And I wrote the Heavens,
And wrote havens for the Heavenly
Til all the bright buds wilted,
Milk no longer flowed,
And now my muse left me for
Some dude in Canada.

     Oh siren mourning over the mist,
    That I was a bird of prey
     And was taken by your claw!
    How silly of me to sing the Nightingale's
     Transformation in the verses
    I lost myself to you,
     And in comes a chance of change
    You roll over to the next guy
     With a Daily!

Oh Muse,
The masterful strokes gone,
This arrogant upstart would write
You the last sonnet of air
That you might breathe your echoes
Upon my words,
Bequeath me the inspired harmonic
Yielding the poetical mastery to my paper!

   Oh muse,
   You old hag!
   I'm left with crooning
   Your ungiven name!

I can only see 5 as i wave
And forever stain a memory
10 times i saw 5 and it fell,
And there was only you walking away-
5 times i ran my hip once
And the wave fell limp,
10 times down
Pointing below where my heart had sunk.
I would grasp your mathematics
If ten were not apart of me as you are
Apart of my very soul.
There of you is only one....
And the flesh will fall
But my soul is yours,
Hands down.

Yesterday in San Antonio
A drunk guy was found dead,
His wings drunkenly glorious
With a beard fully grown over his
White angelic gown.

   He was wise, a drunken sage
With wisdom of the world he watched,
    He knew the world was in one
Big **** hurry to nowhere,
    He told me so when I gave him
A cold one.

    The words that he spoke to me
Are those that will haunt me:
  " Speed produces slowness"

Footnote:
I'll drink one to that,
It was a Tuesday and raining,
A wise drunk, watcher of the world.

Image power
By that gentle confidence,
And a little boy knows his dad.

Stolen thievery,
Pride in the lost is vein
That whixh buries the heart
In echoes.

Fallen hereditary
Keeping the memory
And all is a silence of natures;
Wind and water amd stone.

A waters dive
Oceans ago when waters
Fled the open heart
And father was the only son:

Take my hand old man,
Though your at the edge,
Your blood will flow to the
Future and your soul is
Always reborn.

Teach, learned man,
Pour out your swim in life
In the waters of the moment,
Stroke, strokes, and still
And always, father.

Woman: You are not a drug,
But the rehab, the twelve steps
That I could never take alone.

They say in poems that your love
Is like ******, but you saved me
From the needle I stuck in my arm.

And you are no addictive,
But you are my lover,
My best friend, a reason to quit drugs.

I know myself, and you knew me
Better, I could never have seen myself
With out your clarity.

I am an addict,
But you saved me from myself,
You are my grace, and I love you.

The women stilled
In a shopping mall when
A sale made them go
As far away home,
     They mutter at the dresses
And cannot decide where
Green sweat earned
Will go,
And a closet abyss will ****
It out of existence, where.the day went, a husband wonders
About the next day.

Horrors of the sick,
Like duck soup
With water from its pond,
A singular observation
From a man stolen,
A woman under no
Man.

I see a fool of man in the mirror.
I'm writing about myself in reflection
To my reflection.

I sit down and burp, I say excuse me,
And there is no one around.

I shave and feel my face,
I point at the man in the mirror
And say" You da man!"

I write a philosophical poem about silence,
Suddenly I am in a league with Socrates.

I look for my keys and call myself stupid for
Losing them. I give myself a break.

I step on a nail at work and watch the blood trickle
Out of my foot. There goes a pair of socks!

I give a dollar to a homeless man.
I feel as though I may be a philanthropist.

I get on the bus and eat my lunch,
I then ponder the physics of the universe.

I'm here writing my thoughts about my thoughts.
Does this make me a thinker? I think.....

Today I spun a web
And thought how your curves
Shatter the moon,
I think far into myself
And receive the death I deserve,
Die into me,

I reconciled with the ways
Of your touch
And split open the thesaurus,
No words.....

Today a web
And the spindle is your
Caress when I am the salt
Of my sweat,
There is peace there,
The silken threads
Of your world,
And I would be happy a fly.

Behind myself in every shadow
I become aware of reflection,
That I am alone inside my unique-
Being the author of my deception.

A galloping dead horse breathing
Down my back startling,
A swelling comes into play when I
Decide the harder thing.

The superior memory scams
My day forward,
Closing doors I walk
Toward.

Ghost external plays
A quivering chill,
I rest upon a hard earned sorrow,
There I lose my will.

I apologise on behalf
Of myself,
I am not here at present;
I will be here later
When I am in a reflection
On a mirror which was
Born by the ripples of memory
On an empty ocean of my thoughts
Which mirror a light in
The spectrum the eyes cannot
Fathom.
And I will say what I should
Have just as my tongue fell
To the floor at that time
When my mind was elsewhere.
I apologise
Because I wanted to be there
In the moment,
But my moment was elsewhere
In a time past
Or in a time to come
When I will not be there either,
And I will miss it then too,
And catch myself
Later from the time before
Or that which never happend.

And every place is terrible
When at present the mind
Is somewhere else.

Pouring....
Grey like April's ******,
Amassing the draped sun
Until her thighs we're but shadow,

I cried unto the silent,
Inside the storm
Through eyes that
Mimic everyone and there
Is only peace outside.

Passionate doubled man,
Creeping pains like tidal
Drifts in the bipolar temple.
I am not
But there is no one inside to hear
The thoughts crying out
In the deepest wail,
Hear me, smile, walk by me,
You would never know
Inside me the fluxed,
And she is inside me gone.

Nothing can stay,
Not me or you at the moment's
Last glance.

I wish to stay
To watch the lake's dancing waves
   Foaming at the shores
With a plethora of bubbling
Like a warm cup of cocoa
    Meeting my cool lips.

Grass as vast as belief
With a sparrows nest just above
In an oak which shivers in a cool
Wind dressing the world with sounds.

    The harvesting is a lifetime
Embedded with a faint glow
Which is a man at the end wishing
On the dying light,
Nothing can stay.

My life is just a cataclysm,
And for the catalyst I am
Grateful.
You were there,
With me when the world
Died and we were
Reborn in a loophole.
Follow the procedure,
But you must be you
And the systematically
Engineed break down will
Melt down in the knowledge you
Know is there.
By the people,
We are for the people
And this country is the people.
We are still here
Take me to the grave with an
Extinguished banner
And hope will remain in what light
Has defeated,
Because even the stars glimmer
In absolution of lumminous
Conjuring.
All you need is hope,
And action in postulated
Destiny will reward the hard
Path ahead.
Be more.

Your hand holds between its fingers
The nocturnal glow of a crescent moon,
The touch that holds,
The kiss that stays;

The kiss is a phosphorescent angel
By a sleepwalking lover,
Hold: close as souls can be,
Spiritual dawn of lovers;

The kiss dresses mountains with white veils
And adorns the trees with gentle air,
Holding through seasons,
Naked, at the precipice infinite;

We are born through one another,
Holding breath under prophetic stars,
Held by a kiss,
Dissolving into the lips.

Kiss, hold, our love inventing love.

I belong to no one,
Slave to the moment
And my spirit is a devastation
Of freedom,
Keeper of the lost nocturnal,
I dwell within the despair
Of a melancholic grace,
The beauty of a depressed
Soul can measure beauty
With a grateful clarity.

Take me away from this ignorance
And show me the truth;
**** the words of nothing
And show me a humble poetry,
Be that I am lucky for this
Life,
I know there is more than
The conscious dreams,
A place without ironical
Pressures
And no socialistic grading,
I will never be a man,
And I am thankful for that.

Drink the blood of this ink,
Die to the lies
And become alone,
There u will find me
And all the others
Whose death was the beginning.

To die of life
Is to be reborn.

On this afternoon
       The poplars walked around,
I spoke your name;
       The wind took it away.

And the sun glazed windows
     Hold the echo of your reflection,
Sudden grey skies over
       The kingdom of your ruins.

The forms haunt, black dense memory,
          And I named this day
Perfect Sorrow Without You.

We all have old scars
And sometimes the grey
Of Autumn brings them out
Just a little more when we feel
That cold air rush through
And the sun dips below the clouds
(These are seasonal scars that
Bloom like flowers in spring)
What before was a smile
Is now an agonizing memory
Almost tied in the heart and
The veins must run like
Knots bleeding out the pain
And when we experienced it
We yelled:
THIS HURTS TOO MUCH!
They say that's how you know
It was real, the pain,
And with time the scars turn
Into something else,
Like flowers in the spring.

Who gave the heart the beat;
Life blood and destroyer of
Lives,
The tree with roads branching
And the destiny unfolds
In an implacable red,
Luke Autumn's kiss to the wind
And the grace of a falling leaf
Emitting the eternal harmless
And sweet,
Love and a kiss of many deaths
As every moment is a lifetime.

The body is a bridge
Which navigates the living waters,
The soul is the air you don't see,
The flesh, a cage of the moment:

People,pain, hearts, lovers;
Tales of the enriching experience
Like fire buried in the mirror
Weaving embers in different skies.
The moment turns solid
And the dream disperses through
The awakening's spread hand,
The apparition is real and the memory
Is finite inside the caged soul.
Wondering if  time is real
In a foliage of misconception,
Amidst sullen realities
Charred by light in the unpredictable eye...
I believe in the soul.

The soul whispers to the heart
In pulse beats of clarity,
The rivers flow it's ashen silt
To where the river begins,
Faith enters me absolved in
Absolution of the world,
Worlds collide as the soul battles
For the appeasement of immortality:

The soul is a pilgrimage
In the dazzlement of the flesh.

Half smile,
The rare dimple in perfect
Pleasure to the eyes,
But never outlandish laughter.
( Like a woman who knows she has
You in her trance)

   Hip bent to one side,
Arm defiantly attached to bent hip,
Her dress of flowers flow like
A mobile garden,
The air seems to glide around every
Curve and dress wears her well.

The eyes of men
Become magnetised,
Through which the world
Is observing her magnetic frame
The smile piercingly gradual,
Yet playful, still a touch of vulgarity.

Woman, whose smile
Beckons a portrait,
You walk with depths
Unknown, but the abyss
Of your smile
And the eyes jumping in.

What I write is an expression,
One that I can never just tell
You.

What I say I couldn't write because
I never meant to hurt you.

That's the poem
And you,
The difference
Is reading one
From the other.

Insane like a heartless confession,
Soul sessions,
Reality of the beast spreading infection
I Spread the Ded in Poet,
Like a sobering moment-
Know it,
I take you down with me
As you took me to highest heights,
When you leave:
Even crickets seem to sigh at night,
Revelations
Pain soars hand in hand with happiness,
Ironical elevations,
Teleportation
Body and soul
Better for the sickness,
I see i love you,
Destroyer of beauty with the quickness,
Personal mixing with business,
What is this,
A brokenness with every decision,
Precision demolitions,
Words of fire.
Love the ammunition,
A contradiction conflicting,
Happiness sickening,
Bring on the quickening
Pace,
Face of the beast,
Hopeless in your light,
I see when its too late,
I earthquake,
Shake my head though,
How much of me can you take,
I still beg you dont leave though,
Lets be clear yo,
Im intentionally devided,
Lifetime glitch provided,
I cant hide it,
Fight it.....
Im down for you,
You go, i go,
Us against the world;
Easy though,
Me against you,
I really dont know.

Who am I to harvest a dream
When cities are buried and sanctuaries
Become ruins all in the name of....
     And I see that life is worth nothing,
    The streets are empty now,
     Families in pieces
    And some horrid prophesy comes true.

Devastating air, suspended in waves,
Horrid and flaming,
Why Extinguisher of the world
Have you come now to the
Final Earth?
Were we not capable
Creating our own hell?
Land of my Mother!
Land of my Father!
I see the battle rages all across
The face of the earth,
Shall I feed my children
The inherited devastation?

On summer days
When the sun bore no fruit
For the over heated construction crew,
My father would remind me
Sitting in his 1995 Ford 350
How inadequate we all were
Compared to the golden days of framing.

Or he would praise the highest paid
On a Friday, payday whose checks
We're always there,
To build them up for a weekend
And let them rest from their
Toilings under his sun.

From 15 years ago
I can hear his voice,
"Your never going to learn are you?"
In his solitary voice
That confined a tone just for me,
A destination unknowing
For what a father teaches can sometimes
Elude the son with sarcasm
And verbal seeds of invalidity.

Honorable carpenter,
I remember him never missing a day,
His name should be on a wall
Somewhere,
I ask that I inside of myself
Remember the very best of
The very worst of him,
Which was the side I think
Was also the guiding parent.

May he always be ,
That I rise in the mornings
And still hear his voice,
I pour coffee into a mug
And remember.

May my insufficient ways
Honor him with the haze
He draped over my confidence,
I see my father in a certain way,
The eery silence filled
With his voices.

On summer days
When the heat is too much,
My father still pushes me,
I swear the humidity is
Him breathing down my neck.

I, Me,
Once upon the solitary drops
Falling from my faceless
Skies,
Crown me in the womb;
Closed to the Word.

The sloping forest of thought,
Beneath the canopy..
drought of touches,
A calamity in the moment,
Whispers conceived once
Upon another star.

My kingdom is the wanderer,
That most beautiful Nocturne;
Make the romance of aloneness
And upon night fall
Impaled on the twilight
My self shedding personalities.

Every birth that card played out
When lucky hand
Pan handled gold,
Zesty children of the moment
With hollowed souls
And metaphor presences,
Penetrate the eyes when
Spoken to,
Spilled in blood like words
Of worlds long gone,
Whispers at the end
Begging for new beginnings.

And time before it began was yours

Had you only seen what death
           death heeds in
A mournful source
        Battered by memory
At present too late.

Truth is I have never
Seen the truth,
In as much as a broken soul
Wanders looking for the Source,
Or reason,
I scattered bits and pieces left by
The Light,
Finding sparks in the darkness,
In truth the reality is
I dont know if I really
Care,
The unknown is all there is.

Im a loner
Thinking about the bigger picture
Knowing i am a backround pixel,
High definition of my sorrow
Displayed in the domain
Of the public eyes
For all to see me on my naked
Cross and filter the words of my
Pains
Written on a bed of life,
A whisper in the echoes,
I word written for me
Since my life is unspoken

Wading,
A miracle in the water

There in the distance
A star sinks elongated

One life,
Sailing seven days

Seven seas blue
From a sky too far to sail

Dark waters
Under enveloped storms

Why sink
When floating in the air,

Just below
Above the sky of the sea?

Seven seas
I will never drink....

Life waters.

Melancholic family,
Stained memories,
Too deep for now,
And yrsterday becomes them,
I am,
But was in eye
Of beholden past.
Take me away
But do not converge,
Blood runs deep like
Yesterday's gathering.
Water in the new day,
Unbeknownst....
And love me for who I am,
Strange the stranger
Becomes a family
Grateful for today....
Blood gone
And only the unfamiliar
Dwell.

Observed by ears
    An unfolding vertical orchestra,
Smelled by my eyes
      I touched the aroma in her hair,
Like the nakedness of gentle air
      As fingers run through your name:
    
      Speak of the instant
And I can sense you even in dreams,
      The infinite moment
With you is a canticle of senses.

There are those who would think
The world is flat, that holds true
To to preemptive thinking and
Makes the world a little more complicated:
The work of conspiracy is one thing,
I have come to say why not if I
Have not visited the upper stratosphere,
But I believe in a round moon,
Because I see that crescent smile
Among the spirit mending stars,
Though just my little opinion.
I speak to the beginners who will
One day know the truth
Between the lines of thoughts
And truth when round things
Like home and life seem flat.
I stare across a flat ocean,
All the pines that seem linear,
The mountains that dare reach
Further I see with round eyes.
And the complicated is welcome,
As neighbors might stay for the conversation
Just a little longer before night's
Interruption, just some thoughts,
Flat earth round the world,
I say this because I speak to you,
Behind every conspiracy is a friend
With words.

How small I am under
Your sky!
You, a tall slender moon,
Your hair like wind,
   Outside children at play,
Memory, momentous,
   Words pour out your monument,
I am intertwined like the last Dawn,
   Sun rises,
You swallow me with your eyes,
    I live for unreachable skies
Against the veil of your horizons....

Pieces in the mist,
The living waters:

The melancholic grace of
Sorrow,
The crow sings for the dead.

The nostalgic réminiscence,
Joyful frames in the afterglow.

All is a stillframe
In time's gallery.

Take note the proper
Posture of denial,
Where all things end in laughter,
And I get the joke.

Because we are not where
We once were and can break
A mold,
When a poet goes into action
And becomes his words the
World will not allow it.
The audacity of the poetic
Gesture turning into a romantic
Reality,

******* world,
I break the mold of your mud,
Fake your way out of this;
I win because you tried to stop me.
Swallow the bitter pill,
Rabbit holes go only so deep,
My poem is an eternal univetse
My life in a blink has become a stanza
Lasting longer than the world and
Its game of nothing.

Death may come,
But i live on in defiance,
I never failed myself
And my actions became a poem,
******* world,
Im living a poetic gesture
And raise my *******
On victory.

Why try to construct with words
      What the Spring blew
Between storms and kisses
      Thorough your memory,
On old paper?

The tongued fire that speaks
     The dense desire to the lover,
Is now only descriptive descendant
      To what was....

Poetry is the moment.

And I am everything
In your aloneness,
Torn sorrows that bloom
In your cadence of tears,
I am grateful
For the pieces left intact....

Grace of a broken moon,
Woman among the Seasons
I see a greyness in Fall
And you are an echo
In the silent forever of my
Frozen sight,
Worthy of the hold
And your mournful touches,
Woman,. I can carry your pain.

It will be ok,
As I see you glimmer among
Dark stars,
The spectrum of your pain
Allows you to run to me,
I am the Spectre in the sad fields,
Grains that remain seeds
And a new beginning
Will leave me to find
Another broken dream.

In the streets of sunrise his
Name is unknown.

Blend of dirt and vagrant
Under said bridges.
     Lowly
Living under storms.
    Stillness of hunger,
Sad, sorrowful,so wise.

    We will sit in rooms
Upon the chairs with laptops,
     Filtering his memory
That no Google search will find,
     He has no screen name.

The only backup memory
Inside his faceless book.

I was scared once,
I realised the wrong was nothing
And I filled my own mind
With doubt.

What is guilt but the sin never
Committed? I said nothing
But words still rose against me.
And I stood my ground
Against the lie,
Ready to die for my truth,
I remained unspoken.
Accused of what and I dont care
Because I never knew the why....

Take me,
A million ways to die
And my words never spoke
What lies fed your heart,
Guilt was not my motive,
Only the fear of nothing
Commiitted in my name,

Im here in the fire,
Cool breeze running
At the sweat of words that
I never spoke,
And I can die a man,
Unspoken.

Because once I hated myself,
I didn't know who I was,
Depression ruled me,
And I never knew life in its forms;
      Suddenly I saw a place,
      Words had shapes and life,
      They held things like truth,
      But most of all truth of self.
See, if you write honestly
Then you can see outside
Of yourself, you become
More aware of the world.
     I figured the world was crazy,
     But I found a certain beauty
     In that too, so I wrote my depressed
     Self, all my pain.
I wrote for me,
to discover myself,
And you know what?
I found that I can tolerate
The world around me and
My crazy self through these lines.
     Now, I don't hate myself as much,
     I try to help others expand their
     Understanding of this artful
     Therapy, and I leave those
     Who cannot see beyond their
     Yesterday in that place.
Poetry is a way of dealing
With life's pain and social
Sharing of the craziness of poets.
But sometimes you see those
Who cannot move on,
Be careful, sometimes misery
Loves company.

A distant shadow looks,
The man rides to and fro.

A glance at the missing,
A Father's wind.

The moon in their eyes,
The limping love,

All I see
Of the two moons,

Clouded skies
With trickles of moon
Beams,

I cannot live in the sky.

If her lies are dreams,
Asleep is the world.
A goddess in lilith
Known as lifetime,
Your sharp tongue hits my
Ears and your words
Your eyes like blindness
Walking in your hope
Fasting on my time,
Wounded my soul
To serve u in fear.

Wonder the newness
Of your necks and Grace's
Postures your portal grooves
Emerging still your shows
Merging all past and future
Like a smoldering body of portraits
That play in memorial interludes
And a man beneath your goddess
Body desires u like a deity.

Consort the flame wonder,
Wonder the shape
Of your heart and only
The light of your dark star
Guides the nocturnal and I am
Priest to the lost on love
That dwell in pain and memory.

Wonder,
Creating the lips that whisper
And I languished
On your gentle desolation
Fiending for the hate that others
Envied upon nimble bits
Of our energies intertwined.

Wonder like a poem that no form
Has, yet deep in love
Understand like simple bliss.

What we have here is honest brutally,
And the questions sink deep within me as the answers were what I feared.

Im taken like the worst case
And hope is longing for the end.
Such a dark clarity,
More was a lofty thought
And only I can remember
The best in you.

Me, I,
Conundrum to the nth,
Schematic stress.
Worthy I
Deep yes
Float on paper hope,
Stranded Self imposed
Exiled from grace
Rake the spring leaves

Take away the moments
Fill them with everyday,
I am here for a little while
And forever is nothing.
Truth is I can take it all,
Forever in a daze,
The Dedpoet.

Eastern philosophy,
Western ideals,
Southern simplicity,
Northern reverence;
In the sanctuaries of the mind
These winds are truly worth
Beholding;
The winds have eight directions.

A man is worth what he senses he is,
Awaken eternal
At the spot of the Moment.

God is family,
Not eternal awakenings,
There is nothing
But now.

Meditation without thought
Is blissful balancing,
   Taken with salts grain
Happiness can be attained.

One knows wisdom is silence,
   Righteousness is in action
Preserving the Spoken Word.
All is as one wills under
The format of God's enourmous
Grace.

Reaping knowledge
Is sowing the future,
Youth is not wasted on experience,
Unless insane repetition
Comes about.

All is a poem,
Life is the word within it,
Speak life.

"If you live long enough in the dark,
          You can see and appreciate
                  Everything in the light"

                       Dedpoet

I came across myself,
Plagued with everyday.

I leaned on a friend,
They come like a seasonal storm.

Of everything I was,
Only the memory remains.

Scars like running water,
From within it flows.

The shadow of today
Reminiscent of who i thought,

But who am I to judge myself
When i am God of my own perceptions....

And the consciousness makes it real,
Guilty I regret I never found myself.

The journey is a witness
Testifying against myself.

Spirit ole highschool,
Fight fight fight.
Naive taking on the
Whole **** thing.

Bein' I in team,
Strolling thinkin smart
Looking the other way.

And I saw the storm
Of my time,
Blew me away,
Cant fight the sky,
Always pours
Or burns ya...

Losing what I aint ever
Really owned,
Fought to get it back
Cuz it wasnt mine,

Fire breathing mad man,
Nah just *******
Thinkin knew it all
And all turned nuthin.

Became aware that
I wasnt....
Help is when you
Ask for it,
And Pride falls like
Titan and giant's 'like.

Woke up,
Grateful and I ain't fallin'
Below that 'ver 'gain.

I have built to the sky
Geometry called home,
Where birds sing along
The rolling oaks,
And valleys curve the words
And signature of earthen
Memory write poetry
On the mind.
I have written love on paper
Digital and the waves have
Crossed the planets one day
The stars,
That poetry made me whole
And the world
That beat me down told me
I could not survive,
I am here speaking the beauty
I have become
Because I am absorbing
The best I can the position
I have been given,
Look, I am Me,
Take me as I am
As I have learned to live
With myself among the masses,
There is light and I walk
Now burning the shadows
Out of thoughts
And I write myself clean.
I am beautiful
Because I know that poetry
Is too.

I begin these words as confirmation
That I have poetry at my side,
To out words into stone, these vast gestures
Of words covering worlds;

And suddenly in this verse a great
Sorrow overtakes me, everything abandons.
I have words but nothing else,
Not even the paranoia of someone watching,
The pen takes over like some cursed one
Taking control of my poem,
The words of the pain inside well up
Like some volcano about to spurt Suns,
What I am about to say is the very
Most personal sadness I carry,
The abyss takes control, I am a blind poet....

Wait, I must breathe,
Close my eyes until hope returns,
The words juggle between the
Light and the darkness,
Waves of emotions sputtering about
Like a boat fighting the whirlpool,
The weight of the words
Like a world on my shoulders.....

        Wait,
There is nothing to write,
Only my pain, just pain in the nothingness,
My dear friend was "Alone With Everybody",
I see now the writing is the same,
Pain and nothingness vs. light and everything else,
These broken words fighting with
Angels and demons, what do they say
But nothing, but everything,

And I write it all anyway,
I am chained to the pen,
All night I want to write something wonderful,
But the Abyss speaks itself when
No one wants to admit it is there,
So now that it is written,
The sun has come up
Hope has returned,
I want to drift into this life full,
Nothing lights the abyss,
Too deep it is to fill,
But the words bridge the pain
To better days.