Somewhere in the red lands
thick with oils, she painted sands
clay hills of rouged mud rain
a sliver layered blue, a sun sky yellow
that broke from rust colored rain, from clouds of brown
it was found, a prominent grey, a white washed shell
stark amid the scorch of desert
a piece of ocean that from her pocket fell.

when i hear your voice
i feel like smoking a million cigarettes
and drink tens of bottles of wine
i see pictures of your smile
i hear you protesting in wise words
and saying all the things
about people who are not heard

the way your harmonica sounds
and your guitar strings
they lift me to heaven
and bring me back to earth
a vision of love and hate
your voice
something so strong,
my ordinary ears cannot understand sometimes
your words

some say you don't have the voice
but the way i hear it
i can't compare it to anything
not to angels
nor to demons
you have the right kind of soul
the kind they will never get to know

i wish you'd never disappear
never go
i know
a stupid illusion
but in my heart you are the one
making my rainy days bright
your songs they make me smile
every time i hear them in my room.

i had a dream
you were sitting next to me
typing some words
and as much as I deny it
i know
it was the most wonderful image
i'll ever get to see.

playing with words is your best game
a mystery
a lost soul
a rough voice
and gentle touch of strings
a mad voice in a world
with nothing to believe in
to you
i'll drink a glass
and in my heart
your music will be
the only thing that will ever last.

i see you painted in other peoples's eyes
i see you smiling in the blue irises
swimming ocean's deepest blues
crossing the horizon and touching the sky.

i see your picture in the green eyes
in spring's early grass i see you laughing
daydreaming,
playing with some hopes
the way you play with my thoughts.

i see your picture in the deep brown eyes
eating their chocolate
the way you sometimes eat my heart

in the black skies
i see you painted
there are no stars
just you wandering alone
looking for something
something i don't know..

i see you painted in blue and green
in brown and hazel and black
and i can only hope
one day you'll see your smile
painted in own blue eyes.

we are the masters of self-destruction
trying to numb the pain with wine
and drugs
and smoke filling up our lungs,
we write down in lines with no rhyme
all the things
that make our souls burn and die.
our poems bleed
we drink their blood
then we write again,
listening to stupid songs all night
wishing sometimes we were deaf
wishing we were dead.
we let the doors open
anyone with a knife can come inside
cutting our hearts in half,
any tear is welcome
to create the ocean around us
in which we deliberately drown ourselves.
masters of self-destruction,
our bodies are temples where dying souls hide,
we run till our legs are broken
jump off cliffs
go between sharks' cheeks
forgetting to sleep
to dream
we bleed
we drink
we love
and hurt
it's a madmen game we play
each day
laughing hysterically
while slowly taking steps to the graves
we dug for ourselves,
the masters of self-destruction we are
lunatics
worshiping what's not for us to adore
crying
hiding
falling again
and again.
legs broken,
hearts cut and eaten
flesh ripped from our bones
lungs full of water
ears burnt
our eyes scream
but that's fine
'cause we are the masters of self-destruction
and our life is just a mad game

Blackbird your wings like ashen skies
iridescent as blue morpho butterflies
the impaling of your sharpened eyes
all knowing, you cackle
shapeshifter Yaqui man
desert bird, a grackle

Stirring, you stare me down
shaking mesquite leaves to the ground
the air is thick grey sage
smudged with prayers of peace
a wish to cease
the wars we wage

a vision pure of heart
this message of love unfurls
breathe peace - peace
in this world.

i'd sleep all day and constantly wake from nightmares
within nightmares
within nightmares
somehow couldn't recognise the reality,
lost in a blizzard of loud whispers
in a place filled with cold white coats and sick feelings
and worries painted on people's eyelids.

but now i hear your voice in the back of my eyes
i feel the words you say
i could say so many things
but my tongue is locked
my hands just shake
can't hold any letter
any vowel
the ashes of my words
are blown away from my lips

you're playing the strings of my brain
again and again
such a gentle touch,
a warm feeling that makes me forget
about the whispers and cold and worries.

i listened to your song in my sleep last night
and in a flash
the nightmare morphed into a dream
within a dream
within a dream

When I can no longer discern the path
when I am seeking a seer's looking glass
I walk miles of desert alone, travel years from home
to stand hot or cold, in a wilderness, fragile or strong
in storms, sun sweltered and windblown.
I believe in fire, the burning into ashes reborn
look for defining lines, watch for the telling signs
I listen for the music of words, spoken softly sweet
for love notes, tucked in heart, to keep.