Tribulation does a strut,

Her kiss is sweet

When our hands touch,

It’s tentative, vulnerable

Our eyes revealing too much

Peeling back broken bridges

Cracked sidewalks in smoke hazy mirrors

Dark and shadowed places, her face

Fears and tears buried

Protected

Tributes to ancient tribulations

Scars that walk and talk

Past landscapes, flesh

Soul glide ride

Inside of a dream

Broken shells and

Caverned walls that bleed

I speak of beauty

Residual after shoots

of her eyes

forested mountains

mossy ponds licking meadows

I think sometimes

I think too much

Hollow no feel zone

Bleached bones

On beaches of ash

Tumbled words torn

From scar tissued throat

Belief following utterance

Jarbled sound bytes

My teeth crooked

And wayward

Jagged drips of venom

In the split tongue of a snake

Flickering, sensitive

Imparting whispers

From ethereal lips

To material hips

Nervousness is a disease

Something you ingest

In beginning toddler steps

And eyes that are still remembering

Somewhere else

And the words hit hard

Her exhale, breathing, uttering

“Go for it baby,

go for it”

and her shy glide eyes

say it all

trembling hand

smooth talking skin

ancient age in Saturn pout

and I shout

“You are a dream!”

sculptured curves

wondrous stars

soft sincerity, sanity

and her fingers skip down my chest

flick memories into skin

pain into disease

and she whispers

“Go for it baby,

go for it,

it’s love”

Bells rune the promise of our road

Sometimes in the slip of breath a dream takes to live...the moment is missed and the falling of flesh is an inevitable conclusion...I still remember her eyes..the way her hips swayed as she left....the moon was full in the sky and the breeze was gentle as soft jazz..my cave is an empty pocket in time with murals painting the story of a heart echoing eternity in the consistent thump of it's movement

and in it's melancholy dirge to the symphony of fate woven to the threads of untimely surrender I realize....the depth and truth of my spirit's rise is in direct correlation to the steps I have trekked....I am who I have trailed into as a sculpture of what has come before..I can flit runes on parchment and carry the hip holster of smoking iron due to the ghost towns I have stumbled through...and in the closing realization of my aspirations digging roots into reality's tether I come to the beautiful blessed truth that all things hold reason and pattern within their bones..and it is within that architecture that we truly spread feathered wonder to the meat of our existence....I am humbled...I am breath...I am where my soul should rest....

till the precipice of death rides the premise of my promise and all things fade into a ethereal song of history and serendipity....hallow is the hell that forms the creation of our beauty...let the bell roll thunder in toll of my burgeoning awakening...let the price never be too high for freedom...

Sunset Moon

It's a sunset on a sunday afternoon,

such a beautiful prelude to a beautiful moon.

It's a sunset on a sunday afternoon,

such a beautiful prelude to a beautiful moon

Her eyes were the color of the sky,

her lips as soft as when she said goodbye,

and here we go on this ride,

just a wild crazed soul upon the tide

And here we go on this ride,

just a wild crazed soul upon the tide

It was the memory of her wondrous face

it was the lingering sweetness of her taste

it was the midnight strolls upon the sand

it was the warm whispers holding hands

And yet here we walk along the road

our secret dreams still untold

sacred sleep in the deep of night

remembering kisses under candlelight

It's a sunset on a sunday afternoon,

such a beautiful prelude to a beautiful moon.

It's a sunset on a sunday afternoon,

such a beautiful prelude to a beautiful moon

Her eyes were the color of the sky,

her lips as soft as when she said goodbye,

and here we go on this ride,

just a wild crazed soul upon the tide

And here we go on this ride,

just a wild crazed soul upon the tide

And now we look upon the veil of time

her smile softly crooning a lullaby

so fleeting is the story of love

so strongly is it spoken of

and yet here we go with the rest of the show

It's long past time to let it go

to find new eyes and a new sunrise

to remember what it is to be alive

It's a sunset on a sunday afternoon,

such a beautiful prelude to a beautiful moon.

It's a sunset on a sunday afternoon,

such a beautiful prelude to a beautiful moon

God's Iron

A man stomps his way through the door, spurs digging wood, holster with cool iron as lean meat slapping thigh.....he rolls a sardonic whimsy and winks at butterfly girls grooving synchronized moves of sultry across a dust covered floor...he throws a fan of aces upon a table of grizzled men as he spits sin at their feet. "I've come for the tombs you've left behind...."

The scar pitched men of violent roads look up and laugh "we the sons of the devil boy, you best turn around and find a hole to hide yourself in"

The man of sideways grins and edged spurs and iron heating up on thighs laughs a mad mans thunder across the rafters.... "I'm Gods right hand devil spawn and your graves have been dug......let the choirs show you to their shallow mud"

He sends another wink at the butterfly girls sliding into a more frenzy provocateur of woven flesh as he sprays ecclesial prayers from now smoking iron clear of leather and thigh and opening truth in the sons of devils......

A fiddle starts playing a storm on the end of this folk tale.....tomorrow's are just yesterday's seen on strange looms

Paradox

I go to this bar three times a week

order my whiskey neat

tap my feet to the beat

from the good ole jukebox

You can find me in the back corner

under the small red light

weaving threads

drifting on tomorrows thru the night

I'm always alone in this sea of dreams

surrounded by people

trying to be anything other then what they seem

playing schemes to get in some girl's ice cream

I think about the world outside

think about the curvy girl that just walked on by

think about the coins slipping thru palms

think about the truths that can be found in psalms

and I wonder what that gypsy girl's name is

maybe it could be a pop quiz

and if i get it right, the evening could turn out alright

and i just might

This here's a paradox

a yin inside the yang

the cause that effects the cause

the movie playing while it's on pause

the song we never sang

bang bang

This here's a paradox

a yin inside the yang

the cause that effects the cause

the movie playing while it's on pause

the song we never sang

bang bang

I go to this bar three times a week

order my whiskey neat

tap my feet to the beat

from the good ole jukebox

You can find me in the back corner

under the small red light

weaving threads

drifting on tomorrows thru the night

I'm always alone in this sea of dreams

surrounded by people

trying to be anything other then what they seem

playing schemes to get in some girl's ice cream

I think about the world outside

think about the curvy girl that just walked on by

think about the coins slipping thru palms

think about the truths that can be found in psalms

and I wonder what that gypsy girl's name is

maybe it could be a pop quiz

and if i get it right, the evening could turn out alright

and i just might

This here's a paradox

a yin inside the yang

the cause that effects the cause

the movie playing while it's on pause

the song we never sang

bang bang

This here's a paradox

a yin inside the yang

the cause that effects the cause

the movie playing while it's on pause

the song we never sang

bang bang

bang bang

bang bang

I shot the sherriff dead

He was my best friend

Death, Doors & Love

Silly shuffles along the creases of a smile....joy is a coin tossing off arthritic hands in the hope of a tomorrow expelling breath in these tumultous lands, it is a narrowing of eyes and a spark of spirit in jubilation of revelry in boundless arcs of dreaming one's fate........in knowing our path is a choice of foot finding purchase in the actions of revelation within one's pursuit of alchemy, in the catalytic transition into what one has aspired since birth from womb......since Creation laid it's scar worn hands upon the flesh you ride in thermal translocation into the ever ever of the loom's profound imprint upon your luminescent uplifting into all you hold to breast and chest and mind and shine in the surcease movement of incindiery blandishments in the cave crawl traipse of your spiraling ascent into all you believe to tread......it is a warm love in an old book you have read and bookmarked in the passage of your truth to the eternal embers charcoaled in the firmament of your burgeoning lullaby......into the symphonic rendering of your unique artistry in the skein of this world you are forever brush painting your threads upon.........the door is your death and first breath and cosmic jest to the byways of crossroads in the test that shall reap your rest in the fluttering angelic pursuance of all the gifts you were tokened to change what has been wrought, to buy back what has been bought.....to show humanity still has a kernal of the divine within it's corrupted flesh, and that we, as a people, can sculpt still, can remake that which was lost so long ago, that honor and respect and humility and courage and benevolance are still striations within our form, within our cognizance, within our butterfly break into dawn's beautific hello..........Love to love as love is loved...

Gopher

There’s a gopher I know

Who comes out of his hole

Never loses control, no

He goes for it, ohhh he goes for it

I step out my door

Pathetically slow

Late night morning

After the show

I’m losing it, ohh I’m losing it

Didn’t think I could stop

Didn’t think I could fall

Didn’t see my next step

Inside four walls

You never tried to help me out

You never called

Didn’t see my next step

Didn’t think I could fall

Didn’t even think it was hard to do

To face your fears in songs of blue

I’m losing it, ohh I’m losing it

There’s a window in my floor

Separated in four

Candy colored eyes

Pain that cries

I’m losing it, ohh I’m losing it

Didn’t think I could stop

Didn’t think I could fall

Didn’t see my next step

Inside four walls

You never tried to help me out

You never called

Didn’t see my next step

Didn’t think I could fall

Didn’t even think it was hard to do

To face your fears in songs of blue

I’m losing it, ohh I’m losing it

Got nothing to hold so I go for it all

And I fall, oh I fall

All the way home

Back in your hole

I fall

Tonguing the hopes of love in the sacrifical bliss of a kiss.......sweet as sweat

Sometimes I count the steps to the emptying of the bottle......look back at the garbage strewn roads I have traversed....gaze upon the suns that have yet to set upon my horizon.....Romance is a trick that plays itself on the diadems of a rhoulette spinning pilfering fingers across the patterns of complex weaves spelling out heart strings playing muted melodies one must stretch ears to pick up....the curves of her sanctified flesh and the startling truth of the beauty crawling itself across her spirit leave me pondering laws of harmonious isolation I had laid across my path for the eternity of feet falling forward through the stimulation of breath......never in the parting of lips from tongue and teeth have I exhaled the possibility of meeting a woman who would so benevolantly sculpt herself into the lucidity of unquenchable dream....I wait for the balloon to explode it's concrete across the painted landscape of the miraged illussion that must be cloaked within this vision.....I wait for the pin to shed it's slow mo fall to the tinny echo of formica bouncing hard truths to the breaking of this sand woven castle......but in the deep hidden forest havens of my sleep driven hopes I count the ticks of wishes I have saved in unread scrolls that the probability of impossibility can find purchase in a field fornicated in blood strewn characture...that it can and will stretch it's fabric into a surreal etch rune of flesh hip skipping itself into the cement of a moon spoon fed lute licked song of culmination and gifting of love to the sacrificial roads and honor I have laid as tokens along the gutter high step of this long sand swell.......I bend scar covered knees and wounded seas to the butterscotch lollipop burgeoning of this swan lit oh so supple lick the heart in tender gentle breeze........send hot iron pistol shots to the flickers of light illuminating the sky to a for once in my life know carved lines of palm reading highs....that in the end of this improbable tale that what I see is what I get...and that when her eyes dance upon my hips...that it is.......love on her lips....cause that unheard of skip slip trip I would for sure as a radio hit...take a sip...deeply....and forever...