The Pretenders Of Love

We started to walk that night with no clue where to go,

We walk past the street lights and neon sign boards,

In silence we were walking no word from mouth swayed,

The air touched our skin, was the only thing we felt,

We were walking in search of release and to let go of the pain,

The road was straight but our thoughts were vague,

The irrelevance of our walk could be seen on our face,

Are we trying to keep up with life's pace?

Are we pretending, to be in love for goodness sake!

Will we never find the road that led us to our grave?

We know before the last breath the pain is hardest to bear,

Then we looked at each other again, the one last time and in darkness we saw us fade.

The Shadowy Beast

 I sketch your frame with the brush of my eyes, on the canvas of thin blue air,

I hide you from the world around me and keep you safe,

Then from the East, I saw the misty beast rise,

Creeping the sheets of my thin blue air,

I heard me scream in lifeless space,

The beast I saw clawing and wrest upon my safe place,

It took the frame whole and in snippet it changed,

The brush of my eyes turned to cascade of agony,

Where can I go to and find that haven safe?

Where can I find the  the fragments, the snippet of my frame?

I took the dreaded of the misty beast,

In strength and will I prepared my way

The snippet I collected bit by bit,

Held close to my thumping chest and began to shape,

The frame much unassailable and infinite I made.

The Cosmos Body

I am the  shining grain of sand near the ocean shore,
I am the honey of the mountain and you long for more,

I am the first drop of rain that kiss the dry  land,
I am the crystal of darkest coal from the deepest mines,

I am the sweet perfume of your teary eyes,
I am the first bud in a barren land,

I am the echo of the church bell in fresh morning air,
I am the moonbeam on  a cloudy night,

I am the gazillion stars spread in the Milky way,
I am the tide that makes love on a lunar night,

I am the root that tastes the soil,
I am the heartbeat that beats in the her soul,

I am the white wings in a child's dreamy eyes,
I am the soul that touches the Zion's door,

I am  the bird with wings that sores high,
I am the ray of Sun that wraps itself in it's own fire!

The Old Oak Staircase

That oak staircase was old, it lead to the room where many memories were shared,
Feet little jumped up and down,
that sound of old oak seemed to giggle,
Under that staircase doll houses made,
little voices could be heard,

She talked about her summer plans, under that old oak staircase,
Papers and ribbons and laces hung from the ceiling of that old oak staircase.

With time the old oak staircase saw and kept stories and new stories were made,
Under that old oak staircase,
Letters of her broken heart and that first love she made, under that old oak staircase.

Today she is stands in white lace she steps down from that old oak staircase,
Her memoirs inscribed on the walls of that old oak staircase,

She bids goodbye to that giggling of that old staircase,
She certainly will come again, to meet her memories under that old oak staircase.