I am so tired
that I can’t sleep
I am so exhausted
that my eyes
wont stay closed

I am ridiculously sure
that I am not human
not to say
I know the mothership is coming
I don’t know that

Truthfully
I don’t know much of anything

I am a child
in an aging mans body
which
I am pretty sure
has a lesbian living
underneath its skin

which probably doesn’t make sense
to you when you hear me say it
but nothing inside my head
makes sense to me
so why should you
have the luxury to understand
anything I might say

but it is to say
I will never be a manly man
or see or understand
that way of thinking

that macho drink and ****
as much and as many
people as you can in life

dont get me wrong

I love everything there is to
love about women
which is just everything
their great

well...

most of them at least
or maybe just some of them
I mean that they are no different
in the way we are all the same
we are all
just people
some are great
and a treasure to have in our lives

and others...

not so much

and I have done more
than my fair share
of drinking

A lot more...
enough to never have
to drink again
but I probably will anyway
not so much now though

and, well... yea...
I've liked
the ******* parts too

most of the time

its just that I like

the love

part of *******
more than the
bim-bam-boom ahhhhhhh
I’m sooooo sorry part
that never but sometimes
and almost  always
happens part of *******

that awkward moment when
oh **** my ****
throw up on you moment
it always gets nervous
around pretty girls moment
that I don’t know what to say moment

that...

d’oh!... moment

but I do know
I’m not suppose to say
thank you...
moment

even though once you’ve gone
I will get down on my hands
and my knees
and thank every name
of every god I have ever heard of
for that painfully beautifully
awkward moment
I was lucky enough to spend with you

I guess I’m just a little too quite
a little too shy
a little too nice, maybe

a lot too sensitive

emotionally speaking

in that sense that everything hurts
and everything is beautiful
and the world is ****
but still there must be something
here worth living for

someone who will cringe
and roll there eyes
every time I write
and read another garbage poem to

someone who will love me regardless
no matter how bad things get
no matter how broken my heart is
no matter how horrible
I may look when I die

someone who I will love
as much as I loved
to hate everything about life

Oh, I hates it soooooo much

someone who made
every miserable moment here
worth  the madness of it all

There are things
that only the heartbroken
can understand
and dear son
I hope with all my broken heart
that one day
you will understand
these things too

a pain so beautiful
that only love can see
that everything broken
everything broken
is lovely too

Let me tell you a story about the last time my ex (my sons mother) was in my house... she saw some shot glasses on my counter and made a snide remark about how she was glad I replaced her as my drinking partner... now I use to drink and drink hard and heavy and I drank many of nights as it was going to be my last on gods green earth, but that was a lifetime (of good times and good friends) ago.  I still drink on rare occasions and maybe a little much on the right occasion even... but its rare and infrequent.  Those days and nights have been replaced by something much more valuable and enjoyable and thats time being a father and it is a blessed and beautiful privilege to be one.  But back to the snide remark... I didn't bother to mention that I used the shoot glasses to clean my brushes as I paint now, it was childish I admit, to enjoy the fact that for whatever reason the idea bothered her.  That even though she choose to leave, that she choose putting someone elses **** in her mouth over keeping our family together, that she choose cheating and lying and betrayal over keeping her promises... that the idea I might have moved on was upsetting to her... And let me mention this was about after the 6th or 7th chance I gave her and forgave her for everything she had done and repeated time and time again.  And years later... maybe its still childish but I smile a little every time I paint.

Her touch was
A dangerous addiction
Soft like silk
Able to trace out
My lust and sin
In wild exhilaration
Forcing grateful
Moans of anticipation
From below my heart
And gut
Skin forced to turn
To throbbing rock
Boiling and seeping
Life like lava
Collecting at the mouth of
Serpentine shaped pleasure place
Smoothed by fingertips
And removed by
Dancing tounge
Eager to fall in place
Along this need
To gratify
My flesh and souls
Need of this obsession
To her touch
Able to turn from silk
To razor kiss
And carve and spell
Her name along my spine
And splice my chest
And cut through bone
To expose my heart
And poison blood
Right at the source
Causing my whole being
To tremble and ache
And want more
Of her beautiful temptation
I am without hope
Of shaking off
This gravitational pull
To be touched
By lip and flower
And fingertip
The anticipation
Of madness
And exhilaration
Has me gripped
Tightly to
This deathless lust
Of my addiction
To her
Every touch

Evil isn't hiding under your beds or in your closets, it's not lurking around the corner or down some dark alley.  It's not in the blade or the handle of a knife, it's not in the bullet or the gun or the bomb or the boom.  Evil only lives and breeds in the heart of  men and it is kept alive and well generation after generation, handed down to our sons and daughters as they are taught greed and fear and lust and hate.
So next time bullets go flying across the school yard or bombs fall from the sky and find hospitals instead of their "targets" or a child is beaten or murdered or ***** by its father or preacher or mother or sister or teacher or brother or friend... and you wonder what kind of monster, what evil would allow?
Look in the mirror, stare into the darkness in the pupils of your reflection and listen to the soundless echo of the blackness you find there.  Do not blink, do not turn away, let your eyes and mind adjust to the horror staring back at you... The evil infesting and rotting away at and in your own heart.  It's been living and thriving in the silent bubble you've built around your days and nights.  All the years you quitely ignored your hearts cries for help as evil made itself at home.
Every time evil made the front page news, instead of fighting back, you decided to just turn the volume down.  Knowing it was there and knowing it was wrong...  Were you hoping it would go away while feeding it your doubts and fears and hate?  Did you think that you could make it fat and satisfied and it would then find somewhere new to roam?
Don't look for the devil to blame or the absence of prayer in the classroom or the sky you claim to be empty of god... Stop petitioning deities to save you from the evils of the world when those evils are your own monsters walking and dancing and playing in the blood of your own heart.

F' this planet...
   I'm going home...

She lives in his heartbeat
nourishing his blood
feeding it
keeping it warm
comforting it
walking through its halls
and chambers
telling it fables
only the stars
of the night sky know
in a language only the roots
of eternities flowers understand
keeping it safe
in the hours of sleep
holding it close and tight
through its moment of dreams
snuggling deep in its blanket
after a long
and well earned yawn
she closes her eyes and sleeps
then he walks through her heartbeat
and tends to her dreams
and nourishes her blood
bringing with him fairy tales
of warmth and comfort
anxious to yawn
and rest in her chambers
snuggled deep in her blankets
ready to dream of her
dreaming of him
dreaming of her
walking hand in hand
through the fields of forever
tending the flowers
found in the palms of eternity

fading before my death
becoming a ghost
trapped inside
flesh and bone
and beating heart

and who was I to be...

before...

before I invited all this misery
to comfort me

who was I when
I once dreamed
a dream
that I believed

that love was the only thing
we need
to find our way

to the fields
below the stars of eternity

Falling in love is difficult...
No....
Not reallly, it just happens
Enjoy it when it happens
Know that your lucky
  to have it happen
No matter if its at first sight
Or years of work
Enjoy it
Be lucky

One of these days
One of these days
I'm just going to go
Going to go home
I'll grab the devil by the tail
And I'll hold it 'till he wails
And lets out a howl
And I'll sail on his dead breath
Through night and through sky
Up past clouds and past moon
Where I'll jump on star
And I'll pay it with my every wish
And it will zoom away from this place
This place with no grace
No kindness
No love
This world of ****** and hate
Brother shooting brother
Father ****** daughter
Mother drowning babies
Preachers spreading lies by day
And underage thighs by night
Teachers twisting history
To keep minds complacent
Politicians protecting profits
Instead of the people
Religion spreading bigotry
Lucifer weeping below
God long out of tears
Unity and peace
A dead dream
Of the long long ago
A fairy tale book
Thrown into the fire
By fists of greed
And one of these days
I'm just going to go
Just going to go
Going to go
Go
And pull the trigger
A flash and a bang
And I won't have to give a ******
Or another minute
To this place
So far away from home

As the warm colors of life give way
  to the cold colors of death
May we remember the comfort your
  smile always gave
May we always cherish the magic that
  danced behind the madness of your eyes
May our hearts rejoice at all the wonder
  your life brought to ours
And though our lives will never be the same
  with you gone
Our lives would not have been as rich had
  we never meet at all
So thank you, Thank You
   until our paths cross again

I recieved my very first "hate" mail today... I was very excited and thrilled, because as we all know you aren't doing something right until you make someone angry.  That someone hates what you do with enough passion to take time out of their own life to point out how horrible your work is.  Unfortunately before I received this exciting news, I had in fact not considered myself a wtiter or poet, and even now I still do not.  I'm a theif and a fraud, I steal words from the silence of the night or the drumming of tires on the road, nothing I've ever said hasn't already been said before and by someone who hasn't said it much better.  By those that have dedicate their eduction and blood and heart to the craft.  I'm nothing more than an echo of the parrots that came before me and I have never claimed to be anything  I am not.  None the less, my words are honest and my intentions are of pure heart.  I have lived a good life, full of mistakes, regrets, failures, success, love, loss, love again, loss again, I drank enough for three lifetimes in just over a decade, among other activities of those who prefer the night... I've wooed a few or more pretty faces while shaking my money maker night after night after night, how I once loved to dance...
Life has slowed since then...  My heart grown wiser and stronger from the friends that I have been lucky enough to connect with through my reckless young adult life and current much tamer days... And of course theirs my son, who I knew I owed the same good influence my father was to me.  He has made fatherhood easy.  He never had a terrible year, not at 2, 3, 4... ever... always just good, mellow, never threw a fit when hearing the word no... I've never had to treat him like a kid, he has always just been a little person.  Too smart and too wise for his age... I once asked him what he would do if he won 8 hundred million dollars, without hesitation he answered, "I would give it to St. Judes Hospital and sick kids and hungry people and homeless people...".  So I asked if he would keep any of it and he thought for a second and replied, "Maybe $50... because nobody needs that much money dad!"  There are more stories... but all good parents have their endless tales to spin.  We are all proud of our fastest little swimmers.  And isn't that the odd little link we all share... we were all at one time in life the fastest little swimmer.  It's the little things that make it all worth the useless heaps of bs life throws at us.   Duck and roll and take a bath whenever your not quick enough.  Stand in the steam and warmth of the water and when your nice and squeeky clean, be brave for a minute and turn off the hot water and let the water turn ice cold and breath deep until you can't take it.  You won't regret it.. it's a little moment... Wait... I can't remember why I started to write this... well you know, the autumn years of life... Its been a good life this far, I've done more good than bad... I don't fear the judgment of any god that may or may not exist, so I'm sure not going to fear the judgment of my fellow man. So enemy or friend, choose your label if you must, peace, love, and happiness to all.

Memories and poems
Leaving the bad ones
Lying with the good
Writing out of habit
Lackluster of passion
Stirring letters in the soup
Sculpting metaphors
Painting words
Yawning in my sleep
My life a month ago
Was more just a dream
Of nothing much
But past lovers
And regrets of
What might have been
Made up stories
Or truths of rage
Trapped living the lie of freedom
From the saftey of my cage

Then was it by fate or chance
Or coincidence
I really could not tell
A harmless message
Sent forth then back
A single image
And a voice
Words both written and spoken
With such beauty and such grace
My curiosity wanted more
And shyly I feed that cat
Another message sent and read
Inspiration whispered to my ear
Then heart
Then soul
Was it flirting or simple kindness
Maybe a little bit of both
My curiosity wanted more
And In truth so did I
I feed and feed the cat and I
The cat grew fat
And my heart grew found
Each new picture seen
Each new word read and heard
Unexplainably
Unplanned
I slowly began to fall
And in falling
Through the darkness
I quickly found
My heart giving into
Madness

Now I start dreaming
Before I fall asleep
And keep dreaming
After I wake  up
Dreams so vivid
Dreams so real
Dreams of falling
Through the madness
Of this love
You have never been in my room
But dream after dream
You have already shared my bed
We have never kissed
But my heart is convinced
It already knows the intimacy
Of your fingers touch
My soul spread with fire
Has burned your image
Upon my eyes
My pillow no fair substitute
For your head
But it knows every secret
Love and lustful whisper
I've wanted to say to you
And I know I shouldn't
But I cave and give in
Because it feels so good
And my senses
Say impossible
How could I have fallen here
Fallen so deep and quick
Into the blazing temptations
Of the devils smile
And the promised comforts
Of arms of paradise
The dark songs
The wailing warnings
The monsters beneath your bed
The devils waiting in your chest
I have fallen still deeper
Wanting all of you
For the delicate warmth
Of your smile
For the sweet songs
That beat in your heart
I would sit with you through
The blackest day
And hold your hands through
Every storm
My heart would want nothing less
Than all of it
To fly next to you
Be it forever
Or just one day
It's love for you
Will never fade

Fathers won't always remember the last time their sons give them their last soft kiss on the cheek followed by a small squeaky voice saying, "i love you daddy"
And that's ok...
I suppose...
Its the kind of thing little boys outgrow so slowly and suddenly that it goes unnoticed until it is completely gone some years ago
It will be replaced by long warm hugs and little arms wrapped around necks and legs and waists and a voice not as tiny or squeaky saying "I love you dad"
And that's ok...
I suppose...
And often with an unknown tragedy these hugs become shorter as arms grow longer
Not always... but sometimes
Some will stay close
Some will drift
And some will drift and then become even closer for their time apart
And that's ok...
I suppose...
The wonders of life are not always kind
But they are not of cruel intentions
It will seem unfair at times
True
But life itself cannot be blamed
It has no guidelines
No safety net
No rule book
It is of whimsy and irony and grace and downfall and magic and fear and beauty
Time will shuffle the deck and fate will cut and deal the cards
And maybe hugs will be replaced by pats on the back or handshakes or shrugs of the shoulders as an older voice that has lost all of its squeak says, "...hey..." as sons and fathers pass in the hall
And that's ok...
I suppose...
Fathers have to let their sons grow
Have to let go of thier hands...
To let them...
discover mistakes and learn failure and invent secrets and build mystery and paint dreams
To live through the wonders of life that will sometimes seem cruel and unfair
And find in their fathers voice that they they only let go of their hands so they could hold more tightly to their hearts which they can never let go

He steps into his fathers boots
and his feet are soaked in blood
and he straps on a helmet
already riddled with bullet holes
to his head
and marches off to an endless war
with the same hate in his blood
fueled by the same pride in his heart
as his fathers father before him
“For god and glory!” he shouts
without questioning what it is
he’s fighting for

A pawn from the other side
steps onto the board
and repeats the same thing
walking the same steps as his father
in the same shoes as his father
in blind obedience
with the same hate
and the same pride

two sides on the same board
and somewhere in the middle
all the pieces are painted
with the same color of death
and the squares disappear
into puddles of blood
that turn into the rivers of ink
that write the obituaries
of all the young lives sold off
to the illusion of freedom
that whispers that this is the price
we must pay over and over again
for god and glory

but somewhere behind the curtain
hands are being shook
and money is exchanged and piled up
and the pigs are keeping themselves fat
from the feast provided
by the endless storm of bullets and bombs
raining down from the smoke pouring out
of the diseased heart
of the never dying war machine

the corpses are stripped down
and sent home  
and the boots are recycled
and isn’t it a beautiful parade
with all those dead bodies
wrapped in a flag full of pride
with a lesson of how to hate

to keep the peace
we keep a gun loaded
with nuclear bombs
pointed at each other’s forehead

and somewhere in the distance
in a hospital room
in a bedroom
in the arms of a new mother
a new father

a baby cries

with a fresh pair of feet
that will one day
******* an old pair of boots
and step onto a square
and march off
to the endless war
of god and glory

She had permanent grass stains on her shoulder blades
and the skin on her back always carried
the scent and salt of the earth
her hair danced like green fields in the wind
and had the subtle fragrance of lilacs
and though her flesh was tied to her bones
and her feet walked the ground beneath them
her heart was not bound by these same rules of gravity
and was often found swimming
in the space between the stars
and her eyes where painted with scenes
of the sky held up by oceans
and oceans held down by the sky

he could see himself in these reflections
broken and incomplete
and that somewhere in his life death would be there
and this would still not change in the end
and that no life lived is every complete
and last breaths are just interruptions
of what is that turn into what will be

he knew she had mysteries to be
and mysteries to discover
and questions to ask without speaking
and answers that couldn’t be put into words
she was perfectly herself inside
and outside of her human frailties
and she held a comfort
that could only be found
in being comfortable with your flaws

somewhere in the sound
of the syllables of her name
was a love open and free
that needed no redemption
gave no judgement
held no sin or shame
only the willing connection
to those seeking to find something more
than just the infinite stars
splattered across the endless universe
the something of wisdom hidden
in the heartbeat of not knowing
what is still to be found
and finding what can never be found
by anything other than the truth
of giving love freely
to the greatest fears of the unknown

Dancing on feathers
Sleeping on wings
Spinning and twirling
  and making new dreams

I wish I could pull you into my heart
so you could see
how beautiful you make it feel
how it has found heaven
here in this breathing moment

and if you could just feel this
this heart beating as your own
that never again in your life
would you have to question
what true love feels like
because true love
feels like you

A silent conversation where everything is felt and known
in the soft quite space between our eyes
and nothing but slow rhythmic breath passes from our lips
and we don't have to force a smile
and just enjoy the silence wrapped around us
and the noise of nothing tying us together
in a locked gaze free to be ourselves
without the judgment of sound
and happy enough with being bored of being
and still brave enough to poke around
and dare to be a little more than just be
and finding a connection in knowing
together we are still alone
but there is no need of feeling lonely
because all we ever wanted was someone
that understands they don't have to understand
every little thing that isn't said
because there is often a deeper story in the pauses
between each sound and syllable
and each sigh and moan
and sometimes it is better to just lay there
in the comfort found outside the reach of our skin
and listen to the meaning of why
our hearts are beating beneath our bones
in the silent conversation
where everything is felt and known

She moved methodically with lucid dreams
  streaked through the fibers of her hair
Her skin was made from sheets cut from
  the clouds that drifted lazily over heaven
Her eyes where iridescent pearls stolen
  from the depths of the pools of paradise
She twirled lighting between her fingers
  and pulled magic out of coins
Her voice carried the soft comforts of
  thunder
And she often whispered of the smell of
  rain
While playing songs about november on
  the broken strings of a dead piano
She could hypnotize the flame of a candle
  and set the whole world ablaze
As she hummed along with the madness
  hidden between the wings of moths
She pulled cotton candy out of  thin air
  and blow smoke rings that tasted of
    whiskey and lust
Her lips were glazed with a tranquil poison
  that held the promise of love
While the honey dripping from her tounge
  warned of the suicde of romance
I stared a moment too long and found
  myself tangled in a lucid dream
    caught between life and death

He turned the idea over
and then turned it over again
examining it from odd angles
twisting it this way
stretching it that way
and came to the conclusion
that the only way out
the only thing he could do
was to lie

Not a clever lie
nothing that would be believable
no, it had to be
obvious
obnoxious
and obscenely so

He imagined her reading it
and smiling
and laughing
and knowing the truth
he had meant to hide inside of it
but had somehow
accidentally made perfectly clear

She would then
touch his shoulder gently
her smile still warm on her lips
and she would whisper
her own lie into his ear
and her own truth
would playful dance in her eyes

They would sit through
an awkward moment of silence
and then suddenly burst
out into a spontaneous gush
of embarrassing laughter

He would snort
and run out of breath
and she would cover her mouth
trying not to laugh harder
but fail miserably
and fall over laughing louder
and more rabidly than before

The laughter would turn to giggles
then turn to smiles
then turn to shy looks
and then small sighs

This moment would
be stolen by eternity
and crafted into a small jewel
and then broken in half
and then each half
would be embedded
into each of their hearts

He wouldn’t remember
how it had happened
but he would be holding her hand
while all this happened
and she would be looking
at all the past
and pain
and loss
and love
he kept hidden between the colors
and the pupils of his eyes

He would try to look away
try to keep some
of those secrets to himself
but he would be frozen there
trapped by the stopping of time
as helpless as a fresh born infant
and as giddy as a school boys first crush

She would read it all
she would understand it all
she would be grateful
for the intimacy
of knowing these things
and she would treat
this knowledge with grace and respect

The silent moment would return
but the awkwardness would not be there
they would both hear
the cracking of a fireplace
that was not there
but still
somehow warmed the room

A greater truth would be
waiting patiently on her lips
inviting him to taste
its sweetness with his own

They would both lean in
at the same time...

Then

“****!”

she disappeared
and he suddenly remembered
that she wasn’t real
that she didn’t exist
that she was the imagined creation
of his wandering heart
someone for him to write
fictional love poems to
A distraction from any real person
who he might grow affectionate towards

He wrote down the lie
and crossed it out
and then wrote down another lie

He read it
and re-read it
tried to imagine her laughter again
but she didn’t laugh
so he crossed it out
and tried again

Another lie
and then another
scribbled and scratched
typed and edited
rewrote and deleted
then rearranged in his head
and written down one more time

She laughed so hard this time
he was afraid she might be taken away
mistaken for a madwoman
and he almost crossed it out again

But her laughter was perfect
with a pinch of a cackle
a douse of innocence
a shake of honesty
and for good measure

a sprinkle of love

He dotted the “i’s”
and crossed the “‘t’s”
and smiled

It was a good lie
maybe not his best
but his own heart was fooled
and it was happy
and that seemed good enough

He put his pen down
and closed his sketch pad
he stood up and stretched
the smile was still there
and he could still hear her laughter

but in the corner of his lips
there was an almost
unnoticeable sadness
a lingering loneliness

Something he would
never admit to tasting
to knowing was there

He walked into the bathroom
ready to shower away
the aches and pains
of his slowly aging bones

he paused in front
of his reflection in the mirror
and for a brief moment
thought he saw himself
flicker in and out of existence

A brief moment of both
panic and joy swept over him
as he wondered if
he was possibly
the character that didn’t exist

that he was nothing more
than a fevered dream
of a lonely and desperate heart

Wouldn’t that be funny he thought
as he stripped himself bare
and then stepped into the bath
and pulled the curtain close

He laughed a good laugh
an honest laugh
a laugh laced
with the magic of snow
and the innocence of children
and then melted
under the steam and hot water
and slipped down the drain
and was never seen
or heard from again

She came and went
  wandering from one dream
   into another
leaving behind small trinkets
  underneath his pillow

     the warmth of her smile
     the pulse of her kiss
     the ghost of her touch

and when he woke
  the autumn scent
    of her hair
      danced lightly
        in the air

he took a deep breath
  filling his lungs
   until his ribs
    nearly cracked
       apart

then exhaled
  and smiled

   a sad

    happy

      smile

and the details of the dream
  blurred and rearranged
    themselves
       and bit
         by bit
          faded into
            the memory
              of mist

she slipped down into his heart
  and made a small fire
   and kept everything warm

and waited
  waited for him

   to sleep

    to sleep

     and dream

       again

he had fallen asleep reading
and the book laid with the pages
pressed to his chest
he could still hear her voice
narrating the story
even as he snored now in his sleep
even though she was only imaginary
a small comfort of fiction
to keep his heart warm
through the winter of his bones

she rearranged the letters
as she slipped off the page
and slide out from under the book
and laid beside him for a moment
watching him breath
watching his chest rise and fall
watching his heart
  thump against his ribs
she sighed a small sigh
as she carefully lifted
the book from his chest
and closed it
she kissed the tips of her fingers
and then as soft as breeze
touched them to his forehead
she wanted to stay
to fall asleep next to him
to wake up in the same dream
but she knew if she slept
he would turn to smoke
and disappear into the bathroom mirror
she reluctantly stood
and took quite footsteps
towards the bookshelf
placed the book back in its spot
and ran her fingers along its spine
the book purred
and she smiled a sad smile
and spoke without speaking
and said “until next time my friend...”

she snuck out the window
and climbed up
and through the clouds
she sauntered and wandered
around the moon
and waited patiently
as her eyes hopped
from star to star
until she caught the glimpse
of a comet
and hitched a ride on its tail
setting a course
through an unknown time
of an untold adventure

she fell asleep in
the vast emptiness of space
and dreamt of dreaming
and somewhere in the dream
she heard his voice
telling a lie
a harmless mess
of obvious mischief

and they both smiled
a smile bigger
than any smile
could be imagined

How much time do we have left
Until we take our final breath
Why isn't it enough to know
Our time is finite
To protect the flame of love
Instead of fanning the fires of hate
To work for human needs
Instead of needless greed
Trading hands full of sand
For a fist full of dollars
But our pay is already spent
Before we even touch a cent
We can taste the foul stench
  as we inhale
Of a wick burning out our last
  bit of air

My last chance to rage
My ink bleeds dry on the page
My final last words

I saw her
the girl you talked about
I heard her voice
with the slight tremble
and a rumbling hope

she still had spitfire in her words
and starlight in her eyes
she wasn’t lost
not really

she may have had more questions
than answers in her head
but give her time

sometimes the questions
don’t need to find answers right away
or maybe even ever

sometimes they just need to be asked
they need to bloom and find wings
and wander and float off into the sky
sometimes its more about the wondering
the exploring of both
the inside and outside world

questions of the mind
mending doubts of the heart
a burning in the soul
to be cooled by a passing wind
a kind smile
a gentle hand
to hold in the darkness
so it knows it is not alone

it is often the silent conversations
that offer the most light
when the words that need
to be heard
do not need to be spoken
as they are already
being sung by the stars above
and we already know
the song by heart

love is an art that can be shared
between two strangers
that never touch each other
but still hold each other’s hearts

maybe for only a slight moment
maybe an entire life

two voices shouting
into the void of despair
declaring I will not go quietly
I will not live silently
I will live and fight
for something worth living for
something that will make death weep
when it whispers my name

I may lose my way
I may feel hopeless
and defeated
from time to time

but I will not give in
I will not give up
I will make my fist into a grenade
I will make my heart
into something larger than a fist
and I will live my life
by finding
and practicing the art of love

and that girl
the one you talked about
her voice with the slight tremble
and a rumbling hope
she is closer than you think
when you find her again
when you see her again
tell her thanks

sometimes
sometimes I forget
that I’m not alone
and even the slightest of moments
can last a lifetime

I saw the fires at the ends of time
Burning in the depths of iridescent blue seas of endless darkness
I set sail on a paper boat
Chasing a paper moon hanging above the blazing horizon
I heard the call of madness
And was helpless to follow
Whispers and whishes pushing the paper sails to the waters on the edge of time
And I walked into the flames
Burning blood red and jack-o-lantern orange
And I was consumed by the ache and the pain and the beauty of the embers and coals
Swimming through the anguish and tears of the shadows between the tounges of licking fire
The song and call growing louder
Hypnotic and alluring causing my heart to race
With fear and anticipation
My soul lost to the flicker of the dancing light
My heart singing back to the madness
I walked deeper through the flames
Burning everything of me away
My flesh and my pains
My bones and my doubts
My marrow and my sorrows
Leaving only my heart to burn and beat  naked through the truth
And the heat
My heart alone
Beating quickly
Burning slowly
Completely given into the song and call
Madness now pulling my heart to its center
There in the middle of the fires and flames
I found what made all things beautiful
A soul and heart
Of pure white flame
Burning burning
Like the sun
Burning brighter
And more gracefully
Never never
Had I felt such warmth
And radiance
There was nothing I could do
But be consumed
Always always
To be in love
In this madness
Made of you

Skyward Fireworks
Explode against the twilight night
And every night
Inside my heart
An infinite love
Burst inside
My heart
For you
You are my
Only holiday
My every day
My only way
My one love
My true love
Is you

What if the sun was a fish of golden flame
What then would the moon reflect
Would the earth be a bubble
Would space be a sea
What would become of
All this human misery
If the sun was a fish
With fins of fire
Swimming here and there
Going wherever it did please
Would the moon be a minnow
Forever bound to follow
Would the earth be a dream
Would god be the water
Would the devil be the worm
Would love be free to swim
Without fear of aches and pains
Without mans clumsy hands
To break the heart
Of the sun swimming
With golden fins ablaze
Anywhere and everywhere
And never ever
Ever
Would love be
Touched by our
Human misery

Take the steps and learn how to dance
Break open the bars and make an escape
Find a pair of broken branches
And  a handful of feathers
And some old kite string
And make yourself new wings
Fly out of the sky
Fly free from this world
Fly off to new dreams
Fly
Fly
Fly

Our interpretation of time
is only backed
by the ego of our arrogance
as if we alone could master
the infinite mysteries of the stars
and chain them to the definition
of the dot to dot constellations
of our limited imaginations

then trap the sands of time
to gears and springs
and strap it to our brittle wrists
as we crown ourselves
the children of a grand designer
who sculpted our flesh alone
in “HIS” most holly image

we know nothing of the things
we pretend to know
as the flaw of our intelligence
is that it is self designed

we are non the better
than the creatures
we share this planet with

other than we deny ourselves
the simple pleasures
of howling at the moon
or singing with the sunrise
or laying on the surface
and in the silence
of the moonlight shimmering
over the still waters of a pond

we make noise
when it is unnecessary
and keep silent
when we should speak out
as the devil in our deeds
is in every detail
of the cruelty
we have spread out through history

sometimes in the name of god
and sometimes in the name of country
and in the times
of our most overindulgent hypocrisy
in the name of both

as we have dived ourselves
by imaginary lines
drawn in the sand
we believe we have trapped
and strapped to our brittle wrists

as if time is only on our side
moving in one direction
playing by our rules
shaped by the god
we created to bless us
for our self inflected
and self indulgent sins

because it is easier
to blame the devil
for the all fruit we steal and horde

but the devil is only real
in the crimes committed
by the blood we have
running in our veins
and the blood we spill
to feed the fear and hatred
of fables and myths too old
for anyone to remember
written in languages
no one has ever spoken or heard

all the while we ignore
the simplest of facts
that when we have gone too far
dropped one too many bombs
let one too many bullets soar
that when fear and hate swallows
the last of us whole

that time will march on without us
and that all in all
all we have strapped to our brittle wrists
is nothing more
than our meaningless egos

On the lost forgotten roads
Where passions heart unfolds
Under the singing moon
You will find her dancing
In full bloom
Through the tangled woods
Of forest midnight kiss
Her scent flows freely in the air
Laced with decadence and sin
The stars all take their turn
To swirl and paint
And entwine their light
With the magic in her hair
To natures true delight
She frolics and glides
With her skin bare
To kiss the earth and air
Not a soul in heaven found
Not in hell a soul bound
Would dare to interupt
Her bewitching sway
In all my days and nights
All my loves and dreams
Never have I seen
Another beauty as devine

Always and never forever and ever
And where will I be when eternity takes its final breath
And love gives itself completely to death
Will there be any of my hearts dream left
Will I still feel as if I could fall endlessly
Will it still be your hand I yearn to hold
Could I finally find the courage
Could I finally speak...
Could I...
Always and never a cowards forever and ever