know time to mend

mars held high, his mighty fist

wide struck, the eyes in the lake's muck

there's no star, no sky, no great white black nothing

i might..

though, finite.

though instruments are used to keep tongues and thumbs busy,

the love from someone is ..

i flush through the rays and the colours say, "who is he?"

they flash forward full faced with intention. no mention, or better yet, nothing.

dizzy, cause the pull's pace insists the more winded of two roads

new lows, old highs

hand stuck to her cold thighs,

a cute kiss between both eyes,

that soak lies up in the midriff and her short's ties

"broken down", was spoke from the frown.

the mindlessness mattered not, but the removed gown

what is it with this town? gownlessness awaits yours at it's feast.

and the eyes disguise abruptly, hope stuck in the grease.

i'm hoping that you'll at least be there, for snow angels 1st share

their definition in hopes of readmission.

to the stone soul, that can't remember time,

and won't accept the death of things if it isn't him that dies.

i know lies, and these ones seem twisted,

mislead towards rebirth, his night's light had missed it.

and so he enlisted in life, and reemerged apart from strain,

acceptance in strife. there'll be no expectance of rights,

or the values that we confuse with bad nights. i'll reuse all the lights

that haven't yet burnt out. discerned the learned doubt, i've learned to let out.

hocus pocus family focus,

what comes before the ability to notice?

when will it show it's not there to obtain?

left it to let out my tired old brain.

no thoughts, just bare toes,

stumbling onto epiphanies the sun rose
to my attention.
i know now there isn't time enough to mention,
or, that you've not made time for my redemption.

there's no clarity with out suspension.

so suspend it, and save it for a day that you will mend it.

forgot about angels to remember the worms

her body:
an echo.

a murmur

rhyming with perfection.

could be an insect,

that i could love,

or,

an angel. i forget.

and then, i remember,

but where did she go?

Wendy-bird

Friends with the pillows. It's the way her eyes get close,

then, get closed (as though too exposed).

Glitter explodes, and flys from eyelids to toes.

Two toes that could touch, and then clutch through dirt roads.

suggested resting places

Be well
Dispel false aggressors
Fall impressed her; interest in all things lesser
Arrest the fleeting feeling that's innate, then escape
Find the fate in fake
Find the gate, and meet me there tonight
We'll take flight, and write the world off right
Loving love is light. It seems as though it's seams are tight

Sometimes the sun climbs

I see hung blinds denying the eyes of shine

It finds me finding time to go unwind the blinds that blind them

The blinds, they bind them

Forever unwise men

find SHADE

finding hope in the shape of a boy,
just to see what a look could deploy.

destroyed the union of snake and of pen.
befuddled by iron, the stake in my friend.
mistaken again, it crumbles. it's waste.
his waist sits up high, like the perfection he faced,
and so a belt he wears will neither loosen nor fall.
it won't be loosened at all. i sat there in awe.

in the shade of the hope that an old oak brings,
i sat watching him pass through sunburn and springs.
some birds would sing, with a pitch he didn't know.
frustrated, he would toss them into his throat.

there's a lesson somewhere. it might be hidden inside,
though i doubt there's more than 3 of us it would ever really find.
the shape of the folly of the malignant-made sun;
that is the outcome. what more can be done?
maybe with a free mind, free choices will be made.
OR
or the intoxications, that exist in the exchanging of breath, will float EFFORTLESSLY into the changeable minds of those inclined to be not them. to be not made....like a mind, a mental state, country, or town. we wear the crown we shape and the gown that's loosely draped,  to hide the fat that creation provided in order for us to provide. we hide. we dont sit and wait. we find shade in the hope of the shadows. where there is no hope. where we pretend we met. where you still can't remember how to get out, or to get back. we draw pretty pictures and haiku's on the walls, but, without even the slightest shimmer of light, we are unable to see or to learn from. what would we learn? that life is expected, and that living is not? would we see that the day is nothing compared to the minute? or that the minute is nothing compared to the exhalation of free minds?

i find complexity in the most simple of things. i find life in ugly.
i only know rhyme, from in the center of the nursery.

so, i sit and wait. there's no hope in the shade
that i cast, but i laugh, 'cause i made it that way.
i look back, and i gasp, 'if i had only been brave.'
i see waves, 'cause i stayed on the shore the whole day.

be out there, out side

lyrics (for my verse) for a song barrie and i did together.

she seems scared, can't imagine asking her to leave.
she pull's my sleeve....then leaves the leaves for different dreams.
she sleeps to sleep.

it's nice when she explains this vice to me.
her smile's sweet, and rightfully.
swore to her i'd lead gently (it'd feel right to me).

i know collective consciousness is swayed, but that's ok.
the moment's vague. i think that's why you stay inside to play.
(aww)
i'll carry you, if that's the only way.
it's the only time you'll hear me say,
with a hidden message, i'll convey,
"OH, it's smart, you always know to follow heart."

it might be best to fall asleep, then follow.
feel the ceiling peel away to dreams that fall, too.

i exalt you. the assault's through.
you lay before the part of me that would haunt you.

it's smart, you always follow heart.
i tell my friends you're really smart, the way you follow your heart.

the moanment

written in '02

feeding from a hand who just yesterday

purged me of doubt, convinced me of settling.

settlers seeding stays solid, but it's

the crow who finds his way.

call me wingless, say i'm not an angel

tell me i'm human. i'll only do what i do.

in doing, i opt to do what just yesterday

i found foolish. foolishly, accepting the fall.

it exists in the moment your teeth

take hold of your bottom lip..

and i,

for one,

seemingly/knowingly/wholeheartedly accept this.

acceptance derived from some outward display

some outburst of emotion...no...

...just the biting of her lip.

oh, i'd sip her skin if it was meant for such a thing.

the dire needs that i'm now a product of.

the flesh, the caramel that pours out over it...

rising breasts with each rising breath

my eyes rest when rising's left

no chain...no leash...nothing to restrain..

a utopian ecstacy begging for more endorphins..

so that i might be able to actually feel

the excitement that my body isn't programmed for..

releasing my serotonin romance into a garden of glee.

and there my unsuitor replies,

"glitter resides in the shimmering tides of our love."

but it's not glitter i seek, it's the pulling...

the yanking...the tugging...the effortless biting..

of her lip...

my thoughts seldom remove me from my person

but here, no, there, i am removed.

without you i am a man, late for his job....

with you i am a westward wind....wistfully wisping away...