To live, to learn, to fly
To love to dream to die
To give it all up for the one you love
To give all glory to God above
To know who I am
To not be afraid
To know where to go
When I need an escape
To understand you're here for me
To look in the mirror and love what I see
To play to laugh to dance and sing
Music taught me everything.

What is home?

You.
That is my only answer:
You.

And all the things that involve:
tired conversations,
my piano,
the cats,
the office with two computers
side by side,
the fireplace and the floor
where I sometimes curl up beside you,
the poetry books,
books on everything, anything,
books,
the bed and the soft smell of your skin.

I need home.

The birds preach:
"empathy, all things
beneath the arms of oaks;
all the wingless toilers of the earth.
Turn a kind eye on your lot
and we will gaze down upon you,
approvingly."

And the men beneath,
so busy carving arrows
do not reply.

T  i  cks

     are a consistent bed partner
not to be confused with the humming of ceiling fans
or the thrumming of cardiologist fascination

          not to be mistaken for
   

the soft exhalation
       of company
                             in tangled threads or pallid flesh;

certainly they are similar
       and quiet audible reactions
       can drown within each other
but
                                 if you listen
            very carefully
there is no mistaking
            the clocks subtle lulling:

     "   One
                    less,

            One              
   le ss...

   ..."

Startled by the moment
when I looked at the woman
checking me out of the store
with my trival gatherings
and I said thank you
on a thankless day
and suddenly this teenage girl
looked back at me for a moment
a fresh spirit unburdened with life's insults
and I could see it
and feel my boys reaction to all those bright spirits
seeing all the ghosts Of Christmas' past

Read Me Real

I am the person to breathe you real
Reawaken perfect in any age
I house every moment you hold dear

Receptacle of your every hope and fear
Witness to your anger when you engage
Returned again to breathe you real

Memories still fresh of how we feel
Locked together on third eye's stage
All the moments that I hold dear

I can hear your voice when I hold you near
Give you my mind, free of your cage
A playground for me to breathe you real

Come with me again on time line's wheel
Do not be afraid to turn the page
Our story has all the moments I hold dear

It's our voices on the wind we hear
All it takes for me to be assuaged
Stories on the wind when I breathe you real
Stories in my mind, moments I hold dear

I have seen thirty dark monsoons,
two flowerings of the black-stalked
Kurinci flower beneath the moon.
Too many long nights have I walked

through the Hill Country's sweet thunders –
the rain tears the earth asunder,
the dusted Kuyil soars higher;
bamboo ploughs the earth like gunfire.

Hey..I had a nightmare yesterday, wanna hear about it? Hmm...I'll tell you eitherways.
Don't laugh, or cry! It may seem a bit childish, but I don't care.
There was a light...a very faint light, signaling for me to follow, it seemed urgent...
I didn't know where I was, it was pitch black,except for the light...I was scared.
I followed the light, as we moved it seemed to grow brighter, slowly and slowly...I could see
my surroundings! What a weird colour it was, but the setting was of a park, with trees and everything.
I kept on following the light, and soon after...I saw something, I started crying, I didn't want it to happen...

...I saw you......fading away, slowly..out of my grasp.

Do you trust me?
Let's play Nervous.
Do you trust me?
I won't do anything you don't want me to.
Do you trust me?

Do I trust you?
You agreed to play.
Do I trust you?
And you started this game.
Do I trust you?

Do I trust us?
Your hand is on my arm.
Do I trust us?
My head is in your lap.
Do I trust us?

Do I trust you?
Your hand is on my breast.
Do I trust you?
Suddenly my shirt is off.
Do I trust you?

Do you trust me?
I pulled your face towards mine.
Do you trust me?
Our lips are an inch apart.
Do you trust me?

I crossed my legs under my skirt,
wishing away promises,
I feared he would keep.