posted May 24, 2008 01:35 PM            

Here is some junk I wrote night before last.
It rhymes

i pick at a wound that’s not there
i search for a tear
unrest slithering through my hair

my body aches
throbbing pain
psychic blows
feeling again

the lesson means we lift and fly
and who are we to ask, But why?
cause in our hearts we live again
the same story
a different then
and did we ask did we beg did we plead
for this slow death
for this slow breath
for the oppressive depth

the package deal accepting the real?
releasing denial
or creating a new level of denial?
i’d rather Believe

and i can't stand the last two lines so i'm changing them

or running away like a wounded child

the package deal, accepting the real?
releasing denial

still running away
like a wounded child

i pick at a wound that’s not there
i search for a tear
unrest slithering through my hair

my body aches
throbbing pain
psychic blows
feeling again

the lesson means we lift and fly
and who are we to ask, But why?
cause in our hearts we live again
the same story
a different then
and did we ask did we beg did we plead
for this slow death
for this slow breath
for the oppressive depth

the package deal, accepting the real?
releasing denial

still running away
like a wounded child

posted May 24, 2008 11:31 PM              

& favorite part is:

cause in our hearts we live again
the same story
a different then
and did we ask did we beg did we plead
for this slow death
for this slow breath
for the oppressive depth

posted October 13, 2008 07:51 PM            

Awareness: “I exist”
A spark of Light
begins to grow
expand, contract, breathe...
starting its work,
the birth of creation

The man’s life is overwhelming work,
its too hard for him to grow,
too painful to even breathe.
He has lost his way and his light,
in a hell of his own creation...
wondering if he should exist.

A tiny flower starts to grow
outside and begins its work.
Part seed, part light,
another miracle with a will to exist
and to share its creation...
a lovely scent to breathe.

Though the man’s body ceases to breathe,
He continues to exist
and must continue his work,
his journey to himself and to Light,
to discern the whole of creation.
But without interaction, his discontent will grow...

the pain distracting him from his work,
as his mind drifts farther from the Light,
becoming a distorted creation...
that has lost the will to grow,
but still continues to exist.
It makes it harder for others to breathe.

A tiny child begins to grow.
The sun bathes her in light.
She settles down to begin her work,
the dusty, chalky art, which is her creation.
She is happy to just breathe
the air, and wonder if fairies exist.

posted October 13, 2008 07:52 PM            

You immediately captured my attention

Knowing, sensing

intense palpable energy

there in front of me

Your eyes gloss over me
yet remain

some unseen domain

envelops us

and we must

be aware
of every moment
every movement

just us

and time steps in

between us

and we part
and yet
the sensing stretches

like a net

a little broader

wider

expansive

open to the traffic

and when it ends

I just wait

to See you again.

posted November 20, 2008 04:14 PM            

I'm often afraid

that the moment our hands touch

they will braid

and intertwine like roots

divine… to bind us in this

life, as in eternity.

There will be a Knowing

in that embrace

that tears through this temporal place

thrusting a truth in our face

that cannot be dismissed or denied.

So I dance around

weaving an illusion

of time and space

and momentary intrusions

a sensual game of touch and withdrawal

a sensory experience

before the fall

that will grab us

and wrest us as we join

that will tear us

and test us

and cause us pain

that will take us

and make us

look inside

a violent force

that cannot be denied

that will make us forget

and make us doubt

what this momentary beauty

is all about

posted November 28, 2008 12:02 AM            

Yes, you are right about Awareness. That was the last poem I wrote for poetry class 2 years ago?

Oh, and the tiny flower is both what you guess and what it seems... there are a lot of deeper meanings/double meanings/layers of meaning... like I do. yo.

posted January 04, 2009 09:53 PM            

torn to pieces
by a casual remark
no, it's not your fault
i've always been this way
well, for a long time anyway

i keep stitching myself back together,
sewing my limbs on and
I find all of the pieces of my heart, then
glue them together "just so"
to present it to you as whole

but you think it's too hard
with all that glue
and you insist I can remove it to
be so soft just for you
and we melt off the glue and it tears
in spots
and it hurts a lot and more is lost

and then I fearfully lift up
what's left,
scattered on a platter for your inspection
and you casually fling up your hands to tell me
you are not in the mood right now!

and the pieces and the platter
clatter
to the floor

and you quickly step forward
without thinking,
hurt and upset and eager
to apologize or explain...

*squish*

posted January 05, 2009 09:50 AM              

Very well expressed.

Love to your pieces. xo

posted January 11, 2009 06:23 AM              

These are gorgeous!

You are such a talent...

posted January 30, 2009 08:57 AM            

what more of a good morning can a Libra ask for?

Thank you for reading and expressing your approval poetic friends.

T, I am going to wish so hard that we live near each other that some day very soon we will.

posted April 21, 2010 09:15 PM            

Sometimes...
THESE times,
we all make sense,
you and you and you...
and me.

Sometimes
the muses
speak to me

my rock
my fire
my childhood dream

romance - adventure - and sweet serenity ♫

♥

posted April 23, 2010 10:55 PM            

“I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends
Soft as it began-
I loved my friend.”

posted April 27, 2011 10:53 PM            

Another poem for he who inspired "secret him" and "Before the Fall"...

He

are you there?
where?
this place
this space
will you replace
this vacancy

do you hear?
your soul
so dear
is it clear?
my fear
confuses what’s real

is it you?
I wait
our fate
each date
we grow
closer

time reveals
and heals
as we learn
the will
of the
higher power