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Saturday, 12 September 2009 at 00:01

a morning poem
Woke early one morning,
the earth lay cool and still,
when suddenly a tiny bird,
perched on my window sill,
it sang a song so lovely,
so carefree and so gay,
that slowly all my troubles,
began to slip away,
it sang of far off places,
of laughter and of fun,
it seemed his very song,
brought out the morning sun,
I pulled back the covers,
and crept slowly out of bed,
and gently shut the window,
and crushed his freaking head,
I'm not a
morning person
· the last letter to be
I exist now dreaming in reality, shades of deep reds and grays,
Evolving at the speed of light
As my third eye sees all, I bring my fingers to my lips and time stops
I taste you.
I ponder you and wallow in the memory of your scent and way.

How you called me boy
The way you made me laugh
The way you touched my heart and made me
believe

Unable to stop, it seems too wonderful,
but in the end there is not much but pain.
I allow this for some time, then I awake
and know that I am alive and the possibilities are endless.
Wanting you to taste my soul
and undeniably know that I am the one
and we are one to conquer happiness together,
unimaginably, the way you knew that we could
and will if you say one word,

Yes!

Your fear. Your ego. Your pride. They protect and also hurt you,

keeping you from what is rightfully yours,