fingers.

forces of nature
in the fingers of friends
paint gentle scenes of tomorrow
upon today's scars

we grow with the necessity
that lingers on every word
and as our lips move in protest
we're healed by songs unheard

that ring like happy whispers
in the cosmos of the souls
and beckon with fervent passion
from lands we've yet to know

skirts.

hearts on sleeves
crushed like leaves
the looking glass is shattered

mask is cracked
uniform attacks
creation is what mattered

can we coexist my friend
on the plains of conflicting worlds?
or shall we be
eternally
nice, naive, and narrow

living in lands of mirrors
we craft distinct illusions
and we press on, desperately clinging
to the skirts of inflexible mothers.

pieces of peace

weary globe shatters
in flames of enlightenment
rebuild paradise

tye dye clad angels
salvaging pieces of peace
rebuild paradise

colorful breeze.

perpetuate hate
flowers fall from pedals
the dust shall never settle
on the deserts we create

shall the colors ever join again
in their dances of simpler days?
the answer is hushed by the fragmented freedom
with which they delude our brains

for the love of a summer will fall like the leaves
leaving branches of bare memories
but the smiles and laughter will linger forever
like scents on a colorful breeze

a single embrace
of confident comfort
shall one day unite us all

and we'll march on that day
to a sweet island bay
and frolic about in the sea

fern.

if my mind should drift from the world you know
dear, wave and smile and watch me go
for i'll send a postcard from the meadow above
from the land of perennial sun

i'll impart the wisdom handed down from the stars
and rid the world of its deep bleeding scars
and i'll bring thee some fruit upon my return
grown in the shadow of God's greenest fern.

wind (to and fro).

drudging through days
in a cloud of cliches
we change from phase to phase
in a lifeless parade

and so it shall go, and so it shall go
a big box of rain, locked in a timeless flow
and God's resigned sigh can be heard, don't you know
In the prosaic wind that blows us to and fro.

twins.

the green, the gray
the sun, the rain
the night, the day
different, but same
and we ride the amorphous wave\

for life, dear fiend, exists in the distance
between the fire and ice
for darkness and light, they are brothers
twins under different disguise