my eyes they do wonder
more than you will ever know
will they always
tend to find themeselves in thoughts unpredicted
by even myself
who could probe so deep, mingle so lightly
with touches and sighs not meant to come out they way they do
but even more
so much more
then what ill ever draw with my finger
love dipped sand gripped
oh autumn summer fall
gray September
red winter
sepia summer
under leaves and leaves

ocean

the ocean never changed
where I felt touch as a woman
released my first sighs as a woman
doing bad so bad
under things that were so beautiful

that was so beautiful

I mix and walk back
I must be a woman
to walk this way

and to look into all of your eyes
and feel nothing
and then feel everything

alcohol

white fresh and tastes like spring
under the imagination of so many things
I can go on forever

you know
about cups lovers creeps echos and black *******
that helps me flow

and I still bend to weak minds and words
I still bend to eyes fleeting destruction
to eyes who try to lie about everything
make believe they are something
dieing inside from nothing
bleeding tape around mouths with tongues that are too narrow
for proper speech

i still bend to beauty and love for the sake of -- love
or anything of such kind
meanings lost mixed and revealed through each other
with such discreet difference in between
and I feel the difference
and the contrast only makes me fall deeper into things that i don't know

once discovered

I grab my scarf wrap it around my neck with a thin cancer mutation in between my fingers
select my watch drape it around my wrist
put all belongings where they belong
and check out into the next hotel of
malicious life tones

A small group (or collection, if you wish)
of wanderers and travellers
And people with desires
to see great marvels
Met by accidence,
in a era of confusement
Held together,
by mutual suspicions,
they decided
To leave their abodes.  
So they travelled a long way
Until they were in a place
A very dusty place,
with dry old things
Dry like a last years leaves,
as if there were trees
In a scorching new summer

They decided by mutual acclamation
that they were searching now
A quest had been undertaken
By accidental serendipity
Or so they believed,
among themeselves
To find a way -
To no longer be
in this place of dust
With its winds,
and fierce sands
The kind the stings your eyes,
grits your teeth
sands your clothing
and small possessions
And after a many month of same such
Make's your light heart -
heavy.

But lacking a compass
or even knowledge of one
Or any real idea of how to travel
they moved in circles
for many's the long time
Never really sure they were,
arguing........ always
This is probably what kept them alive,
or at least
That is what many now believe
Their arguing - their fighting
this generates interest,
and interest keeps you alive
But still in spite of all this,
they weren't really
Getting -
Anywhere.................

Once in their travels,
they came upon a walled city
They knocked hard the gates,
made of a redded, felted wood
Soft to the touch,
like a hide of a living creature,
or rough carpet
"What do you want?!"  
"Who are you, state your business please!"
Cried the Gatekeeper to them
As this was his role
in the proceedings, you see;
And he didn't get to do it often
Very few people came
through the wastes,
unless.......Compelled -
by one reason or another
So he was overdramatizing (a little),
But we can forgive him,
his job was
quite boring,
after all.

Help us! They cried
We want to leave
this dusty dry place
Full of bleached sheep bones,
black stones
And red rocks;
with that dust,
The dust that stings our eyes
grits our teeth
sands our clothing
and small possessions
And after a many month
of wandering
And wondering
It has made our once -
light hearts
heavy
with opression
For now we cannot
perform our tasks
This place is too harsh for us,
We are only poeple,
and wanderers, after all

"Ah, I see!", the gatekeeper declaimed
A little over dramatically (yet again)
"So you are lost then,
my wanderers?"  
No!  Said several of the more......
outspoken wanderers.
There are always
a few outsoken people
in any group,
(Unless it's a group for shy people,
Of course).
"We, know precisely
where we are, -
We are in the dusty waste
at your gates!
We just don't want to be here!,
we want to be inside!"

At that, the Gatekeeper
opened the door
Slowly and surely
but with many creaks and groans
And inside, inside.....well -
There was a dusty city,
But just like outside
With unkempt streets
filled with goats, dogs, people
Unruly Children,
playing with dried out wood dolls
Angry woman -
murmuring to each other
And irritated men -
watching the angry women
"Come in if you wish" he said.
For we were all as you are now
Once....................................

To be continued.

I need you to set palms together
entangle generosity like raindrops connecting
branch out and cling your roots into the soil
blossom like cherry trees in japan
quiver like the heart of a 10 year old girl
who just witnessed love for the first time

melt, like the man who was raised with
hatred in his heart and has melted for the
first time on top of his wifes grave

scream, the screams of the native americans
upon the burning of their villages and
the rotting of their tribe, the tyranny of their land
my tongue hurts to say
this is my land
I feel it was never ours
it was theirs

laugh, like the children
and remember there are children in remote places
that have a pain in their eyes that we thought can only exsist within elderly
who know not the sound of a tender smile
remember that youth, when your children give out that glorious sound
and do anything to make that melody even louder
let your children laugh for those who dont know how
and raise them to seek them and teach them
even if it is through tears of thanks
that is the most beautiful laughter
the deepest happiness is that which comes with rain
the kind that extracts pain and cleanses the soul
washes the face and kisses the cheeks


dream and have hope like the small child sitting at the window at midnight way past
bedtime with bruised legs
promising themeselves that everything will be okay
with no shoulder to lean on
staring at the stars and having a clear image of the better
days to come, away from abuse and neglect
yes there are children like that
and there are also children
who scream into their pillow at night
remember to cradle the youth
they are the future
you are the future, living through your young



feel every intensity within your body
hold it there for just some time
cradle it
laugh with it
sing with it
dance with it
cry with it
bleed with it
and mourn it when it is not there

remember that, that intensity
is your humanity

I brokedown forth right into this eloquent state
smiles rub my warmth
and I melt harder
and harder
into breathing easily
easier then anything that ever exsisted
easier than the cool winds that blow
through your hair and then in between my sighs

and I sat down and held my knees together
on top of the wet grass where I use to remember
hearing the sweetest lullabys of childhood
crashing themeselves into my body
and I melt harder
and harder
into breathing more so easily

easier then the time I looked into your eyes and your london left its burning letter
and easier then the time I fully built up the
guts to walk away from the building where only the
floor had been built

and I closed my eyes
as I danced on top of the ruins the wars inside of me left behind
I threw my heart into the sky
forgetting the fear of having it fall on nothing
and then giving into something in that
old old world
of nothing

happiness persecutes everything inside of me
and I melt harder
and harder
into breathing more easily

People that 'are'  
of those who still 'become'
speak lowly
treasuring the edge
they have
by luck or by some clever sleight of hand
gained in the race for 'being'

Sometimes I wonder
where I am
  am I  
or am I not
do I become  
  and if so
will I ever be
what others are
where others are
(or think themeselves to be)

Maybe
those who appear so sure
   of what and where they are
have at their backs
the everlasting fear
that when they are
   where they have liked to be
there always are
the others who were there
   some time before
and now
are somewhere else
happy again
that they are
where and what
others still struggle to become

Methinks
to be where I am
suits me fine
I do not care exactly
where
this is
if only I still see
a chance that I become
that is  
            I change
and not just be

There is
it seems to me
too little space
between to be
and
not to be.

      * *

tonight might make my heart beat so fast
Im a radical yes, and I might let go a little atlast
the circus down the street wakes me up every morning
the drops of dew fall off my shoulders from those precious white lilies
that you left on my front door with a note that whispered softly to me
you make me blush
I kiss my own hand and prepare it to write my soul on parchment
In a language thats almost invisable to eyes that reveal themeselves to quik for interest
sometimes my fingers are too strong and the paper is too thin
but the walls of the trees and the sand never fails
and the leaves on the ground are always smiling at me when I walk there to write about this
I feel the butterflies in every corner, everytime I look up with a daffodil pressed against my lips
I say no your beauty makes me blush

autumn was slow
and opportunities shook themeselves
over me
i was at a turning point whilst crimson
leaves fell underneath my feet
gathering dust onto my street

i was undoing
just like the citrus fruits that hang in my grandmothers garden, the light was changing and i felt
ripe again.

Slipping into madness
A quicksand of emotion
Here it goes
My legs are being brought down through an endless motion
of the same moments repeating themeselves like broken records
People move their lips
Nothing meaningful ever comes out
Meanlingless efforts
Through me a line
instead of some words
the only solution
instead of some enrgies of sympathy
Totally absurd
Death comes to those who allow dispair to win
However, true, that is
I am battling despair's army
I'm always shouting
However, my cries in need of applied help
Always semm to go unheard.