I know exactly what's up, friend
and I usually have things right;

but in my quest to not offend
I'll try my best to seem polite.

I don't care much for conflict, so
at those times I may look away;

but, I'll remember times with you
wish I'd stayed at home that day!

You're brand of scandalousity
does almost make me ill;

a detour would have set me free
avoiding clashes with your will.

Your hidden mind agendas, or
what really makes me tense;

Lied to my husband, said I was going to pick daisies
Really I was going to train daisy my new apprentice
That girl is the only one who understands I’m crazy

I must admit this girl is good
I pick the victims
She lures them to the most secluded spot in the wood

As she lures them to a spot that’s remote
I lurk behind them waiting for my chance
My chance to slit the poor fellow’s throat

Then like a present daisy wraps the severed head
To send to his widow
So she will know her husband is dead

Without absorbing too much time
I've a mindset way, too stuck;

I've seen reality bite much, harder
than it's second cousin, "luck".

I've seen pagans stop, and pause to pray
wishing the day was gone, and done;

myself, I'd merely float high in the sky
where I'd burn forever, in your "sun".

Plus, I wouldn't have it any other way
it's all good, it just plain, must be;

for, I'd spend forever and a day
if you'd please save the last dance, for me.

field of dreams
first stroke of scythe
ideals shatter

....

frozen sunlight
piling to the sky
blinding vision

...

distance erased
mystery looms
fog lights look cool

...

clock watchers
and longevity
a living hell

...

lawn mower busted
dandelion jungle
straw and camel nightmares

...

twiddling and tweaking
experience forsaken
photographs are nice

...

sailing seven seas
midnight watch, flask of rum
dearth of scenery

.

crystals fall sadly
seep, stain thirsty earth's parchment
lost drops break black tea
dampen trembling note in hands
tears falling outside and in

Looking up at the autumn sky
peeking out behind the trees,
whose amber leaves looked even more brilliant
with the sun shining through them,
and I remembered a day like today.

A day where the air was crisp and cool
and filled our lungs with a freshness
that wasn't always there.
And I walked the trails with that one boy,
our shoulders lightly brushing against one another,
smiling to ourselves
as our friends raced around us.

I tried to write a sonnet, like The Bard,
to apt describe my feelings for you, love,
but it's not easy - rather, it is hard -
the words seem trite when push comes down to shove.

Comparison to bright-lit summer day,
too hot for gold complexion to adore;
rough winds, thus startling darling buds of May -
one finds that it has all been said before.

It doesn't take a holiday,
or any special time of year;

in fact, nothing "external"
what I love, or my worst fear;

coerces me to "feel" this way
I see no "rainbows", or "chirping birds",

over my years of writing continuously
I still fail to find those words!

Every "t" I cross, or "i" I dot
fail in the "mechanics", as on I write;

but, because of you, I persevere;
I want you to know, with all my might!

Call me the olive tree,
or the weeping willow.
In the core of the heart
dwells a deep sorrow.

They've uprooted me,
and left me lifeless.
No one to love or live with,
I am restlessly homeless.

I have nothing to live on
promises are all what I'm fed.
Nothing to drink but,
the blood that they've shed.

Numbness is killing my limbs.
my roots are growing old.
In the UN fridges I'm frozen,
with all the lies that are being told.

you drift through life in semi-dark
for you it's a half empty glass
complaining is your trade and mark
it brings me down, your odd morass

for you it's a half empty glass
the world presents in sad, dull hue
and others all have greener grass
that is, according unto you

complaining is your trade and mark
you say, for you, diddly-squat goes right
with not a positive remark
for anything that greets your sight