Two eyes Overlap In space, compressed two dimensions and sketches outline attraction no lashes no people eyes, only two of them never have I envisioned so much tension tear the page the eyes linger damn shy dispositions always stopping at the eyes
Into and out of the realm Like apparitions they faded I stood watching, confused; Never becoming jaded. I’d almost forgoten them, But for a scent, or a phrase Would bring them back And they’d linger for days Almost mad at their presence, I struggled terribly within To banish them, forget them, So they’d never come again. I would sweat in the stillness The cold darkness of night Blurry-eyed and frustrated…...
I envy that small creature carried by the wind to wherever he decides is suitable for rest Yes, gliding about the earth how much he must see in a day and how big it must seem, too He seems to love life, greatly, always singing as he sweeps by overhead… chirping, whistling It seems to me, that it seems to him… life is a wonder to rejoice in and explore always...
you look at me with hatred when I do not conform with pain you punish me, I think that is the norm relentlessly you try to shape me; do I change? I do not know myself, this just all seems strange. you tell me to pray, you instruct me to kill, you confine all my being, and preach me free will you tell me to work, and you tell me to pray...
they sat there in utter silence permitting each earnest gaze to unleash their imagination. it whispered softly to their madness pleading with it to unleash merciless power on the psyche. it might have, but they still sat. quietly, staring in distrust back and forth amongst themselves. each glance met with an equal unsettling momentary peer of hatred and blood turned to fiery ice. anger overwhelmed its host burst into reality with a scream...
exhausted, panting, hands and knees resting on sweat-covered ground worthless now, but victorious, too the soaked, pathetic-looking man stood stumbled out to the edge of the plateau and let out a resonating yell that expired whatever energy he had left. it was that moment he lived for and that moment that he died for most would say he was a lucky man.
A graying father and his school-aged son, Riding silver horses off into the sun. On a road once painted brown… Now scribbled black…headed from town… Both are smiling and enjoying the earth, Imagining what mother’s cooking on her modern day hearth. As the moon escapes the prison of its brother, The generations enjoy the company of one and other. The father tells of his shy young-man ways, The boy remarks on the difference in their days....
That scent still lingers in my sorrowful nose, My hands can still feel that gorgeous brown hair, The presence is faux as it can get, but I’m glad its there. I’m glad I can still be kissed in my dreams, And that familiar voice speaks when the evenings are still. I’m glad for my love, albeit its object is no longer real. Some say love dies when distance is great....
The secret to life is blatant, it’s exceptionally clear, It essential and its friendly – in fact it may be right here. It is loving and caring, it smiles and it laughs, It stays up late and takes mid-day naps, The secret to life, sometimes has a bad day, Sometimes it leaves when you want it to stay. This abundant thing is emotional and kind, It’s adorned sometimes with jewelry, sometimes with a mind,...
I’m a seventy year old man, With a sagging face that’s bearded white. Every time I close my eyes… I relive the horrible fight. My hands are feeble, My body’s failing, My mind is lacking, Yet my thoughts still prevailing. My family’s long since left me, With tears and a mangled heart, I retreated to a bench… It sits solidly in the park. I have found it to be more stable…...