An Ode to Water.
A dip into healing meditation
warm water cascades over me
and my skin glitters like silver scales
flashing bright like diamonds
washing me anew
breathing new life into aching flesh
dancing over me
gentle like reeds along the shore
I submerge like a pearl in sea of liquid gold
refreshed I rise
a crystal swan in a sky of suns.

Mosaic Children.
Elegantly she floats
into my atmosphere
lace like blown in
a curtain riding the cool night wind
she's nebulous and naked
and I wonder where she's been.

An Orchard of Private.
I have declared myself unsafe
unsound
unknown
unwanted
unnecessary
I've been condemmed
I am unsafe.

Limbs and Love.
Tossing and turning
in sheets you quiver
sodden under heavy blankets
the darkness it lingers and consumes,
but the morning is yet to dawn
with everything that it implies.

Looking Silently.
Alone
  and scattered
    and scared
      broken and bound by the world
        you finally find a friend
          someone not of the chaos,
        but tender moments they pass too soon
      and hope is but a flicker
    but you never even tried.

The Other Flowers.
Swirls in the wind
do nothing to hide
my raging within
and a flower that blooms
is a flower that dies
all the fragile
vivid blooms
that live for just a few hours,
I can't help but think
what a waste of beauty
living its life
on the same old lies.

Reaching for Nothing.
Digging through the rubble
searching for hope
even though hope
seems like a blurred emotion
better left off
to the somnambulists
who often live their lives
in a haze of damp regrets.

Nothing Ever Changes.
Carrying on
like we don't see
we're both staring
at the end of a story
a fait accompli,
and I'm not certain
I like how this story ends.

Nevertheless.
Sunrise,
steady me
so I can move through this world.
Sunrise,
inspire me
blow me away
by what you unfurl.

I Have the Option to Leave.
You're staring at me
but all I see is a battlefield
of conflicted emotions
and your lips they move to speak
but your words cut deeper than knives
and it feels like I'm freezing in a house set on fire.

And those roses you gave me
have all turned black
clouded by your lies
I hold them close
but they crumble at my touch
as the visions were foretold
but my stubborn heart was never good at listening
and I waited,
as you floated somewhere between hope and despair
while the flames grow higher and consume me entirely.

Now all that remains
are the littered memories
your twisted words
like an echo
a train through a canyon
causing a landslide
tangling me within
whirring like a hurricane
blurring the skies
and turning green fields black
all I can do,
is turn away
as those bridges quietly burn.

Listen to the Voices.
When the night is as dark as the thoughts that I keep
unable to sleep
I find salvation in the white knuckles on my steering wheel
and the lights that flash by scorch my eyes like fires from falling down satellites
as forgiveness teeters at the edge but then slowly winds away
a deer waits silently on the border of the black.

Staring at the passing headlights
time is torn apart
shattered and broken
like memories rudely awoken in a canyon of wakeful dreams
and a vision on a mountain of crystalline salt
burns in an open wound
here lies the nuance of a heartbeat
pulled from a field like a handful of daisies.

So I sleep outside by the side of a giant tree
and a voice it speaks to me from the marrow of my soul
it is the vaudeville of my heart
filling the fractured, starless night with a burlesque song and dance
with hopes that the subtle hints sent through the Heavens above
from a hollow soul with open veins
will find you tripping and falling back into my arms.

Fumbling.
The darkness
is illuminated
by the
moonlight,
star lights,
headlights,
tail lights.
Look how
everything
is just so
b  e  a  u  t  i  f  u  l
tonight.

A Lone Frame Stands At the Brink of Nothingness.
You settle for less than fascination with anyone who looks like they possess a heartbeat. As those tungsten stars reflect in your eyes, you dance with strangers and you give them hope they might be the one. The strange new flesh you hold onto is interesting but it isn't the one you want to be holding. You teach your heart to ignore this. And it does as you paint on your best smile onto cherry coloured lips. But it fails to disguise the true hurt you feel inside. And when they dim the lights at closing time, stripping shadows of any hiding place, you agitate and search for the blackness and temporary comfort of blankets. Your shelter is an empty bed where you lay down an impression of loneliness. Where you curl into a tiny little ball hoping you won't inconvenience anyone by taking up too much space. But you wake up in the middle of the night and realise that you are indeed alone. And there's noone there to steal the blankets from. There's noone to snuggle up to. There's noone to share the darkness with. Flip open your phone and let the light of that small display burn your face while your eyes adjust to the offensive light. Look for that particular number, the one that's tattooed onto your brain and ghost your fingertips over the call button. Think awhile, "Should I call? Shouldn't I call?"

A Trade for the Thoughts In Your Heart.
Letting it all sink in
dragging my shadow behind me
and existing between probable and possible
I don't mind stepping into the great unknown
but an almost hello doesn't count for much
and you know I hate living in the gray areas of maybe
wishing and hoping that in those moments of painful hesitation
something that looks like love might fall through
but this living in limbo is like living in hell
caught between a rock and a could've, would've, and should've
at least in hell you know you're dead
here in the waiting room there's no consolation for the living
every second feels like a lifetime
I swear that I'm betting on the real thing
but why do I always walk away with nothing
and like a fool I place my hopes in one basket
hoping a memory might save me
from going insane.

I Keep My Eyes Closed.
We don't speak anymore
but I still hear every word you said
those stinging nettles they hurt like hell
I sit in these dreams
and I know you're not listening
but right now I wish you would save me
on days when my thoughts
feel like a stranger I'd rather not know
and when my last flicker of hope
dies out like the cigarette I stub
so I turn up the TV to drown out your voice
but nothing helps
I'm too tired to resist
the pull of the waves and I'm drifting off course
without a compass, without a sail
into the unknown where everything takes me back,
to you.

Beauty At A Distance.
Alone outside
standing on the dying embers of what is left of a perfect day
a gentle breeze blows through my thoughts
clearing the haze
amplifying the silence and doubts inside my head
distraction forces the emptiness away
there's nothing more to say
as I watch the storm approach
clouds as heavy as drapes roll in
and soon rain blankets the earth
lightning cracks
I'll flinch in the semi darkness
as the grass turns electric under my feet
the leaves dance orange and red
encircling me like confetti on fire
igniting an old memory
soft and bittersweet it rises to the surface
I hope you understand why I shiver
with a mix of awe and fear
at its impending power and threat
but I remain as still as possible
ignoring the danger
because nothing compares to the burning in my head.

An Abundance of You.
You,
are the dark circles beneath my eyes
from spending too many nights
wishing you were here
instead of there.

          You,
          are the hitch in my breath
          when someone mentions your name
          and the smile that invades my face
          when I think of the things you do.

                    You,
                    are the shiver down my spine
                    as I recall those magic moments
                    when being close to you
                    was never quite close enough.

                              You,
                              are the regret I will always have
                              a wound that just won't heal
                              as permanent as a tattoo
                              the ghost that remains
                              you,
                              are everywhere.

My Thoughts Are Now My Own.
And it hits you
like a cold hard slap
or a pang of guilt
like the memory of an old lover you discarded
and it echoes in the void of your chest.

You'll feel the warmth spread
slowly outwards
and it will scald
and it will burn
consuming you inch by inch
until you find new life growing
like wildflowers
from the soot
and the ashes left behind.

And yet you still wish
upon the stars
hoping they'll give you some absolution
but don't you see they don't exist
the only stars are the ones in your eyes.

And those knots in your heart
they are weighing you down
but that's just ice
waiting to thaw.

So sit in the sun
and soak it all in
but before you do
I must tell you this
forget your heart
forget your skin
forget your love
forget every thing
forget your dreams
they will lead you astray
but sweet child do remember
if I come knocking
please let me in.

Kitchen Poetry # 67.
There is a cave
where the broken hearted mourn
the love they gave away
and like a beam of light
from a solitary lighthouse
as it pierces the darkness of an endless night
their cries are carried on the wind
shattering the silence with howls of pain and woeful songs
tempting young hearts to try in vain
as poison vines wrap around their souls.