There are many paths to healing,
And I will discover them all.
For each of my thoughts,
For every doubt in my mind,
For every moment of darkness,
They are there for me to walk on.

The type of path
Will be easy for me to manage.
And each step I take on it
Is bringing me closer to peace,
And to stillness.

These paths are clear
And free of obstacles,
With none of the burdens
Which have been weighing me down.

He stands across the room
illuminated from the back,
a glow in his cheeks of polyethylene.

The backlit twinkle in his eyes,
his painted face blushing
ensure the memories are permanent

like the smile on the face
of my red plastic Santa.

who suffered cuts by a thousand knives.

Even as old (dish) married
(spooning) curmudgeon,
who receives social security disability
linkedin with social anxiety)
chose the fork less traveled
aye pucker with sunken cheeks,
(especially without dentures)
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber

The night surrounded
the small houses dark
chimneys and shaded
streets.

The stars
were pushed into
the black glass of
space and the ghoul
hue moon, that sent out
lanterns of splashed
Argentium silver, with
wind moans

Street lamps fought
cutting away the shadows
next door, to where one
dimpled boy and his parents
had settled.

The boy
peppered in freckles
hiking a mischievous
grin, eyes punched in
with malice and traits
of a goblin

Where are you going,
from whence do you hail?
Your city streets boarded up,
to piss in no pail.
Your name like a marker
a cemetery stone.
No kindred spirit
to throw you a bone!
You languish on Saturday
no place to call home.
Down by the viaduct
you're wanting to roam.
You can't find an exit.
Your best bet a gun,
but you just keep on holding out
there in the sun.
The heat it is scorching
got you on the run.
You'll make it to Sunday
might find a new home!

When the wind blows
the purple heather sways.
Scottish girls and boys
share thoughts and feelings
out in the fields.
Lying down in verdant pastures
where sheep graze silently.
Thier destinys unfold
as they gracefully
wipe perspiration from thier brow.
Children will be sired
by expectant mums and dads.
No one knows there aspirations
no not even thier gods.
Walking to thier homes
with vibrant inspirations.
The truth unfolds as with their lives.

Her blue and walk-away eyes
should have made It clear
she was already gone.

It took me a while to get here;
to get you to fade away.
It was just that my timing was bad.

Can we recognize each other without a face, in that place, where we gather after?
Is the energy of love and hate felt without substance?
Are we just a soul having a human experience? a difference?
A mirror of sorts, of thoughts, reflected in the gleam, or a black hole, cold oblivion, is this the place for my race?
Who or what took the time to unwind the complexities of space in your face and mine.
It's unclear so I would just stare at myself, my soul, me.

Que

I see it now, adrift in my loneliness my anchor no more.
It's always been there, I fear, this sea of humanity without a port of sort.
Lost souls, filled with emotions in hollow hulls, their cargo precious with fear.
The chaos revealed, as some steal moments of themselves, unaware that their fear is just an oasis of their minds.
I'm
part of them now, this unknowing, this searching this me.
I guess we all meet on the road called humanity, let's just help each other along the way.

Que

Within the whispering December,
stars pirouette in the North Wind.
The pined voice of November
sadly calls to rescind
this once gold canvas,
dancing in white.
Beauteous,
alight
snow.