calm the beautiful blue mornings, green calm growing pastures
I meditate passionately viewing, white visions floating on
until some afternoons, on a horizon unexpectantly, out of the prettiest
cyan grows grey storms.
Heat builds, rises rapidly condensing moisture,  particles charge,
cyan dims to black; the world arises angrily.
Me and the sun hide hidden, the dark horizon growls. Flashes,
and thunder roils on awakening fears.
When she calms down, I meekly peek again, see a peaceful cloud and cyan
calmness.
Summer calm   blue green.
Red blonde clouds blowing free.
Again.

Johnny heard a symphony
In his head
He repeated every word he read
He could hear every harmony
Melody
Saw the notes on the line
Johnny saw the world filled with music
He lived it
So you labeled him autistic
Because if your brain works different
You take pills to make it the same
Different is bad
But when he takes the pills the music goes away
The symphony turned into a piano
That's not quite on key
Instead of beauty
It's an almost perfect note he can't see
"The doctors said it wouldn't disappear completely"
He's conducting to an empty orchestra
The instruments have been put away
The flutes are in the corner
With dust and decay
His fingers can no longer grace the piano keys
He had to think what does that mean
But he can't think
He feels woozy
And dizzy
The pills took away his ability to be free
They said his disorder made him weak
That he could be amazing
If only he was the same
He could be perfect
If we pick at his brain
That are playing a game
With his sanity
He was insane
But they still call crazy
Nothing has changed
But the pulls added a haze
And took his ability
To make music
That's not the same

once a hayloft, above the stable.

this was a meeting place. we cleaned

the upper room ready, removed winter

detroitus, hummed latin verbs, generally

was busy.

all is washed and cleaned ready.

everyone is refering to easter,

sun day april fifth.

sbm.

check the task, ready the mind.

let thoughts mellow and compute

nicely.  we will be all ready on the day.

we have a plan, whilst gratitude guides

us. nothing is necessary, except

collars and socks.

some will understand,

while others will not.

it was a hay loft, converted

now, the upper room.

listen.

sbm.

what about this list,

to do it before you die,

well as she said, you probably

can’t do it after. some may disagree -

another belief. we try not to judge,

yet that  bucket was not worth

five pound, so i offered two.

old,  too enamoured to be

used for rhubarb.

i shall search for another.

there is an old galvanised bath

in the garden.

sbm.

feel you are failure, look

at what you have done.

look to the seeds, the growth,

read desiderata and know

we are all mostly much

the same.

sbm.

and all the baby crickets chirp
I got the daisies planted and then appeared
numerous
red black bugs
swarming the daises the elderberry bushes
the crickets just watched all the festivity
like who are they they are not me
that is cricket talk  
especially when young
and the boxelder bugs in
swarms respond
in red black harmony of numbers
it is we the red black bugs of sap suckering
I chuckled
the crickets responded
by rubbing their back legs together
almost like
applause

could I ever explain
will any words you transpire
will any alphabet portray
to you rose bush why
why I must take the flower from your stem

what beauty what wish
could make me **** one
to honor another?
Yet, ways of love what
may I give in forgiveness, thorns?

Dear, oh dearness growing
an honorary a remembrance,
may I return  her here,
for you to understand her glory,
prettier than growing alone,
is your flower
adorned her golden hair,

measured in
correlations
as four
cubits makes him
to me is equated with
the length of outspread arms
of a woman awaiting
him.

When finally quiet comes
the long pain of night's trudge
the unmasked soul dredge
swift an arrow, piercing
when friends have all gone
in the silent dark before dawn
this is when you
miss me.