You Are Love

how long does it seem
the days drift by as a dream?
waking up, sun-kissed,
by the luscious lips that live amidst divinity

the purpose we should see
is the manifest of what was, is, and could be
forever altering, never faltering
destined for love yet diluted thereof

a day mundane is a day just the same
like a spark is a fire just before it has flame
and form does not matter, unless it is named
and ambition is wishing until you take aim

how far must we go
through the cold and the snow?
till the future shows its face
and the fates make their case?

it will be on this day
just as it might or it may
if your heart sings so loud
that your fear runs away

then you hold in your hand
a message in sand
that fell from above
saying, "You Are Love"
You Are Love

for wherever you go
with your whole heart and soul
in the wind, up a hill
or in the dark, down a hole

there will always be people
who don't know what to do
for they just might not know
they are love, just like you

and when you give them your arms
and you tell them you care
then their pain becomes yours
and it's easier to bare

because all of our sisters, brothers, fathers and mothers
all are ourselves and we are all one another
just as the sky is the clouds and the rain
we are all each-other, because each-other is the same

Three Sides of One Lie

Only take your stop, when you reach that mountaintop.
Walk or slither hither, either way you may just wither.

That suture don't suit ya.
But neither does the truther or that stupor nor the hoola hooper.

That sound bounds miles around
Town in and town out, highway to highway
But never has the foolish rule-less thought once,

"The probability that certain jeapardy could be seen egregiously
is larger than the margin of truth to the aloof.

Hence formerly, the overall enormity was deemed astounding
sometimes sounding like a pounding pile of bile. 

Meanwhile, your child is defiled, your winters ain't mild, style ain't worthwhile and the wild is reviled. 

What makes cents to one man but dollars to another 
don't match up to the love of your sister and your brother."

Fools don't walk alone or have no home
they forget themselves and don't know they're known

hour glass

the sands of time stand fine in an glass

but stand apart in the waves of the sea....

dreams are simply the consciousness alone

ideas are emotion that can descend into thought

where only love and fear is its language

wait long

till the hates gone

fear not

the sheer rot

never question

introspection

understand

hand in hand

the avenue
we travel to

the longitude

of fortitude

the latitude

of attitude

each soul has drank with the atoms of a star

each essense singing with the cosmos

in which the children of light watch as it grows

Same and Different

there is a place in my mind
seems to me to be some sort of
hallilujah! good on to ya
sense of love
sense of life
sense of precious essence of deathly presence
of longitude and lattitude
of fortitude and attitude

the latter two
aint sadder to
have battered through
my ownly view
of who are you?
who am i?
i am the fortune teller
the mystical fella
the prophet of profit
the hellraising blazing amazing man
of land, of sea
of Galileo Galilei
i'll agree to disagree
when you and me can only be
a same and different entity

A Raging River of Mine

             I have traveled to a raging river of mine

            with no arousing aromatics
           with no static size, only naked cries
       unknown, a seemingly seamless abyss
       giving birth to pride and death to mind

       with each step a hit and each stone a miss

       there are no delusions of respect

        nor institutions for a translational dialect

       just violent depths of treacherous clefts

        sent by the daft and the deaf to give breath to the mess

        there is neither steadfast breadth nor a simple gift of width

       for this raging river of mine

        it is all but known

       and I fear this unknown

        I fear the white rapids

       I fear the sharp rocks

      I fear the hidden melodious tone

       that plays between

        each tick and each tock

         of the clock within my reality

           I have bearded the keeper of this raging river of mine

             always with resolve but never in resolution

               each strike of my hand becomes inanely inert; an inhibition

               crafted by the fear, from the fear and for the fear;
                a feast of frivolous proportions

                  my strike is struck down, for i am weak

                         weak with imbalance and fat with the guzzle of my own inhibition

                        the Light is made within

                       my truth is inside my sin

                      health is the melded metal idol of self

                       the love is inside, likewise in my mind

                      and in my eyes, beauty is the beheld  

                     peace is in me, not without

       

  

Visions of A New Day

strange visions
go so far as to know themselves
but not far enough to be themselves
never twisted, never sewn
taken aback by the words that speak and fly
but never visualize into existence

I can see a sight
or know a plight
but where can sight fly to when it is all forgotten?
I know only those things that I feel inside; I know my eye within my soul.
And that very eye I know so well
is far beyond the reach of self

It is almost painful to become a sultry wasted son
bent on loving yet broken in love
It is almost dreadful to know nothing of self
tasting peace but face to face with a black and charred dove

I see pragmatically through objective reason
which is high held treason considered by some
but none is more knowing than eyes of the words that be
the worlds that be or the powers that see not

perhaps a song or a limerick or a poem
can save the souls of the sorry and sold
never have words been so ideal
never have ideas been so real
to the lives of the men whose eyes have been peeled

perhaps a kick to the backside
writhed and written deep within
will shape the path that we all do seek

there are no leaders in this day and age
there are no soldiers fighting for sage
sight is blocked by plight and gold
and love is held by those who scold
yet I exist, and I can feel
so that must make my senses real