Memories take hold
when the moment becomes still,
dear images from the past,
become today’s current thrill.

Archives taking refuge
in minds unable to let go,
another life,
to which every hour does owe.

Reflections of yesterday
escape into our lives,
a passenger of the present,
that sometimes still drives.

When the moment becomes still,
and memories take hold,
the paintings of the past,
become today’s new old.

The center of the sky,
my mind flutters
with the long, white, linen curtains dancing in the wind,
circulating the scents
of fabric softener
throughout open abodes.

It is there, I rest my back against
a centered Romanesque pillar,
casting it’s shadow upon the many
dried paint brushes
that color warm complexions
to the surface of the ground.

The surface of sound
echo’s
of wooden wind-chimes
soft reverb, complimenting
the zephyr’s breath,
fulfilling my heart
with a cucumber
freshness.

Breathless
walls
collapse,
and my soul
becomes
one
with the center of the sky.

Let go of the rabbit ears
and satellite dishes,
cable transports of terrorist militias.

Let go of this
polluting encyclopedia,
this box of brain rotting media.

Changing channels, reflect a violence,
of a world where politicians roar
and the honest are silenced.

Signals of hostility are hypnotizing our heads,
In turn,
turning our couches into brainwashing beds.

A murderer is set free
and an innocent accused.
“Watch today, on your local six o’clock news.”

…and couch potato fools,
Eating popcorn in the comfort of your rooms,
sitting there watching the massacre of schools,
you’re consumed
by the tubes countless costumes.

So please, let go of the
television’s buzz,
and release your right mind,
remove that static filled fuzz.

I see you hiding below your skin,
secretly waving to me to come hold you when
your tears fall revealing your soul
out from the chambers of bodily control
your cloak and dagger psyche pays me a visit
I see it, I know it, but I wonder what is it
connecting us so, I see it in your sparkle,
I feel it in your glow, your tears continue falling
revealing your soul
take my hand
and feel my whole
heart
and start to remember who you are,
where have you been, where are you now
allow it to burn, let it all go

listen to my voice
when I say,

“You are more then a memory,
you are the show.”

I threw myself off a building, donating my body to the air.
My cloths ripped off and went twirling, as did my head, with a tear.

My limbs twisted round, bending backwards into flames
and oh it felt good, compared to life’s wicked games.

With a hollow “thump,” my body smashed into the cold cement,
lifeless and raw, undoubtedly - my greatest descent.

I walk on butter bubbles
floating through park trees,
soaking wet,
my tongue between your knees.

You gasp in satisfaction,
You love it when I tease,
with the sun against your face
you say, “oh baby! again please.”

The air plucks your breasts,
creamy pink becomes rosy white,
irresistible sweet peaks,
why lick, when I can bite.

Moans echo through the grass
shaping into river streams,
toes curl,
and heaven hears your screams.

Rush and release,
flying through the air,
I walk on butter bubbles
creamy in the bare.

Sunrise,
an open window,
a warm morning summer breeze carries
the scent of breakfast bacon
throughout the house.

Her smile,
an open doorway,
her hair gently drifts upwards
warm and golden,
Sunrise.

Like the ocean waves
we once watched together,
my body too, now crashes,
against those rocks.

Like the mist of air
that caressed our faces as one,
my mind, drifts,
on that ocean breeze.

Like the time we waited for the sunrise
on new years morning,
my skin, lingers,
ready to rediscover your gentle touch.

Like the warmth
that glowed between our love filled eyes,
my heart, melts,
with every thought of you.

Our planet,
but a single pixel in space.
Our lives,
insignificant, or perfectly in place?

Little motions,
multiplying into megascopic reactions.
Little steps taken,
significant, or trite transactions?

I live on this pixel,
this pixel called, “Earth,”
and sometimes I wonder,
what it’s all worth.

Nuclear tear drops
on terrorist head chops
between drive-by gang shots
cloaked in government conspiracy plots,
a revolutionist is silenced,
his free thinking condensed,
they censored his genius,
for how dare he go against
their hearsay and rules,
their schools for proud fools,
their faith without glue,
a faith in which through
dirty looks they shunned him
for his honesty, so brim,
trimmed in good intentions,
free from fabled extensions,
he shined, and they shunned,
they gunned, so he hung,
he hung in the gory
glory
of his endless individual dimensions.