I love you in the immediacy of a perfect
white bloom. In the breathlessness of
a cold winter's window, streaked with
summer memories of you, I write your
name. In my heart we're already the
wild wind tamed, following the ripened
sun.
We're already waves floating
on the sea and the smiles
in our children's eyes,
dancing and singing,
singing and dancing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0E1bNmyPWww

Iwo Jima By Blue Demon77

Across the room
the curtain caught the sun
and in the folds of cloth
I saw light ripple.
Beautiful.
.
In those curves of light
danced tiny motes,
whirls and whorls and worlds away,
entertaining my thoughts.
Engaging
.
There are times so sad
that even heartfelt words and touch
can't light the dark interior
of what this mind remembers.
.
I too, have said the words
"I know how you feel."
ashamed as they fell flat,
but I did and I do care.
.

Hallowed be thy past
the tallow stained skins
stretched beneath this
tempered sun

Strident and bold

the menace of wind
against the basking
heart beating bold

Cold stream fauna sink
its thick lost whisper
think
A television landscape
down soiled halls
calling lost souls
from vineyards of dreams
resting like sleeping birds
shiny as gaunt arrow
offerings on spirit mounds

Cellophane moonbeams play havoc with eyes

as the shadows eat daylight all gone;

step further inside, it's the truth we can't hide

place your baggage out front on the lawn.

~

A dry leather jacket with pockets sewn shut

we've all fallen short and have sinned;

memories turn billowy before they all fade

let's all honor their escort, the wind!

~

Teared laughter echoes, coercing the night

to "chill up" on the back of my neck;

BROKEN ENGLISH
[1948: first day ]

Like hawks,
screams piercing the sky,
swooping in frenzy
upon a sparrow flying by
they took me down
blood on the ground
and screeched when I cried,

I raised my hand against the sun
and tried to see the reason why
...
I spoke broken English

They screeched when I cried
and then were gone.

.

we hurtle towards calamity
with the pale rider on the pale horse
and incomprehensively lethal weapons
of mass destruction

while a budget for armament
elicits continued production

animals and birds
fish and plant
suffer painful death
through spilt black gold

while we refuse to explore
more expensive sources of power

twenty-four thousand people starve and die
every day
and a million more each year
from disease

while movie stars
are worth more than physicians
.

Ghost

co-write with Pixee

I've found the cold
of separation
a rusty blade
in-between my ribs
seeking my heart
in the frigid lands
where smiles
cannot reach

no light
white or blue
to feel the touch
of sunshine
on my need strained face
I travel
in morbid shade
and shadow
flows through
my hungry veins

It is sad how we are locked in illusions
Or are illusions enclosed in us?
Do we choose to live in seclusion?
Or has solitude always been in us?
Are we born pessimists?
Or we run optimism out of us?
Do days and nights really exist?
Or are shadows and lights reflected from us?
which is which, I am not quite sure,
I think I still need to learn pretty much.

In the matter of critique
in the mattering of my poems,
ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
I offer you in evidence
this tome.

I can obscure the point and stick
it where the sun don't shine, I can
wrap it up in the most pretty poetic
pontifications so you'll lose your mind
and you'll never know what
hit you and sent you tumbling from
the pedestal of your higher echelon
and never run afoul of your umbrage and
your law.