Close your eyes honey.
Take my friendly hand
Let me carry your worries
Close your mind ' s eye
I know a place you' d like.
I know of this island
It has a comfy house on the sea
shore ' s sand .
The house encircled with a plush
lawn ,
And on this island the sun never
frowns .
See her laying on the sea, but she
will be up by dawn .

Can you hear the sweet song from
the brushes ?
Can you see how the water , to the
shore , rushes ?
Look in the pretty clear sky
See the variety of beautiful birds
flying by.
Please honey , let me make your
heart smile .

In this sweet get away
let me bear your pain and kiss your
worries away .

I don’t want to be your weekend getaway, babe.

I want to be

the reason
you can’t get up on a Monday,
the struggle to let go
of a night we shared together

the coffee break on a Tuesday afternoon
keeping you awake,
warm, and alive

the paper cut from all the pile of work
of your Wednesday night,
as the pain reminds you
of how it hurts
not to be with me

the suit you prepare for a meeting,
or an occasion you wish
to be wearing beside a red-dress wearing woman
your arm wrapped behind her waist
on a numb Thursday

and that bottle of beer you've been drinking on
a Friday evening, with a hundred people around
you search for me,
but I’m inside your grip,
and inside each of your thoughts

not just your weekend getaway.

(jacky)

Would you like to go some day
To my perfect getaway ?

We’ll spend hours in the sun,
Dive for treasure in the ocean,
Search for rods and make a fire,
Burn in flames all that desire…

Would you come with me by land,
Write our letters in the sand,
Kiss my lips while I’m asleep,
Open your heart…let me go deep…?

Will you embrace me with your arms
And indulge me with sweet charms ?

Would you like to be the only
Person that could really know me ?

Some day, will you let me know
What’t the spark light of your soul?

Will you take me far away
To YOUR perfect getaway…?

Will you let this night go by…?
Will you let this chance go by…?
Will you let…me…go by…?

My mind replays that teenage weekend.
The one that was intense, carefree and beautiful.
We spent that weekend like young lovers
Racing thoughts and pulsing hearts
Not once did we stop and think about what is right
or what is wrong.

Though in this teenage weekend,
nothing is wrong
it is all right.
That's the beauty of this teenage weekend.

Exploring the new depths of something so profound,
we are innocent.
This is new.
It is beautiful.
Carefree.
Intense.

That teenage weekend
is forever there.

What do I mean to you?
What do you mean to me?
So maybe we’ve ******* up once…
Or a lot… over and over.
We’ve fought for hours
To no avail.

But you know what?
We haven’t given up on eachother
And I don’t think we will.
We may not have a lot in common
But we have a lot in common.

I say it all the time
But the feeling never fades
I tell you everyday
And the feeling never goes away

So maybe we’ve ******* up once…
Or a lot… over and over.
But we haven’t given up
Haven’t given up.

I’d rather be with you
You…
Just you…
I can repeat it if you want
But I already tell you enough.

So what do I mean to you?


**February 7, 2012

Seeing the beauty in everyday things,
The connection of society
Through the generally uninteresting
Is actually pretty interesting.

We are all much the same
In what we eat, drink, and do.
As we eat our McDonald’s
With a glass of Coke
And listen to our favorite tune.
We are all much the same

Seeing the beauty in everyday things
Because “a Coke is a Coke
and no amount of money
can get you a better Coke.”

The connection we have in society
Through the generally uninteresting
Is actually rather interesting
To Andy Warhol and I.

**February 13, 2012

A man and a woman,
Husband and wife
Walk down the street
Together in the city, living the life.

They approach a small art gallery
Where they stop to peer in.
The window contains a few
Of the paintings found within.


To the side, on the wall
An innocent view from behind
The husband looking over,
Hoping his wife won’t mind.

Another painting in the window
Has interested the woman
Despite the fact that the man
Just doesn’t seem a fan.

They move along, continuing on
Down the street, not a thought at all
I wonder, had the husband been yelled at
For peering at the painting on the wall?
Had she even noticed at all?

**March 4, 2012

A weekend isn’t long enough
Being away so long
And coming home

A weekend just isn’t long enough.
To show how much you mean
How much I miss you
Every day
Every night

A weekend isn’t long enough
To see you as much as I want

Nobody here
Compares to you
Nobody here
Compares to you back home

A weekend isn’t long enough
To show how much you mean
How much I miss you
Every day
Every night
I think of being with you
Of having you in my arms
A weekend just isn’t long enough
After being away so long


**- September 2011

dawn breaking the black sky
I opened my heavy weepers
expecting her under blue satin sheets
all smiles or laying still, sleeping
my keeper keeping

the orange ball peeks out the barren hill tops
and in the walls of my sweaty, red skull I drove deeper
there, I searched the darkness for my keeper
in lue of her emerald greens
I see reaping the reaper

the yellow tentacles of the morning star now slash
so, I threw my stare wide onto the bedroom
sweeping for her, the female that keeps
for many a times, she'd play hide and seek
but no game, I felt death wound me inside

mercury rising reaches its peak with the summer star
from gentle kisses 'til noon to zoomed the reaper
the reaping it was in the huge cavity of my room
where the crossbones and skull spelled out d.o.o.m.
no longer my keeper, but the finest of reapers

Head gently tucked under my chin.
A few hair strands still wild, untamed by the teeth of a comb.
The fruity scent of shampoo creeps into my nostrils.
It slowly climbs, releasing it's permeating fumes.
She kisses my jaw line.
Her lips like hot meteors of flesh.
Though big, they're soft as the cotton picked by my ancestors.
I rest my hands on hip and thigh.
A thick mountain of love.
A tower of seductive flesh.
Her hand on top of mine.
Smooth and delicate.
Assuring and comforting.
Our fingers twist around one another locking.
I'm hers, she's mine.
Our moment.
What a beautiful Saturday.