I rise this morning to find myself imprisoned
a dirty cell, 
acrid musk grasps to every surface, like a crushing fist on my neck.
A mottled crust of dirt and grime surrounds me,
hands blackened in an effort to sweep it away

I have passed many sunsets and already again I find my hand
contemplating, caressing neck, sweetly, inviting.
The hand carries a sharp thing
like each time before
I am afraid.

Several figures pass under the solitary torchlight
they seem phantoms, steps all but silent.
I grasp iron, 
I feel as
a blind woman, 
the very air that encompasses my body, compressing
oppressing
no relenting, my mind wanders.
 
Across dark cobblestone and through yet more bars I see her now, lying there
she is like me

pressed, sidelong
In pain I escape
forever in me a fools heart 

She needs me, 
the drip of water pounds my ears, each a silent battering ram
my nerves dance to the stabbing.
A draft, cold and foul assails my firm resolution

In doubt I raise her head
eyes so clear as to let one watch her thoughts
   in       chaos                       
                            they were.
Fear.

 I sang
my people are born to do this,
 
slowly 
 
she d 
           r 
              i   
                 f
                    t      
                       e  
                          d
and I along with her.

In tandem we woke, hands clasped 
upon a rock
lips moving, the sound indirect-
impossible
it came to me from the earth, the water, the air
she spoke through the thrum of the air, the groan of the trees
us
only us
 
and she heard me, surprise.
 
We lay together, loving?
Who can tell?
Certainly not I...

We were affixed to look into each other
 The swallowing bellow of the waterfall took away our time
I cannot imagine anyone else, no where, no other time for this
than now
but now is bleeding away
as water soaks through ground to reach roots.

Again I am myself,
alone still,
with her
 oblivion lurks in so many corners and my notes have rung they're course.
 
She stays in my arms and it feels like home
that is a faint ray of hope for she and I .

I’m the first to wake up.
Treehouse Sycamore is silent
as the campers rest, waiting for a new day.
I shout a good morning greeting
at the top of my lungs
and they comically stumble out of their beds
to look for the mud-stained shoes
they will wear for the day ahead.

The climb to the dinner hall isn’t long,
but the morning sun may as well be a flame in our eyes.
The smell of breakfast tickles my nostrils.
Pancakes. My favorite. But not before a prayer.

Let’s take a hike. Filling our bottles
with icy thirst quencher we set off.
I think I’ll go barefoot. More natural.
I keep counting heads to make sure
I haven’t lost any campers as we enter the woods.
The trees block the wind, and the sun beats down 
ever stronger, staining our shirts with sweat.
The adjacent lake reeks of rotting fish, 
leaving that taste in the back of my throat.

In the heart of the forest hangs a rope.
The kids can be Tarzan, or Spider-Man,
or whoever they want to be.
I’ll swing, too. First, I place my foot
in the loop tied at the bottom of the rope.
Kicking off from the platform, there’s a breeze
that cools my head, feels like I’m flying.
Closing my eyes,
vertigo.

As the sun falls, we make one more trek
out to the campfire.
The grass is cool between my toes,
and the rocks sting a little.

The sand around the lakeshore
has been dug out to make a fire pit.
I’m the designated guitarist,
dangerously close to the flames.
What if my guitar were to catch fire?
It would ruin this day, but the song
drowns out any fear or discomfort.

Back at the cabin, we smell like we just escaped
a burning house.
The exhaustion of the day has set in,
but I seem to be the only one affected.
I’ll stay awake long enough to make sure 
that campers don’t start jumping out of the loft.
Lights out. Time to refresh,
and do it all again tomorrow.

worn ideas on paper spread out on the floor
but the floor resembles the ideas of old
sun-dried ink fades from teh lines
as stories awaken but refuse to be told
the words from teh paper have a strong grip,
clenching on to the tongue as my lips fold

my teeth bite down in spit of the stubborn words not letting go
as the hands of the clock chase each other like a dog pursuing its tail

outlasting the silence is a daunting task

I would have been born today with the biggest brown puppy dog eyes
and gifts of furry stuffed bears and cozy blue pajama's for everyone's eye's to see,
instead I sit under the golden tree and wait for her
to come and take me.

I would have been one now
running through the fresh green grass feeling as if I were running on top of a fluffy cloud above all
to reach Momma's heavenly garden filled with lilac's and roses galore,
oh how that would have been grand,
but instead I sit and wait in this gorgeous land.

I would have been five today
starting a school with bright colors, plush cuddly bears,
and an alphabet for me to learn,
but someone left the tree today and that reminds me when is it going to be my turn.

I would have been sixteen today
and a car with shimmering blue paint
and a full size ribbon would have been nice to take with me,
I guess she didn't love me so instead the Lord she sent me to see.

I would have been married today at the age of twenty-seven,
as tears with the force of waterfall fell down my cheeks,
the Lord gently caressed my hand and pointed to my wife while I sit here waiting in Heaven.

I would have lost my mother today,
I will tell you many people came to see her laid to rest and set free,
but finally,
just finally,
Momma wanted me and she picked me up from under the golden tree
cause after all Momma did abort me.

I wanted to write you a poem
Because you were my Ode
to Hip Hop
luxury lip lock
Rolex wrist watch, diamonds and gold

I wanted to melt your heart
Because I adore you dolly
But the persistance of my memory
Calloused my compassion
like musician's fingertips

An iceberg in the north atlanic
sank the titanic
their hearts laid to rest in a blue tomb
You're an unforseen chaos
Impervious with a frigid grasp
The angle that fell
Not yet made it to hell
And I was the one who knew you too well

I wanted to write like I used to
Rhyme & word play to seduce you
Just one spark to set your whole sky on fire
But my thoughts are too dark
And it's much too hard to write praise for a liar

You're conquered my heart like Hernan Cortex
To the Aztecs he was a God
He lied to and killed them all

It's raining on the outside
Of the stained glass windows,
Looking for an entrance,
Knocking as the wind blows,
Don't let it in, don't let it in.

As the sun comes up,
Creeping over the hill tops,
Making its way,
And drying up all the raindrops,
Soak it in, bask in the sunlight,
Take it in quickly,
Before the night arrives,
Lets wait it out till morning,
Lets wait it out till morning,
It's raining down, it's raining down.

Don't stare into the false corneas,
The fall angel,
Lurking in an unchaste world.
We don't have much time,
It's raining down, It's raining down.

Do they know not what they do?
They burry their heads into their hands,
to hid their face from you.

It's raining down, it's raining down.

No game playing, just role playing
The captain told me salute me.  
Hollering 4 letter words to me
Cant play with that loosely.
Where making action
Like where making a movie. 
I aint making this up,
Look how she’s giving orders to me. One night with no end, 
 
Candle light and slow jams.
Phones off and where focused
And were sticking to that program.
Her hands on my head 
As I head to the low
end.
Soldier saluting
 Troops it time to go in.
 
Strapped up and ready for war
Rapid adrenalin rushing, can’t take it no more.
On the battle field time to explore,
Times fly’s by like a plane likes to soar. 

Entering the warm pond and creeks in the meadow.
Working my way deeply in the middle.
Body’s lying down like their sleep on a pillow.
Trying to read minds like were speaking in riddle.

Physical combat.
we connect, physical contact.
Rumbling to max
But after this war we can come back.

Now Its so hot you see steam everywhere.
Heavy breathing, from every one.
World War 1 cant even compare.
Sweat drippin down our faces,
Body aroma’s fill the air.
You wouldn’t really understand the feeling,
If you weren’t even there.

Multi-colored lights swirling around
Thousands of feet stomping on the ground

Pulsing waves of sound and sex
Aromas of sweat and cigarettes

People dance and musicians play
I'd give anything to relive that day.

Another morning I awake,
Eyes opening to the sun
Shining through the shades.
The warmth of the sunrays
Tender and loving,
Feel me with hope and welcome.
Life all around is singing,
Birds are chirping
Kids are snoring
The aroma of fresh cut grass and diapers
Are prominent.
The taste of morning
Upon my tongue is unpleasant.
Today is not different from any other day,
Nor is it special,
Today I am grateful,
Grateful I exist.

He sits on the wooden gazebo overlooking the glistening water on the lake.
On his right sits a bible,
On his left sits a single sheet of paper.

He takes a big sniff in filled with the aroma of camp food and forest.
In the distance he hears kids getting ready to go to a whole camp game.
So many things to do and he is left to the calm peaceful gazebo.

The roar of the motor on the back of a speed boat drowns out any thoughts that he had.
He's had his fun time, but now it's time to get to work.
He reaches down and grabs the bible off the dark wooden bench.

His mind emptied of all the days thoughts like a hole in a bucket as he moves his focus from the outside world to his bible.
He has finally hit the peaceful place that he always loves to go to.
It's where he wants to be.

After a while he finishes what he needs to read.
He gets up and starts to walk away and to civilization.