I am still a believer

But no longer a follower


I Have a Request

I need your love


Give me your love

I will not survive without

Your love

I gotta have it

Just a drop will cover me

Just a molecule

Just an atom

Of your love

Will get me through

But it needs to be now

Or I might not make it

Please give me your love

You Are With Him

In my dream, there were three scenes

You were going to a backyard party

You are with him

You are with him

2nd, you were in a wedding dress

You are with him

You are with him

3rd, you walked to the corner where I was standing, and you placed a small red note on the mailbox, and walked back to the car

I said you forgot something, and without looking back you said it was for me

I went back and could not find it

You are with him

You are with him

Concert Day

I got to see David Byrne on his American Utopia tour in Hershey, PA last night. It was amazing. No photos or videos would do it justice although, it did remind me of my poem about seeing live shows. Enjoy.


Concert Day

Because I one day enjoyed your spirit, is it incorrect to conclude that we are friends?

I enjoyed the spirit of a singer as she performed so evocative that the tears flowed.

She caught sight of me and seemed to be as enthralled.

We were joined for that moment that cannot be taken away, but we are not friends today.

But we do love each other because we allowed the other to invade our space.

I was prepared to do this before I bought the ticket, and the troubadour before she sold it.

Anxious to see what might take place on concert day.



Salt is a preservative. Everything in my life served to preserve my spirit. The new day. The new night. The new moon. I would enjoy any landmark. A local landmark or one very far away. There was salt everywhere to save my soul to preserve my spirit. But now that I am not permitted even to hear a word or to steal a glance. Now that I cannot taste even a tiny tiny little bit of your spirit, the salt has been removed. It has been washed away. It has been condensed in only one place in this whole universe. I cannot enjoy a deciduous leaf of any color in any season. I would not enjoy a tall palm tree at the edge of the bluest most turquoise beaches. Because the only thing that is salt to me is in you. And the Majestic cherubs turn their giant swords denying me access to my salt, so there is nothing that can save me. All I need is a tiny tiny drop. When all others can have you whole. You have to be a ghost to me. I just want one drop of water.


From Google Image Search
From Google Image Search

I have suffered the absence of a bright star that has served as an anchor to my soul, obscured by these April clouds brought in by a cold front from the West

The same that obscured the Pink Moon which showed its hue around two this A.M.

I fear that somehow its absence is due to me. I wish it to be understood that I am ambivalent only. And besides that, it is too far and too high for me to touch should the desire to do so reside

But when viewed my course is more stable and sure. I only want to be able to see it at all times. I pray for it with deep concern and am frantic when it is out of sight. Frantic that while out of view there should occur a super-nova, then to be seen no more

Yes I am concerned. Yes I am frantic for I have no one to resort, and have no friend that would dispatch a report about its well being to me

I can only pace back and forth, notching a trough into the wood floor until these April clouds dissipate that I might see that bright star radiate

Only then will I have relief and comfort enough to sleep