1998 Winter Awake. A sober moment along the trees of a course my Mother tells me she knows my feeling, After I tell her I’m lonely. For I’m in love, in times of us together. You fire me, you shake your head to me. For I was in love. My heart skips a beat. Life has struck me, spending money. But angels call and want love. Beautiful with blinding color to the sky alive so well. Young and alive, you are beautiful inside. Open your eyes wide. Breathe and sip energy. Old and informal in the long meadow. Come on now let’s travel. Carry me in jolly love full of folly. Earn the worst outcome, for it shall be. Earth is nurtured in the nature’s birth. Formed to change, may rearrange at any moment to now and to infinity. Life has struck me. Energy, Scenery, Memories. Zero amount of any, only if one occurs before the other and so on. Visiting others in special places The sky moves on. Forever and then some. Beautiful teacher calls me and speaks so happy. Me being the knight of all divinity. I think there’s room for both of us here. Today I started a new job. It makes me rearrange what I took so long to build. The perspectives, the colors and even the figures, all must change. Now that years have gone by memories prevail. Things I see, feel, hear and taste all must change. Just an end, near to hear the change of a teenagers voice again. There is a boy who laughs at the morning sun and eats alone in his home out in the forest away from anyone. One morning he woke up. He just woke up. A boy shares his insight and the fantasy he admires in the skin of females. Brought and took along in bright eyes to your workplace and gave so much. Independent soul with another than me, identify me in an evening of your own wanting me to give you peace. Lovers with swords; Kiss. Crashing in sounds only special music can create. Wanting the sky to fall with vengeance and feeling the air in even waves breeze on past your ears. Hearing God. Lovers in the wind; Holding. Gliding in the feelings only the smooth music can bring. Landing on cool winds, even ones like the spirit is strong and you know it is. It’s all about the groove of a creative soul continued on through youth and throughout the present days of choice, jewels. Friends come together. Friends part. From the similar thought of a journey to a lost heart. Friends have all watched cartoons. Inside of me is only me, yet I’ve seen you and have loved you. Never a copy, only a puppet world. Art about our Kings. Fences come together in gates and metal branches that only higher forces can penetrate. Many talents in the minimal, crazy talents. Too much practice in the paintings. People and places. Early bright afternoon. To all my friends, you’ve got my honor. Set me free, history. Past misery, A distant memory. Friend’s tired eyes. Lonely eyes in the man and young. Life in a bridge and looking at the future. A young lady asks her friend if I should smile some more. I say I’ll try. More of the winds, more the hair moves. Rolling in the system, a number in this being. Just walk away, old friend, old love, old one. Water treatment, a treatment of gentle kinds. Live wire in the mystic hour. Alone and broke, hungry and like a stone. Flipping through papers as pages full of names and numbers, seeing faces and hands and feet and breasts and waist shapes and only alone, I get upset with myself. Now when the leaves fall down I think of us as being so old, now. Grown apart. I watched this all occur in ours; life is a big word, maybe just time. I’ve watched this all accidentally occur in our time, in ours. Now in mine, now in yours, now in only days, I turn. Moving Grandmother out of Grandpa’s old home. Sleeping her to a state of heavy food, I cry inside. Friends call for only false reasons. Breath of fantasy, earthling. I’ve walked miles, you have not. Everyone let me go. Come back to me with smiles sometime later in your life. Own my time. Where does this leave us? With the stairway to painted walls, I’ll never make that mood stay again. I remember trying oh, so much to have this known. God be with me, In asking. Music and beautiful scents. A five minute prayer. Alive and well, owe me time, never getting up and going to bed. Every piece of our moments together, all comes back to me. Each in all and ten minutes fly by and I know I’m half way to seeing you. Driving you and dreaming of you last night. Making me write tonight. Meet me in those ponds we used to pass. You do owe me time, don’t you? Two candles burn. One faster than the other. The days have been going by fast. I write in the dark, nearly a bit of light. Remembering teachers and now listening to music. Candles flicker with the beauty of past history. Alone, again, men. We love you women. The true ones. Write; Remember; Teach; Hear; Gather; Expect and create the worship to excel in the basic study of time decoration, towards which any means has entered it. Today I’m hearing here All alone in a place, remembering a beautiful face. Poet. Last night I drove all alone all the way home to the lonely road no one goes. I fell in love with my stranger by my side. As soon as I enter, tonight we all will be in a place. Remembering someone’s face. Maybe we shall all admit to this tomorrow night. We’ll sleep and grow in it. God, Does a solo act ever succeed? In the darkest days, I pray. To the winds of the sounds around. Paint a picture. Lay a rug down. Laugh a little and cry allot. Thinking about how I’ve got to never complain. Clean. See the future glide into me. Pass the microphone and speak my mind. Help someone out. Honey on the spoon dipped into the tea. It’s odd when I believe I’m never to complain. I’m to paint a scenery on a wall, hidden behind a curtain and have the children see what beauty if left in me. Empty. Drained out, open your hands. Every little piece of art, every little memory of walking through that park. That bridge someday, it’ll save my life. But these are wishes and they never come true, unless you. Unless you, want them to come true. Alone in this great big world, only dreaming of places to meet up with you. Is there goodness? Oh, is there, is there? Tell me there is and I’ll swim us there. Bring my news, good news today. Take me into your world, it’s beautiful there, isn’t it? I’ll take the public transportation to see you sometimes. I’ll seek out all that’s been magic to your pretty brown eyes. Take my hand and lead me there. I’ve got my eyes shut. I’ve got my mind on the way I’m going to feel. So take it easy, and give it back, sometime. Call me at a strange hour. Tell me it was nice to see me. Call me, just to tell me, you love me. Just let me know, so I can go. Let my appearance, disappear. Let my clouds reappear, everywhere, expect some rain in your air. Dark morning, where did you get your eyes? Speak to me in tongues of what love you’ve got for me. Only. Make me laugh at your stories. Clouds may tumble and crash, the sea may flood and the game of life goes on. A door locked can never be unlocked Unless the key is fitting. The sun rose early that morning and I remembered sitting on my porch and knowing its over, it’s all over. I smiled. Remembering you kneeling with me. How owls stare, is how I will remember you. We all bleed. Sweat and cry. We are, are all born to die. Sad but true, we are, are all here for that very same reason. Some dwell on it more than others. And what I’ve seen was an alien. In my dreams, she left me. Never once looking at me. Quiet and docile, never once gave a moment to whom gave forever. And all I saw was an alien. All wrapped up in a skin that shaped out a maze, over and over again. Over and over until my head spins, she’s never looking at me again. Now I’m remaining calm tonight, with your charm or delicate nature far from me. And what I feel like is an alien, wrapped up in a safe box again. Unwrapped and cults cut me up. Burn candles in my name, again. All I ask is, when will I be able to be dignified? A little life in a flower grows. Memory is all I will ever know. I escaped and went on a vacation. Where is all the money I had saved up in my pocket pants? Let me wrap a little story up inside your head. Let me tell you about it instead. I heard from another, whom heard from an other, who told another to tell me. Vanity betrays and that’s all I seem to have been making. Take me to another place. Cover me with footsteps and print a vandal’s name in my fragile place. Taste was all I had to give. The picture never became, quiet or still. I join to an obedient man. There are washes of waves from here to the sky, to make me wonder why, things have ended up the way they have. Such as the ending of terms. So sorry, burnt, kept in the mineral of hope. Like a raft gliding down stream from a pond of destiny, a butterfly, flying and in a sail. And the strong one with the oars came abound and found a beautiful shore. Children there would play, some would fish, others would swim, some played up near the cabin, where roots would stub their toes. And a moose was caught, one early morning near the shore, Grandpa got a picture. Identify me in your evening wanting me to give you peace. And peace I shall give to you. The wide open sky outside, collides with my meaning of life. Yet inside, I ask stating, “Make me a wish and I’ll wish it”. Waiting to be taken to a place endlessly. In an area, I’m admired. Winds they never seem to, dull down. Curtains never seem to fall the way I see them to fall. I’d like them to always be moving. The winter becomes that way plus snow and I’m poor. Make me a dish of food, and I’ll let you watch me eat it, too. You can admire me. I admire you. So negative that everything in the verbal form of communication scares me. Why work, when I can sell? Just get rid of what takes up my place and nearly give it away. When my heart pours into something, I can’t hold onto it unless it talks back to me. The dregs of life. The darkness of a sleep. Finding only faith to hold together my day. Green shadows take a shape of Jesus’ face. All the honor, all the horror. Life alone without a hand to hold. A saxophone plays and the drummer taps on the high hat perfectly placing the beat of life. Babies in the birth of a new day, smiles a new change. Identify And what I’ve seen was an alien And in my dreams She left me Never once Looking at me Quiet and docile Wrapped up in a skin shaped out a maze And I’m inside the burning candles And my name’s here again All around here again And I’ll be able to be dignified. Help, inside. Dear torment of which I’m so concerned. Escape from me and join with me in laughs from a distance, in future endeavors, I ask in a pardon, then with a please. The chemistry of being happy. Gothic animals, toothless and hungry. Mysterious in growth of harmony. Every day, a bit more as each day goes away, sixty seconds goes by of every minute. An entrance lifts us up to a cologne smelled floor, based of strings and pre-operatic history. The ruins of chemistry to being happy. Place the sign of Jupiter on my left thumb. Enter a place horses only exist and act on a fence and watch them hop over you. I carry on, in the sanctify. I lost my ring. The sounds in music and a long wait is ahead. Pleasure of atmosphere. Only you and I know what’s behind us. Trees, streets, trees, streets and more trees. A pond of some sorts, dead man falling into ice. Let the day go away. We know the only way we like to be held. Only you and I know what’s between us. Driving me. Trouble finding me. A fearful dog is your neighbor. Unkempt and in rags. To be in a world of yellow. To smile at the entrance of blue. To have meanings and being stable in the up and coming seasons. State, state, you can state your abstract theory of the life in closed diaries. Give photos, films and books in alphabetical order. Oldness in the new and creative jewels are tossed from the top floor of abuse. Tied to nothing, but always pulling and tugging to get loose from what’s happening. Turn the wheel with what ever energy you got. Entertain the evening crowd and move ahead. Place a stone in the palm of your hand and believe in it. Prance and dance and have a retrospective in mind. Pray and fly and have good time in your life. Feeling the better days, no matter how it hurts. You are a mountain’s grace. You’re understanding. You’re standing. The over crowded sight. The scream and voice of the alive and well. To spin into the next form of scenery, to ask of nothing, nothing except the bleeding love I know forms in you. Wonderland seems to have drifted from the sands! A growl from a man in brushes and keeping warm from cold, says: Gel up the parts that feel good. Rub up near me. A lady in stocking. Calling and asking. Groove with the seasonal homage. Not any time she says: Go now, for there maybe not time later. A playful image takes place. Her body in an embrace. Hearing the trip of tomorrow. Fearing the honesty. Never had the reason, why it all fell through for you. Under the fact, that I’ve discovered the reason, the only thing I regret is all the times I was there for you. Maybe the sky may fall through. I was given no reason, except for her changes. Gel up the parts I like. Rub up against me, in drifting love. In digging deep, deep into my well. And all I find is dust. I’m on a worshipped piece of land, digging in, and I cry. Blood from my eyes. Keys to unlock my surprise. Pills to kill the pain inside. In digging deep, deep to an arrest. And learning from the best. Voices and creations. I pull up nothing except dust, piles full and I cry. On the highway, I’d get lonely. On the side streets I’d pull over, hide away and talk to myself. Maze like and in the evening. Cold in the shivers and needing old arms around me. Black cars are what we are driving in. Beautiful flowers are all that’s waiting. Stems, leaves and blooming ones are all. I understand you, I understand you. And the things that you do, they’re true, they are true. I understand you and all things that you prove. I understand truth, I understand you, and all the senseless things that you do. And it’s true, it’s true. Fiddle the truth, the truth. I understand you, and you and you, and all things that you do, that you do that you do and get done with the knowledge of truth. I’m in you. I’m in you, not to abuse, only to profile a groove. I understand you and all the things that you do. Fiddle lou, fiddle lou. La, La, La, fits are turned to truth. Well, what are we going to do today? Fiddle with the truth and what are you going to do? Still understand you, in my youth, in my truth, in the near end of a breakdown groove. I see myself in you. Namaste. I seem to be in you, trying to become you. And it’s just not happening. I need your love. Your hair will be on fire. The street’s desire. The lonely man in the train, Mumbles something about not talking to anyone in months. Out and along the way lives a family and a child to play. The winter is foul with green water and the evening is white with innocence. There’s always a chance to escape it. The moonlight has not given, enough to be bitten. The never, ever ending, takes toll on us and we are blending. The streets are meanings and they are sent to simply send us traveling to a point of being. The lake has a log sticking up out of the water’s lawn. Turtles, they climb on, to catch the sun as they live on. The surface of the sky, has no eyes. With the surprise of the fallen sky and the intense cry, we hear the cheer of a lonely man in awful years. What makes him move on? What makes him live to a dawn? The world of directions and miscommunications, we rub our eyes out and hold in our palms. To wake up in the early dawn. Do you know me? Let me introduce myself. I’m a man of swords, put away for the battle day. I’m a man of discs, held in front of chest, as like armor, protection. Shield of great triumphs, downfalls and passions. I’m a traveler, clean and in need of another such knight to help me all through this awful lively abuse. Alone a fury in it’s own. All alone, a fury on its own. To live a life, day to day, night to night, a wisdom is gone for such admiration to find another love. I remember standing alone, in my red jacket, out grown, thinking as I watch my love walk away, “There goes my love.” An awful sight. It may of been a warm afternoon. Old motions and kind notions. There’s even a packet of napkins and half smoked package of cigarettes, a poem, too. Folded up. There’s a stained carpet, out on the sidewalk. There’s an old garage and new music. There’s a gathering and marriage and a cheap Italian crushing his grapes for wine. Odd times. There’s a sofa for a bed. A wine list, unsaid. There’s a waitress and the hair on her head. There’s a crippled man alive half dead in bed. There’s a broke man. There’s a man going insane. There’s a human without friends, there’s a human with relatives. And there’s no room. There’s a memory and delight spread unevenly through out the air tonight. Even a glance of snow and a Christmas glow. The other day I watched the way a tree shivered in the wind along the wharf. It just always stayed there. It’s roots held it down. The branches moved to the push of the wind and everything stood right were it was. The body of the tree was there and always will be. Prayer may be the only answer. Hands on the bottoms of your arms. Fun for all your children, cold and in their time of year. Golden times and ancient rhythms. Slay bells ring everywhere. Joy in the season of every air. All that we see is what we all may see. Memory tears. Hope for the worst and receive the best Slay bells ring in the air. Bounty-like beauty is all we share. A special time is here. Just lost in memory tears. Hope for the best, burn the forest of memories. You are heaven. You’re all of this. You are coming to all this. You are unlike me, we said back to each, well, you’re loosing me. Someday you’ll understand this, You love him, you, your only reason. You try to stay away, from me, huh? You try to stay, you try to stay far from me. I understand, too. You were adored. I had a dream of a hotel in the sunny part of the world. A walk way so bright, with a passion for owners. I had a dream of a hotel way.
Posted on: Mon, 19 Aug 2013 21:22:29 +0000
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