Thought: The Sun doesn't Set

He stands against the
setting sun
staring into the nothingness
of the oceans great
or the skies so far

Thought: the sun doesn't set
It is stationary.
The Earth orbits around it
We are the ones moving
Forever and ever, until we stop

Thought: knowing the sun is still
doesn't change it's unmoving-ness
knowledge is good, to be yearned for
but knowledge,
it doesn't change the truth

He stands against the
orange skies
darkening with each breath
he smiles, for he knows,
he sees the truth for what it is

Porcelain Doll

A porcelain doll
That's what you are
So perfect and beautiful
And yet so fragile
One fall
And you will shatter into
and infinite number of
pieces
that was once a beautiful
porcelain doll
You are that,
still in the cardboard packing
a lovely gift
but too precious
to play with
so you lie there
as the dust gathers outside
untouched, unseen
too pretty to be played with
too pretty to be useful

You

I watched the blood drain
out of your body
and make a dark red puddle
on the old wooden floor
Your heart giving up,
too desperate to stop
your lungs taking in that final breath
your fingers shook
as the pain shot through
your eye lids fluttered
like butterfly wings
your fair skin was stained
close to your lips
a small scratch in the beautiful
masterpiece that you were

And then I opened my eyes
and saw nothing but darkness
a dream, a thought
I didn't want to know which
But I had watched helplessly
knowing
if tomorrow, you gave up
I mayn't be able to do anything
but stand aside and watch

Presence

You left without a good bye
One day, you were just gone
Not you the person,
He left long before
But your presence
The mug you used
Your clothes
It was almost as if
This had never been your home
But you did leave behind
Something that wasn't enough
A forgotten sarong,
And two prayer books
They weren't enough
To remind us
That once you lived with us
And now you didn't

Wants

I don't want a man who drinks

Because I've seen what a drunk man

Could do.

I don't want a friend who is heartless

Because I've seen what a heartless friend

Could do.

I don't want a parent who doesn't care

Because I've seen what a careless parent

Could do.

And I don't want to need anything

Because I've seen what needs

Could do.

tired

tired eyes can't see
tired hearts can't beat
tired lives can't live
tired minds can't think

tired lips can't sing
tired players can't win
tired boats can't rock
tired lovers can't love

Love

Love with its silence

A quiet existence

It's not in your face,

Your raised eye brows

Or crooked grin

Love with its infinite ways

A suffocating presence

Your smile genuine

As you hold my hand

Praying for my pain to go away

Love with its forgottenness

Once there, now no more

You look away,

As your eyes meet mine

That smile a mere memory

The smile that made everything okay

Love with its discarded life

Thrown away with many a other things

It's in the rare messages

Or gifts or calls

But when we hug

It's the one thing missing

(For all the different loves and different 'you's of my life )

:)

Painter, prisoner, blindman

He looks at the canvas
A dirty white,
Waiting to be covered in
An infinite number of colors
He dips the paintbrush
In a cup of thick paint
A shiny midnight blue it is
He paints the sky
The blue sheet he has never seen
And closes his eyes trying to picture it all
Slight white traces of paint
The clouds he imagines
And golden yellow stars
The midnight blue
Dries as the sun sets
And the darkness outside thrives
Then he rips the canvas apart
For what he just painted,
What he has never seen
A constant reminder of
The past he doesn't know
The shreds of painted cloth
Land heavily on the cold stone floor
Of the prisoner's home
The tiny ray of moonlight
Which creeps through a small invisible crack
Lingers on that midnight blue
If the painter had looked closely
He would have seen
The tomorrow in his painting
But he doesn't
For he sees nothing
Not the stars that shine
The moon that lights the world
Or the sky that protects it

May Day

red,
the color of blood
of hatred, anger
of suppression!

red,
the color of communism
socialism
of the working class!

May Day came and went
rallies organized
speeches given
dance of the devil danced

the town was painted
green or blue
caps, t shirts, banners, flags
just no red!

Skies

Where heaven rests also does hell
The thunder clouds
On a stormy day
The wind howls through the
Shivering trees
Angels hide in their palaces
Of gold, made

But then shining through the clouds
The suns golden rays peak at the world
Drenched in the waters of the sky
The world lies still, scared and tired

And yet, the heavens dry
Whatever remaining evidence of
The great hell's tearful cry
And once again the skies are clear