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a wreath for the widow no one to hold
she travels stone to stone
making sure they're neat as a pin
bushes covering bone
she says somehow they hear her there
it's the place she's not alone
she pours out her heart and feels their response
then returns to her hollow home

she pours out her heart
and feels their response
energy flooding back
in waves and torrents
like rain washing through
refreshing the air
she knows that people
essentially care
she knows that love
is not so rare
it flows in our blood
it's the joy we bear
she sees it shine
and blind with its glare
it flows from the heart
when we fall apart
rising from within
birthing compassion

thanks for the reminder CJ-


---------


in waves and torrents
we best run like hell
for their misdirected incompetence
is not something we are quite designed
to deal with
directly

i love you mom
where did i go wrong?
was it the lack of hair cuts?
the reefer in the tomato patch?
or the utter oblivion
toward the status quo?
sorry if it hurt your feelings.

happy birthday woody
as i trip on the porch
over your insight and promise
reaching for my guitar
certain of
a better tomorrow

-------

"this machine kills fascists" (wg)
i love you, woody.

a better tomorow a brighter today
some food in my belly and Im on my way
into the sunset I soar along blue
and watch the stars while I think of you
may we be blessed with abundant love
that carries us on the wings above~

some food in my belly and Im on my way
when im full my sarcasm retreats in the cay
i can blink what i think with nuthing to say
and not smash dead on the pavement

roughshod thought dead on the steet
feeding the world with belts of wheat
nothing to trust divorced from deciet
it' will be cold when i enlist in enslavement

^^^ love that last line... I hear ya sweet man; I think so anyway.

when im full my sarcasm retreats in the cay
I play out my patience and watch what I say
empathy flows and the end of the day
comes with no regret
but when I am empty my edge starts to rise
what I keep from my lips shows in my eyes
instead of relating I wear a disguise
then go home to forget
so I walk the path of satisfaction
filling up on loves attraction
kissing you a grand distraction
allowing me my outlet

what I keep from my lips shows in my eyes
now I know my mum could see through my lies
the web was spun but I thought it was fun
to do what I wished except use a gun

now I knew not to play with just anyone
though the naughty men caught my attention
the ones who lived with some deception
and rarely stopped for self-reflection

my mum could see through my lies, it seems
(some of them at least)
that would explain the time i got visine
in my christmas stocking with
a lump of coal at fourteen
my response at the time was
something along the lines of
"i hope i die before i get old'

alas, i was wrong and did get old
(at least by the standards the day)
without need of visine in over 20 years
yet having killed off enough brain cells
for the remaining ones to have the space
to realize that the truth of the world
is twice as surreal as any hallucination

yet having killed off enough brain cells
the ones that still remain
not stifled by dead brothers
manage to maintain
they don't feel overcrowded
they've got some elbow room
they don't have to fight so hard
to be heard across the room
they glide across in two step
and tango now and then
they seem like happy campers
me, myself and them