Where Does my Lama Go?

I cannot stay here at the monastery.
The renunciate's life is in secluded mountain retreats.
And wherever I find that silent cave,
It will not be home.

The home of the yogi is the Western Buddhafield
When he has quit samsara.
It is all to spread Dharma as long as I breathe.
It is all to roam.

Two Minds: Decision

I am of two minds tonight:
There is a pen held in my right hand
And in my left a light
To turn this green-form Buddha
Into smoker's delight.
I suppose I've already decided:
To write.

Tower

Then were there clocks
Counting two and fro
To incessant heels on rocks.
I had an appointment
In two days, two minutes,
two seconds. I was late.
He must have checked his watch.
I ran at uneven paces
To the rendez-vous
As the tower chimed fifteen.
He couldn't wait anymore
He left.
I screamed.

La Poesie

I dream bad dreams in sleep.
They may be mitigated but for their
Carrying over into waking.
No shaking of head nor drowning nor running culls them.
My dreams are poisoned by the unfulfilment I drink.
I sit and hold my head in palm and think.

You release me from my wrongdoings.
When I hold this instrument of ideas
I can give away my troubles to a perfectly white page.
The mind feels cleaner and light,
Oh what peacefulness there is to write.

Schrodinger's Thought

The mind is an opaque box:
Within is the cat,
Without is the lock.
A passer-by may blab and talk,
And merry on with no response
From mulling feline so ensconced.
If so inclined by empathy,
This speaker may end willingly
His diatribe and turn the key
To his companion's unknown state,
And for response attend and wait.
Within the walls the wild gears
Of clanging thoughts will disappear.
The hatch will swing and open up,
Coalescence renders clear,
The cat half live and half corrupt
Turns out to be a pretty pup!

Mona, once my Dear, at the Party

I saw you through shoulders dear.
The mass sprayed loudness,
But I heard your call.
Seated, you were looking up, smiling,
Orb-eyed and mouth wide like you used to do with me.
You seemed excited dear,
Your heart seemed healed.
Who he was I still don't know.
I didn't ask my partner nor say hello
To you. You seemed happy.
Your black lashes fluttered skyward,
And your hair arced to your chest.
Some noiser blocked my view,
I sidled to the left to resume.
You were laughing a sweetness disarming to taste.
I smiled too then took my date's hand and turned away.
I assume you didn't notice me.
I suppose I'll never catch your face again.
the end.

Detox and Departing for College

The hot bronze leapt out of the mold,
Imagining it could be gold,
And to its deft sculptor it told,
"My beauty is mine to behold,
My form's beyond you to control,
I'll decide for myself how I'm rolled."
The decades of weather and cold
Will change my fresh look into old,
I'll require for peace of mind then
To know it was me who had been
My ruler and all around guard
Who, dealt to, played well my own cards.

The hot bronze leapt out of the cast,
Leaving behind what had past,
Remembering his sculptor's remarks
On what could make joints break apart,
And how one defines a good art,
How one should render his duty,
And what in good taste reflects beauty.

Eighteen

Toking, chatting,
Killing hours,
Smoking, laughing,
Sniffing flowers,
Those with answers
Think we haven't listened,
If these and rhymes
Are wasting time,
What isn't?

Affirmation

You are unique
In your own special way.
Your body's physique
And your mind's walks astray.
All that you do
And everything you say.
Let nothing seduce
Yourself from what it may.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall

Every wall that man has ever built
Has gone the way of amateur on stilts.

Still

The pondering individual remains the only notion.
Lonely, one has just himself to share in all emotion.
A twinkling speck among the pod above an evening ocean.
In dreams alone a man can know his neighbor and approach him.

Ecclesiastical

I sat once alone, without friends,
And having no company or destination
My mind got to wandering:
The flow of time, it seems,
Resembles water running over rocks,
Washing away the piles land has driven up
Like John Henry hammering with two picks
Or a mason mortaring brick on brick.
Shelters are good, yes, I don't dispute;
But is there not more beauty in a wild butte?
Everything I've made will someday subside.
I do not pride myself in thinking that
My work will be eternal. The surface isn't.
The drawings I create will be erased,
But the principles I draw from will last.
Everything God made was good,
But times have changed, But God is not dead.
It is a man's job to die.
The Earth the Lord has given us is swell,
So why in unlit prisons do we dwell?

The Pothead

At seventeen
He found the answer:
Smoke on green
Then die of cancer.

Nicomachean Farce

Aristotle
Sipped a bottle,
"To hell with virtue,
Fun won't hurt you.
Hedonism
That's my motto,
Oh lowly slave:
Send in the models!"

Ballad of some Broken Dreams

Quitting can be hard, you see,
When boxing with a pipe it seemed
Was everything could ever be
And all in life I'd ever need.

To dream a lofty far off goal,
Something I would never tell
But kept within my wrinkled soul
Seeming more and more like hell.

Cutting off the ball and chain
Appeared to me the brighter side,
Ending the internal pain,
Restoring trust and long-gone pride.

But when the time to tell the truh
Came and went, the bitter scene
Did less to aching heart give soothe
Than rock and hard place wedge between.

Here on hand my smoking friends
Who, though in sin we took our fun
Chilling in the ill-known den,
Were in my life the only ones,

And on this side here gravely stood
The mom and man who'd been providers.
Their faith I'd smeared across like blood
Of egg-laying ignorant spiders.

And when alone, I fought myself:
Had my actions ruined life?
In what condition lay my health?
All I knew was anxious strife.

But conversation proved the key,
I spoke of these with those the wiser,
The answer to the mystery
Was tell the truth, not turn a miser.

So choices made are often wrong,
Adolescence throws us curves,
One must shift the path he's on
Or else become a boil of nerves.
Someday I will blaze again,
But not today my friends,
But not today my friend.

Addiction

A greasy merchant grins
At a lovely young lady in white.
He licks his lips in sin
And says her location is right.
"What have I here for a damsel
Like yourself? See all the trinkets
On display upon my shelf."
Her fingers that were sent
To town to fetch a loaf
Are diverted by his sash
And the language he emotes.
Then raising up her eyes
From beneath their trusting lashes,
She motions with her hand,
"I'll take both.
Mother will be mad that I am late,
But mother can wait."

The world turns

The sun rises, the night ends,
The world turns,
A baby is born, a junkie collapses,
The world turns,
A child scrapes his knee, a mother mends,
The world turns,
A murderer goes free, a rapist is caught,
The world turns,
Friends part, bonds deform,
The world turns,
Gun battles are waged, committees confer,
The world turns,
The pious pray, a skeptic scoffs,
The world turns,
A dog barks, a horn honks,
A boy smokes, a man coughs,
A jet roars, a roach runs, a plant grows,
Dusk glows and the sun sets
Though really doesn't move at all
As the world turns.

Celestial Buoyance

How sad it be
That the man in the moon
Is alone we see,
So he should feel a loss,

To have no friends,
And no woman waiting,
No cause for ammends,
Nor boy-size ball to toss.

His visage, yet,
Humbly emulates noon.
His smile shines forget,
Emits ethereal gloss,

For what white orb
In Earth or holy Skies
Can resist absorb
God's ambrosaic sauce?

It's like waking up

It's like waking up,
When I have to leave,
An incisive alarm
My present self must sheathe.
Your dreamy wrap surrounds me
And my body feels you breathe.
It's tempting not to rise just yet,
To match the sleepy heave,
But the busy world demands me
And has rung my rusty bell.
Though if I had the time
I'd reside beside you still.

Gladiator

Head reclined,
He closed his mouth and looked resigned.
I prodded at his arm,
Reminding him the time,
His own unfortunate alarm.
He didn't move,
Then nodded once like this,
As if to approve.
His plating scraped,
And his motions turned to lines.
The trapdoors parted
Amidst the masses' shouts.
The armor started
Beneath the sun to shine.

Perchance to Dream

What are you doing?
I'm writing my friend,
Stroking black ink on
Blank paper with pen.
What, though, is the purpose
Of this earthly toil,
It's useless to drafting
Or seeding the soil.
Even a housemaid
Brings water to boil!
Oh friend, dear friend,
Why cannot you see
The worthiness of poetry?
The keeper, the sower,
The draftsman in turn
Their daily wages
Duely earn,
And like the vulture
Tearing to the bone,
A man subsists
Beyond his bread alone.

What remained

The yellow shards, jagged.
The purple base, standing still,
A staunch shattered blade
Receiving rites, entombed within
A black backpack, half-closed,
Half-draped over the promontories
Of what remained.

The man, sitting. The sofa, sinking.
The eyes, set, open, empty.
The fingers, long and twiddling
A blue Bic over and under,
Over and under. A low base note
Echoing in the skull. Above
And ahead, the grey walls,
The studded stucco walls
Smeared with charcoal and dust.
The body, silent, lame.
The mind lingering on
The song's last phrase,
The bong's last days.
The stare.

As far to east as west proceeds

As far to east as west proceeds,
As far to north as south projects,
In your whispers I'll believe,
Your silent touch I won't forget.

Chain Smoke

Tap tap tap on your cigarette
To the beat of fallen embers.
Chatter in the background.
Inhale, hold, exhale, again.
Tame the flaming fury
With your man lungs.
Defeat the sting of nicotine
On your pink gums.
Ahhhhh, satisfaction.
Ahhhhh, satisfaction.
The label burns until
It is unrecognizable
Even by its own mother.
The feeling's stopped. Huh?
Light another, light another.
What were you saying?
Continue,
Yes.

Ah Vieille Nice

In the street
You can scent the wet salt
Mixing in harmony
With the dripping edifices'
Antique grime.
Turn right and follow
The alley down narrow steps
Deeper into the
Green and red rimmed thicket.
Here's a vendor wiping
His skinny fingers on a
White waistcloth. "Du café monsieur!"
Shirts, soap, perfume,
Bouillabaisse and linen,
And God too stays the
Night, boarding on
The steps de la cathédrale.
There! The arch!
The road and
Beach and sea beyond.
I'm home. The pebbles
Are smooth to the sole.
This is my home.

Nothing Vulgar

There's nothing vulgar
About the way she parts her lips,
Or how her skirt hugs her hips,
Swooshing back and forth,
Defining her thighs.
And her eyes know something you don't,
A joke she could tell you but won't.
Where would that leave the fun?
The tongue that utters no sound,
But drops a load on a scabbed heart
As it curls and slips its way around
The teeth that like a cat's can bite,
But rather find it right to kiss. Just
Not the likes of a looker-on,
Pining with orbs like jelly,
Fixed under penalty of dissolution.
Those blue obsessions, I'm sure I saw them flicker,
For a moment when he said that,
But all politeness and flattery,
She holds out for more than less.
She knows how to wear a spring dress,
And I dream of a tender caress
That must abide within her arms unless
Some rook in her life has made a mess.
I'll ring his neck and carry her off
Into the sunset. Like ancient Greeks of fame,
If I can gather the nerve to ask her name.

Once

Once when we were young,
And our paths were yet unpaved,
I made for you a smile,
You tossed me back a wave.

A furtive glance perchance,
I wouldn't call it that,
You lingered for a moment,
I couldn't turn my back.

The knight in me approached you,
But chivalry is dead,
My legs were caught in motion,
My neck it turned my head.

The weather's getting warmer,
And still I'm growing old,
My wife is calling for me,
My coffee's gotten cold.

Why?

I'm smoking for hiding,
Running from something bright,
Clinging to old habits
Cuz what's chasing me is light.
It's nothing that's alien, I know it alright,
But the site I recoil at just over the shoulder
Makes my hands cover my eyes,
And I pull my cloak closer
To keep the heat to not ignite.
It's like sometimes it's quiet,
And then I can just run free,
But sometimes it's problems,
And then I blow the trees
Cuz problems don't mix right with me.
So it all boils down
To what defines a victory.

Price

If you say 2+2 is 5,
I think me and that can jive
If you'll admit that God's alive.

In Class

Happy, said I,
The kind of stand-up guy
I'd like to meet, and befriend.
Then she put the end,
He's immature, naive, and superficial.

Sheepherder

Shepherd's hey, shepherd stay,
To tend your waiting flock.
A watchful eye is needed
For a favorable stock.

Shepherd do you hear the howling,
Barking far away?
Recall an ardent keeper's hand
Will keep the wolves at bay.

Shepherd have your job in mind,
Remember what should pass.
Resist the sloth temptation
To lay upon the grass.

Shepherd do you see the infant
Suckling its milk?
A mother nurses babies
Like a spider spins its silk.

Shepherd you're the captain,
You control the lambs.
Don't tolerate rebellion.
Punish anxious rams.

Shepherd keep an eye out.
Shepherd know the time.
Shepherd bring 'em all home,
And shepherd you'll do fine.

Teenage Revolution

Listen to Jimi Hendrix,
Don't listen to your parents.
Listen to Bob Dylan,
Don't listen to your friends.
Listen to Jesus Christ,
Don't listen to Adolf Hitler.
Listen to Siddharta the Buddha,
Don't listen to Mao Zedong.
Listen to the sound of the rain,
Don't listen to motors.
Listen to morning birds,
Don't listen to gunshots.
Listen to nothing,
Don't listen to noise.
Listen to me,
Listen to yourself.

I was born to sail the seas

I dream in an endless deep deep sea
Of chop and surf and spit,
And the wet air licks my skin with salt,
And the tumult rocks the ship,
And the wonders of the ocean floor
I struggle hard to see,
And I stare at the glassy blue-eyed surface,
And it stares right back at me.

I was born to be a sailor,
And a sailor I will be.
I was born to be a sailor
To sail the ocean sea,
And even if the waters
Will drown their mysteries,
To Sinbad I aspire,
John Paul Jones I do admire,
And my life's work I won't flee,
For I was born to be sailor,
And a sailor I will be.

To my Blooming Rose

In your life you must have seen many places,
Ran many races,
Heard many cases,
Loved on a regular basis,
And in your face I see two faces.

I see your mother's wit,
And your father's stare
Searching for which broken pieces
Go where. I see your hair
Glimmering like a china plate.
You're beautiful. I see something
In you, but something that makes you wait.

I see an artist
Trying her hardest
To break new ground,
To lose herself
And not be found,
To hear the ancient drummer's sound,
To hear it played and play
Her own flute louder,
To leave the powder by the mirror
And become prouder
Than all that she fears.

You're beautiful,
Cooling water of a mirage oasis.
You're beatiful,
The awaited object of many my paces.
You're beautiful,
But in your face abide two faces.

The Meaning of Lifelessness

Girls are idiots,
Tried and true,
Through and through.
Man's power rests
In "I love you",
Then pressing breasts
On his hot chest,
"I love you too."
It's time to settle down
And nest.

Gold

For all the blood spilt over its possession,
All the fiends cast in pursuit of and obsession,
(I value dirt more though less shiny)
You'd think that we'd have learnt our lesson.

Divorce

Man's broken dominion
Over his lovely counterpart.
He must hear her opinion
As in Bishop's "One Art".

Dead Horses

To Mexico never go.
When your wallet's gone,
And your thirst is strong,
You'll know.

Cold Turkey

The simple bliss
Of forgetfullness
Above all else
Is what I miss.

Secret Places

I try and I fail I feel;
It's time to retreat.
Too often has the sting
Of insult and mock
Ruffled my feathers
And made dull my bright countenance.
I'm going away.

I'll remove myself from scrutiny,
Withdrawn from the world,
Seperated from the real.
Cached in a dugout somewhere
Where the mind's trespassings
Go without rebuke,
And silence is the single rule.

Noise and clutter are the norm.
I seek shelter from that trifling storm.
Vain and selfish the human race is,
So I steal myself to secret places.

Swollen Eye Sockets

You look abstract today.
Is that a compliment?
It's what you want it to be.
I want to be free.

The moon is a gaping hole in the sky

The moon is a gaping hole in the sky
Through which heaven's glow rains down,
And God smiles upon the night,
And men cower and frown,
For night is when the bandits come
From every ill-bred hollow
To steal the little kiddies' toys
To keep and not to borrow.
Night is when the female flesh
Hits the bricks to prey
On innocent, honest white boys
To be their virgin lay.
And way above in heaven
God regards his land
And weeps the tears of sorrow
For the tyranny of man.

Around the piano

Around the piano
Men are standing,
Men are sitting
To hear the new tempos
Of Monsieur Caprizy
Who brags it was easy
By fiddle and meddle
To compose his most moving
Concerto Larghetto.

Monsieur strikes the keys
And jostles his knees
To sound the legatos
That open ears do please.

L'homme là lights a smoke
And tries not to choke
Or cough his throat clear
For the music he hears
Evokes pity and tears
That reflect off his face
Like a vanity mirror.

His motions are smooth.
His melodies sooth.
I wish I could stay
But the note's he's just played
Had the marked tone of finale.

Father

By the first three
There was light,
There was land,
And there was sea.

Then came the birds,
The fish, the plants,
The trees. The beasts
Of land and
All of these.

Then the Lord,
With greatest ease,
Created Adam
And his wife Eve.
So He could have
A race of men
To love as children
And tend His
Garden Eden.
There was no want
Of food nor drink,
No extremity
Of season,
Yet how did they
This gift repay
But with heresy
And treason?

Then God cupped His hands
So no one could see
The power of
His majesty.

Paradise lost.
Now sinner repent!
For next time we see Him,
We'll be at The End.

High School

The kind of girl
Who wouldn't blush
But strokes her hair again
With brush.

Absence

I'm Switzerland.
While others stomp their feet,
I go skiing
At my Alpine retreat.

Where were we wandering before

Where were we wandering before,
In the autumn and winter months?
Your wings were then a shield to me
From the realities of March.

No matter if the cold wind blew,
I hadn't but to think of you,
And happiness, my bird of song, I knew.

But Spring has come alas too soon.
While poppies in the meadows bloom,
Inside their eggs the fledglings scratch
And seek their infant bonds to crack.

So young nests will be broken down,
And none should mourn or cry.
Wingspans must be folded out
So babes may learn to fly.

Eine Klein Nach Musik

A blue canvas bare
Leaned on a chair.
"You have to look at what's not there."

Relief

This hose I aim's
My pride and shame.
I play a game
To write my name.

Bud

Why is it I take delight
In introducing widow white
To artificial firelight?

Babble

My foreign friend
Held no rung
On the ladder of
The English tongue,
So one lone spell
I taught him well:
Simply just,
"I was takin' a piss."
For who can find
Himself in deep
If he keeps in mind
This phrase to repeat.

He stayed with me
For seasons three,
And by that time
He spoke just fine.
His English rythymn
Kept in time,
And almost equalled
That of mine.

On the eve
Of his flight back
To his native habitat,
We were on
An empty street,
Chillin' out and
Smokin' reef
When brights go on
And cops we see.
Skeet.

I dragged the J
Then let it toss,
Hoping we could
Play this off.
By then the cops
Were within reach.
One yelled firstly
"Where's the weed!
And whose rights
Do I need to read?"
"Yours?" he screamed
And stared at me,
"Or yours?" he turned
His glance to Guy.

Something in his
Fearful face
Made the cop put
Hand to mace
And utter words
With pithy grace,
"What were you just doing
At this place?"

I still cannot
Define the cause
Of what would make
Mon ami pause
And offer up
As his reply
"I was takin' a piss."
A stupid lie!
Why not come
Clean or deny?
There's no profit
In poking eyes.
I thought these things
But spoke them not.
My collar itched
And bothered hot.

"What'd you say
You little punk?"
A tight fist clenched,
And Guy it struck.
A sucker shot
Straight to the gut.
And then a knee to
My friend's nose.
His head flew back
And smacked the road.

"Alright you kids,"
He proceeded to say,
"That's enough problems
From you for the day.
I don't want to see you,
Stay out of my way."
Then the cops got inside,
And their car sped away.

Whenever you visit
A foreign land,
Learn the local
Customs and,
Don't provoke the
Wolves at hand.

Pearl Harbor

My fellow Americans,
It would make sense,
In light of this morning's untidy events,
To call for attacks on Japan to commence,
So across the Pacific they'll be sure of it hence
Our boys can put up a proper defense!

Spring

Forget the groundhog,
He doesn't know.
I'll tell by the cut
Of womens' clothes.

Look at the birds of the air

Locking myself in a house I hope's empty
Save me. The key brings the lock to latch
Sounding the violent crash of bolt to brass,
A signal I use to alert haunters
That I'm home, and it's time to scamper off.
But they never do seem to scamper off
Or do any less than threaten me
Behind every door I open and
Within every dark room I can't see in.
They're always behind me, standing, as a rule,
As if verging on confrontation.
I can only spin my head so many times
Before uneasiness sets in. In
Bed too they will lurk and lie in wait
For my dreaming and vulnerable thoughts
To be hoaxed into concern and excitation.
I must try to sleep now but we'll see,
For the worst like to set in at night.

What profanity

What profanity
And vanity I'd have to be
To give account of all about
Me and lover's moans and shouts
Just to ease your worthless doubts
Of a love well shared by she and me.

I'm not sure if you've heard the rumor

I'm not sure if you've heard the rumor,
But truth be told there's just two humors:
One is blue and labelled satisfaction.
The other's frustration and its company inaction.

It is too late

It is too late.
I have taken too long to bed,
And now I cannot shut my eyes
For fear of being tired when I wake.
Out my window stands a broad gate,
Spear-sharped, long and lank.
Shadows inhabit its grates,
So where in light surety waits,
In its place illusions my mind creates.

A frequenting tom
Is again on the prowl,
Pouncing his way down the rough concrete aisle.
He jumps on my barrier and guards me with stare,
As the moonlight allumes the bleached hue of his hair,
'Til the shriek of an errant call gives him a scare.
His paw lands on the peak of a pin iron pike.
A silent reaction echoes shrilly through the night,
And with no meow he leaps away.
I'm sleepy now, so long today.

Advice

I am a traveler,
Long since wandering through woods.
In the cold and hot
Whether drenched in rain or hit by hail
I walk.
In my years of traveling
Seldom have I stopped,
And the several times I have
Now I wish I had not,
For far too often charlatans and bandits
My purse they had sought,
And held no qualms whether or not
My heart beat boldly
Or my sullied corpse would rot.

And here you are a traveler,
Wandering too.
Where are you traveling, why, and with who?
Take off your pack, rest, take my place.
Use my old kerchief to wipe the sweat from your face.
Now, friend, don't panic, don't scream, and don't run,
And you won't have to meet the raw end of my gun.
I'll have all your money,
And away I will race.
Have fun.

War!

These are the shirts and pants we don
When Uncle Sam calls the fighting on.
While mama's crying on the lawn
Papa's pipe puffs short and long.
Into the fray like leaping pawns
We'll meet the bishops' bayonets
Approaching them without regret.
Our shot will cry in bloody moans,
In sardine cans we're air-mailed home.
We'll charge and scream and win the war!
It's honor we are fighting for
Or God or gold or nothing more.
Our heels are flush, our scalps are shorn,
We'll prove ourselves in uniform!

Nothing

Grass's leaves
Blow by the noontime breeze
And bow on bended knees
Beneath twelve cypress trees' tight shade
In an ovular Appian glade
Commissioned by Julius Caesar
To please her.

Feminism in the 69th Century

There once was a man with no shoes and no bed,
He'd no gold in his pouch nor a hat for his head.
The man could have sold his only son for bread
But chose to sell his wife and daughters instead,
So in exchange for petty silver they would give head,
And their tight fitting, flattering clothing they'd shed.

The boy would constantly cry to his father and whine
Where has mommy been all of this time?!
I love you my boy, his father would say,
But when it comes to family business stay out of my way!
I'm the man of the house, the one who is able
To put nutritious fresh food on the table.
Your sisters and mother live in a brothel
Where living conditions are let's just say awful,
But I'd sell them all again with no quarrel
If I though it'd buy you a waffle!

Paranoia!?

What shiftless spectres can appear
At the passing of the midnight hour?
As the moon plays lightly on the flowers
In the clay pot jar garden below.

In the dark grow the fruit of the night,
Stemmed from creepers that grasp the air,
And branch into the weary willing eye.
I'm Really High.

An April Dream

An April dream caressed my cheek
On a frigid February morning
To remind me that her sweet spring song
Would in time be coming.
I took my time to stretch my bones
And made no hurry yawning.
The gentle wet of season's lips
I left for cherishing and fawning.
I could almost smell the honey
Rain and fragrant rosebuds blooming,
But then I saw on my bleak pane
The frost of dawning glooming,
And I was awake.

The Way is reminiscent of an English Oak

Over the spiked, latched gate
By way of concrete main road
Then on minor crooked ones
Winding through ever thicker fog,
No Talk. Whisper.
Step softly on virgin grass.
There is no light now,
Exists only what's seen in mind's eye.
Alright, it's time,
Hoodies on.

The bag.
Did you bring the cigs?
Nevermind.
Lighter.

There's no breeze tonight...
God the moon is white...
No enemies in sight,
Alright, yeeeah=]
Damn this shit is tight.

I think of you only when I am alone

I think of you only when I am alone
To preserve your faint memory unblemished.
Long, too long since I last looked on your gaze
Of peaceful eyes set on cherry blossom lips,
Your body moved in bright angelic ways,
But just a treasure now, it constantly fades.
Gone, long gone are those carefree, halcyon days.

In my chest I lock your face and features,
And when in vacant room with lonely mind
I take my time unlocking, removing
Your remains, scrubbing and polishing their idol.
I hope to you in secret broken prayers
Knowing well that you're no longer there,
But what's left of you I keep inside me.
Dearest, you are too fragile to be free!
Things cannot be how they used to be
When once two lovers loved eachother perfectly.

But stay

But stay,
And have a spot by me
Underneath this redwood tree.
There's room for two,
There's room for you
To spread your length
Along the grass.
Rest on heels and hands and hips,
And let sweet breath
Whisper words through your lips.
Let me hear what's on your mind
As I admire your youthful eyes
And all your figure's curves and lines.
How your locks of blonde reflect
The flawless grace of white-rose face
And stretching skin of noble neck.
Place your precious hands in mine,
Your touch divine
Sends burst of happy
Laughing up my spine.
Now your head toward mine own draws near,
Then vanishes all doubts and fear.
There's nothing more than t'have you here,
To feel your lips, enter in your sphere.
I'm in love with you,
I am my dear

Blowing Trees

I am perched inside a tree,
Hidden by a grip of leaves,
Many people I can see
As they travel under me.
People come and people go,
Where they're headed I dunno,
Their hair and hats don't tell me so,
Do their shoes and clothing though?
Cannot tell from this high bough.

Why am I inside a tree,
And why are they on road below?
I saw this tree while upward looking
On my comings going to and fro.
Saw it 'bove and climbed inside
To see what life is in the sky.
I'm not stuck here in this tree,
There's just no place I'd rather be.
I figured I'd just rest a bit,
But don't know if I'll ever quit,
And live legit.

=]

I didn't know
The touch of snow
'Til snowball pelt
On face I felt

Nous apprécions le ciel

quack

Period 2

Sometimes it's funny
When Jay Chi makes jokes
At Hosario across the row,
Or calls her a bitch,
Or a dirty mexican,
So only me and he and she can hear.
Sometimes it's a reality check
When Hosario turns face
And fights him back,
But he won't surrender
And I only laugh.
Today, he stuck a
Paper glider in her hair.
It peaked like a fool's cap,
And Jay Chi chuckled,
And I only laughed.

Arabesque

On a white sheet of paper
In black ink, or silver
Rounds on violet stitching.
Curls and whisps
Moving nowhere, no stay to stop.
It's a maze of motion,
But by no means madness.
Arabesque.

Freestyle

I am laying in bed
In a room that's silent
And the character slow
Of the shiftless fan
Drops teardrops of grain
To the beat of unheard rain

I saw from afar
What I didn't dare approach
For fear of becoming
Uncomfortably close
So the sun set without a word
Over vast waters azure
And only shadows heard

Then with no time left
They played on fiddles fair
And let blow free their hair
To play the songs that no one'd heard
To play them to make forget care
'Til the firelight danced
To the beat of their feet
On the solid dirt floor
Of the place where they meet

Where there existed no hate
No not even a bit
Don't quote me boy
Cuz I ain't said shit

ps I love You

No, her eyes were two suns
Glowing with the eagerness of youth
And they did shine at me
Veiled by unloosed sable locks
Who gave way to piqued rose cheeks
With cherry blossom lips pressing
On flawless white teeth

Another day

It might rain

womanly hands

My man is on his way right now

My man is on his way right now
To see his man in turn.
If all goes well, within the hour
Marijuana we will burn.

At 12 high noon I had in grasp
Cent soixante-dix in U.S. cash.
From my hand to his hand it passed
So together we can smoke some grass.

I trust this man though he could steal
The dough I gave to him.
But such a situation's
Probability is dim.

I hope that we will still be friends
When this deal concludes and ends.
We will not have to make ammends,
He'll give me what he owes, the end.

It could be purpz or fruit of grape
If it would be the first,
My smile would reach from ear to ear
My laughter, it would burst!

To see the green that I receive
In return for green I gave,
If I could do and I had saved
I'd buy weed this and erryday.
The chron that makes you want to say
Thank you friend,
Everything will be ok.

Inspired By, no. 1

No war,
But who's to say who's right?
No war,
Then what to end the fight?
No war,
So we can live in peace.
No war,
But how to beat disease?

oddlings.

no war.

Pictures we enjoy

***

First Period English

Oh is the teacher still talking?
My mind had gone out for some walking
It seems that her tongue knows no stopping
And her lips on themselves will keep flopping

While thinking, I reachèd no knowing
That if her spittle keeps flowing
And if up her gestures keep blowing
Well then where is her mind going?

It sure isn't following mine
As slowly I tread the decline
Of scouring through brushes and brine
To find something I can call mine

Then just as I think I am fine
The teacher comes up from behind
And stings nerves like eye full of lime
"Tell me the quote and the line!"