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Every needle in the wind-whipped pines whispers out a soft "I do"
and the daisies dancing in their grassy ballrooms
"I do, I do, I do"
and the cardinals crowned with Christmas snow
chirping their identical
"I do."
Resonating through the trees and channeled through the earth
in places where the sun shines red
and stars shimmer through the waking hours
"I do."
Perhaps one day
our hearts and lips conform to the rhythm
as we whisper with transparent eyes
"I do,
I do."
I'd like to be anywhere as long as it's with you.
You never see the world the way it is,
You've never felt cold, hard truth;
Your heart isn't whole, or close to it,
Though it's never been torn in two.
the dead poet of your romantic youth
left behind his melodious words in song
left behind his roadside fast eyes neatly packaged
still can purchase his dream down at the five and dime
still can find a tight leather pants version
of his photograph looking lizard like
in clean bollywood style

the dead poet of your romantic youth
lingers there in her eyes
she always said he was so rad
with her eighties big hair
the dead poet was in one of his many revivals
they would drag the poor old slob out
prop him up and take a picture
the dead poet lizard king
his words faded now
as his star on the walk of fame
tribute to jim morrison (i still like his work even after all the hype)
the promise that her tenderness has no fences
made her linger on my mind
like a rough bottle of fine wine
and as the evening rolled back daylights clutter of thoughts in my head
that smile she flashed me came back to kiss my heart
it came with such delight sparking in her sweet eyes
that i just felt myself drowning in the moment with such wanton joys
made me illustrious by her soft-spoken side
made me happy to be alive...

once the sullen girl in baggy sweat pants and pink slippers
dragging a bag full of noisesome beatnik romances
she has grown to love freedoms road
cast aside such tin-plated gods and rough-house boys
that a pretty boy isn't a man if he wont make a stand
found herself holding a wishing well coin
and a map showing paradises shores
and came down to find me again....

sitting in a coffee house full of lost voices
full of magazine honeys chilling before the big break finds em
listening to the sounds of heartbreak in glasses chatter
and waiting for a road that made sense to me
when she walked back into my life
like a rough bottle of fine wine
like a candlelight evening with true loves joys
i will be here forever know that now
florida moon-surfing
holding her in my arms
breathing the magic that is her
exploring her romances
(dedicated my friend dean and his girl mary who i wrote this poem about)
Two were suffocated
One stabbed
Four drowned
Three broken neck.
A massive shock for her,
articulated.

10 were over
None are forgotten,
7 irrelevant
but 3 where all 3.

She was asked to
portray all these
in a pie chart.

While he was eating
a blueberry pie.
Mastering emotions
Sounds astounding
No sudden tears
Or embarrassing blush
But
It becomes a drug
Secretly
Becoming easier each time
Only when feelings are few and life loses its joys
Is the mistaking known
Of the drug and addiction
Of the crime
And no emotion comes with the revelation
No more a human
A robot with flesh
This is me merging from one to another,
my body still stuck in the life that I wondered.
My legs running fast, so my heart wants to follow,
searching for the volume to fill an empty hollow.
This is me merging.
Intentions unclear,
unable to distinguish my excitement from fear.
Long live the dreamer, abide with me forever.
Don't let simple pleasures pull away my endeavors.
Expectations seems flawless, like a taste of rich meringue,
but I'll try not forget the old songs I once sang.
And even if my legs do beat out my body,
and run straight towards something so folly,
I'll always take heart to the things I once knew,
and every once in a while I'll come straight back to you.
This is me merging.
One step closer.
One look back.
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