Him and Her.

Her came from a land without rain.
Where the sun forgot to shine the same.
Born on the savannah where the wind understood.
Those who wander keep nothing good.

Like a seed without roots, that trees forgot.
Her heart set afloat by the freedom she sought.
Snow, rivers, sea, shore.

Her loved her island more by more.
She slept her tears, and listened her fear.
(And this continued many a year.) Her future seemed glad and grim.
And then her heard of him.

Him sounded amusing at worst.
He sang his hope, and laughed his verse.
But as they met, both him and her,
Felt the awkward disappear.

Time went on and so did they.
They laughed their fears they spoke their pain.
Till the wind reminded her one day.
And her first learned the touch of rain.

Shore sea river stream,
Her learned to forget her dreams.
Till all at once, one night she knew.
That him forgot the same dream too.

Stream skies stars streets.
Her journey begun amid complete.
Some guessed if only on a whim.
That his dream was hers, and her dream was him.

Complete amid begun between.
The wind wandered on unseen.
Like anyone and no one before.
They lived their dream more by more.

They sang their wish, and did the same.
Soon they will have the same last name.
The sun remembered to shine again.
Shore sea sky rain.

Cognosis.

This is the beginning of a thought.
My mind's synthesis that will bring you a new thesis.
From my mind wrought.
Because if there is none new underneath the sun.

Then why bother... but consider.
The first man that was.
Who consumed the lie,
Conceived goodbye,
And first felt pain,
First knew gain.

First dreamed redemption,
Conceived connection.
And valued all that was.
Because all was lost.

If he could first,
Can we not more?
Is not our thirst,
As his before?

To uncover and discover,
What has been hidden.
And in doing so uncover,
What it means to be human.

To be frail,
And long to be strong.
To fail,
And somehow move on.

To be a fool,
And long to be smart.
To be ignored,
And long to be art.

We are driven by all we are not.
Driven by all we have forgot,
Driven from what was easy.
To what makes us uneasy.

Gripped by what we cannot hold.
Until we grasp it and are made bold.

Maybe the fall was designed.
By a higher mind.
So man could find.
More than darkness can bind.

A world without walls.

A world without walls,
Is not a world at all.
But just a space.

With no place to hide.

No inside, or within or clean.
No balcony mezzanine.
Just one glorious ground floor.
Who would want anything more.

No grills or bars or glass.
Just facades of rocky passes.
Windows of flowing water.
Ceilings of summer, winter.

Floors of spring and fall.
New fresh and free.

A world without walls.
May be how the world was meant to be.

The Sea and me.

I am the bitch that barks from the shore,
I am every suicidal sailors whore.
Who will stick her tongue down his throat,
Until he breathless feels afloat.

I am the thief of broken ships.
Their gold their souls from surface rip.
Not to use but keep till tide and rust.
Reduce it all to floating dust.

I hold the predator and prey.
And devour both as time decays.
I hunger always and never thirst.
And fill myself till engorged I burst.

But you are kind like streams that flow.
From rivers that feed all that grows.
You are light like rain that washes clean.
The dirt from the proud the poor and mean.

No matter what you are or what you will be.
You will never be as shallow as the sea.

Love triangles.

Why do I whisper and roar?

I breathe what I am and need breath to soar.

No one's vessel or vassal, savior or slave.

Dance along with my love the waves.

Weave a wet path in my forgetful heart.

And drown forgotten in swirls of art.

Vicious yet inviting, with my ever feeling hands,

Ever embracing my lover the sand.

Stand on me for I will hold you firm.

And hide between your toes and squirm.

Never moving for my heart is pinned.

Dreaming of the day I will hold the wind.

Silence.

There in the stillness I'll find you,
Cloaked in darkness out of view.
And from my breath I will discover,
How to be near you dust hovers.

How flies and even insects,
Who live for mere instants,
Still spend hours enjoying you.
And in you we perceive what is true.

In your stillness we find stillness.
In your rest we find rest.
In you we find what in our mind we dress.
And in your shadow, our shadows we confess.

Monsoon.

Moon cries blinded, by the veil you ill timely provided.
Owls do not appreciate the pranks you create.
Nights comes sooner but you throw sheets of water over.
Soon and colder than anyone can bear, they are hit by pales of water you prepare.
Out on paths you muddle and puddle the earth, you make deer slip as they skip through the dirt.
Out in the night the rumbles and lights, fill tiny creatures with fear and fright of the night.
Now you joke but soon will bored fall asleep, until the day you awaken and far from home weep.

From boulders and shells...

From boulders and rocks that prop up mountains.
To shells and corals that tile the sea.
In ocean tide and river fountain.
They are born big and beautiful and just like me.
They are worn by lifes unending current.
Torn and dragged by ebb and flow.
For ages until in an instant.
They are merely sand on the ocean shore.
Born in greatness reduced todust just as all who have gone before.
Each worn out but their lives still pave the way for those who follow evermore.

Beauty.

There is a quiet confidence in silence.
A deep reverie in modesty.
That stills the heart and distills innocence.
And in restraint proves to be free.

It reveals by hiding.
Unveils by veiling.
And when it speaks.
Grace and humility makes knees weak.

Stillness makes hearts tremble.
Shyness makes words stumble.
And like air your heart is stolen.
Simply by the words she is breathing.

Till you long to be her breath.
Her hand and heart.
Her home until death doth part.

Love is a time machine.

Love is a time machine.
It can make still the sun.
Be it a moment it is working or coming undone.

Love is a time machine,
That reveals the future.
And yet helps forget one seen with another.

Love is a time machine,
That cannot take you back.
But can let you relive it till your heart is rapt.

Love is a time machine,
That reality bends,
From the second it worked, till the second it ends.

 Love is a time machine.
And when it breaks.
Every good thing that came after it, it takes.

Love is a time machine.
Until our final hour chimes.
It will quicken and slacken our lives to it's time.

Palmistry.

You sing that you dont know your future.
That your palms are rubbed smooth by the wind.
That carries your life like a wave on the ocean.
Without a beginning or end.

So give me your hand.
And I will be your tomorrow.
I won't bother reading the lines.
Let me be the sky and the land.
I will lead and you follow.
A story no reader can find.

And we will touch rivers of lives and water.
Build memmories sour and sweet.
Feel the soft and rough of this love of ours.
Until we rub our eyes ready for sleep.

And I will return your hand after a lifetime.
And after years you will see your palms.
See the memmories and love in valleys and lines.
And drown them in tears till you rest in his arms.

Relief.

Pain reminds us something is wrong.
That as proud as we are we are not so strong.
Pain humbles in a way failure cannot.
Although each bears pain in all they have wrought.

At victory we rejoice because the pain of training paid off.
After the pain of child birth that a child has been born.
If we did not have pain to help us count the cost.
We would not taste joy as we had never mourned.

Pain reminds us that life is more.
It urges us not to fall but fly.
It pushes us further than we were before.
It reminds us that one day we die.

And in rest, pain too finds its peace.

Animate men.

A short breath, that does not feel breathed. You fear death, but life doesnt seem lived.

Because if this is living, laws and edicts defining. Everything from breathing to loving to dying.

When every moment is a struggle to better, a creature of boundless potential only to fetter ourselves to toil and the immediate. Until we dont have time to smile and appreciate.

Then maybe true freedom, is in the here after. After perfection and litigation are just whispers.

So when dust fills our lungs we can finally enjoy breath. After the light fades from our eyes maybe we will appreciate light again. And when lifes cup runs dry and we drink deeply of death. Maybe we will appreciate when we were more animate men.

Insomnia

You have me dreaming.
Eyes wide open.
I should be sleeping.
But my heart is broken.

Tamed by a lover.
Certainly whipped.
Until dawn I hover.
Lost in your grip.

And I smile because im restless.
Waiting for the sun.
I will never find my rest thus.
Not until we are one.

And I will sleep in your meadows.
On the crest of your hills.
In the calm of your shadow.
I will rest and be still.

Wake up my love.

I wake up longing to wake up beside you.
I breathe to feel your breath on my skin.
You love me and I will always love you too.
The night fades away the day can begin.

And the strings that held our heart strings bend.
Cause we're finally here face to face.
And they knot and wrap around until forgotten they mend.
From years of being dragged from place to place.

Wake up my love above the dark is fading.
Wake up my love the sun is oft to shine.
A new day a new start a new beginning.
I am his, you are his, will you be mine.

Imperfect fit.

When you fit in,
But its too tight.
Too close too thin,
Something doesnt feel right.

How do you pull yourself out?
Look past and overcome the doubt.
Or do you succumb to the test?
Buckle down and give your best?

And use whatever you can to change.
Your circumstance no matter how strange.

Thoughts and trends.

Contemplating thoughts and trends.
As time descends into a crescendo.
The silent hands that move and bend.
And mends the business innuendo.

Contemplating communication.
Until it makes more sense.
And vanishes into another dimension.
And your mind flooded flows to something else.

Where pools of water fill the void.
And senseless things thrill the faculties.
And nonsense leaves senses toyed.
And discarded like so many novelties.

Between a man and child.
Tamed untamed and wild.
We find ourselves selling our youth.
In search of more than unceasing truth.

The day.

The day we waited for,
Dawned like any other.
With you across a border,
Flying ever closer.

And suddenly the horizon,
Lights up the sky a curios gold.
Not of sunlight but something more.
Though like sunrays it drives away cold.

And rust and years of trust.
Sleepless nights and meaningless days.
And declares it must must must.
End always thoughts of mights and mays and junes and true lies.

Until all that is left is what is best.
The scribe and his bride.
In the midst of the test.
Yet finally on the same side of the page.

Till paige and flower smile.
Boy and lass.
Make straight and florid the aisle.
That we must pass.
Before two become one.
To be divided no more.
And then three or four come.
To walk the path ever more.

Signs.

Is it sinful to ask for a sign.
To ask for a response from the divine.
When all creation bursts at the seams.
Revealing the glory of god in me.

Why can I his masterpiece,
Not ask an answer to be left in peace.
I know a wicked people ask for a sign.
But I am only seeking your design.

A fleece so i'll know which battle to fight.
A heading to sail to in the dark of night.
Not a blueprint to my fate.
Just guidance to walk by faith.

I know you are with me.
So I will be still.
Reveal your majesty.
Show me your will.

I know where I want to be.
Is in your arms.
And that destiny cannot,
Can never be harmed.

So even if you refuse,
I will obey yet.
You are my refuge,
This I cannot forget.

I will walk in signs and wonders.
To the god who designs them I surrender.

Blurs

A memory that brings tears to mind.
A blur of thoughts and emotions and feelings.
The meaning I searched for but cannot find.
Just a blur of thoughts ideas and things.

Suddenly I remember a face, a face I cannot place.
A name I have forgotten, I cannot remember.
Maybe one that never was, one that has no trace.
A voice like all and nothing that was and was never.

A joy at the memory.
And a silence as it ends.
A forgotten story.
That makes reality bend.

You wonder if they ever were.
If their name ever was.
Or if they are all they are.
Just a thought and a voice.

A figment in your mind.
Trapped behind the blinds.
Sad and alone, as you sit on the throne.
A jester or figment for your entertainment.

A player in dreams and schemes.
that is ignored, a slave, construct, nothing more

Wind

There in the wind.
Blossoms so beautiful.
They must be sin.

In the heart of every gust.
A colour that overcomes.
A lust.

So strong.
It makes the trees sway.
And dance along.

A love so steep.
That the rivers sing.
Calling out from the deep.

Between love and pain.
Between death and life.
The wind remains.

But to carry the leaves.
To carry the colors.
To new eves.

Life death.
Lust and pride.
In every breath.
Till it dies.

Brilliance.

Chipped dirty and empty.
The vessel in a dark room.
When outside rain falls in plenty.
That could fill and wash away the gloom.

But on a shelf marked to be fixed.
With the idea do not use.
Gathering dust with little nicks.
It bears the silent abuse.

Till the rain drips through the cracks.
On a smooth downward track.
Across wood and stone it pours.
Till it reaches the floor.

A drop turns to drip.
With  a plop and a plip.
And in minutes muddled.
Becomes a puddle.

Until the unused is used for more.
Than to keep a ring of dust on the counter.
But a pool off the floor.
And as the water flows it is cleaner.

A gentle reminder.

It seemed like whimsy the way it played.
Like a dream that left me dismayed.
First my blood took me away, only to forget that I came.
Then my friends shared their dismay. that I did not seem the same.

So I dived into the service of the one to whom I yield.
Only to find those in the harvest enjoy the sunset over the fields.
I called out to my lover to tell her of my grief.
But she is burdened far too burdened to give my burdens relief.

So I judged them and I cursed them for without them I am alone.
And again your love reminds me, that they never were my own.
They are yours, and I am yours and who am I to judge what is thine.
So I will sit and cry out to you till I am yours and you are mine.

Sometimes God strips us to equip us.

Counsel.

You sit there and lay your heart on the table.
Playing cards I've heard before.
But somehow i'm just not able.
To make the pain go away anymore.

You share your hurt and the disappointment you bear.
But my burden grows with every word that you share.
Cause I can't tell how I did it before.
I can't make the pain go away anymore.

But I can love you with every waking breath.
I can hold the hopes I have for you tight.
I can bury the feelings, in a love deeper than the ocean depths.
And keep my fire burning till your eyes can see the light.

I can hope that one day you will come through.
I can pray that you will find your hope renewed.
I can listen in silence, until you are silent too.
But I can never stop loving you.

Hot and cold.

Between passion and inaction.
Is the comfortable condonable place we embrace.
It is not wrong, or strongly opinionated.
Simply easier to adhere to throughout.

It is living but not giving our all.
It is avoiding the broadening so as not to look small.

It is mediocre but simpler and easy.
But it denies the cries deep inside me.

You were meant for more.
You live in doubt.
One day the world will know.
And will spit you out.

There is a tide.

There is a tide to the affairs of men,
And a season for all things.
Moments now that could not have been then.
Moments silenced which now we sing.
Nations rise,
Men fall,
And it is no surprise that through it all,
Life goes on.

Come new season.
Fresh and strong.
And without reason.
Tides turn,
And what was far is near.
What was sown,
Will be reaped.
What had secretly grown,
Will to the light leap.
What was lost is here.
And love will yearn.
We must steer,
The tides that come.
Or be now and here undone.

There is a tide to the affairs of men.
And the time is right for the tides to pull you home.

Color blind

Being alive isnt breathing.
But being able to feel breath on skin.
And the cold push of the wind.

Not breathing but taking in the fragrance.
Of saffron at your homes entrance.
Or your parents scent in an embrace.

Living is seeing more than the path.
But the colors of flowers and art.
Painted on the sky and earth.

But we are color blind and tone deaf.
Our minds so worried theres' nothing left.
To hear lifes song and swim loves waves.
Before our requiem calls us to feel our graves.

Debt.

There are things you have done and been.
That can never be repaid.
Things that were felt and ideas unseen.
Memmentos and memmories made.

And sometimes the debt is too great to fathom.
My worth dwindles in comparison.
And the only thought of worth is the wisdom.
That you dont request compensation.

You give it free.
For all of me.

And its unsettling.
And unnecessary.
Its humbling.
And it makes me weary.

Angry and puzzeled.
Because I pay my debts.
I earn my laurels.
And even if I give till there is nothing of mine and me left.

That debt remains.
Solitary as a stain.
That scars yet holds hours and ideas that cannot be bought and sold.

And you are not even divine.
That I could pine that my own heart cannot shine as thine.

I am broken through and in owing all to you set free. I am sold forever into your slavery.

Words I cant say.
A debt I cannot pay.
Except to laugh away,
That I will love you always.

Days I don't love you.

On days I don't love you.
I walk through the haze.
That makes hours feel like days.

On days I don't love you.
Emptiness fills.
Everything and nothing thrills.

On days I don't love you.
I'm like someone else.
I'm not sure I even love myself.

On days I don't love you.
I know I need you more.
Those days make me love you more than before.

Office.

Omniscient management networking.
Fluorescent lights, pleasantly annoying.
Finite forms, storm and perform for a premium.
I conform to the norm hum along to jazz in the atrium.
Creativity crushing conformity called 'motivation', we pawn personalities for pensions.
Every day we do our best work, ever dying we try to give. in death will we joke having only half lived?

Brand new day

The sun comes up the day rolls on.
You compromise yourself and it all goes wrong.
By the time it sets and the shadows grow.
The gloom and of the night to come becomes your own.

So sleep on it and let it die the irony is when you do.
You'll rise refreshed and feel alright it's a brand new day for you.

Juxtoposed

There is an emptiness that can fill your soul.
So painfully hot that it's numbingly cold.
There's a thought that can leave your mind empty.
Are our thoughts our own, are we really free?

There's an emptiness that can fill.
A silence that can thrill.
A loneliness in the crowd.
A deafening edge to the loud.

And it's so blinding we ignore.
We're so empty we want more.
We've tried to be perfect so long we feel broken.
We haven't slept so long it's like we've never woken.

Morning.

Cold...
But not so cold that it bites.
Enough for goosebumps and momentary shivers..

Folds...
Of my bed in the light.
Too late to snooze, too comfy to leave the covers.

Mist...
On the top of my teacup.
Hot enough to wake me, cool enough to swallow.

Lists...
And reasons to get up.
But I'd rather watch the rain race down my window.

Twilight or dawn

Light and glare blinds me.
And you walk through the valley.
Of the shadow.
Darkness and light both of us hoping.
For a change in season blindly reaching.
For a new tomorrow.

Opening up our lives.
To the author of the tides,
And time itself.
Discovering the lack of light.
And abundant life
Within ourselves.

You and I will watch as time flies by.
Waiting for the twilight.
Hoping for the daylight.
For that day he takes the walls away.
And we're standing in the sunlight.
Where two hearts emerge as one life.

The thin disguise.

Your skin smells like the earth when the rain breaks.
Only lighter, sweeter
The wind swells like words, makes my soul shake.

Bolder, warmer.

It sounds so much like your whiles whispered. .

Softly, slowly.

I reach out to touch your smile and I'm shattered.

Slowly, Lonely.

Only man instinctively hungers for beauty.
Kneel and feel.
Nature is too thinly made to hide your glory.
Reveal what's real.

When my eyes are closed.

New worlds are in view.
Foreign land and native hands.
I can see you.
Helping children understand.

Suddenly the scene changes.
And we're in danger, on an adventure.
Everything seems stranger.
But you're here, and that's clear.

There's a cameo appearance.
From a stranger I remember.
There's a glimpse of the darkness.
I'm not here, I'm not near.

My eyes open.
In a whirl the world.
Fades and is broken.
I grasp in futility, for a moments memories.

But all I catch is you.
Half asleep smiles warms my heart a while.
And then glazes through.
And I'm back on the scene searching my dreams for you.

Naked

Bones clothed in crimson
Flesh cloaked in skin
From prying eyes hidden.
In the womb deep within.
Raw pure and clean.
In the beautiful unseen.
Until another's flesh is torn.
And cloaked in love your born.

From diapers and nappies.
Boo boo's and blankets
to tutu's and tiara's,
Sundresses and mascara.
In denim, poplin linen.
We're woven and hidden.
Till before it's known.
We're nearly full grown.

Wear hearts on our sleeves.
Like accessories.
And when their bashed and marred.
We bandage our scars.
Till we find another.
Who sees through the armor,
Things deeper than skin.
And loves the heart within.
And clothed in the other's light.
We don clear bridal white.
And undressed under covers.
Completely clothed in another.
We lie open and undone.
And more than flesh becomes one.

Until the years strip us.
Wear out the bridal tresses.
And in flesh we weave others.
Strapping sons and daughters.
Clothe them in hugs, love, courage.
Undress their pains and baggage.
And when we've clothed them with all.
They will wear their pall.
Clothe us with tears and goodbyes.
As we're clothed with dust and die.

And we meet the master weaver.
The sewer, tailor, savior.
Who sews us into tapestries.
And patchwork woven mysteries.
Who threads of fate seamlessly entwines.
And untangles the twisted lines.
Mends stitches and displays.
Our rips tares and frays.
Till we're nude exposed and free.
To be who we were meant to be.

Seasoning the seasons

It starts with water that greats the air.
Milk and sweat in our mothers care.
Plucked from our lips far too soon.
Saffron and mint to cool the wounds.

Cloves to chew to clean the teeth.
Of curries chilies and basil sweet.
As curry leaves and pepper.
Mustard and coriander.
Add fervor and flavor.
Heat and fever.

Cinnamon and sugar.
Honey and nectar.
Lemon and ginger.
In tea and coffee as we watch the years.

And then Myrrh and salt when our end is here.

Puddles

Your love is like rain and my descriptions.
Are like muddy stains, puddles of diction.
Failing completely to express the way.
Your love completes me most every day.
When the forest grow and strong torrents bloom.
Watered by your flow mused in your perfume.
And I try to speak, to convey my awe.
All my words are weak, and my thoughts are flawed.
Still you love me so, even though my words.
Are lines that you know, just things you have heard.
And your love leaves my words slurred and muddled.
In awe of the sky, describing puddles.