Alas, I have found you

Torn feet along the trodden path
I made my course along the way
moving through the windy peaks
of another darkened day,
cutting wind across my flesh
my eyes too blind to see
leaning in upon the mass
my weeping soul for to be free.

And then the sun it breaks the sky
shining upon my feeble frame
bringing with it songs of life
dispersing all my crying pain,
and beauty from the light did come
standing nigh upon sweetened air
her hands unfold to feel my reach
sunny smile and tender care.

Now my life it is fulfilled
every beat of my broken heart
sings brightly now with ticking time
as she and I are now one part,
verse is all that I may speak
for the language holds no weight
I express to you beyond this world
my eternal and loving soul mate.

‘Our’ little patch of ground

Tender little kisses, that’s what she is
hugs that bound the horizon
and gentle caressing hands that strewn my hair
she makes the sun shine brighter,
and fills my life with care.

Oh how the sweetness of tenderness
does shine away the shadows
no more despair in my plain views
melancholy all stripped away,
my lavender dancing muse.

I want to fly the clouds within your veil
and to always touch upon your stars
the ones that sing from out your voice
rippling through my vision,
making my humble heart rejoice.

Is this too much for one to ask
the subtle walk through open fields
to know the love is here not lost
among the clatter of the wields,
where devotion is a trying game
to see who will get what and when
money, material, children, commodity
the vicious cycle to no greedy end.

Nay, I say with covered ears
my eyes enshrouded with straining tears
and all the darker staring leers
that turn to my dismay.
But lo, I turn to see my light
she glows in all variety
shewing me the less plundered path
away from the common society.

She makes me whole and fills me up
my little world of knowing
that no one cares who we will love
or for what our deepest reasons;
and to look upon the rigid brows
of those who choose to move in strife
can never quake or shake our grounds
for ‘we’ are the creators of ‘our’ life.

Groundless footing

Stop twisting dammit!
You illegitimate thorn
always prickling at the flesh
your kisses a bloody swarm,
you ride me all the day long
everywhere I choose to seek
you point out all the failings
and grin shit from every cheek,
such a tiny little scar you are
that tears with every breadth
wreaking scoffing embellishments
like fish caught in a net,
they scour every piercing view
and wiggle away perspective
nothing new under the sun
new guise but same collective.

The seasons

Flower upon a petaled wall
I see your pretty freckled face
leaning watching busy bees
blue skies filling open space,
your leaves are nowhere to be found
and your moment a skipping heart
when he flutters in your direction
with a hand out to take part,
awkward little moments
precious gifts within our time
fading into background
to the hardships in our prime,
crippling lovely flower
now bent upon the stem
looking to the grassy grave
watching falling diadems.

A life to tell the tale

Let us not forget the shadows way
when the Earth itself does crawl
where the waters run cold and still
that twist of blade upon the flesh;
running deep as a cutting shrill,
it cuts beneath the layers of skin
that gently cuddles above the bone
moving past the muscles flesh
till it reaches the death of home,
grips and knuckles seize to cry
at the wavering, loosening soul
eyes roll back in the fear of awe
as the veil opens wide for the whole,
and then the darkness it does approach
with its tendrils and lingering note
scraping along an endless mass
the skin goes pale and dry the throat.

“And where in life did it hold its worth
oh little little twisting soul
was the heart your sailing vessel
love and care its giving goal?
Or were the worms of want and need
your hunger over the starving
anger, hate, and bigotry
poison seeds of greedy farming?”

For the price of a book

I can feel the solus
for people
alone in their loss
and the empty gains
of what was hoped
to be love,
but they sit
in differentiation
from what was
the expectation,
where the joys
of living
and the happiness
of two
has receded,
against the tender
movements
of caring,
the breath
upon each other
when two become one
and the union
complete,
all gone now
nothing more
than a turning page
and the value
as little or less
as such.

A whole for love

I can honestly speak
from these crippled hands
that reach into the labyrinth
into the darkness of soul,
every seeking along the way
the caressing of walls
tender toes on stepping
and ears that hear weeping.

Tell me soul
where have I traversed
that I never find
someplace here nor there
transcending the heights
elusive to there fullness
and me among the maze,
speaking to love
an ever morphing face
that sheds the many tears
for me to feel
alone
in some strange place.