poem

A twisted hand that sleeps,
silently upon dead leaves,
a mouthful of copper flavour,
or life slipping away?

Confused about me?
A mean feat indeed.
I oft would confuse,
myself in awkward dreams.

Take me to the Hospital!
Don't drag me to the altar,
of sacrificial impurity,
Rare is faith among the sinless.

I can't see the tired eyes,
 among sallow and thin coatings,
hooked to machines,
removed from the santuary.

What are you?

The soft whisper of the rain carressing the pavement
Caresses my ears.
The sound of your breathing is gone,
But the rain remains,
Comforting me through the silence.
Now that the mechanical whirs and beeps and wails have died down
I can hear the train in the distance.

That dark tunnel smelled of iron, sweat and electricity,
And the orange light lead you home
To your wife and children.
You went out for a drink-
Then came home to whack whats his face with your belt,

Love is for the weak.
Love is for the strong.
Love is the answer to all things.
Love is the question.
Love needs to make a choice, a commitment.
Love has no needs or wants it is without desire
Love has no child it is sterile
Love is a child smiling
Love reaches for all of us.
Love does not understand why we are hard to reach.
Love looks for us in the wrong places.

Where are you love?

What have you loved today?
Do you love yourself?
Will you always have someone to love?

I wrote this way back in January, and by now have no idea what I thought it would sound like .

So many nights of silence where we never said a word
Your screams for conversation, somehow I never heard
I always felt that I had nothing in my life worth telling
And feared the wrong word would lead to you yelling
You had your anger and I had my withdrawl
We both had our pride which led us to the fall

You have to know how much I loved you Katie
And that I do still
And I always will

Chorus:

 

Based on the flat black shapes your eyes made

in the reflection of myself, I guarded every untainted 

breath.  You glittered, an angry fever I wanted to catch.  

 

When days you were dying on into the old night, 

I came around to hide myself in the temporary respite

of a thousand breaths, drank down to forget the twenty

 

grey personalities I made and corrupted out of clay, 

with nothing.  I made them for you, but couldn't weave

Catacomb

Running up Running down
Walking through the streets
Wondering through the city
Debating the value
Searching for the meaning
Trickling water falls
The river runs through the tree's
The game begins
The line is thrown
The rod is set
The running is over
Meaning is found
Beaming is heard
The fight begins
The tug
The struggle
The fight says it all
A 36 inch
A woping one at that
The fight was worthless
A Chub
A bait
Wondering is over
The fight is over

As the day begans the sun raises in the sky
The lilltle one up running jumping playing
The engery you wish you had
The life you miss
The on going day
The on going drages and never ends
The children look at you
The love in their eyes changes you
The fear leaves
You can do this
You want to
The mondane is now the mircale of life
Growth in you're soul and they grow in their bodey's
In their eyes you see what you want to be
The day ends
The sun sets the moon raise's in the sky