Becoming Color

becoming the heart and mind of dream
swimming in the color enchanted, a life entwined
as she seems to move to me, in the light of rhyme
not ever speaking, while walking, in the footsteps of meaning
though in the rivers enchanted, her heart, says everything all the same
it is a game, a balance that reacts to the world around
in the arms of wisdom as it seems, all dreams lift off from the ground
flowing, glowing and shining, in the reflection of wonder
wandering all around,  in the spaces of thought and mystery
shall i become that of color, of thought, of mind?
the physical shape of love's true divine
a word, a kiss, endless in the dreams of bliss
that soar so high, that ignite new color, in a blue white sky
a fantasy, endless, caressing in the unspoken rhythm
that exists between two, forever in the fertile gardens of youth
through the heart and the mystery
that extends eternal, in this energy that surrounds me
sparkling, and fading, in a breath of breaths united
and so i become once more, as so often i have came
entering in a world of tomorrow, a future
in the past and present tense of love,  knowing that forever
may not stretch forever, in a world of beauty spoken in the words of truth
though for a moment, all the same, i become the color
of love's truest name, so i am to be, in life, all through this wondrous world i see

Dear James

Dear James,

When you go down on America this Spring, at one of the three shows in, Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, I hope you consider walking the ghost, playing some rarities. Undertaking the thought of playing dead, playing some b-sides, beats and other rhythms not usually heard or seen. Constructing Gaudi buildings- architectures of fire and sun. Of harmonies, both and discordant and wise. With sounds and moods, crossing the borders of the deaf and the blind. I ask this not as a demand, but rather as a request. I ask because you're my hero not because I just want to shoot my mouth off. I want to go home feeling like I am on top of the world. That I've been skin diving with a sweet señorita who can always see my soul when she looks into my eyes. I know what I am here for as I am just an honest joe who at times thinks he is some English Beefcake, and yet in truth, I am simply not so strong as I look. Thus, I drink from your watering hole and fill myself, my life up with the green peace of serenity. With chaos and delight. Living a life of love in all these moments of music and truth. And at the end of the shows, I will leave my things by the door, but keep the memories with me, as I dive into the fall with the knowledge, with the feeling, the embodiment of all sensations that it is always a pleasure to meet all of you.

Morning

a dash of morning presence on my soul
to stay with me, where ever i may go
to follow me, this morning, its color, its light
the memories of the forgotten, the memories that seem so right
as to begin this day, with all with their rays
the soft pinks, the reds and the grays
such is the morning spool, the weave, the cloth
a tapestry of time and time again
sights and sounds, in a stillness
subtle movements that are so often lost
in the depths of the day, in the depths of the soul
are found, all is here with me now, and in time
may travel with me, in all that i know

Delicate Belief

live by the heart of wandering dream, to find the solace
the identity, waiting in the light for what it seems to be
the places of truth and being, that always drift on beyond
the corners of our thought, the candle lit fortunes
of the brazen and bold, color the waters of heartache
with a stale and oily sight, all by what is bright and lucid
in the world of dream, the glory to the god unknown
a presence to the world, to the fires, to the soul
control the destinies of our hearts, as we seek purer lands
i am beholden to the mystery, to the uncertainty of times
when locked in a prison, i am, confined by my own design
herald to the world i call, to bring me out of such wandering
to the dream of light and color, to the body of pearls and cream
a scene of flightful fancy, of delicate belief, all toward the heart
waiting inside of me

Dare

dare to desire in the dream of the heart, when the heart is warm, the body cool, and all to the touch remains electric and still, moving through the pulses of the wills of each entwined, enveloped inside, by the sight, in passion's gaze, infinite colors, collapse and arise, raising the dream, mesmerized in the scene of two hearts, running, dancing through the waking dream, eyes to the sunrise burning outside, eclipsed by the halos of all that is seen, by light and in the thrill of darkness, abide by the sound of a union unfolding, in the hands, by the heart, where desire soothes, and weights bears down, on the wisdom and the truth, of desire's divinity, joined by two, unfurl, in the senses of scenes born anew

Oh My Heart

I have lived a life of love and at 72, I still consider myself to be a hero who walks the ghost through the seven heavens of my heart. Though, often I find myself playing dead to this thought, hiding in the shapes and shadows, lost in all the sheets and old pillows of my youth. Tonight. Tonight is no different, for oh my heart, it sings and it cries. Speaking truths in the lullabies of laughter and sorrow. Slowly. In the moment before sleep, my eyes flash here and there. And around my room I spy rabbit holes. The veracious spirits of porcupines, dancing like Fred Astaire across the ceilings and walls as the lights outside grow and fade through my curtains tonight. I waltz along to the rhythm. Fading and shining in all the happiness and despair. The winds of change. The stagnation that still grows there in the darkest places of my heart. Surrounding me are the memories. The skulduggery that I often wonder what it is for, the lies and deceit that lays beside me in this bed of dreams. I gallantly pretend I ride a stolen horse. Onward, I gallop. A strong knight in the strongest night of dream. In the chain mail that glows and gleams. Racing around. In the shapes I describe as forests. In the shadows I see as monsters. I ride and I ride. A prophet. A warrior, who never waits that long to know where I am going to run to next. Onward I ride. Defeating the enemies. The monsters. The beasts. So called heroes of this magic land. Seeking fortunes. Seeking my pride. Though I still need a friend. A squire. A companion. In the loneliness, my identity is abandoned, and so I search the land for another to call my own. Calling out for Van Gogh’s dog to be my friend again. The animals and kin of men’s kindness, I crash into medieval thoughts that strip my mind bear. Cause a crescendo to swirl me up. To well up my body. To twist my shape. To bend my reason as my soul stutters, fall down, on to the ground before this dream. A hero lost. Gone too far. Lost in dream. Imagining himself too much to see, the truth before all in me, the very assassin that would strike me down.

Somehow I have lost a friend here. Lost a lover, who has moved on. To be another love. Of someone else far, far away. No one can see how much suffering is on my face. The face that always smiles when strangers pass on by. I wonder if someone has it in for me. Amid these tree-like shapes that stretch across as shadows and light in my dreams tonight.

I move on. Move downstairs. Out of the room of this forest. Out of the chain mail that held me in imagination for far too long. Too far gone. In these moments, I force myself to tell her so, so that she might know what I am here for after-all. In this call of dream and night. The shadows wander. Drift and find so many colors that have been lost in the ages of my mind. In a way, I am an undertaker to all the lies that I defeat myself with. The honest Joe I allow myself to be, no longer means that much to me, as I stand, stand, stand here before the mirror of my time. As if I knew the truth. What is means to find meaning, in the shinning of reason and season. A clarify I so often wish I could see before my very eyes. In the dusty motes of twilight. Behold. A reflection. A deception. A benediction to a tomorrow in me where I will once again shine in the knowledge that you’ve changed your mind again. Stayed with me. Lived with me. Loved me in the kind of life only a dreamer can ever truly dream.

Through these rhythmic dreams. Through this magic world. I find. I find. It’s so hot in here. Engulfed in the thoughts I have of you. I swing from high to deep. The pressure’s on. It builds. Building a dream to the thoughts and scenes of a day when we were together. The world spins. It shines. I want it to last forever, as if forever was simply a moment in my mind. Around me I sense a change. A change of color. A kaleidoscope of fury. Of beauty. Of emptiness. As suddenly it is 10 below. I know that I sound crazy. That I am crazy. I am lazy. That I am in between the morning, the dream, of nights that have come before, the morning after you were gone. I run toward the water. The waterfalls splashing around blue pastures. A lake. Oceans new inside these memories spent in a golden youth. I ask you to be my prayer. To forgive me for my honest pleasures. The pleasures I long to see, when all good boys have come home again. To a mother who is gold and true.

I make for the city. To a promised land. Promising not to look behind, only to search for truth onward. Forward. To the blue pastures combining to form the watering hole that nourishes my mind. A place where I might cleanse these thoughts. I run around when I hear my destiny calling. From behind the corners, these blind alleys I keep leading myself through.

Boom. Boom. The sound of my heart racing. I am born in frustration as I read all my letters, the words I have written in an attempt to ring the bells, to wake me from my death. With the best intentions, I’ve only alerted the five-o to this lullaby I sing for you now. I dream up a tomorrow where we can skin dive at the center of what drives us together. Say something, say something to me. Lead me through this dream. The thrumming. The strumming. The building of fires. The stirring of lies. Of lives. Of love. Lost somewhere out in the night. I hear you calling to me. To the Arabic agony that pieces these walls. Of my dream tonight. The boom. Boom, boom of my heart. The sounds. The semaphores. In these moments I ask. I plead. For you to sing to me to sleep with all the songs have gone before, that only you and I do know. In this place where, only the two of us remain here alone.

Out in this space. I am alone. I play dead to the thought. Make myself seem smaller than I am. I am not so strong. Waltzing along, this Alaskan Pipeline. A wilderness of cold. Of silence. The wisdom of my throat does not speak to me. It has abandoned me. I do not hear a sound. I stare at myself here. At the reflection of the waters. The frozen rivers. The icy seas. I see myself distorted. Reborn. I am an English beefcake. A comic. A fool. A lover, who uses love as a weapon. Who shatters hope, in the only place where hope could survive. I am getting away with it. I spread my love, to the senoritas, the Marias, the Mariannes, that have long since gone. So long. So long. There is no upside to this. I only move down. Down. For it is my heart that I miss. I am withdrawn. I am burned. I strip myself down, to the shirt of my birth. I am not ready for the uprising that builds inside. I must keep pushing on, for there are so many ways for me to move on from here. To seek guidance in another day. To find another way. To make all that I have done, go away, so that I might see you once again.

To greet you. To meet you for the first time. Who are you? To discover you again. I would be on top of the world. Lifted up by the bubbles that foam and froth. In the beauty of delight. A summer’s song with no end in sight. I am pleased to meet you here. Please to find you anew. Lost in the dreams, in the days, where I turn the pages, on the days of our youth.

As the days pass. As the years float on by. Sometimes, I too, want to fill up with stories of monsters, of heroes, of men. Find simplicity in the stories of the ages. The stories of old. The stories that drift, grow strong, but never become bold enough to wash away all my troubles. To wash away all the years. To make me forget. To make me find you again. Searching endless. Onward. Hanging on to memories. Hanging on to you. No more. For now, I find, I just wanting to go on home. To sit down. Have some coffee and some toast. Sitting in the chair. By the table. Waiting for you to come home at last. To see your smile. To hear your laugh. And for you, to lose control, with me again. In the ghosts of our past. In the ghosts of our youth. Let me be your next lover. Let me be your song. Oh my heart yearns for you, as I move on through the years, continually searching for our truth.

Devil Inside

when the wilder walks in the forests of green
the transient color to the sights i've seen
in truth, the devil beware
to the shadows that mix with the light in the air
in these sights, in these sounds
i seek my fortunes, in the world outside these beliefs
and as i walk, in the chaos of these dreams
the wildest moments in me, wakes to the unrest, which gleams
by the chorus of song
sounds, seeking a place, amid the trees, where my soul belongs
i raise my head up on high
to grow, to know, to flow
in the rhyme eternal, the hum on the horizon still
for a moment, all connects and shines
then in a flicker, seems to burn right out
to fade, as the day reaches its end
i move through these thoughts, this dream of our days
in a moment, long past today, as tomorrow is the glory of unknowns
that my mind yearns to know, and so i continue to float
to glide, high up on high in the tree tops of my mind
on this very night, as light is turned away
and i, seeking such fortune, as fortune is to be found
in the wildest of colors, that swim in the air all around
as i let go, feel the flow, I close my eyes, and I do know
that i will see tomorrow yet in me
before the day has gone from the world i see
for in this life, is in this flight
i shall be found, in the shadow's arm that are outstretched
on the ground below, in the wildest forests, scattered in dream
all comes together, in the devilish thoughts in me