March

They've had enough,
the crowd marched by,
in their numbers a message to send.
Violence no more,
Rape never again.
Leader speaking, calling
for people to unite
and take back the night.
Followers doing their job well.
Emotions run high
through hot spring air
hinting at the heat of summer.
Wind carries their voices
into the distance.
The music from the band
a warm welcome back.
I witness from the fountain
Cheers and internal satisfaction.
Passion on Her face.
It makes Her feel like it truly matters.
The movement will go beyond the night.
The wind carrying it on.
Somewhere there is a man who batters.
He will get what is coming to him
and deserve it too.
One day she'll hear the voices
and take it no longer.
The day will dim
and she will lead the crowd
like the one that marched tonight.
Voices will be heard again.
3/24/2011

Firecracker Cores

He loved his roman candles,
Jack shambled after them.
And I after him
a lifetime later.
We all shamble after each other.
Its a strange sort of dance.
Pushing, pulling, daring to see who can do more.
Much left up to chance.
Bright lights
and wandering minds
we're firecrackers at the core.
A common thread
we're seeking to roam
not knowing what we're looking for.
Truth for sure,
the passion is in our heart.
There we've always grown.
A greater ideology.
Having it all out,
making it all count,
the best that we can.
I guess that is what we're living for.

untitled ramblings

Paper planes fall out of the sky.
Silly boys wearing cow boy hats jump fences.
Girls teach them dances.
On the boardwalk,
in the middle of the wods,
surrounded by a town,
they flirt and set dates.
In the prime of their youth.
Cigarettes and cheap alcohol will scent the air
star dotted skies left outside.
Falling or not the youth won't care.
Their life is only about planned parties.
For now no one cries in the sunshine
but just you wait for the next morning.
3/24/2011

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smiles fell on blind eyes
and slowly melt away
but I know you sense feel it.
Into the distance
the air thickens with pollen and heat
melting tension as it diffuses.
Petals fall away from stamens
left on the ground to whither and crinkle.
You may be able to feel it.
The pages in the book have yellowed in time
but the ink remains black in the moonlight.
None of it you can see.
The music carries its beat on,
a rhythm permeates the atmosphere,
you still have your ears.
3/24/2011

Kyoto

I'm at the Kyoto Sushi and Grill
and then I'll wander some more
and explore.
But for now the scent wafts
from the hibachi.
And people chat and throw
their heads back when they laugh.
I sit across the great window;
Red seats, Red bar, Sleek Black lines.
Journey on the radio,
takes me back to hot summer days,
makes me smile.
Everyone knows the song.
Heads bop as they sing along.
Aware of it or not,
on a bright palm tree specked spring day,
it gives me a small thrill
'cause for a hot minute
we're all singing the blues of the night
at the Kyoto Sushi and Grill.


3/24/2011

Gallery

Open us up and you'll find
something that's never changed.
Though some are newer to it
most are broken and lame.
Either way its all the same.
Caves of broken hearts.
Broken hearts for broken people
trampled y life's endeavours.
Trying to find a way back
after the safety line's been severed.
Caves of broken hearts.
After being in the dark for far too long
the light is new and painful.
After the quiet and silence's deafening battle
so too is life's song.
Caves of broken hearts.
Hearts hung up along the walls.
A silent gallery.
A museum from which we never leave the same.
Some call out
but its the echo that yells my name
in the caves of broken hearts.

The party

Love is a crazy thing.
A horrible, beautiful, crazy thing.
An ever changing thing in us all
for better or worse.
People hope for it,
People die for it,
they give the last inch they have in their souls for it,
they live, durge and dance in its bewildering name.
Jane said dancing is the food of love.
Agreed in part.
The part that adores displays of affection;
bringing someone to a certain point,
the point where all they can do is what they know.
What comes naturally
because for that moment they cannot do anything
but the innate due to the armed seraphim's influence.
When love is true and deep there is need;
need for contradicting allies: bravery and fear.
Bravery to keep holding on no matter what
the course of time may bring.
And fear for having it end before its destined fate.
One fuels the other.
Fear driven bravery and bravery creating investment that we fear being lost.
A vicious cycle.
But when love is lost 
and warm breezes are taken 
by a bitter sea
The spaces created by such investments 
and time are left open and bare.
We are abandoned.
Temporarily without hope.
Temporarily empty shells
of who we once were.
And Edgar said "Nevermore"
as did others.
The gaps and chasms may never be filled again.
Some love only once, only some.
Scars are formed after old wounds heal
and only the foolish remove the armor again.
Fools with too much courage
and a broken keel
letting their souls be driven by the wind.
William said mortals are fools.
Indeed.
Foolish are those who have decided to hope 
for love again, find it worth dying for again,
giving inches for, living for, flying and dancing for
again and again.
True love is for fools who love music and company
and I am among the party.

Overlooked

He says no joy without sorrow
and no sorrow without joy.
Why should I believe it?
I've seen those,
Those with no hope for tomorrow.
Whose world seems ever tainted with grey.
Should not they be the experts?
The world where nothing goes right.
and everything falls away.
Where is their break for joy?
Those who need it.
A peace of mind.
A simple smile.
A helping hand.
We are being overlooked.
Blinding is the sorrow,
opaque and tight around their eyes.
Binding and percieved,
a downward spiral,
a stairwell with no rail to grasp.
Falling.
You need only open your eyes,
look up, around and realize, if chance given,
someone loves you.

A smile more sincere

The coffee drips into the pot
and it is just the beginning.
Songs come from my bedside table;
sun not yet risen,
the day is on.
Blue is the color,
that I already know.
Just like every other day
and the coffee drips into the pot.
I pull myself outta bed, time,
allowing the sleep to fall away.
Look into the mirror night still on my face.
Nothing the brew won't fix
and maybe a dash of tunes.
I'm rolling on.
Breakfast down the hatch,
hair is wet, clothes pulled on.
Frank's voice is floating in the air.
Laces tied, bag's packed.
Out the door, I'm walking on.
My seat is open and it makes me smile,
sun shines through the left side window
broken by the trees.
I settle in and the bus strolls on.
Look around me
eyes are tired and smiles weary.
Well, that'll have to change.
We know where we're going
and that the day is on.
We are to inspire and deliver
the magic they believe in.
It's the happiest place
for them in each minute of this moment.
Eyes are bright as they look up
to what they know is true.
All I can do is know
on this day
the dream I help sow 
because tomorrow they wake
to face the sometimes unwelcoming
reality...smile more sincere and the day is on.