade
the tear drop fell from the ceiling
no matter what I'm dealing
the ocean has a delicate spray
through loose lines let it go

time well spent in thought
through the day springs hope
left nestled on its undertow
the stereo swell

basking in the hour of belief
sorted flowers in its incredible epitaph
The Waiting Suspense
there are pillars
in doorways
loosed to become forgiven
loose engine
the pulsating of a river
where is the trigger
gets bigger & bigger
Destination Excellence
the thought of letting go
a far to time before
waiting to explore
the opened door

life can be quite a bore
the longing for more
road up ahead
avoid the living dead

thoughts inside my head
The Arms Of Rap
into the arms of rap that's where its at buiding through the confusion in fusion
got flames coming out my baseball cap I'm in need of a nap keep close to the doorway
fresh rhymes I'm still on time you maybe brave see me at the arcade park my Benz in back
folks tend to over react but I tip my hat got news for you all bridge the gap know what's up

Chilling at the grill with my girl sporting heavy studs think that I'm in love you see
there's brilliance in a piece mark the ege of my teeth stand still & repeat
bars watching souped up body kit cars looking to the stars a view from Mars
Pina Colada does anyone grow fond of Starsky & Hutch another push

grasping with tender faith in my hand when will folks understand stick it to the man
years have passed still having every reason to grasp the solitude in that I'm still in a good mood...
Feeling high anxiety got folks sitting next to me living out my legacy of what I used to be
Sipping my favorite sauce to the max you tend to over react got to stay in the zone

Summer time boogy time get your cash and stand in line frozen in time
Through a variation of a dream peeps do scream eating delicious ice cream
Souped up high hat as if in a tempo taking you places that you need to go
playing a little Spanish fly i got words by the fly your my favorite guy

on my human side stand still I'm happily alive got to put first things first
this is how i flirt got words for Lavert put back your gold in a purse
Trump is getting busy but he makes me awful dizzy better listen to Thin Lizzy
they say i'm institutionalized but I got words from the hive it's best to dream big
Let Yourself Be
A reflection I will be, for today
I looked into a mirror and much to my surprise,
what I saw was all deep, deep, inside...
There it was, all exposed, the inner me

right down to my very soul alarmed, shocked, and surprised, what
I saw wasn't really me on the outside
What have I done ? Where did it go wrong ?
Why isn't the inner me the same as the outer soul ?

Then I could see way beyond it isn't just me, but everyone.
Life is a fairy tale to most for the really don't accept the Holy Ghost
If all would look within their self, and
see the person that is there,

open up your heart, let it out
don't pretend, just be proud, for the person
you really are, is just what God wanted
for he created you as he chose

Don't fret, or whine, just be proud, life's riches you will surely find
Now when you look at me, a mirror you will see
for when you look at me, what you'll see is the inner me
For I am the mirror of the real me

To everyone in life who feels they are not special,
you really are, you see, for God made you that way,
if you'll only let yourself be...

.                                  [homage to Federico García Lorca]                              .

Glory to the conversion speed, making statements against the tide of lenses he occupies, the most famous of his legs and each other instead of black hair, waiting for the light of the socks, in the same place, the movement of the legs and patrons, do not just do not be afraid of theft. Satan, throughout Asia, spiritually, ***** and nanny early in the morning in defense of team life in the furnace: and. As for the punishment, from the beginning to the end of the laws of people and their use, safety standards for use, etc., their legs, feet and legs, feet, soles, heels, when only I looked at the Spider, and I love the Asian style and I grew up even in the morning in the morning, in the morning, in the morning dead, I talk to you little by little, so this is more of a wedding dress; it was the very breath of Because there is more stupidity, because there cannot be a song of the yellow efforts of Ralph Lauren for the eternal gratitude of the satellites and the companion of the carbine. The awareness of the quality of life. Call such a call. Thick footprints in a bad witch in Asia. Note: the first thing in the world is a child, a teenager who mocks in the morning, in the morning, in the morning, by inlays, and lets the bones be the father of "**** me, this is the height and the point higher on the toes." NP is in the eyes of God for a lover, crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy! um, the color of the Asian cache look to the harmful actions will be condemned, for example and superior, as well as to those who do it wrong. And the king of ***** takes the hands and takes care of them to fly a few feet ... feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs. Standard legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs, feet, legs , feet, legs, legs, legs Levi, thank God God knows for example, on the edge simply and easily. Really hot and heavy bone shower. Those who walk in shame confuse the living. The fact that I thought that in the morning I could not be the Teacher in the morning, in the morning, so I was even Asian, so there was no Asian schedule, and many of these things had to show the area of ​​consumption of drugs. The number of words of Ralph Loren, yellow socks, family games in the field, like a girlfriend, the developers of Lorca, G., by definition, a wise spirit fights with greasy or greasy fingers. A scholarship on the green TMZ Levi sofa is an adjacent price, archery, horseback riding at a morning party in Leon-Asia, to play with the edge of the zipper and the dead socks, and then in the face of the ridiculous . Are you crazy? And what is the child of a child born to win? Sexually, MLK, and the eyes of Jesus Christ for drinks and drinks for beverages and meditation for women. I know you and you Oh, love the lake of the veil skirt; Relying on the legs, feet, legs, feet of people in particular.

In a crowd not standing out

doing up pumps ready for the fray

dancing like a swan on a lake

hearing applause making the day.

no more, just placid memories

blood percolates from ragged pumps

practice, practice, a childhood lost

the last pirouette, was it worth the cost.

He, naked by the gun
polished by antiquity.
Bronze in an age of reason,
overthrown by passion.

Live by the fruit of god, and
by god, I am risen.

Nazarene, Gabriel, Abaddon, a wing
Apollo, a foot, I float on air
and water-- watch me.

Me.  To the thyself and thou art
I, I, I, beauty--

Rosepyre absence.

frozen
I sink in air, choke on air,
bloated by the birth of drought.

This is not a lake of fire.  This is
your mother, standing
at the edge of Eden, milky thighs
tough skin and swollen.

Westward, says the philosopher,
the questioner, the one
who doubts god, but knows
he is god

And takes sanctity by the mouthful--
apples to apples, dust to bodies
Evolution without degradation, Genesis: Martyr:
drive another nail in.

I've never seen the sun set
Over Calumet
Sound out the golden Lake
I gave you my best

I've lost my share of old friends
To death and debts
He gives but he can't take
Know that this knows no ends

Come down from your cloud
We can talk this out

Come down from your cloud
We can make it out now

I've felt the Sun's rising heat
Alone in St. Pete
Drown my flickering beat in white sand
Gave it up to sleep

I've found myself in loneliness
And dying less
The glistening glass couldn't sting my hand
And I'm feeling less than feeling blessed

Come down from your cloud
We can talk this out

We can make it out

Merle and June needed a break
From their Midwestern town.
Inundated with sales and receipts,
Both were starting to drown.
 
After years without a vacation,
June found an ideal
Vacation spot at a mountain resort,
And the price was a steal.
 
Ah, finally, to be one with nature!
To sit on their behinds!
To escape the intolerable prairie heat!
To put work out of their minds!
 
During their drive, Merle said, "Dear,
This trip should calm your nerves."
He couldn't see the fear in June's face
As he sped 'round the mountain curves.
 
Once they were settled in their cabin,
June's calm turned out to be brief.
Staring out the window she shrieked
"What?" in disbelief.
 
"Merle," she said, "On the path out there…
I tell you, I could have sworn
I saw a man and woman walk by
As naked as the day they were born!"
 
Grabbing her glasses to read the brochure,
June had to squint
To see that it stated "nudist camp"
In very, very small print.
 
More **** couples sauntered by
With body parts a-dangling.
"Bite the bullet," she said to poor
Merle whose nerves were jangling.
 
"Lock up all of our clothes in our safe
So no one can purloin 'em.
It states right here: No Refund, so
If you CAN'T beat 'em, join 'em."
 
So au naturel Merle and June
Enjoyed the fresh mountain air.
Then Merle got a mosquito bite
On his…well…you know…down there.
 
They started to feel a bit more relaxed
After sitting and sipping
On a few cold drinks. Suddenly, they realized:
They'd never gone skinny dipping.
 
Merle learned in the cool mountain lake
That he was a quick reactor:
Walking back to the shore he complained,
"Blasted shrinkage factor!"
 
Walking around unclad was fine--
With that they had no disputes.
But dining felt a little bit strange
In their birthday suits.
 
Swimming, golfing, hiking, riding,
And sunbathing were all fun,
But they burned parts of their bodies that
Had never seen the sun.
 
Burning his *** wasn't part of the plan,
Merle had to admit.
For three whole days it curtailed activities
Because he couldn't sit.
 
After two weeks of mosquito bites
And sunburned rumps they set
Off on their journey home from a trip
The two would never forget.
 
So, what lessons did they learn?
Being a nature lover
Is fine and dandy, but next time they'll do it
With some sort of cover.
 
And to feel the wind blow on them
Could put their mind at ease;
But they also learned that parts of the body
Don’t need to feel a breeze.

- by Bob B

The world outside is full of light,
there is no fear, no hate, no night,
love and life are free to all,
no one can hear the darkness call,

The world outside is colder now,
I feel the fear, the hateful row,
love is scarce, so very rare,
I hear the darkness, feel it's snare,

The world outside grows darker still,
I'm losing hope, I’ve no free will,
the darkness grows ever stronger,
I wonder if I’ll last much longer,

The world outside is black and cold,
my very soul feels weak and old,
I gaze into the shadowed lake,
my eyes, my hands, seem somehow fake,

The world outside has but one light,
one tiny glimmer through the blight,
a fire burning deep within,
I feel it's warmth throughout my skin,

The world outside is brighter now,
I see it glow, I hear it's vow,
I hear no darkness, feel no fear,
in happiness I shed a tear,

The world outside is full of light,
there is no fear, nor endless night,
my heart and soul feel full of life,
for now, you see, you are my wife.

I've written verse after verse about us
trying to piece together every memory
scrambling at anything that provokes a reminder
because you were all real
so it must have been all there
while pain revealed the truth

I got so used to
having your arm draped over my shoulder
you were the only one I'd run to
the only one I could run to whenever I broke
you'd hold me tear stained
you were one of the few who stayed
with me through the worst
while pain revealed the truth

we wrote in the sand
the teasing and our way of fighting
and I revisited the docks
we spent the hours and days of time together
where the only you and me talks happened
while pain revealed the truth

I can't swim in a lake
without hearing you
I still hold close
your music your words
I swear I still smell you in my clothes sometimes
or are those only desperate hallucinations
me cheating myself with illusions
while pain reveals the truth

*You're not here anymore

so what do we do
when the buses become blood clots,
stationary auction items up in the next lot,
nails placed firmly within the traffic’s trail,
beads on an already beaded bracelet
fit for a wrist as thick as yours;
delicate slips of skin wound around a bone
that glides along the air?

so what do I do
when we’re lost mid-city
consult and ask the commuter committee
that pumps around us in a lunchtime break
or walk on further just past mid-city lake
and look out for lost landmarks?

arrange me in an arrondissement,
unfurl me and curl out into a quarter,
lead me silently down another street,
kiss me in another alley and call me mine,
take a holiday with me, cross that line.

This is what I remember:
the rasp of your callouses against my hips,
and the way your eyelashes would settle
like snowflakes on my cheekbones
if you brought your face close enough.
This is what I remember:
the whir of the air conditioner
struggling against the afternoon heat.
Too short shorts.
Vinyl diner seats sticking to my thighs,
pulling uncomfortably at the skin.
Blueberry cobbler and coffee left too long in the ***.
I don't know if it was me
or you
or me with you-
the way I would bruise pretty and quick
beneath your fingertips,
like a summer peach just shy of overripe.
This is what I remember:
filling myself with you and dime-book poetry,
both worn by time and the carelessness of others.
My wet hair on your pillowcase.
Your eyes.
Your eyes.
Your eyes;
irreverent and devoted.
There was religion in you-
divine words written in the spaces between your ribs.
You took whiskey like holy communion.
And me too.
Your bedroom faced the East.
Mornings were molasses and sugarcane and dragging feet.
This is what I remember:
ruined shoes and over-stretched T-shirts.  
The smell of lake water.
Mud between my toes.
Changing leaves floating down around me.
Cold doesn't come here like other places.
Snow gathers on trees and in hair and melts easy.
This is what I remember:
warming my hands in your coat pockets,
then with cups of tea-
Earl Grey brewed so strong it made my head ache.
I am more used to night terrors than I ever was to you.
This is what I remember:
feeling.
The flu in September,
then again in December.
You felt more like a fever dream than anything else-
blurry;
fantastical;
difficult to recall.
You left me sixteen voice mails;
sixteen unheard messages;
sixteen times I pressed nine to delete.
This is what I remember:
me,
stronger.

We never cracked the mysteries of Pittsburgh,
and Baltimore bled out inconveniently before

our eyes, another nervous snitch knifed outside
the corner convenience store in broad daylight.

Salt Lake City was too pure, too white,
theocracy carved into a wafer of snow.

We grew tired of watching Los Angeles
pleasure itself in the sun like a **** star,
interminably tan and vacuous.

And Chicago was too ******* cold.

So we settled here, where streets turn
the soles of our shoes to palimpsests

where every apartment elevator
offers a wall of infinite buttons

where grocery stores stock their shelves
with bottles and bottles of octopus ink

where neighbors open their curtains
and stand shimmering in moonlight

where weather mixes with nostalgia,
creating immutable, poetic forecasts

where water tastes like redemption
and the skyline rises like a chorus,

so much taller than the cities
we inhabited when we were

alive.

I have been
Friendzoned,
Many a time.
It is a common experience
Among both geneders,
For it is truly
The best way
Do deal
With that issue.

But now,
Now let me tell you
Of a far greater pain
And longing.
For I have been
Timezoned.

For my love,
She is across the country,
Our great country,
Our far too expansive country.
She is over hills and mountains,
Rivers and valleys,
Plains and forests.
She is over the Appalachians,
Past the Blue Ridge
Around the myriad waterfalls
Of Western North Carolina,
All sparkling in their magnificence
As the light crests over the hill,
Spilling into their deep pools
And flowing drops,
Yet they all,
All of them,
Pale in comparison to her,
To her golden skin,
Her flashing eyes,
Her smile
That beams down upon you
And radiates with
Joy and happiness,
And her hair,
So-called ***** blonde,
But to me,
There is no purer,
For it flows
More freely
Than the waterfalls
And looks
Even more gorgeous
As the sunlight hits.
For she is more beautiful
Than a Sunset
Upon the lake
Where she lives.

She is over the great Mississippi,
Which flows from Canada
All the way to the Gulf of Mexico,
Streaming across our country
As a boarder
Twixt east
And west.
The only thing
Even larger
That I know
Is her kindness
And compassion,
For those are
Without end.

She lies
Past the cornfields of Nebraska
And past the plains
Of the olden tribes.
My love lies beyond them,
And of all things
She alone
Could make those miles of wheat
Joyous
To drive through.

She lies over the Rockies,
Past the Tetons,
And around the great apple orchards
Of her state.
For her I would climb
The Rockies,
Tunnel through
The Tetons,
And harvest
Every apple
In the state.
But alas,
That would help me
No more
Than hacking off a limb.

To be timezoned then,
Is to end
What barely began
Not because
Anyone wants to
But because
Simple geography
And age
Makes it impossible.
It feels far worse
Knowing that,
If you were there,
If you lived within
A three-hour drive,
You would be
With her.
But alas,
I am not.
I live
Forty-five hours
Of non-stop driving
To the east
And south.
A seventy-hour long bus ride,
And a 6 hour long flight.
And yet I know
That if I were there
I would be with her.
But I am not,
And so someone else
Is.
What hurts
More than rejection
Is acceptance
And then having
The cruel fates
Swoop down
And stop
What would have been
Amazing.
What could have been
Perfection.
But what was instead
That
Which barely
Happened.

The Eidolon

She awaits the dawn of love in an ambiguous form; a crystal eye for the mind’s eye.

The apparition of untold beauty has transported her soul to the vanishing realm without her Mother’s knowledge.

She is the daughter of the Earth who has been lain to sleep; somnolent for eternity and ethereal in luminosity.

The wings of phoenix have revived a hollow corpse; she no longer lies down but had broken free of binding soil.

The Universe greets her eyes as she lie on the pavement to eternity…

Where are you?

I see now…

The world is swirling around my fingertips; iridescent cosmic glitter has been laid on my fingertips; ethereality and incorporeality run amuck in this realm.

Where have I gone?

Have I not awakened to the light of Mother Nature’s womb?

Is this not the cascading waterfall cavern with luxuriant blossoms along a baptismal and pristine lake?

The rainbow surge had arisen from the horizon, a cosmic crescent of spectral means.

My body; a vessel unseen; fiery silhouettes of a revitalizing eagle.

Scorching heat blazes across the bare soil and she knows then and there that her soul hath been lain, slain, desolated, discombobulated.

A lurid vision of a gory demise; my annihilation that now has passed.

I see now evermore…

My crystal eye, a prognosticator has revealed to me the ghastly truth.

I am merely an elimination, a casualty from an unknown world known as…

cannot remember

“Is it home?”

By Sanders M. Foulke III

Eternal knowing
Enter this holy sacred place an actual event in history the most important action to ever occur in human history this determines
destinies in the manger is the Christ child dwell think of the implications your journey can be in some cases the same as the wise
Men a long and arduous one nothing is more precious or crucial now look up from the past to the present but more importantly
The future this is a dark future for sure the area that I have to explore this story will set the tone I believe most knows this poem
A man without a country written by Edward Everett Hale (1822–1909 it takes you into the world of a young naval officer who is found
Guilty of high treason against the United States his unusual punishment was felt to be fitting although the toughest sentence ever
Passed on a prisoner if he could be that calloused and cold against such a nation who’s high ideals and love of freedom could be
Trampled under without care then his punishment would be for the rest of his life he would never set foot on this blessed shore again
The story details his first reaction of brashness but then as time passes he has a change of heart he falls in love with his native land
But his plight is to always be shifted to a ship that is setting sails to faraway lands his home only the hold of ships it tells in deep detail
The strain on the men that must continue this punishment and his own life as it ages the despair the reality of not belonging the
Aloneness that crushes him and grips your heart as the reader while this bears on your mind I will take you into mine this is what rips
My heart as this man I look at people I don’t just casually glance I study them at deep levels when I see them hug someone touching
A most human need to be loved and give love to be accepted then my burden beyond the manger the cross as I said before beyond the
Open grave that is the ultimate reason of his birth the word says who shall escape if they neglect such a great salvation as this just like
The young naval officer that betrayed his country here is the punishment more awful than even the flames of the lake of fire see as I see
These precious real people separated from Jesus the greatest love never as the song says sheltered in the arms of God never hear his
Voice his touch that’s true hell my friend our families will follow us in to this domain but it’s called outer darkness we will be all alone
Before we had distraction on earth quiet peace oh yes and we consume more alcohol at the time that is supposed to be set aside to
Honor his birth than at any other time of the year all will truly be burned as wood hay and stubble we have this great invitation to be
His home by becoming the temple that he will live in from a desolate waste land to a land where ever you go he is with you a king
Above all king’s resident within your body that has become his temple with all the gifts of the spirit love mercy peace and many more
That elevates you to the highest plane giving you opportunities the base life never can even hint at the only thing is it does benefit and
Feels God’s love though it is imperceptible this will end I hope we don’t lose all that is human and become like the enemy I met a
Demonic angel when I was in Napa California he was trying to act as a messenger from God words can’t explain the instant recognition
Of who was there though unseen it was repulsive my mind pictured something bubbling with every imaginable disease how appropriate
Since hell is where all sicknesses comes from and instantly I understood the ease of this and his kind how they perpetrated the holocaust the word
Says my sheep will know my voice I knew who his master was if we don’t make it this going to be our lot to exist in and with this filth
That filth will pain us the most knowing we were invited to walk in holiness be loved given a city a universe at our feet all is asked is do
the right thing He will give you power for each step.

Laying down alone, looking over the water whose black glistening depth I do not know. I think of our love; how passionate and true we are, how unwavering and pure it can be, and I wish. I wish upon the light on the lake, the tropic breeze filling my nose, the light wind kissing my skin. I wish on my life that we make it, that I make it. With someone who has qualities and love as true as yours. I lust you, every chance my mind gets to wonder.. I lust you, I need you , I can remember the feel of your hands touching the inside of my leg. I can feel your breath on my neck. I close my eyes and know your kiss, so passionate and fierce my whole body becomes weak. You're the one man I've never been able to break from. You're the one man I can't deny. You are my joy and smile, my heart and soul. I will follow you into the depths of the midnight's tropical water and live with you forever until the ends of time. You have me.

There are nights when I dream.

It’s my father,
and I’m an adult.
And he’s in my kitchen.
So I know I’m dreaming.

And with his fists knotted in his jacket,
he offers a smirk.
“I know what you’ve been up to.”

And he does.

You’ve been saying “heh” a lot.
You’ve been thinking you’re clever.
You’ve been hoping silence equals shrewdness.
(You’re quite taken by the theater of your own anger.)
You keep getting taken by the mechanic.
You’ve been giving the desperate glances of a subway ******.
You’ve been pretending to be a man.
You’ve been hoping someone else will put out the fire.

Now we’re holding a couple of beers by a truck, overlooking a lake.
Inexplicably, we’re going hunting.
“It’s ok.  This is how it is.”
He deliberately checks the sight.

And with the certainty of a father, he tells me he knows.

But I remember it’s a dream,
because he doesn’t.

From a high pass in the Adirondacks,
I once gazed upon
the first tendrils of dawn,
bursting forth from hills beyond
to snake their way through
a rolling forest.
Setting it ablaze
with a magnificent rainbow of color.
Finally settling upon a small lake,
far below.
And as I watched the sun
breathe warm life into this beautiful,
secluded landscape
I thought
"She was far more alluring,
than the wonder I behold before me,
but,
At least this is a memory,
I can keep."

I walk with you
with only the streetlights
as our chaperones.
My pace slows down,
trying to stretch this
10-minute walk
for 10 minutes more.

Your voice is steady,
but I hear how it cracks
like the ripples on a lake.
I pray to the stars
that the tears in your eyes
are from the smog.

We walk on the side of the street,
arguing over who gets to guard the other
because we know we'll both
walk to the middle of the road
at one point or another.
I win
and push you closer to the side,
feeling your hand in mine.

We reach the gate.
I make you promise
that you won't talk to strangers,
that you won't walk by yourself.
Our pinkies link,
and I feel five years old.

You go home.
I pray once more
for more time by your side,
but you have already crossed the road.
I change my prayer for patience
until I can make you mine.

We could have hiked Mt.Happily ever after
And probably swam in Lake Laughter
We would have flown in hope airways
If you didn't change your ways
We would have toured inspiration springs
We would have exchanged vows and rings
I could have made a great bride
But now that you've wounded my pride

Just witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise

We might have been quite imperfect
Something about which we didn't care
But we still tried to reach there
While we kept our mutual respect
Our affair was a race to reckon
A corn which haters tried to peck on
We could have changed the trend
I don't believe that it really was the end

So witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise

You left me with a deadly kind of freedom
A kind that chains the soul in a prison
You crippled the feet I could use to start again
So I'm constantly flying on cloud nine
Totally fooled my heart to believe you was mine
Only to drop it from high, causing more pain

Witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise

It could have been a better story than cinderella
During the rains would have been your umbrella
The hugs and kisses were worthwhile
We could have gone longer than the Nile
That's why I can't believe you've forgotten
Yet within me It's no where near rotten
Could have shared with the world our paradigm
We could have had a pyramidic paradise

Witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise

I am home to the twilight candour,
greenish glamour of the lake below
shimmers in restless ****** thunder,
the white splashes in youthful splendour.

I am crowned with the sun's dusky ruse,
golden galore on the plethora of pine above
in contrast with deepening darkness under,
seeking a wand of wonder to port the cruise.

Chirping spring entwines fragrant coriander
emerald water kisses those shamrock shores
seaweed shades hug the valleys by the lake,
fantasy and reality blend in riverine meander.

The nook of ravishing rendezvous resides
right at this heaven that hides from you and I,
lotus petal like eyes sweeten the salt in sea,
after the storm like a shelter the land smiles.

What a silence
Gagged by all my swallowed pride
A man with two minds
Sitting at an empty breakfast table
Crumbs caked in dust
Sleep hangs from my eyes
Like four fingers gripping a ledge
Hoping to be pulled in through an open window, but
Content with dangling forever
Those that I love are my strangers
Overcast in August
Sedated on the bank of a lake
Sifting through rocks
Hair hiding her face, from my memory
Silently, I can write down her name
Yet moments most important
Are just the pages where I fill in the blanks
How many tears have I replaced
With forced smiles and sundresses
Swaying with grace
As you run through the wind and into my arms
How far have I waded
Into deep waters of fiction
What lies sunken and drowned
Beneath the calm surface I have created
What will be found
When the depths are dragged
Will this lake give up my dead?

blood drips from my wrists
as i cut into my veins
the jagged blade twists
and sprays blood on window panes
i collapse on my back and bleed
upon my marble floor
my heart aches indeed
but she's already walked out the door
light slips away and the darkness creeps in
i hear my soul crying out from within
it longs to be with the one it fell for
and i wish i could tell it that we both were done for
but i couldnt beleive it myself so why even try
it shouts at me constantly "why, you *******, why?!?!"
i shut my eyes and cry, "my heart is gone... ive got nothing left."
with that it shuts up and we both wait for death.
tears spring from my eyes as my life force fades away
dark crimson stains my white shirt as i leave today
and pass into tomorrow where maybe i can be
with her for eternity and finally see
that maybe life's not so bad... but not in this life
not in this world will we live without strife
earlier that day, i scrawled on a note
"i write this with a solid lump in my throat,
i love her so and i made a mistake
letting her go. she drowned in a lake
earlier this month. i blame myself for
everything... i thought we'd endure
but not in this life... maybe the one after
i miss her smile... and also her laughter.."
my note couldnt be read by the coroner that night
because my blood ****** up all the light
hoping that maybe it would find her and be
with her one more time for eternity.
they took my casket to the graveyard the next night
sat me right beside her and we basked in the light
together forever, finally in death
if only i'd known as i'd taken my last breath..
our spirits danced side by side that eve
forever together because neither of us could leave.

You’re aged thirty-two with your own bottomless bank account.
A pocket full of cash that’s digging a deep immeasurable pit into your pocket.
Spending ridiculous amounts on ridiculous things, no matter if it costs over a million.

You’re aged thirty-two with your own supercharged automobile.
Fresh new stainless steel alloys and rubber tires to burn at the turn of the diamond studded steering wheel.
Chasing the marks on the road as you drive off into your own endless oblivion.

You’re aged thirty-two with your own house in New York.
The doors of which let hundreds of guests pass through night after night into the never-ending carnivals rides of Coney Island.

But when they leave you standing alone on your peer, pensively pondering your past,
Reaching out for her green light across the misty filled lake.
Trying to work out how to bring her back, but only this time making it last.

She’s just across on the other side of the bay,
With no idea that the hole in her back is being burned by the fires of your eyes.
As you stand disguised staring into her yellow solar flare hair in the morning sunrise.

You’re aged thirty-two with an unfilled heart.
Longing for the girl that you should have never left in the start.
But she’s with someone new and she’s probably forgotten all about that year she spent with you.

You're just the distant memory reaching across the bay,
The one that the whisperers say was a lonely millionaire aged only thirty-two.

It seems another has left me
feeling cold and empty
another one bit the dust
another one left me in the shade.

This isn't my first broken heart
you'd think my heart would actually get it
to stop falling
to stop breaking
to build those walls higher
and stronger.

I get a heart transplant every month
if I didn't I'm sure I'd be dead
these hearts should go to someone on death road,
not someone foolish enough to think you'd stay.

Instead I get them
and break them easily
so easily
but tell me..
if I've broken my heart before
why does the pain stay?
why does it hurt so much?

Perhaps if I kept my old heart
it would be so much stronger...
or maybe not...
maybe it would be so weak that it would collapse
like me on the floor
a broken heap of pitiful flesh.

I don't trust anyone
but I still give my heart away.
Maybe it's because I enjoy pain
it becomes a releif
or maybe it's because I like being alone
and just don't know it.

I should stop thinking with my heart
there are cobwebs in my head
dust on the shelves
like in an old home.

I'm sure in a month I'll be fine
and I'll fall again
put scrapes on my heart
and bruises on my ego.

I'll let my insecurities drown me
in an endless black lake
which was created from my first heart break
Every tear would wash over me
pulling me down to bottom
and I would look up
and see no one to save me.

My lungs would fill with water
and I could drift away
hopefully to a safe shore

I would find myself
crawling out of the river
and laying on the cold sand,
breathing in the painful air
realising I have to move on,
I have to go on
After all..
It's just another broken heart

The level is rising around
the islands of silt
in the swamp, the fishermen
see their world widening
Old streambeds are also filling up
The wetlands become accessible
by rivers from the mainland

It is a ******* void
a gate to the sea, a chance
for the peat farmers and the forest people
to start trading, to build
dikes, quays, a city
with a dam
in the middle

People are flowing over
from the prosperous villages
to the impoldered land
with the new port –
not an old core that hungrily
conquers the surrounding lands
but their colony

The telegraph to a friend Days of life ….Number unknown ……Till the end of cosmos



©MARIA PANOUTSOU    Unpublished  Poem


The telegraph  to a friend
Days of life  ….Number  unknown  ……Till the end  of cosmos


The sun raised not too high / Day first  
For ever dragged/ her look a dawn
In fitting and non / wants an end to end
My land and  / my time / people  together with  /
Favorite hunts/ just for once/ Second  day
Miserable life without breath and blow /
But before and now / creeps something bitter /
Hard rock pass / heavy and rigorous /
 As we get older/  we the  youth / me folder hidden /
Under  the dress  gesticulate a pray/
It is in and out  Victorious psalm / Third day
Landscape cloudy / but beloved / and  women alone /
Nourish  baby and death timed    / and a man drown   lake/
With eyes  crying / Fourth day /
Dogs  and frogs/ and lonely pedestrians  / out of the pavement / Wishing a   floppy  river /with bright sun/
Day Fifth / and you letter is in my heart/ over my mouth
Over my own life  /stay with out  changes/  Day ……
…….   forgotten   numbers  and  chapters  /

Rising guano smokes the white birds.
The North winds homing, ave, a long
Besieging sea and ferries the prince
Of waves pass pacific and the fair isles.
With javelin eyes, aloft, blue streaks

The seething air, headlands draft
Grave embattlements, red rivulets
Paint on the raining wing, black art
Ticks the tern, marked minions and more
Dread.  Once you were a foundling

Dropped from sovereign doons, scree
Of sky, air of wizard, your image late
Spikes from the lake, taut talons train,
Your breast a speckled main, rapier
Of dreams, arisen, sheathed in stone.

In the frosts of autumn, leaves do tell
In storied colours, yellow and red,
Round the shores your kingdoms table,
Battle cries break, a silence of wails,
Though they fall they shall burn again.

“Television brought the brutality of war into the comfort of the living room.   Vietnam was lost in the living rooms of America—not on the battlefields of Vietnam.”                              Marshall McLuhan

You understand where I'm coming from,
Reader Rabbit, you twisted ****? Maybe not;
While you and your boy/girlfriend, later your wife/husband,
Were ******* backpacks around Europe,
I was of a less fortunate, less frivolous cohort,
Like the poor, who always miss the fun stuff.
So I stayed home and waited, dreading time,
Treading water in Queens,
Doing the graveyard shift at the Wonder Bread Bakery in Jamaica,
(No, not that Jamaica, mun.)
Building bodies 12 ways, and sweating out the inevitable,
Praying to my lesser god not to hear from my local draft board.
And who was I to disturb the universe?
“It ain’t me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son;
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, lawd naw.”
(Send  "Fortunate Son" Ringtone to your Cell)  
I was just another cynical working-class hero,
Unlike you, numb nuts, and the rest of your silver surfer friends.
I knew I’d wind up without my teddy bear,
Convinced I’d end up sans security blanket,
With no ****-vacant musical chair,
To plop my sorry non-exempt, 1A **** cheeks
Down into when the music stopped,
When the music’s over, turn out the light--Jim Morrison,
Lizard King--turn out the light.
My horse, my horse . . . no wait . . . **** the horse . . .
My kingdom, my kingdom for a 2-S college deferment!
What kingdom?  
What was it Jesus said?
Not of this earth, anyway.
Colonial Indochina: rich man's war, poor man's fight;
It was such an efficient way to rid trash from poor neighborhoods.

Needless to say, I’ve been having a little trouble adjusting ever since,
Since I got back from that Kafkaesque Disneyland Jungle Cruise,
My personal Cold War thriller,
My Tecumseh Sherman “War is All Hell” war,
My war: 45 years ago next week.
These things take time:
So says the recorded message on the VA’s PTSD Hotline.
45 years ago I packed up my duffle,
Packed for what I thought was going to be my last time in uniform,
Grabbed my Army discharge papers, and
Limp-dicked out the side door of,
The Veterans Hospital in St. Albans, County of Queens.
I’d like to say I never looked back. But I’d be lying.

(cue PSA: VA Reaches Out to Veterans:
The Department of Veterans Affairs will begin,
Contacting nearly 570,000 recent combat veterans May 1,
To ensure they know about VA's medical services and other benefits.)

Today and every day is 11-11, Veterans Day—
What gets me now is that all my time since The Nam,
Is on average two lifetimes,
For all those sent home, bagged and tagged.
Is it survivor’s guilt? I doubt it.

You may not understand this, but I miss that freaky jungle.
I felt safe there.
How quickly I learned to expect the unexpected,
And that meant to expect the worse,
Finding my comfort zone the more uncomfortable, the worse it got.
I miss the wet weight of the air,
The cloying heat and humidity.
Humidity: a plain and simple meteorological miracle,
When you have plenty of time to really think about it,
Which I did: 365 days and a wake-up.
You know that whole gorgeous hydrologic cycle thing?
I miss the rain, the sound of falling rain.
I miss the other sounds, every buzz and click,
All the arcane and dismal things that go screech in the night.
And that relentless insect hum,
The jungle vibrating and intense,
The colors vibrating too, especially that electric green,
A green so vivid, every leaf and vine,
"The world's richest repository of terrestrial biodiversity,” I read in some nature magazine,
Lying naked in bed while my therapist ****** me off the other day.
All those freaky creatures great and small,
Every miraculous living thing that’s really alive and thriving.
And this is why--I think,
Getting obnoxiously philosophical for the moment,
This explains why it got to be so easy to waste what was alive and thriving over there, including and especially our selves.

Death never seemed that permanent, that final over there.
And besides, you couldn’t **** anything for that long,
The critters all looking their wet and slimy same.  
Two minutes in The **** and you were
Killing every ******* gnat and bug,
Every leech and snake, anything &
Anyone that just looked at you sideways.

And the flora? Did I mention the flora?
Soupy Sales: (Smack! Bam!)  “I told you not to mention that.”
The flora:  the plants grew back and they grew back quick.
You chop a path on recon and the next day it’s not there anymore,
So you chop the whole way back to the L-Z.  
Chop, chop, Hop Sing!
You were one smart ****, Hop Sing,
Safe and sound in Lake Tahoe, Nevada-side,
Cooking up Ponderosa pork bellies for,
The Cartwright Clan: Ben, Adam, Hoss & Little Joe.
Meanwhile, I’m not earning any frequent flyer miles,
Aboard a chartered TWA, coffee-tea-or-me,
Royal **** airplane to Saigon,
A place called ** Chi Minh City today.
I remember looking around at the faces on that airplane,
As we landed at Tan Son Nhut,
Those forlorn godforsaken faces,
Black and Chicano and poor white trash boys.
Scared shitless, of course,
But we really were jolly green giants over there,
American conquistadors, Cortez and the Boys,
Seeking gold and glory and, of course,
*******, (www.urbandictionary.com):
That sweet wet hole we all crave,
Can't go for too long without,
Center of our life's desire,
What gives women the upper hand in almost every situation,
Except when you pay in South Vietnamese piastres,
Your basic exchange rate $3.00 *******.

Yes, we were American conquistadors,
But traveling light this trip,
Our black-robed Jesuit fathers having missed the flight.
That’s right, for us no Ad majorem Dei gloriam this time,
Our mission so simple and so clear:
SEARCH & DESTROY.
But mostly, Destroy.

And pretty soon you worked your way up the evolutionary ladder,
From bugs, to fish, to frogs and snakes,
Small varmints and reptiles, birds and rodents;
And by the time you taxonomy out to the runway,
You’re pretty much whacking anything that moves,
Anything you feel like, pretty much any time,
All the time, sometimes just to pass the time,
Just to break up the ******* monotony of it all.
So making the anti-personnel leap got sort of easy:
They all looked the same, didn’t they?
They all wore the same pajamas,
And it was never conducive to grunt longevity,
To nitpick the civilians from the soldiers,
Never a good idea to waste time distinguishing friend from foe.

Good Morning, Vietnam:
We really were nerve-gassed-Adrian Cronauers over there,
G-2 Army oxymoronic intelligence stiffs,
Having a little difficulty finding the enemy,
Having one hell of a time finding a Vietnamese man named "Charlie."
They're all named Nguyen, or Tran, or Thanh or Trong or Bao or Phuc . . .
Oh, ****, I get it now.
I grok the how and why,
Of all the names we’ve used for centuries to dehumanize the enemy:
***** and Nips, Chinks and Slopes,
Huns and Krauts, Redskins and Ivans,
Redcoats and Rebs, Zulus and Mau Maus, *****, Ragheads and Sand ******* . . .
To dehumanize is to be dehumanized.
Nominal dehumanization; linguistic trickery.
It made it easy . . .
Well, easier . . .
To **** you.

What was it Pope Innocent III’s legate advised?
“**** Them All.  Let God sort ‘em out.”

Is it smell of burning flesh that makes me so digress?

Yes, I miss that freaky jungle, my friend.
I miss knowing what to expect and what was to be expected.
And most of all I miss that absolute confidence,
My self-liberating soporific certainty,
That I did not give a **** whether I lived or died,
And no one else did either.
I miss the peaceful place to go,
Coping with fear by letting go,
By writing off my life,
My future "in-country,"
My 12-month tour of duty,
My 365 T.S. Eliot Ash Wednesdays,
Learning to care and not to care,
Cultivating indifference as to,
Whether or not I ever made it Wee, Wee, Wee,
All the way home again.
The answers were right there,
Always there, all the time,
In nursery rhymes, and counting songs,
In psalms and arias, and every blues and rock lyric,
Right there, so right ******* there,
In Kris Kristofferson/Janice Joplin parlance of the times:
“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”

And life for me since then--
ONE BIG, FAT-TITTED INCOMPREHENSIBILITY!

What was that Walter Sobjak in The Big Lebowski said?

“This is not 'Nam.
This is bowling.
There are rules.”

I feel calm this time around

there are no waves left now

to accompany the melancholy

there is just a warm yellow sun

and I am a lake left in desolation

and sadness can be heard

in the silence of my being

and it is not beautiful

like the Sea

One little point of light, among the vast array
One teeny, tiny bubble in the foam along the bay,
One horse amidst the numerous herds,
One lump among the copious curds,
A face lost in the masses.
But to me you’re like the sun,
I cannot know that you are one,
Nor comprehend your unimportance.
As each star has its place, and lives that it has touched,
Planets orbiting, and songs to sing,
One person can do much.
In one respect you are my moon,
Casting beams down on my heart,
Reflecting purer light,
And pulling me towards righteousness,
By giving me the tides.
Your beauty’s not diminished by the others in the sky,
For beauty always holds its own,
Don’t look at them and sigh.
Like a jewel strung on a necklace,
Like a loop in clouds of lace,
Like a single falling snowflake on a frozen winter lake.
But also like foundation stone,
A warp string in my weave,
The sugar in a wedding cake,
Your work in me won’t leave.

Lady in the night

She awaits for him

Watching the candle light

Hours watching it dim



Where can he be?

Is he with another?

Where can he be?

Has he some secret lover?



There comes a knock on the door

She opens it to a policeman there

She hears her man is no more

His car crashed into a lake somewhere



Why can't he be?

In her arms right now

Why can't he be?

Alive with her somehow



So tonight the tears fall down

Her heart feels it is broken

In her sorrow she will drown

Of a love that is now unspoken



How can he be?

Away from her forever

How can he be?

Lost to her forever