bad *** babe I met
a while back, we hit it off
immediately
then she confessed
she has been in love three years
and it took my breath away

I told her to keep her hat on
whilst we danced
and she curtsied
so femininely I **** near came then
we talked warily
then it seemed like I knew her

I saw she was much my other side
a reflection in the mirror
the yin to my yang
the flip side my nickle
pretty and shinier
and her

I wish I could make a nest
like  out of limbs and twigs
found things and make it beauty beyond a robin's nest
to her
to make sweet sounds
whistle

pose my tail feathers up

She has this place where she goes
  when she needs to be all alone.
        She calls it her place,
a place where the hurts of the world
       quiet down and fade away.
                                                
A place of beauty, where her fingertips
can paint over all the wrong
and all the pain she feels
in colors bright and cheery.

It’s a place of peace, where the fears
        of her heart slow and still…
  A place of calm, where the oceans
       of emotions lay at her feet
            and weep no more.

It’s a place where she can breathe,
where she feels sheltered, protected
from the coldness outside
of her canopy of shade… It’s her place.

                  She went to her place…..
                     ……she visits very often...

Lead my hand
in soft and gentle brush strokes
while
    our
      brush
        dips
           into
             the
               most
                 beautiful
colors of love, crimson tones
     pink
            cherry
                     red
                        and cerise…
glossy hues
                bleeding colors
creating a treasured masterpiece
                       as
bodies blend in bursts of color
fingertips brush the canvas
passion flares
                   glancing eyes
driving hearts into madness.

Fingers linking,
                    in gentle touch
a pure soul and heart attraction
merging colors of crimson hue
    in loves pure satisfaction.

Colors of love
                     crimson tones
    smooth and silky texture
bleeding colors upon the canvas
     as souls blend
                     in forever pleasure….

even in these times of Armeggedon
the sky is falling
end of days prophecies
I aspire to
seeing everyone's ear glued to a phone
electronic coming of age wired humans
three years old
gots  cell phones I podPads google
better than I walk
http: ?/youngs/.what?
they know
maybe life's gonna be a combo of
Electronics and wired brains and 3D
everything
still
we gonna have to deal with all

these hurricanes
and shootings
lord
I gonna start hanging out with republicans who
support gun-rights
just to feel safe
in a crowd

I. the September
the August past
a November rush
of cold air
warmth hast
forsaken these bones

every leaf has fallen
along the path
the young men plunder
or forever render useless
a waste of genius

and we sit as stumps
alongside tender shoots of grass
and striving pines
new
small as urchins here

we watch all the hustle bustle
to fro hurrying
and wonder
how those humans do it
looking at the orange

of the sunset
glow