Celloist

The waves of sound

Flow through the air

Bringing a focus of pleasure

Hands raise to the wooden carving

Strings stretched over it

And the music hits

each note

His hands dance on the neck

to each fret

fingers curved

and placed so precisely

Playing the G G A D

cords

Making the sweet sounds

and memorizing looks

Painting of life

Your face stroked in

Peaches and cream color

on the canvas of life

The brush smoothly curves your face

small and pleasing to watching it be conveyed

As the artist moves to the details of your eyes

colors of sky blue slowly blends

to a ring of dark blue

on the edges of your Iris

Like a sky fading to darkness

Your smooth eyes

Gently touched-up with a fine bristle brush

creating every detail of happy wrinkles

Carefully placed on the foreground

Exposing your true color of life

Bright and magnetic

Drawing my eye to the precision of your smile

curving with laughter

electrifying your mood

All captured on a white surface

of imagination

Keyhole

Turnable circle of metal

Possess a hole

Jagged, cut and angled

Designed with precision

So metal of elongated fashion

carved and buffed out

Fits into the gentle mechanics

and turns

scrapping the guide to unlock

That hole only infused with one key

to make the lock work perfectly

Now the lock is broken

The Key needs to be thrown away

Exposed

I have seen the days of darkness fall

when my eyes do not roll back

Where slumber is scarce to find

and friends have a laugh

When joy is true inside

and alcohol always flows

How people really see each other

and open up their hearts at last.

What brings this freedom of friendship love

You must ask

The smile that is contagious

and laughs that last

Love that is shown

and people be themselves

And never let anything intervene

Let the conversation go . . .

I'm Alive

Bare

ripping my shirt from the top down

Jagged and scattered pattern

Unclothed

My blue jeans fall to the ground

Crumpled and Crease

Naked

Pull down my Hanes to the floor

Fall to my knees

The Messager

Dark coat

Leather black gloves

Top hat tip sideways

And smooth Go-tee

Black slacks and black shoes

Parked Cadillac Escalade

Carrying an orange envelope

name written in sharpie

Big and precise

Step through the grass

In his dress shoes

Black

Of course

Black socks exposed with each step

Finger glides to the doorbell

And alerts the occupants

Door opens

and the silhouette

stands on the porch

hands over the devils paperwork

And smoothly walks away

?

Lashes

reach to the sky

Eyes

blend in to a mild scattered cloudy day

Mouth

curved like a saucer held on edge

Skin

gentle like a perfect orange peel

Reaching with No Strings

Letters flow out
and dive into your inbox
One each month
with a Hello
Or holiday gesture

Replys run back
with agression
like a blanket being torn to shreds
Words pushing in daggers
Scarring my preception
Of the Woman in the red beanie
I once hugged
closing my arms in for comfort

Letter flows back
With words that drop down to their knees
Head looking up to the sky

Replys looking over the words
And reading what the eyes only want to see
Words sent back only to crimple me

Letters to let you know
I am still crawling
I can't stop reaching

Rain on face

Open your eyes to the sky
Let the rain splatter on your face
Water dripping over your checks
Down your neck
Soaking your clothes

Turning with your hands held out
A sign of recieving in the joy
Massaged in by the rain
Curvature of muscles work
To point the corners of your mouth up

The elementary child comes out to play
Stomping in the puddles
Splattering your friends
And running off

Basking in the fun of rain
And enjoying the adventures
Of a simple life

Who Are You

Blood bubbles and boils
With rage
Words used to dig
Are words used to break

How can your tool
of words hold conviction
be so bold
and yet benine

Experience is held in thoughts
and nothing in solid form
and you point the crooked finger
As if I am a bubbling idiot

You look into my fish tank
of a world
But you can't see
because your eyes are clouded

When you see clearly,
then let the wisdom flow
When you have lines of proof
then show me the path

Without these
Your words are benine
and have no affect on me
becoming who I am

Over!

Empty and exhausted,
From the closed doors,
And the minute hand ticking away.
Fist pounding,
Denting the wood grain,
And bruising my flesh.

I lay my shoulder into it,
Cracking the plain.
I pound and pound,
And then collapse.
My body is
Cut, cramping and convulsing.

Pain creeps,
throughout my veins,
And ensnares my heart.

Oh, I wish God had taken me away,
Laying frozen,
Trying to focus in,
On the florescent lights.

The rays are blurry,
yet piercing pupil.
Sucking in carpet fibers,
I lay delusional
With snot rolling
From my my nose,
My cheeks salted from the rain.

Orange Blossoms Gone for me

"Another orange groves gone today
How many more leave that way
The oranges that blessed this land
and gave this city fame"

Dirt, brush, deserted driveways,
Main grove house foundation
on the land that the sweet smell
Orange blossoms used to bloom.

The stumps and empty field
abandoned and rotten,
Water stopped flowing
through the rock concrete canal
used to cool summer night air

Money driven ideas
Never developed into anything
As the brown weeds
Take over the land
I fear the Groves will all be gone
and left is nothing but sand

Old is just a word

You may see the cracks and wrinkles in my eyes
but the world I live in never dies
as day seeps into the night
Another time for me to focus on my life
As each minute I get older
I am never too old for an adventure

Evidence of stress on the skin
but a child lives within
Each thought that comes to play
I see how to convey
An Adventure
An Adventure

I am never too old for an adventure!

My Playland

My shoe laces flap in each step
Kneel down to tie my shoe
Right over left
Down and through
Cracks in the gray walk
Give trails for the ants to travel
They go under a piece of green grass
Into this dark line
Look in
to try to see
The ant is gone
Under the leaf

"Come on son!"

Breaks my focus to the orange
And Reds in the trees
And scattered all over the ground
Like a finger painting
Oranges and reds
Mixed with greens and browns

Crackling and crinkling
Sounds while stepping towards my dad
I start to jump on them
Grin from cheek to cheek
Laughing like a music box
That never stops

A bazillion leaves all over the ground
Crunching and crackeling
I fall and roll all around
Giggling and giggling
Sound jumps up
More and more leaves come down
I get up
Look at my painting on the ground

"Come on son!"

Painter

Use the canvas of Life
Paint me in your light (too flowery?)
Brush me
Into the woven fabric
texture me with passionate strokes
Bring the picture to sight
Layer by layer

Angel of Mine

You had your superman beanie on
In your 5'2" frame
and laughter
from which we can't refrain
You smile at the camera
In pure soft smile
As I wrap my arms around you
Feeling the angel inside
beneath me
holding up my sinful body

Oh Mirrior, Mirrior

I can stare at you in the mirror
Trying to get complete answers
Captivated by the wrinkles and crows feet
Plastered in a blank look
Cracked in spratic ways
dark lined eyes of intensity
Thinking about the day

My fist in the mirrored face
seven years bad luck
But I see a new place
Broken several times
In which I embrace

Mirrior skewed my grin
To one of several pieces
And thinking of sin
A rush of passion
Running through my veins
feeling of rage
And release

Walls of Uncertainty

Eyes open to blaring beep of the alarm
And emptiness of the right side of the bed
Her impressions have risen
Over the months of her being gone
As if no one ever laid there before
I just want the warm feeling of love
To hold and to handle
I want the ringing of your voice in my ear
Conversations running deep into the night
And continue until the rise of the sun
Her smiles pictured in my head
Gleaming throughout the day

I feel lost without her precious smirk
Her blue sky eyes peering at me
Her zest for life
Yet the devils liquid ensnares her
She dances into the night
Living the life she feels she deserves

I lost the flower
She has my emotions
My blood boiling with passion
He has my heart
Cupped in His hand
Ready to be molded
And driven to His will

Once I let my emotions fall
I will be released of the pain
And free to hold on to Him

How do I let the flower fall from my hand
And learn to find another
I smell the essence of a rose
But do not know if I can handle the flavor
Of the scent in my veins

The scent bubbles my thirst
Drives my passion
I am not ready to harness any new flower
I will become a beast of lust
Rather than a gentle man of righteousness

Victim

A victim of this monstrous flesh

Tearing my heart from end to end

To vacation from this earthly land

Eternity to spend away

As for my skin

I wish to tear it off

To separate the bond of flesh from bone

I will not bear it anymore

Confusion of which this worlds stands

I can't take it in my hands

Take these worldy sores

Make them disappear forevermore

Take this inner core of mine

Take all that keeps me in a bind

Release the inner core within

So may I scrap off the earthly skin

And show the world who I truly am?

Bound by my sinful past

Some people thought I would never last

But I sit in my forgiven state

Wanting to pull this wordly skin off

And release all my hate

To be who I am inside

Take all this skin of mine

I may feel good at peace and fine

*Published in Muse for RCC but I need to clean up. I actually surprised they published it.

Cut My Strings

Arms frailing around with each pull
Bobblin my head with a twitch of the wrist
Floating above the walnut table
I can only control the words and images in my head
While the environment changes
Underneath me
Around me
But never though me

Control what you think
I will never break to your will
When these strings are cut
I will fall to my knees
You will be lost in confusion
I will gain the movement of my legs
To walk the path set before me
Free, calming and defined
You will fall away

Miracles Each Day

Opening my eyes each day is a miracle
The sun breaking through the starry path of night
Infecting us with Life *
Trees glisting with sunlight
Oranges, reds and yellows seeping through their branches
Created for us to breathe in the beauty of this new day
And Breathe out
As the North Star reveals a new path to darkness
I await through my slumber
To breathe in the birth of day
To see His miracle shine upon me again


* Green Mile by Stephen King