SHE.

Who.

Why.

Where.

What.

Pre positionals crowd my mind
my heart is blind I hear a note
the strumming stroke of a
hand on my face, on my heart, on the lace
of the dress. a tress
falls on the strengths that she.
eminates

She eminates beauty, She eminates love.
Eminate my love for her hand
the strand of hair falling fast
as it falls to her neck what a
time stands still and we enter in
good will, donating, receiving
compacting, ne'r deceiving.
each other.

her face, why do I trace
the lines of her fate brought us near,
love draws us clear of the shrapnel
of the failing pieces of all that well
describes the times of our lives
we die. why. Well.
It is well.

As I enter the line
to proceed past processionals
professionals mock the steel in my
eyes melt at fifty degrees
at the warmth of a touch
I fall to my knees. wash the feet
of the woman who completes me
wholeheartedly receives me
and takes my hand as I
concrete we.

Love?

Whence cometh that sweet voice
that dream within a dream of honey from the comb
like the petals of a rose just blossomed
so doth my heart for my beloved.

~ Not Shakespeare

A whisper in my ear of ears

speaks softly to my heart.

Of all hearts came and went

yours only was of worth.

Speak

Gently

Wonderful

Words of Love to my dove

and the heart that I grasp at so eagerly with my breath and

every

breath

subsequent.

Whats a dove to do with

the sound of a heart beating fast?

Whats a dove to do with

the touch of a tender kiss?

Whats a dove to do

when all else fades away and your heart feels like it's pulled into a dream with all beauty, all joy all wonderfulness. Like a hundred million balloons falling to the sky and only stooping to pick up a fated passerby and carry him to unknown heights of glory.

Whats a dove to do with Love?

In her eyes

like a hundred million sparklers

light up my weary days

like a trip to last summer

like a trip from eternity

light up my heart for you.

Will you?

Like the bated breath like waiting lest

she look away and leave.

I wait to hear the words so

muddled in my mind

like crystal in a set of glass

the realife shines and the fakes they pass

as she leans in close to me

on the wings of the morning her breath it breathes

in me a life unknown

my heart it leaps

and anthems sings

she answered

Yes.

I do.

What does a poem mean? Really, I can pour from the bottom of my heart a poem of such feeling, such granduer and the like, yet if not backed up by actions, it means nothing.

But it was.

A song a song!

I heard tell of the

Men stand by and look in awe at

women stand back and sigh and awww

at the sight of two lovers so newly discovered

each other, together, not separate forever.

My only, yours only,

but me and you.

Forever and ever and ever. again.

I Love you.

It's as simple as that

But is it?

Falling

Black
My hand in front of my face
I see through it into the inky blackness
blind, I feel the wind whipping by
nothing else but what I feel
for I cant see anything
but Black

Wind
It whips through my hair and flutters my heart
I suffocate as my breath is stolen
tears fall from my eyes and never reach my face
they fall and disappear in the abyss
I feel the affects and cannot fight
this Wind

Cold
like needles, piercing clothes and skin
my bones shake and brittle
my clothes offer no comfort or shield
I am naked in this cold black dark
nothing comforts, I am alone and scared
in this Cold

Falling
My heart is in my throat, I can’t swallow it
as I find my feet aren’t touching ground
I’m twirling as I fall all down
flipping around my stomach turns
up and down have switched places as
I’m Falling

Numb
The tingling sensation is gone
the cold I cannot feel, anything
all feeling has passed away, passed and gone
limp I feel like a rag doll, unable to move
my mind screams for my members to stir, but
I’m Numb

Light
Blackness Hides
Wind Cuts
Cold Pierces
Falling Scared
Numbness flashes, yet I see
A Light

The black turns to grey and the shadows lengthen
I can see my surroundings as they emerge from the dark.
Like a mist being removed from my eyes, I slowly adjust
and gather my bearings, thoughts roll and flow,
like a river flowing in the night I see the stones of my cage
moving along like feelings worn down with light, water
I cannot discern where they move, be it up or down.
The light becomes greater and warmth touches my skin
with the light comes more discernment and I see direction.
I know not from where the movement comes
but as the shadows become dimmer I see that I am traveling
moving, not falling. I see a purpose and the light is brighter
I am falling, with a purpose, towards the flood, lighting lighter, falling.
up.

Life
The wind flows through my hair and soul
the light becomes my covering
I’m enraptured by this glorious warmth and
though I’m still turning, though my feet don’t touch
the ground is far down and I never want to move away from
this Life.

Light permeates my flesh and in the life it radiates a beauty
a glow touches my eyes and sparkles, the stars I see
though the light is great, a kindness reflects in my heart
as this glory fills my very soul, rivers of new wash me anew
and pull me up from my death, and depth.
I still have no control over my limbs, my equilibrium stirs
control is in the hands of not I, yet a peace washes.
I see not where I am going, though my senses fail me I will
only ever hope in this bright, light, hope.

L.

Like a whisper of a kiss

your tender touch breathes into me

an incomprehensible joy of 

excited minds and hearts flutter

Dreams fly on the wings of a thought

in the half light of morning we dwell

always in this place of wonder and new dawn

our surroundings are beautiful... because we are beautiful.

We.

Together.

Breathe

Life.

Us.

Forever.

O.

Eyes speak louder than

Eyes speak volumes of 

Eyes give gifts greater than

Eyes give more than you know.

Your Eyes. 

A deep pool, depths unknown

yet the gravity of the deep is bathed in soft light

sparkling like a hundred million stars

falling from the night into a forest of lights

Your Eyes.

Speak. 

like a dewy voice whispering of truth

liquid light in a goblet of silk

like water runs over stones so smooth

Your eyes speak thus to mine.

V.

Words speak louder than

your words speak louder

than words, spoken loudly

speak softly to me...

Whispered gently in my ear

your words travel like a song 

on a breath of wind, that tends my heart

so your voice to me I long.

Fluttering dear,

my heart it sings

to hear your words to me.

E.

I

see her everywhere.

On the park bench with 

spheres of color

every size and shape and 

her.

Walking in the mid night mist

with the green overtaking 

my bliss is drifting

towards with the thought of you.

My eyes search

a crush of people, faces always faces

me, I cannot see her.

through the throng I push 

to see her, my eyes have found

a home.

Stained...

My eyes are falling whirling dripping

Your song echoes deep within my soul

Still you say to me be still

Only you can rest my calm-less soul

Until the day when faint becomes sight

Leaning out and away from the countless shadows

Inside my heart I feel a throbbing, a pulsing desire pounding forward

Still you say to me be still to my pattering twittering fluttering heart.

Stained, I see on my heart an indelible stain

The marks of indelible grace

And when I consider the source of the marks my heart falls silent

In a second glance the pounding turns to seconds falling

Never shall I forget this stain

End shall pass and come and go, and the times fail

Day after day I will consider it, the stain will remain displacing others...

D.O.E.

Wow... Its been over a month. Hmmmmmm well I resurrect the blog today with a poem actually wrote for my friends blog "A WOMAN'S GUIDE TO LEAF RUSTLING" I hope you enjoy:


(D)are to (O)ver (E)xcite.
D.O.E.

I walked through the woods
where the dripping trees sang
softly to my weary heart
and matched the ebbing away of my greatest desire.

Speckled coat, blending into beauty
moved swiftly through the trees of green.
and into the darkness of the unknown
where my greatest quarry now became.

Running along with the ground grasping me
gravity called to my weary man.
yet onward I push with a new desire
to catch up with my angel, this demon I seek.

Quickly she dodges, and smoothly she moves
over and under obstacles take me down.
tears and sweat fill my vision solely fixed,
upon her dew rests and glistens in the half light.

The tears mix with blood as the brush cuts my face
and the rain washes away the semblance of strength
my determination waxes and wanes
as the sight of her I seek fades into nothing.

My burden gets the better of me as I sink into
the unforgiving ground breaks me into
pieces of love lost in the evenflow of weakness
while the mist devours my fleeting sprightly doe.

I lift myself up from the mud and leaves
fallen from the hopeful spring of the year
and brush the dead brush from my coattails and eyes
and glance once more into the depth of the unknown.

She has escaped and faded like the mist in the trees
running over dead and barren branches
dissipating with the new dark of the morning
and leaving desires and hearts to mend.

I stand silhouetted by the bleakness of the morning
a mere shell of the man I started out as.
The strength that rushed has ebbed to a trickle
and my will has left me for another.

The thrill is gone and I feel alone
in this wood of strange shadows and empty
faces flash in my mind and call me on
back to the place from where I started.

I will myself to move and rise, my gait lacks all the pride
My stomach turns inside my head and my steps fade into dreams.
The shadows all have names unknown, they laugh...
I walk this road alone.

Step.
By, step.
And each, step.
I take will, step.
And brings me closer, step.
To the edge of my, step.
Sanity comes on fast and, step.
The mist clears from my vision, step.
And the valley green becomes visible, step.
and stop.
. .. ... .... .....

I see the morning breaking over the hills
and in the break of black I see light.
the hope subsided sides again
and my faint strength faintly returns.

This hunt that was my life breathed in.
fades quicker than the dusk.
and hope like morning fades to strength
and my mind clears with the light.

The mournful sound of the woods to my back
and the glorious light, lights my face.
My heart thaws out from the cold dark night
as it faces this bright and brighter day.

Smoldering Wick

A smoldering wick...
what once was bright and flaming
smokes and smolders
barely
holding on to hope of oxygen
feed me revive me make me come alive.
In days long past
I burned for you
a light to you for nations.
A gentle breeze I embraced
as a comfort I took it
slowly
I drew from it into a
corner where i could feed myself
and hide in, from the darkness
I was meant to dispel.
Now I cower under a basket
with the smoke wafting up
the darkness that frightened
the cold that scared
the burning.
Yet a new life is breathed
Into the very soul of my souls
And a fire starts to burn
on the tip of my wick
It is barely there.
Hands come from nowhere
to everywhere and shield the burning
flame.
No cold and stormy blast will reach
the heart of my fire and the flame
that grows ever and anon.
It grows slowly still and
greater with each gentle breath
from his mouth he feeds me.
The flame still small and barely
wavering.
Not between the dark but towards the light.
He takes me from my corner
the basket topples down the
table and rests on the floor.
He moves me through the
heavy black which turns to smokey gray
and sets me on a pillar.
And there he holds his hands around me
which don’t suppress the light and
brings the world around me
to see and speak of his greatness.
So on the stand I stand anew
a token
of his loving kindness. I
Will not again retreat
to the darkened corner of myself
that suppresses the light he gives.

A bruised reed he will not break,
and a faintly burning wick he will not quench.

Isaiah 42:3

Isaac and ropeburn....

“Ropeburn”

Dark skies, heavy breath
a wind that stills the motion
a rocky climb and lightning flashes
the thoughts of desperation.

A burst of thunder brings no rain
the wind dispersed the heat
the beads of sweat and tears of salt
fall down to ragged feet

the incline steep the dust it chokes
the rocks fall on their own
the heat in waves washes over doubt
and the heavy mood moves stones

The wood we have and the fire too
the knife is gleaming bright
but the sacrifice...atonement made
seems all by my own might.

Salvation seems just like a word
redemption redeems its own.
To the sacred place we bring ourselves
and to the altar of stone.

The altar stands against the sky
a sign of death and glory
and in defiance it raises itself
and brings the haughty lowly.

The bloodied stones cry out on high
of the tears and life all shed
of the offering made and the price that was paid
and the atonement that came when bled.

The silence is stifling as we arrive at the top
as the wood and the rope are let go
I sit and look over the mountain and vale
when I feel heavy rope on my wrists

I turn around and see my father
weeping with rope in his hand
I look in his eyes and there understand
The lamb we will sacrifice is me.

He binds my ankles and my wrists
yet beds the altar with hay
he lays my down like a newborn child
and brushes the hair from my face.

I feel a tear upon my cheek
And hear a stifled groan
down my face it quickly runs
and mingles with my own.

I feel the breeze from his raising arm
the breath is coming fast
the fire moves close on my neck
and the wind now blows in blasts.

I stop and think of lives now past
of the things I thought I knew
Of the rams that stayed where I now lay
And the thought I knew were true.

There was always a spotless lamb
from the beginning of the earth
God’s way was known to all who heard
But it now seems to have lost its worth.

And yet one thought pervades my mind
like water to the driest rock
That his mercy and love and grace remain
No matter the hard road we walk.

I clench my teeth and weep inside
“Provide a lamb Oh God!”
My father weeps and screams aloud
And his head bows in a nod...

Provide A Lamb Oh God Oh God!
Provide Oh Holy One!
Provide for us your chosen seed
Provide for us your sons.

Breath.
Heat
Tears
And sweat.
I give myself to Him.
I let it go and fall flat limp
And wait for the strike of steel.

I feel not the searing pain of steel
nor the cold pain fire brings
But instead I hear a bleating ram
and to the Lord I sing!

My father prostrate falls and prays
he weeps aloud with joy
the ropes he cuts and fire drops
as He lifts up his baby boy.

We kneel both down on the cold gray stone
and a rain begins to fall.
we lift up our voices praise the one
whose mercy always enthralls.

Atonement made, redemption gave
faith and hope was built
Mercy triumphs all day long
and Through Him we have no guilt.

The altar seemed a cold dark place
where life was taken and burned
but now I see that through the pain
True Life was gained in the end.

I look at my hands my ankles and wrists
I studied them long and hard
For any signs of fire or knife
and for any signs of harm.

Unscathed I passed through the fire and steel
laid on the altar and lifted away
tied up so I couldn’t lift even an arm
But then shown that The Lord Has a way.

Like I said... I was thinking.

The Children of Man

An Angel came down on a dull autumn day
To see all the deeds of the children of man
to see how he dwelt and how he had moved
and how he had been since The dawn.
Of the spring.
He saw their dwellings, likened to their hearts
extending farther out, up and beyond.
From places to places from city to stream
Always wanting, always seeking.
Something more
He saw how his rails though seemingly straight
were curved and twisted and lead
Like their minds up the hills and the valleys
never ahead, always around and through.
In vain circles.
And after he saw and looked all around
past building and alley, subway and street
he thought and he mused, all the time watching
The people that walked and floated around.
Oh so Blind.
“Won’t the obey the desire of their hearts?
Their hands strive after the wind and the sky
Yet they cease to obey the call of their God
And Sell, short change themselves eternally.
Won’t they see?
The angel then alights and spreads his wings
Flies back to the place from whence he had come
Yet The Lord and the earth Is waiting still
For the glorious Revelation of
The Children of Man.


“Always reaching, always reaching
Upward as to touch the sky
Gazing up with eyes of wonder
yet never lifting to God most high”

Change

Does it ever seem to you that life in general is made up of change and subsequently hurt? Does it ever seem like the only time things change is after you have developed an attachment to it? Does it ever seem like the only reason things change is to shake life up?

Yes. it does.



How quickly things just seem to change
Or maybe its me that changes things
One day everything seems so fine
The next waiting for what the rain will bring

A beautiful day, the sun shines bright
the clouds seem so far off
you feel as light as the air or a feather
And then it hits you like a rock

Reality, falls on your parade like hail
Your picture perfect happenings just aren’t
Everything you hoped and dreamed
just had fallen and turned out wrong

The euphoric sense of complete control
Of having your cards all in a row
Of planning out your every step
Of feeling like its all gonna go

But then again sometimes I think
I think I understand
The reason for this non control
Is because there is a better plan

A plan thought out from the dawn of time
Written in book,
Sometimes I long in my foolishness
That I would like to take a look

But I never can, and I never will
Not until my days are done,
When my life has given up
And we all shine like the sun.

On that most blessed day
on that bright and far off shore
I will look back on the life I lived
And see that God worked all for good

Oh what a God that concerns Himself
With us so small and frail
That would take his time to write it out
And say what our life would entail

So when the parade that I had wrought
Is over, done and gone
We still can count upon Our God
For it is us that he has bought.


But then again, there is always a reminder of the truth.

Hallelujah!

Redemption

Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I ponder. Sometimes I think I think of all. And then again there are times when I am just in awe. Now is one of those times.

You wanna know something amazing? Mankind are sinners. Sinners deserve death. Death is eternal. You wanna hear something? God is just, Justifies sinners, sinners become saints.

Many times I hear this and gloss it over as simply theology, or teaching. But when you really think about it as Christians this should be the thought that occupies our every moment. For without this amazing redemption we would be undone. Have you ever stopped to think of the effects God's grace and mercy has upon you? I have but the times are so few and far between that I forget them so easily, without Gods grace we would not be able to face tomorrow. Knowing what we know about the utter depravity of man and his ultimate sinful nature we simply could not even justify getting out of bed. But thanks to god we have a hope that even though the day seems dark, there is a light that never goes out and it is worth living for. Oh what an amazing redemption.



A whisper of a breath
A breath of a kiss
a kiss of death
A death unto life.

Live unto a shadow
a shadow of the light
A light in the darkness
a darkness defeated.

A mirror in a field
A field of dreams
dreaming of a crowd
a crowd crying out.

A echoing noise
a noisy silence
a silent aching
an aching heart

A bleeding people
a peopled land
a land of desert
a deserted love

An outward cool
a cooled heart
a heart shaped void
a voided debt

A bleeding side
beside the way
away on a hill
a hill hard climbed

A thorny crown
a crowned head
ahead of his time
times run out

A tomb in the rock
a rock in the front
a confronted guard
a guarded heart

A light sound
a sound of life
a life remade
made to live

glancing down
downward soul
soul lifted up
upwards drawn

healed hands
hands that touch
touch the heart
hearty joy

A breath of life
life of his breath
breath of God
God’s son come

P.S. (a side note)

Now no doubt you all (all two of you) have grow tired of my "poetry" It probably is not very good so I will try to write more prose. Unless of course I can't, in which case you two will have to deal with it.

Invisibility (ie. invisible)

Light passes through
Darkness overwhelms
The wind alters it not
A stoic unfluttering
cloak.

In a room full of light
a room full of dust
a room full of emptiness
a room, nothing in it
But me

I’m standing in a window
longing to feel upon my face
the light to expel the coldness
the pale moonlight overwhelms
All of me.

I move through the room
from the window to the wall
a wall of steel-ish cold
with chains and shackles riveted
Shackles meant for me.

I try to lift the chains
they pass through my hand
a clanking on the floor
a ringing in my empty ears
Empty me.

Yet as I lean against the wall
the chains begin to move
The clasps open slowly, creaking
and now upwards move
My neck

The metal is at my chest now
moving upwards slowly
at my neck now moving closer
to wrap, circumference, bind me
To the wall.

I feel the steel upon my skin
I feel, a tear, I feel,
down my ashen cheek it runs
and rests upon my curving mouth
I feel.


A euphoric feeling of feeling cold
to finally feel at all
How much I gave to get me here
now I shall be content.
It’s cold.

The icy fingers round my neck
squeeze what life had brought
This feeling I had so long sought
is not what I had thought.
At all.

The tear that ran down my face
left a blazen trail of red
a blush that touched my icy cheek
was now fading fast.
The steel.

Pulled into the cold hard wall
trying to consume me
I try to scream but my mouth won’t move
all that escapes is a prayer of a breath.
A Prayer.

And as I am consumed alive
alive and well and whole
I see the window across the room
in a glorious unaltered view.
A warm light.

The cold pale moonlight has gone and left
the icy bluish light
a warmish, orangish, glorious light
has come and is promising life.
Save me.

The feeling that I had longed and loved
now chokes and cuts and hurts
I see the light not afar off
but I feel slowly pulled and jerked
I Fight.

A helpless cry escapes my lips
a rending heart wrenching cry.
The light reaches within a foot
I reach and writhe and cry.
HELP.

The heavy chains fall away like grass
The clasps just disappear
The light has just now touched my face
and melted my frozen tear.
Warmth.

The light it pierces my every vein
It warms and softens my skin
It permeates my every breath
Oh now true life, true feeling begins.
Life

Sing

Love

Hope

Feel

Sing

LIVE.

Sometimes

Sometimes It takes more than a thought
Sometimes a thought is enough
Sometime enough is a little
Sometimes enough is enough

Life

Co-existent beings sitting in a stream

Floating gently backwards

in an unaroused dream

Is

To exist in a nutshell

A world all your own

A world without worries

A world with unknown unknowns.

Hard.

unbroken thoughts are difficult

dreams unshattered beautiful

Shattered promises unbearable

Bearing guilt, unthinkable

A Thought on P(rose)oetry

Poetry.
Not bound.
By any. . . Strings.
But only by the love
ing strokes of the pen and mind of the poet


To be free like the wind
to blow where it wills
to forget about the staunch harsh
cords that bind

A love is formed in the words not rhymed
by the words not in meter or
at all visually formed
but only by the way they form a complete idea.

Like red,
roses, with a sharp bit of blood
pouring down the stalk, a cry for help
and tears of pain, beauty.

or wetness, in a blue cloak hides it mysterious
ness( ).
A monster, a flower, a ring of gold
perhaps a sphere of purity.
White.

or a tear, a crystal, a drop in a bucket
full of the tears of men.
it’s half full now but still filling
upwards. why?


Or a sound of fear
a sharp report, a trumpet, a siren
a whirling intonation,
of lights and drear, and
forgiveness.

or perhaps a rhyme that is a rhyme
of an idea, a thought or a dream

Like a pool of blood
a cloak that was scarlet
a rose that happened upon a crimson
sunset. Of red.

Of a deep night so
Black (ness) envelopes a(n)
empty (ness) minds play for the thoughts of
mankind was dying a
death (that) is not the end.

Thus is an imperfect study in
the Idea that all (none) of poetry has to rhyme
in the
least bit.