Oh God, I long for you
I miss the times I felt you keenly,
Your fingers on my hand,
And your breath upon my head,
Oh God, I long for my friend
And to see you once again,
As the lover ever at my side,
I want to have all of you, to be united with you,
To enjoy the full joy of what is reflected,
In the love of a man and a woman,
We both stand here, with our hearts exposed,
Vulnerable and we’re gonna get hurt because of me,
You sacrifice yourself for me, and I still don’t understand
That you will never leave or take your love from me,
My heart is lashed to yours with everlasting cords,
They will beat as one, and mine join the glorious drumbeat of your children
The sweet taste of love, I try to ration out,
Like this precious thing must be of dwindling sum,
But though it may be little in other’s lives,
Love is the most abundant thing on earth,
And I am invited to drink, and drink, and drink
From your cup that never bites,
Oh, increase my thirst, enlarge my throat,
And my cravings for this love, Oh Lord
Help me take the gifts you give me.
That is the hardest thing for me,
To come and ask, to know I need,
Help, and love, and comfort from you,
Not just when I feel the hurt, for numb I often am,
Or ignore the pain,
I want to dance with you every night,
To stand with my head held high with the confidence,
Only the King can bring.

My words for you . . .
have been few
your name not overused
upon my tongue
adjectives sparce and repeated
Because to me
Your love is serious

I didn't step this way
to turn back
I didn't spin my feelings into lovely webs with shining prisms
Because so often
these have left

I felt at once so sure
that I terrified myself
I knew . . .
He said . . .
My rational thought filled my happy heart with dread
So there was no place for shallow, fancy poems
In the face of bold affection
shy but firmly
Love

I kissed someone in the night,
Then woke to moan my plight,
No one to sing my song with me,
But contentment soon the object of my sight,
The Maker is my might,
Who better to sing in harmony?
Than the one who gave to me?
The melody of soul.
He sweeps the stars in dulcet patterns,
And creams the clouds for frosting,
He bends the eyelash and reddens lips,
Adds all the sweetness to make our hearts dip,
Forward and fall in love with his own stamp of beauty.
The Stamper is the most beautiful;
No crafted canyon, or molded man can compare to the Maker of it all,
For he only takes what is his and gives it out like candy,
To the mouths of all his children, unaware of his hand.
I want to be aware, to see indescribable things,
To watch with inner eyes what few else have seen,
To hear a song of a different dimension,
Lovely amidst dissension, and run towards that which can,
Really, give me what I want,
Give me what I need.

My tummy hurts again,
From what I didn’t know,
Would hurt intestines weak from fear,
Of another vandalizing idiot.
Pure and fresh,
Rot to make flesh,
That will last the grinding days,
Long enough to sing,
As complete as You would wish,
And binding together to be more whole,
Than I have ever been.
I don’t like to be told,
That all this was airy lies, and empty bowls,
The plates piled high with man-made leeches,
Killing me and you, one by one, then all at once,
In avalanche catastrophe,
Does the truth come at long last?
After decades of mindless tastes,
And steps towards this disaster,
Do we now come to the truth?
Oh, God, help me to know,
And be well.

I don't know what your lips feel like
I haven't touched your cheek
All I've felt is your heart
and it's warm, and deep, and free

Your tremors
of joy
are my heart beats

I never knew how much, how hard, how strong I wanted it,
Until it materialized before me,
I never knew how much I could thirst, until I saw a choice,
And couldn’t choose, either one,
I never knew the deepness of the tattooed codes,
Or how much of “weakness” I could hold,
Now I almost want to run away, forget it ever happened,
What growing did it create?
Am I finished, or did I just start?
Has it abated, or gone underground, to come roaring back again,
To burn more illusions down?
Will it return, to spur more hasty thoughts and actions,
Fill me with fuchsia purple and a melancholy excitement?
Is a league something to fear, or throw aside without a thought?
Can I step forward, knowing I can fly, if the ledge gives way beneath me?
Dream boats are often apt to sink, their bottoms eggshell thin,
Crushed from the waves and breakers of a blinded mind.
Though the wine that flowed over my tingling tongue,
Was of strong addiction,
I do not have to go back to the glass,
Lingering flavor will subside with dry swallows,
Or more quickly with the water of reality,
And I may come to forget, even faster with regretful shame.
But why not better be, with laughing acceptance,
Of my instinct, heal myself with truth,
That everything was natural and anticipated,
Not wrong to happen, perhaps lacking only knowledge,
Which I couldn’t have known, but now I hold,
Everything could change, you know,
Even now, thoughts solidify, and dreams are given.

My words for you have melted together
Like gold and scarlet
Broad, deep themes of joy and emotions
That I cannot spill them out in an ordered form
they drip down warm
Upon the page they make a boldened shape
dark curves and twisted lines
like my face pressed against your chest

Is it my country,
That makes me feel I must scream,
Out my uniqueness?
My ISFP personality,
My adolescence,
Which was like a tightly closed bud?
Is it you,
Who always seems to be judging me?
Forcing me into a mold,
Once again deriding my happy self discoveries,
Which I secretly hang,
Like ornaments on my arm,
To set me apart.
Why,
Do I so often fight against,
You?
Your life doesn't look full of holes,
More like an old, musty diary,
That needs new entries.
While you were sleeping,
Before you could wake to prepare,
I grew up,
And your words,
Are not so heavy,
Cannot keep my head down.
My stem shoots upward,
In my mind it is quickly catching up to yours,
Climbing different walls,
Producing different roses,
Gathering strength from heady fountains,
From which you never drank,
Stop,
Telling me,
What I should and should not do,
So much.
Learn,
To find excitement,
In my life as it is,
What I want it to become.
Dream with me,
And no longer pull me back to earth.
I need you,
To tell me,
I can Be,
A mermaid,
A queen,
What it is that I desire,
To Dream.
I believe,
Old, musty diary,
That you forgot how,
And are only now remembering.
Do not be afraid,
For it is joy,
To conquer fear,
And life,
Is understanding,
The beauty of your own soul.
God is not the god of static things,
He Dreams.

When life is red and raw
and your saliva turns to honey
there's a hole in your stomach
******* in all the stars around you
the brightness of a simple rundown house
shoots through your eyes
the pain of awareness
the price of life

You too were sick,
You too were tired and could not get your rest
You too were lonely, for no one understood
You were hungry and sore
You were ***** and poor
Your bed was uncomfortable and sometimes your food tasted terrible

Were you lonely Lord, besides when God forsook you?

come wild one
come Willow
come west
It is time to leave your rest
rise
awake
the truth inside your chest
has blossomed

If everyone looks at me at the party
if everyone laughs at my jokes
Be proud, Mama

O Lord,
Why does my heart cry out within me?
Why does it leap from mountain to valley,
From lofty tree to thorny bush?
Why does it smile sweetly and begin to sing,
Only to sigh and be downcast in another moment?
Truly, it does not reflect my life,
For my life is stable, and filled with good things,
You look upon me with love and blessing,
Caring and soothing are your ways.
But my heart won’t be hemmed in,
It refuses to be tranquil,
Like a high-spirited horse refusing to be stabled.
But on you I can always count,
To fill me with joy,
And satisfaction.
May I not sting others when I feel I’m in a pit,
Nor spit poison on myself when I see through clouded eyes.

Larger than spiral galaxies,
Able to comprehend that which is smaller than atoms,
You made us,
But babes,
We have yet to understand,
The works we will make,
For you,
And the words we will sing,
Our infant dancing,
Though beautiful in all its tumbling emotion,
Is nothing compared,
To the whirling,
Of our later years,
A day approaches,
When we will grow,
In all directions,
And remember with fondness,
The days before we could fly,
When walking
Upon the dust of one planet,
Was our only option,
And our flimsy wrappings,
Of main importance
We will laugh,
At our present preoccupations,
With silk or cotton,
3 or 5 inches,
Purple or go ****,
Yet you still give us what we wish,
Like a Father to his toddling child,
Drooling over a sweet.

Beauty,
Hastily grasp it and it flies,
Force it and it dies,
Wait, work and it grows,
Patience, lovely knows,
That lovely life is best,
And beauty a curious thing,
That flits on feather wings,
Or drums dark and sweet in the hearts of men,
Not satisfying on our tongue,
But a harbinger of what must come.

the only thing soft about you
was your kissing lips
Your words were much too hard
Your eyes were much too dark
to see me
Strong in all my softness
I’m a woman
and I deserve my biggest fan

I took a gray blue stand
and whispered
go away,  away,  away
until only ghosts remained
my cowards slowly slipped over my face
or was it tacit wisdom

I saw the harsh paints
it isn't a race
and my crush has duly served it's purpose
a purpose less than I would like

I backed into a corner
what I rejoiced to see released
and put a chain upon my pet
my pet
stay put
now sit

My pet
do you only do
what you are told?

Is it the moon
Pulling out my unfed longings
Is it winter stars
Setting aflame the darts
I threw
Dry
Vain wisps of smoke
Drift up
to choke
and give
no warmth

I stare at the blossoming garden with growing excitement,
The glass between us shatters in against my hands,
Leaving shards within my palm,
But your left engulfs my right
And absorbs them

‘Stand up and look at me, face to face’

Stand up and look at me, face to face
My friend,
Unloose the beauty of your eyes.....

‘Love shook my heart’

Love shook my heart,
Like the wind on the mountain
Troubling the oak-trees.

Why do I write such poetry, and then become ashamed of it?
Why do I express myself in flourishes, and then gag upon my words?
What is it about my playful spinning that relieves pain in one nerve, but probes another?
I have not named each of my butterflies, nor have I loved them all.
Some I swear are spiders, indeed, I own them as well.  But even them I don’t all recognize.  
I have spurned some colored wings, and grown squeamish at the sight of legs.
Others I have watched from childhood, dancing with them in the wind,
Calling them to my side for comfort, rejoicing in their patterns and their Maker
In my hands sit joy for others, gently cradled, less vulnerable than I imagine.
One by one they must be paraded out,
Oh, do not let their wings fly in your face,
They were made to be beautiful, these little gifts of energy,
Made for you, and I

don't force the words on paper
like a tube of oily ink
it will splatter on your hands
make your ego start to shrink
it's OK to wait til later
when the feeling's turning pink
and the slanting green upon the lands
greets raptors slyly with a wink

don't slap a poem on a page
in the haste of no job jitters
you'll only feed a hungry rage
and feel your talent's shivers

unless . . .

the desire to accomplish
burns gallons of the best
and you've shook your soul wide open
put your biceps to the test

your mind has not been empty
but gathered up and stored
every little bit of lyrics filmy
not so unlike a dragon hoard

the words art each embroidered
and silvery trappings fastened on
with diamonds, blood, and feathers
a new masterpiece spins on

I long to be loved
So I love
I long to be seen
So I see
I long to be believed
So I believe
I long to be prayed for
So I pray for
I long to be validated
So I validate
I long to be the inspiration for poems
So I allow people to inspire me to poetry
I long to be accepted
So I accept
I long to be understood
So I work to understand
I long to be appreciated
So I easily appreciate
I long to be pleasing
So I am easily pleased
I long to be art
So I make art

It's not pretty . . .
the longer we go without speaking the more like a doll you are
to me
a dimming figure in my mind
that I take out of a box
for pain
or entertainment
The truth
I remember only when I feel like being free
And I put my manikins away
Yours still draws or boils blood
when I lift its plastic hands
Your real hands harmlessly work far away
Do you have a manikin of me?
A face you remember to haunt you
plastic hands you lift to scratch or stroke your face?

Forlorn and lost!
Cries my heart, tattered at the edges,
Memories, and what a cost!
In my heart, You cut the ledges,
Now cascading blood, echoes that upon the hill,
Famous cataract, lovers always will,
Kiss under your foam, feel no chill,
Bring happiness and Home.

I always tell myself
we can be friends
in the end

there are so many ways
you could have ended
spontaneous abortion
SIDS
childhood meningitis
drowning
forgetting to look both ways
gun accident
gun on purpose
car wreck
overdose
domestic homicide
war
Death came pretty close
before your eyes were even open
Don’t let the only killer you can control
get the best of you
*****, you lived!
Don’t let your mind **** you

You call me lovely now
wait
and see
what I will be
when clothed in all your love
my most beautiful me
is coming

You saw my face but a couple times
before you grinned and spoke
You shook my hand
then stood real close

you didn't let each little task
break our conversation
you invited me to ask

you let me speak like revelation

there's no turning back
I shudder at the thought
of forgetting my new friend
when life is thick and black

Gena is a fragile spiderweb
Glorious in the morning sun
but shining with her tears
Gena is a kaleidoscope
red, gold, blue
Changing her patterns
always sometime new,
Gena is a glass beaded puzzle,
The filamentous kind which gentle fingers could solve,
If only she would let them,

She shouts her strength and wisdom,
Covering her brittle heart with sheer curtains,
But she will choose the right path when she screams for stability,
And her painted lattice masks go up in final flames.

Food Matters
“A pill for every ill”
Til they cover every sill,
When will,
This stop?
Too many synthetics,
Too many extracts,
Buried in white powder,
My mouth burns,
And my stomach bleeds,
My energy is robbed,
And my joy slips away,
When I cannot focus on my people,
And my sun.
True,
God’s joy transcends all ills,
But he created us to thrive,
Apart from drugs,
To play in all his paint,
And laugh with the universe.
Eat,
Even clean dirt can be better,
Than the plastic covered,
Microwavable,
Sculpture of food in your pantry.

like honey dripping down
golden pathways to a sea of spiced tea
like the cinnamanly smells curling up
to caress my face
Like the deep red liquid firey below
with hints of home and rest and apples
excitement in the cold unknown
You are a rare delight for ears and sight

With a sky so bright
My eyes should be brighter
With a world so wide
My heart should feel wider
With a life so light
My heart should be lighter

You love me in my brokenness
You hold my heart with shards of glass

As the weakness of the trials of life, but I confess to knowing, The Lord.
He said I was faithful to the sinful nature
haha, Making valentines and papaya salad.
Must be broken beyond organic farming hippie, and so yummy!
I don't know, she was spending a husband or more
oops, too many things, right now
Hungry + reading ch 65 of them
Lydia, 10 years old, preparing to see any keys with the Mother in the student Center 5pm7pmish
Life isn't ruined, look tense, like
Mercola. Something to blow your Ethnography files in!
So is in our inner fellowship with Him.
I'm so frozen yogurt, chocolote, cookies, candy .
Gosh, I was unbiblical to like
Gain flings, never been on my response to be
New favorite ice cream recipe for a lot of crunch
no, I think is Jason was the Ecology textbook, decisions, decisions .
It was a special goodbye bacon, we may meet again
NOW. Join the left; the Mother in it
I don't want the Student edition William A.
Even as my Ecology prof, Ken Camp, has hair The youngest of the most barbarous nations, and sometimes
I don't act all stiff or burst in to laughter
Without God, he talks with fresh ribs. There's never expected

Oh Bleeding Heart
up on a shelf
You always tug on mine
So rough around the edges
but without withholding any thought
You paint the surest picture of humanity
Watching you becomes like being pierced
with rainbow needles
It seems the Way you sing your life
You can’t open your mouth without spitting blood
You have your teeth and need no knife
I wish I was inspired to write for you a balm
But no such calm intrudes
Type 4s incite each other
Fire feeding off of Fire
fighting for a stage
at once against and together

Strength is written in scars on his body
It's evidence shows on his face
though life tried to steal from you beauty
and you came close to having to taste
Death
Life is something you conquered
and your legs now are thick for the race
Those that you've helped number many
and your currency is the Lord's grace

I slept on waves of time
Green sand swirled around my head,
My soul was spun by the strongest of hands,
And wind swept under my bed,
I heard music from a thousand wings,
Being borne here by sparkling grace,
From it my mind softly swings,
And my heart gently shakes.

Thank you for speaking in whispers
For speaking in rhyme,
for slowly unbuilding my heart,
for sending me rain
when I'm wrung
for weaving together
all the songs I have sung,
Thank you for letting me believe lies
working on one at a time
loosing the ties
of birth's trauma

The most beautiful,
Of apples,
Candy red,
Among the gala,
And the Honeycrisp,
The golden ones,
Are many,
Against the new green leaves,
They followed the flowers,
And hang enticingly,
I wait, for one to drop,
Closer,
One, I saw,
Once, twice,
The largest of them all,
No purer color to find,
Exposed to the sun’s
Sweetening rays, so strong
But the arm that brought you in sight,
Sprung you back,
Back,
Away,
Lost, behind the others,
Whose scent cannot compare.
And I,
Wait,
Not content,
With what is visible,
So I sit, in the shade they give,
And return their smiles,
With quiet patience,
I watch the bees
And birds,

Such a tiny, soft pink thing,
Cradled in hands of gold,
Aching and yearning to be united,
To him which gave it birth,
Life so fragile in two palms,
Wispy breath and quiet sighs,

If I painted all my feelings
like I've wished to
The amount of canvas dripping blood
from my exploding heart would be staggering