A Winter Evening Reverie

A Crunch of leaves in the snowy path underfoot

goes step to step to step

in a fierce winter licked evening,

with the wind blowing cold and wet.

I see the water ripples stilled,

by the frozen waters ledge.

I see the silhouetted trees,

as they caress the rivers edge.

In a slippery form and true to grace

I round the rivers bend.

And there her strong stone castle lay,

and there lay my juliet.

In a song of passion I call to my love

"Arise and let me in.

I have journeyed long for thee,

and for the warmth within your bed"

And as the moon passes behind the clouds

through darkness I enter in.

To spark a fire no hearth could hold,

burning flesh and hearts within.

Arms and legs and hands together

the passion of lovers embrace.

The tender touch of fingertips,

and the curves they smooth and trace.

Much like was seen in natures crest

as the silhouetted trees caressed

the frozen rivers icy edge

in a winter evening reverie.

The Gift of Winter

Warm is the gift of winter.

Absence of makes the heart grow fonder.

I pull my coat a little closer.

The wind is my lover as of late.

Sometimes she cries jeweled snowflake tears,

each one unique.

Sometimes she'll shelter me from the breeze,

let me see a bit more clearly in the morning.

Everything can see so bright on dark days.

I tend to look down while I'm walking.

A heavy heart shared,

warm coffee prepared.

Sometimes appreciation is the gift of winter.

The old passes away to new

and the looking back window shows

what I missed while I was there.

Maybe things just look different as you're

going by..

Winter may yet be the gods gift to men

lest we forget, the goodness of spring, and thoughts of things to come.

So while the weather's colder,

cherish those little moments of warmth.

Hug a little stronger

hold your love a little longer

for these are the gifts

of winter.

The Wind in the Trees

The wind is blowing through the trees

it tells them where to go.

and though you cannot see it,

its presence it can show.

The man who looks with just his eyes,

is no more than what he sees.

But those who see without their eyes,

the world is there's to be.

So hear this and believe,

for truths are rarely seen.

They are only heard or felt,

or told to you in a dream...

Living 101

Don't forget.
Don't forgive.
Don't regret.
Don't relive.
Let our conscience be cleared,
by the life we live.
And our fears overcome,
by the love we give.

Angry Clouds (Part 1)

Angry clouds,
and antique metaphors
for this eternal war.
This infernal
sore in my side,
thorn in my pride.
After truth you speak,
is mine supposed to run and hide?
opinions that conflict and collide
bring pain, not by words,
but as a side effect of pride,
and self lies.
Burying the truth to far to find.
A battle of the mind it is true,
that the only thing that separates
me from you, is you.
But wait, that goes for me too.
I am not a hairstyle,
or a textile
my spirit can't be measured
like the inch or the mile
You can try to profile my style
but until we sit and talk for a while
you are still part of this epidemic denial
of this anemic Americana lifestyle
holding my spirit,
a prisoner on trial.

Running out of time

In the last ten years I’ve had minutes that felt like days,
days that felt like months and months that felt like years.

Not to mention that year that felt like forever…
What a cruel illusion time is, and shrinking.

In a moment a decade passes before your eyes.
And any moment can seem a decade long.

Each day feels so long

Every week goes by so fast.

I know it’s perception,
But how long can I last?

Till all my time,

has past.

Angry Clouds Cont....

United states of anemia
Land of the fee
Home of the slave
So much love to the dollar
Makes me want to holla
I can’t stand up
Without standing out
And that’s just the way it is?
What gives.
Founding fathers principles
Traded for the intrest
Percentages, mortgages
In this world of business
There is no accountability
For the lack of sustainability
In an economy that just wants
To get rid of me.
People are asking
What’s getting into me
Well I’m out on parole
From the central control
Gave up some TV
And got back the real me
Not a fabricated image
Of what they say that I should be
I know I sound extreme
But this life isn’t a dream
Of how it should be
If you know what I mean.
It’s about living and giving
And becoming and loving
(more to come)

Miss Ignorance

I miss ignorance
I wouldn’t miss self-doubt.
I miss bliss
I wouldn’t miss thinking I know better
I think I could start over better
If I didn’t start starting over
Every time I thought I knew better
If I could forget
What I think life did to me
Would I walk into the same pain
Again and again?
All life is suffering
Thanks for that bit of joy
Wisdom truly does seem foolish
In the face of a life that doesn’t reward
Being a good man.
Now what, trying to be
not me,
a twisted version
Of who I’d like to be.
Or whom I think
she would like me to be
But then again who is she
But a reflection of all the flaws
I love the most about me?

BLUEBIRD (for MKW)

A Bluebird lit, upon my window sill.
And sat there prettily, for a moment still.
Looking ever to the south, east, west and back.
Not a moment to spare, my impression was that.

To catch it's breath, a moments pause.
Look while you can, but not for cause.
Then it glanced at me as if to say,
"I'm just a bird and cannot stay."

"Enjoy my company, the view a while."
"But don't allow yourself, that sweet denial"
"A great blue sky, tempts skilled wings, in which to fly"
"This is not my nest. Please do not sigh"

"I saw in your eyes a kindred blue."
"And so stopped to share, a moment or two"
"But the moment has gone, and so must I"
"Be free to leave, to sing, to fly."

A Bluebird lit, upon my window sill.
And sat there just, a moment still.
Then in a flash of blue wings rushing past,
a forever moment, in a forever, that never lasts

My cheek still feels, that feathers touch.
And though I long to see her much.
That Bluebirds gone, back into the sky.
Where I cannot follow, with no wings to fly.

And so without sweet denial, sigh
Expecting forever, is expecting a lie.
And now a memory, my only thrill.
When a Bluebird lit, upon my window sill.

No One's Fault

It's the twists of fate
that keep the great wheel turning.
My heat has cooled.
Now my face is burning.
However bad I may have felt,
I have nothing bad to say...
I wish it weren't as it is,
but wouldn't have it,
any other way...
What will be will be,
wether or not we disagree.
I'm learning this again
from a younger wiser me.
A boy who didn't fear
what couldn't be.
Who saw all things as they are,
passing, momentarily.
He's ashamed now,
of this man been begging please.
Like a tree in vain,
trying to stop a breeze.