Alien encounters
abducted by my own frontal lobe
sand dripping down my toes like those
sandcastles I used to make at the beach
as a kid with peach fuzz dunes and
flower petal skies I want my
orange bathing suit sewed to my skin and
my finger nails cut too short so it
stings when I waltz on surfaces made
of wood or steel or linoleum
like those victorian queen polka days
when we used to lay on the kitchen floor sunlight
vomiting onto our faces and we laughed anyway
I want your mustache forests and I want to believe in them
and you told me I ran so fast I don't know why I slowed down
there are 6 easter eggs hiding in the garden but
one
has a slug on its shell and when you pick up
the tie dyed droplet surface you'll shriek
in delight
in the light
of the moon
the golden one hides in the creases of
the trees and it will remain there for
1 week until you smell the stench
like emerald gas climbing up your nose
I have dreams of flying
falling
thoughts of
icicles and snow angels
pretending I am someone I am not
an actress with all the lightbulbs and glitter
who am I to say it
me me me me me me
back to the hallway extremities
and ski lift blushing and ocean
drowning I can not wait
for the day that I finally realize
what I need to understand
in order to vacuum the carpet
in order to
in order to

hello poetry, can you put me in the mood
give me your sacred anthologies
your oceans and rivers too

human insight seems to fail in everyone I knew
like painted sandcastles on a gravel beat
a song lyric draped in Princeton blue

don't hoard the cadavers from both of us
this is one right you cannot undo
licorice rope to tie the knot, in the coma you've slipped into

Betrayal
Has come
Hidden
But visible
Left to be found
Surprising
Yet not

Sharp
Like a dagger
A piercing
Of safety
Dull
Like concussion
A kick
In the heart

Damaged
Are children
Broken
Is Trust
Weakened
Are families
Branches
Are Cut

Betrayal
Of hearts
Assumes
Dumbness
Of victims
A slur
On humanity
Driven
By
Self

Betrayal
Of union
Years of great effort
Crumble
Like sandcastles
Under your feet

Betrayal
Great robber
Of my human
Dignity
Futures are frozen
Our cords
Are cut

Betrayal
Most human
Act
Of cowardice
Unspoken
Discovered
We meet
To part

Her hair shifts lightly, breathing in the wind
A million insecurities hiding behind my gaze
A slender hand closes loosely over mine
Even as my eyes push her gently away.
And we float - two islands separated by a vigilant sea
That kisses our shores to keep us at bay
Lest we collide into despondent calamity
Lest we crumble like sandcastles beneath the waves.
A bottle and two glasses stand tall on the table
Against the backdrop of unfulfilled fairytales
Despite myself, a warm affection spreads through my chest
Past all the defences my heart carefully puts in place.

And as I listen to her laughter behind my fortressed walls
I wonder if I'm falling for her
Or if it's just the alcohol.

I never stood tall at five foot two
but I was proud and I was pretty enough
that I didn't think I'd have to try.

One day I fell
bruised and bleeding words
metaphors and metonymys and
"i love you too"s.

I was never one for running, but I
I could glide on the back of starbursts
and I sailed on the north winds
like they were all I had for a home.

I was never one for running, but I
I realized how much I needed to move
how freedom meant I had to leave
the footprints I'd embedded beside my sandcastles
meant I had to run into the water
and swim through storms.

My legs were broken one day
and my wings were ripped apart;
I could no longer hold sunsets in my eyes -
they leaked far too often and too much.

I decided you deserved somebody
who could dance
like mermaids in the old world
so I stood and I smiled and I
I let the skies be my music -
but I'm still healing,
so forgive me my baby steps -
I am walking to you.

i find it comforting sometimes that relationships are impermanent and that maybe one day the relationships that cause me pain and confusion will also simply melt away.

i look at the stars and i never get tired of the way the wind blows through the strands of my hair,

the leaves fall onto the roads

like they did a year ago

gradually it's less cooler to use an air-conditioner

maybe better to use a heater

lights become softer, clouded by the mists of solidifying vapor in the air

life keeps it tides

and i find myself surprised that the ebbing tide has still left me with sandcastles of relationships

i once built thoughtlessly

i take comfort in the impermanence of relationships

and the insufferable company I bring

.
Your dream that you just told me about,
where we went dancing on a frozen lake
in the middle of July
watching fireworks explode
beneath a canopy of linen scarves
raking leaves of orange and red
while new daisies bloomed
under the fresh fallen snow
coating the sandcastles we had built earlier in the day
beyond the dunes and circled in flip flop prints
in the fresh concrete sidewalk
poured outside of your neighbor’s house
on a Saturday in the rain,
catching candy thrown from a parade float
of paper flowers and moving dragonflies
parked along side the dinner
as we shared a chocolate milkshake
and a slice of pie?

Did we kiss at anytime during your dream?

If not, can we fall back asleep again?

Heaps of ashes that used to resemble a house dance in the wind,
Up and down, side to side and tumbling through the air like a
circus acrobat in a grey costume.
If I squint, they could be butterflies.

Neglected dust huddles quietly in the corners that are never reached by the broom.
Pots and pans lined in greasy film and crusted tomato sauce
fill the sink like waterlogged sandcastles on a humid beach.
If you look away quickly, you could pretend it was an art project.

Boxes stacked on boxes line the hallways, washed in buttery morning light.
Up and down the staircases, through the hallways, bumping into one another,
hearts fluttering like hummingbirds, we ran.
If you thought hard enough, you can remember how happy we were
that first day
in our very new house.

Roses are hidden in buckets
a child could put one in her hair, a child could
create sandcastles up to their knees with
such. Yet these

creatures do not use his or her thorns
to intercept the road from garden to factory lines.
Funny to think one's skin shall

became tainted by something
that sleeps in peace right outside. Then, I think
about packing man into a bottle of mist
and would like to harvest my love's breath.

If I knew
Things would improve
I would build sandcastles

If I knew
You needed me
I'd be a mat at your front door

What is in store for
Me and
You?

I cannot
See through my window

Clear glass made hazy with
Years of shallow breath
Rusted closed? no-
Bolted shut!

If I knew
My light still cast
Neon glow through the pane

If I knew
Mosquito lantern
Was my second name

Then I would catch
All those tiny bloodsuckers

And I would put them in jars
To keep in my pockets
Never to be
Alone again

The moon holds my very first steps
Gently embracing the tracks I leave on earth
She puts all my drawings on the fridge
She is my brightest star
With her, I do not hide anything
And I always finish my sentences

I have always been an emotional being
My emotions leave me breathless so I use other mediums
Thus ever since I was a child I traced poems in the sand
Made memories filled with love
And while words kept me company, sandcastles gave me a home

So
With sand and my toes, I made my very own chapter
With shovels and buckets, I made a book
Made ink out of water
When I was angry, I traced fire ants blazing my feet
When I was lonely, I traced the 52-hertz whale swimming into the earth
When I was sad, I traced the mountains too high for me to climb
And when I was happy, I traced songbirds sweetly singing a tune at dawn

All of this for me to wash them away with the tides
Emotions aren't something I like to talk about
Nor do I like to draw them
I feel vulnerable, it makes my skin ache
When I actually say what I mean it hurts
The possibility of rejection is painful
Like winter does to cracks
Like fire does to skin
Like violent wind does to paper
It is everything but enjoyable

I am as open as a sonnet
I do not lie
My metaphors and imagery are my truth
My rhyming pattern is consistent
My theme is not a red herring
I do not lie
Please trust me on this
But just like a sonnet, the twist happens at the end
And I always cut myself off

Needing to go home, the time has come
All of these designs have come undone
The party favors have been put away

The room is cold, your body still with sleep
There are a thousand open windows looking in from the street

The night was filled with shooting stars

A one night stand is what our lives are

We loved each morning well
We played through out the night
When it was dawn we longed for the night

We held up infinity's mirror
We danced like angels riding the Santa Ana winds
We dreamed of sandcastles and moved right in

We constructed deconstructed
there were even moments of resurrection

But the time has come to head on home

Kissing your forehead fairtheewell

Leaving my belongings on the floor

I came with nothing but potential
I leave with nothing as promised

Opening the door
A turn to the dark and silent night
But first blessing those who remain unblessed
by such a life's gifts

The time has come
I need to go home
Time for peaceful rest.

I wish I had never met you.

You are Apollo, Zeus, and Hercules. You are midnight lullabies. You are drunken fists turned to open hands. You are the one constant presence in hotel rooms in Barcelona, Ibiza, Budapest, New York, everywhere. You are bloodied lips. You are gentle kisses. You are post-nightmare reassurance. You are a bullet to the head. You are toppled sandcastles on Massachusetts shores. You are white walls. You are the brightness of a phone screen in a dark room. You are a bruise that doesn’t go away. You are cold, rosy cheeks. You are morning coffee. You are yellowed pages of forgotten books. You are razor-burned jawlines. You are the crack of billiard *****. You are the hand on my knee beneath the table. You are the moon flooding through thin curtains. You are phantom limbs. You are a foreign name on a foreign tongue. You are the sunrise. You are a memory that doesn’t fade. You are every ******* poem I write.

I wish I had never met you.

rivers and universe
his and hers
untamed heat
flickering heartbeat

wakeful townspeople
voices of reason
stubborn kids
scars and roaring dreams

eyes off-guard
winter and postcards
in and out of breaths
midnight old cassettes

lantern beacons
pitter-pattering stones
familiar birth cakes
afire snowflakes

spirit sandcastles
youth color pastels
tender magic words
guitars and harpsichords

firework feelings
fruit and vegetable meetings
hate and love
maybe love

and to anything that matters,
cheers.

I have been a pilot and a doctor, and a chieftain, I've run a café and a veg stall and a shop
Discovered forests down the road, and caught a magic toad, and stormed the castle high upon the mountains top
I've walked about on Mars, flown a rocket to the stars, and been to places that are yet unknown to men
And just to cap it all, to amaze you, and enthral, I did all that before I was even ten

There are no boundaries for young minds, no comprehension of time, they are eager to explore this fun-filled place
Kids are free and are unshackled, from the first shake of their rattle, they refuse to run with rats in our sad race
I grew up with simple toys, simple pleasures, simple joys, yet life was then so full and so untouched
Not ashamed of mummy's hand, or a bucket in the sand, we had so little yet, we really had so much

We grazed our knees and ruined our clothes, raced around on tippy-toes, and turned a mangy dog into our bestest friend
We camped out, we camped in, went too high upon the swing, yet we never thought the fun would ever end
Daddy's voice was law, mummy's whack was sore, and being grounded was so harsh and was so tough
But we knew that we were safe, and we knew we were secure, and we really knew our home was full of love

Children were children and grown ups were grown ups, and teenagers were somewhere in between
Bad things were small, like the punctured old beach ball, or the sadness of a melted ice-cream
Park-keepers were alert, and everything actually worked, and if we hurt ourselves, mum didn't want to sue
She would kiss it where it was sore, cuddle us some more, then we'd be off and start our climbing up anew

A boy's first kiss was his mum, and love was bubble-gum, and his first crush was simply lemon or lime
Girls were chased but never kissed, cause you deliberately missed, and names could only hurt you if they rhymed
Little girls dressed in mum's shoes, and didn't get the blues, and they'd only dance in front of cuddly toys
They loved dolls and Winnie-Pooh, playing bubbles with shampoo, and they had no time for silly things like boys

Batman was always kind, and it would never cross his mind, to **** a villain, or ever break the law
You'd always be polite, always kiss your mum goodnight, and you'd always leave your cabbage for the poor
To be gay was to be glad, being bad meant simply bad, and there was no such thing as being overfed
Phones were just pretend, and your dog was your best friend, to protect you from the troll under your bed

But this world is ever changing, with more stress and much more danger, and the children must adapt or they will fail
Where once our kids were shy, and pleasing to the eye, we are now forced to grab a tiger by the tail
Like the trickle of the stone, before the mountain crashes down, life is gaining speed at an alarming rate
They are pushed and are in pain, carry guilt and carry blame, and there is no one to shield them from their fate

Home alone, and alone away, taught how to text but not to play, they just exist within their messed up little world
Forced to survive and take the knocks, always governed by the clock, too soon they are men and women, not boys and girls
Good and bad are now retired, you can do what you desire, it's no longer sin, but a life choice for childrenkind
And is there's a price to pay for this new fun, and for looking at the sun, there's always credit, which is far off (in their mind)

Goblins and trolls have become vampires and ghouls, and Batman is a nasty growling man
The train set is no longer cool. Its trains and stations are for fools, Playstation is now the thing that makes the man
Advice comes from the web, or magazines instead, because these sources have all the answers we need to know
Goodbye to picnics, sandcastles, parks, finger-puppets in the dark, these simple joys our children now let go

Today the little ones know too much, and their knowledge is that such, they are aware of all that mum and dad now do
The facts of life, thanks to the web, terrorism's dread, ***, carcinomas and Avian Flu
Immersed in the occult, and books that teach how to insult, they spend more time with gadgets than they do with humankind
The things they watch would scare grown-ups, the door to innocence is shut, while their music feeds the anger of the mind

“No” is spoken, never heard, simple manners never learned, “Love thy neighbour” is replaced by “dog eat dog”
But they are children, not our pets, they need to love, and not regret, and they need to find the time to think of God
Like arrows that are aimed, we can steer them through life's game, to ensure they find the target that they need
That of happiness and hope, take their hand, don't let them *****, and we may yet behold the day when they are free

So enjoy their childhood years, feed the ducks, and not their fears, and if they've gone too far, help them to rewind
Let them skip, let them skate, let them even lick their plate, and the memories will be forever in your mind
And before you do regret, and your little ones forget, and this life comes and sweeps them from your door
Give them back their childish ways, and keep the world at bay, and let the children just be children once more

dreaming of a beach-side holiday
I'll get there by next month's end
to but feel the sea's cooling spray  

an east breeze in the harbor's bay
floating softly about a coastal rend
dreaming of a beach-side holiday

sandcastles on the shore shall array
taking a walk by rocky ledge bend
to but feel the sea's cooling spray

sandpiper wings e'er fluttering away
twill be a relaxing time to expend
dreaming of a beach-side holiday

a time to enjoy waves in a blue cay
tasting the freshness of an ocean friend
to but feel the sea's cooling spray

the salty brine doth beckon a stay
if only this locale I could apprehend
dreaming of a beach-side holiday
to but feel the sea's cooling spray

A ship in a bottle is a useless thing,
encapsulated, isolated.
It is meant to be crewed.

We are each holographic captains
seeking first mates
and yeomen to climb the riggings
and guide us through the storms.
Floating colonies needing founding,
battened hatches guarding dwindling
stores and shielding superstitious
sailors galore.

We must learn to trust our
crews and captains alike to
brave the rough seas and
coral reefs of life and
nature's faith.

Sometimes ships run aground,
the founding of the colony,
and then sandcastles reign supreme.
We must learn to trust our
crews and captains alike to
learn from their faith in nature.
We must build upon the dunes,
carrying buckets of water and
trust from the sea to inland
shores.  The castle, like the ship,
will one day be reclaimed by the
sea, despite our efforts.
We build them anyway out of hope,
fearing faith, learning trust, while
wishing we were safe in a bottle.

Adulthood is falsehood.
I remember at the darkest,
hearing a voice other than my mother's,
mantra repeated for knife-depraving comfort,
keeping nails away from face.
I thought it should be the voice
of the woman who held me against her breast
who bore me through blood and near-death.
The voice seemed more woman than my mother.
The deep, solid, earthy voice of iron eyes and earthen hands
rough tenderness of nature,
the comfort of Eve
made woman, never born child.
But I suppose she understood better than we
innocence lost.

My mother has the fragility of spun sugar,
But steel bent will--
I realize there is still the scared child
buried in her heart
and I see the same reflection of me in the mirror.
Buck-toothed, grass haired, round faced, and wide eyed.
I wonder if I will ever feel fully woman.
Or if we're all just scared children.
Powerful and powerless
as the girl building sandcastles
holding dominion
till the tides of time bear them away.

Study sleepy water
Build bricks in your showers
Try to find some balanced ground

Streets crawl like rivers
Buddha is the new potassium
Black is the new fast track

Try to find some Hometown

Tennis Courts are tea tables
              the places we sit and think
      Inside the box

Leave your scars/mistakes/All the pieces of you that are plates
                                       Fragile, easy to break
In the car, locked, just like your keys

Stand on rooftops with umbrellas
             Waiting for Meteorites        
Find some Peace of Mind

Or Open & Close them
  Like S.O.S
And signal for Help

Build houses like Sandcastles
To realize time is eternal
           But you aren't

Keep your childhood like a locket

You aren't a puppet
      Socks are

Find some confidence
      And let sheep be for counting only

I wanna . . .
seek stars in a moonlit night
free my skin on the seashore
radically paint fragments of soul discovery
in the rarest, most deepest ocean
throwing my thoughts underwater
mind as blue as my emotions
poetry as sandcastles in my eyes
music so pure, the ocean breeze sounds
and majestic art of living in cosmic presence as meditation to an undying spirit.

I can't offer you the Earth,
but I can give you my love.
You came into this world expecting the best
that life can bring. With hope and no fear.
And your cheeky grin.

Your pale blue eyes looking up at me and your
tiny fingers clutching at my shoulder.

Wisdom & reason I wish to impart
And I'll read you stories about greedy caterpillars
and the tiger who came to tea.
I'll watch you grow into the great little
man, I know you'll turn out to be.
You've always got a friend in me.

I can't offer you the Earth,
but I can give you my love.
I can protect you
from
monsters under your bed
hope you'll never let them
inside your head.
Teach you
the ways of the world
even if I don't know that yet.

Your big blue eyes looking up at me
and your tiny fingers wrapped round mine.

I'll buy you lego,
play hide and seek,
help you climb that tree
patch you up, when you scrape
your knee.

Happiness and empathy I wish to impart
We'll build sandcastles on the beach
and I'll read you stories about a wolf
in Grandma's pyjamas and
James and the giant peach.
             'cause when you're smiling I'm smiling too
I wanna bring out the best in you.

             I may not be able to offer you the Earth
but you can have my love
and I'll watch you grow up
into the great little man
I knew you'd be.
You've always got a friend in me.

I used to climb Trees

Out in broad daylight,
where we used to ride bikes,
My home time was defined by streetlights,
fistfights and first times.  

I used to play kick stone.
outside on the roads of my home. 
Scared of the dark when I was home alone. 
A sombre tone in those days. 

My cul-de-sac was a continent,
you couldn’t count the times 
we jumped hedges and jumped the brooks,
wider berths as we grew and beamed with confidence.

He grew up on the other side of the brook to me!

Exploration into dilapidated buildings,
to seek out lost felines for the £10 reward. 
One guy got stung by a bee nine times, 
he lived to tell the tale of course.

Thinking back sometimes, 
It was us who had nine lives,
playing on the tramlines and and swimming in high tides.
colliding with live wires and life lessons,

We built sandcastles and burnt them down,
in spaces of seconds.
Lost in imagination.
I stayed in the sea until my fingers wrinkled, 
but this happened more often in the bath if i’m honest.

It seemed so simple, 
within the borders of our town, in those days.
The good old days,
or so they say - 
but i don’t disagree with the sentiment of it all, if i’m honest. 

It’s a ghost town now,
Treehouse's and broken fences,
Sweet shops and trips to the dentist.
A playground apprentice,
like Dennis the menace,

Ernie and Bertie,
maybe.

The bell rang more times than I care to remember.

It symbolised the beginning of the next class rather than the end.
To some at least, i’m not quite sure precisely who.
But it always started in September. 

Those were the days, 
Kiss chase and roller skates 
missed chances and romances.
First dances and your first falls.

The sycamore tree got smaller,
but remains the exact same size.
The boys got a little bit taller,
some of us guys even became wise.

Life is full of surprises. 

We flew apart. 
The sun went down and we grew up.

And now I don't climb Trees anymore.

This mortar bowl
With a pestled mixture
Of distillations
And impurities
Deserves a Latin name
For the apothecary's label.

A few causes for the concoction:
Pails, shovels and sandcastles;
A child bundled against winter;
A father's shoulder seat;
A son dressing for his wedding;
A daughter walking her child;
Kids with backpacks;
A soldier's farewell kiss;
The return kiss;
A nursing mother;
The wintery smell of a letter
And the anticipation of opening.

The symptoms are systemic.
The heart cannot contain,
The brain define,
The pit retain.

The symptoms are the remedy.
I am
Ground into a fine dust.

Summer is

bikes and rollerblades
and go-carts and skateboards,
kites and frisbees
and ***** and gloves,

rainbows and suncatchers
and white fluffy clouds,
blue skies and green fields
and sunshine and flowers,

bare feet and sandy toes
and waves on the shore,
tan lines and sunburns
and goofy tourists,

yellow and orange
and summer rain,
butterflies and gardens
and fresh vegetables,

smiles and funny faces
and silly conversations,
smirks and giggles
and big belly laughs,

playing outside until the streetlights come on
and picking flowers for the dinner table,
building sandcastles just to knock them down
and shelling so many peas your finger go numb,
staring at a sky so blue it hurts your eyes
and running barefoot through the cool grass
and laughing so hard you can't even breathe.

Summer is.

Could we all be insane, am  I the only
one who makes sandcastles out of
sea water just to watch them collapse.

Like my thoughts, building them
to heights that never stand up to the
reasoning, before they collapse inwards.

Am I the only one that touches my heart,
feeling it beat coldly, living externally
but dead within myself I hear copse voices.

I build sandcastles in the sea knowing that
there momentary, pretty voices telling me
that life is a dream, wake up and die already.

I'd like to run away from here
Not because life is so bad
But there's so many adventures to be had
I'd need a friend or two to come along
We could go to the beach
We'll sift through murky tide pools
Collect seashells for our hair
Feel the waves against our legs
Make sandcastles and surf
We could go to the redwood forests
We'd awe at the great heights of nature
The smell of rain and earth
It feels like we're the last people left
Alone in silence
We could go around the world
Think of it!
Just the best of friends
Together through thick and thin
Adventuring around the world
No one to stop us
Or tell us we're too young
We can be free
And happy
Alive
So what do you say
Let's run away?

I won't tell you that I love you because we will both crumble.
We are sandcastles just waiting for the tide to claim us,
waiting for the inevitable ruin that we both face.

I won't tell you that I love you because kindness can be cruel.
It's easy to wear a mask,
easier to look at it long enough until you think it is your face.

I won't tell you that I love you because intention is deceiving.

I will not take your trust because I will never allow you to have mine.

I won't tell anyone that I love them because love is not eternal, you are ethereal and I never want to be the cause of their demise.

They say I could be like sand near the seaside
And you the push and pull of the ocean
So you build and break me like the tide
Move sand away from my hands in motion
While I'm left to wait for the moment we collide.

They say I will cause your waves to break
Then how come you slither and never uncurl
With every squishing move forward I create?
Then how come even when caught, you whirl?
Even when in possession your storms culminate?

If I could only see into your whirlpools so deep
Be mesmerized by your blue, like being asleep
To fish for pearls of knowledge about you to keep

For though you gobble up any nautic attempt,
Though you defend with sloshed foam and current,
They say I am the shore and you are my ocean
And after all there is one true notion:
Your currents kiss my sandcastles every day
And willingly, my sand grains float your way.

When I was young
I saw Gagarin
Waving through a moonbeam

That same year
A single electron
Went from my finger
To the doorknob.

She was a radical.

In those days
I was convinced that the
Cocoon was a casket
Would bury it whole
When it came back empty
You thought it went to heaven.

We built homes
For the salamander
Picked them from the mud
Moved them into plastic boxes
And swore to never let it
Live in such poor conditions.

How could they live like that.

When I was young
My eyes saw so much love
It spread in every direction.
We called it the love canal,
Because it was so toxic.

Sometimes if you would listen
You could hear the trees
Whispering wisdom to the pine cones
Singing lullaby’s about
fireside farmers.

We would hide them from the spiders
because we hadn't yet learned
How to commit ******.

I used to think
That the raindrops were lonely
Because they were always
Holding themselves in.

You'd collect them in a glass jar
Thin enough for their worries
To creep up the sides,
And convinced me that they had
Found someone to talk to.

Our hands were stained with blackberries
Tasted sweet like the honeysuckles
On the other side of the thorn bushes
Where you found the fattest bumble bee
And told me that honey came from its throw up.
I still eat honey.

In the winter
We built a snowman.
Named him jolly old saint ****,
And I sat inside until
All he left me was coal.

At the north pole
There were three elves
Who in the summer
Built sandcastles
In their dreams
But over Christmas
They made salamander
Soup kitchens.

In a cornfield
I found myself.
Three skipping stones
I kept them in my pocket
Until it reached the shoreline.
They're still drowning.

Here's to the kids who
Never got to go
Trick or Treating,
But were **** good
At being someone else.

You and I,
We did our math in pen.
We never made the
Same mistake twice.

We didn't smudge,
We smeared.
And there was never
Any doubt
That you and I,
Were here.