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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

Sand man

The dust slides between your toes.
Into your eyes and up your nose.
And suddenly your sinking, the lights are twinkling.
You blink and you tear.
It sinks in your ears.
And we hear the wind and yawns of the now stirring dawn.
In the warmth of your bed.
Into the corners of your head.
It fills it with warm dry fodder, so soft and warm you could lie in it forever.
Seeping where dreams quake in the deep.
And awake when you sleep.
And hold plays in your mind the only stage they can find.
While you watch from aside.
Or take part as they guide.
With tandem schemes, and random scenes.
So unusual that as consciousness stirs.
You can reflect but can't remember.
And as you wake and dawn shakes the night's disguise.
Clear dreams and clean the dust from your eyes.
The night's worries slept on and crushed.
Your mind sharp and swept and the voices hushed.

Apocalypse

And frost once said the world would end in fire, I have a contradicting theory...
Plotting the race to fulfill our desires, will bring an end to you and me.
Only when love surrenders and lust is crowned, befriending becomes networking.
Charitable hand held up only holds you down, and raising becomes parental appraising.
And romance becomes light to get into someones' pants for a night,
Love replaced by mammon and commercialism will make us lists.
You stop being human, start being an individual and cease to exist.
Pity fire won't kill us for fire would be a kinder way to go.
Seared with desire and lust till we're not human anymore.
End? The end is only a beginning.. for those alive whose love forsakes living.

Hands of soft selfishness.
Ever gorgeous face of anarchy.
Luscious words to worship myself, I and me.
Lips for sale stale and meaningless.

Oh we'll taste those poisoned lips.
Never knowing we sip of the apocalypse.

Ever overcome by what we've undergone through history.
Accepting that we're doomed to repeat it.
Repeatedly indulging in what is seemingly free.
Then the cost will be death's profit.
Hearts to selfishness will bend... Heralding the end.

Hands

Hands offered, thumbs twisted.
Arteries opened splintered, healing fingers blistered.
New open hands splattered, tortured digits quivered.
Dying lain nailed offered, a bridal gift for scoffers.
Slain and cruelly lifted, by hands gifted.

Isaiah 49:16 See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...

God's mission for man.

I have often wondered why on earth I am on earth.
If perfection is within reach why are we placed where are defenses are breached,
And we're dying from our birth.
Where triumph over temptation only opens the door to a more subtle convention.
Or opens our heart to pride and a messiah complex growing inside.
And yet we're expected to save and achieve before the grave.
Write an epic story and yet not hog the glory.
Live and yet not contradict the life of he who would give life.
And therefore not live but die that our souls be restored.
It's confusing and impossible to understand.
God's mission for man.

Crushed.

Crossed and double crossed
Rushed and quickly crushed.
Under foot and fully sundered.
Shuddered broken and shattered.
Hedged from the skene to center stage.
Edged to dredge the rampage.
Dead playing the role in our stead.

I blame you for me.

In a world where shadows are a solace.
From waking in the tomorrow under clear skies.
You couldn't just let me exist in darkness.
So I blame you for the sunrise.

When I was hell bent on believing the lie.
That I was worthless and uncouth.
You wouldn't let me be deceived and die.
So I blame you for revealing the truth.

When the only excuse I had.
Was a past that had me chained completely.
You released me from the scars driving me mad.
And I'll blame you for turning the key.

That opened me to all I am.
Unleashed my potential and set me free.
Free to be enslaved to your perfect plan.
So Finally I blame you for me.