In the chamber I sit and listen,
to whispers and love's echoes,
tear shed eyes staring glisten,
with the gift of dying rose.

When they left a holding place,
now kept companion with gentle song,
only physics needs time and space,
and the wait shall not be long,

to lose my heart in musician's feeling,
plays the overture my heart compose,
till the next love sends senses reeling,
till then only the music knows.

only the lonely hears this tune,
one the pages some player wrote,
not to the music I impugn,
it's the player and not the note.

We in times when e mail send,
And in love and honor bound,
Sometimes the voice I would recommend
To state feelings so profound

Distance is quite the chasm,
When times communication demand,
E-mail loses essential sarcasm,
And some may mis-understand.

But through patience and deep care,
Words means come through
And in just enough time to spare.
The affection held for few.

For the love few have shown,
And the words that meet in deed
The text if this little article shown,
Are clear despite the speed.

SO from the friends we take the cues,
And hope for meeting bright,
Although poets are easy to confuse,
When they haven’t slept that night.

So enjoy, and pages scribble.
To speak to the times said the sage.
Good friend get over any quibble,
And friendship comes it’s own language.

next life and tax day

It is an anniversary, a day of vows and words. When obligations were forever. Where there was a promise of a future. I visited the sacred grove. Talked to ghosts and listened for her whispers. Sometimes the ocean misses the sky more than it can bear. Forever together, forever apart. Next life. I wish I didn’t know what I know. But then that’s the burden of knowledge. Just remember the good and the love that was pure. Remember the bargains kept and obligation upheld. I’ll see you in my dreams. Just remember I loved you and always will. Such is the blessing of the poet. Next life. Be safe.

blood brothers - a request

There are quiet times,
In the face of deadly foes,
We steel ourselves with martial rhymes,
and face the joys and woes.

But in the torrent of our blood,
to our friends abscond,
Kinship when knee deep in mud,
sings to a deeper bond.

And together you face the wrath,
and with tears bloody laughter,
sometimes they dwell another path,
then the one you are looking after,

But it is the path of life,
Blood brothers may have to part.
Closer than to some wife.
Nearer to the heart.

For few know what's in store.
Palms slit, vows made.
That the brothers made in war.
Oaths never be betrayed.

So the time now is soon,
When in battle shields and blades break,
SO high they bleed the moon.
Tied until our very wake.

Pondering a night sky

Speed of Darkness.

Pondering loneliness, a quantum singularity. A black hole where even light doesn’t escape. I wrote a note to a friend in need, as part of this text. I hope it helps.
Those who pick fights, shouldn’t complain when they are beat down. An old saying I learned in the art. With the art comes the flow, with the flow comes the strength to adapt and change. To me the flow was always a matter of faith. It’s very hard to become soft. Such is the dichotomy of the style and the dangerous path we all as martial artists walk. With words I have saved many, from being beaten down. From unleashing the art in it’s purest form. The defense of self. I have often been told. That the self is destructive, it is the core of suffering. Life and limb must be protected. But what else? Attack is defense, defense is attack. Water may be the form we seek to achieve but we also can drown in it. My form is my function, as is my formlessness. Such is the path. SO I flow, like the blood in my veins and the words in my soul.
I can in more ways than you know, relate to pain, and pressure, the pressure to defy gravity and not plunge to the earth, when to fall would feel like a release. and I understand exhaustion, bone crushing and blood deep. My response from the deepest, loving, part of my soul is this. Is remarkably ...simple. The force that has always kept me strong in the most impossible situations and grueling of circumstances is love. Through love we sacrifice and through love we suffer, through love we lose our minds and through through love we learn the true meaning of feeling and forgiveness. Love is an act of faith that borders on myth. For we have to believe in what we can't see. The love you give and receive validates that prayer. You will endure this, and yes the torments and harder than stone and twice as unforgiving. But love, like the flow is eternal. All things change, even the bad things. You will withstand because of that small act of faith that lights the stars, begets the flow, and keeps us going.

the Easter Horror

On this holiday the difference begs,
What goings on ‘tween rabbits and eggs,
Chicken rabbit means engenders fears,
Of feathers, buck teeth, wings and ears.

The candy is out for the small,
Great weather promises the catch of the ball,
Long off course throws you must grab it.
While keeps eyes open for the chicken rabbit.

It stalks the night when it’s candy you seek,
But beware it’s sharp talon and fur covered beak.
The sight of the creature of evokes fears,
Of getting caught in the range of sensitive ears.

Chocolate and candy the vendors must sell it,
Or be covered in cedar shaves and rabbit pellet,
And even though I know it’s not funny.
To fear the dark spawn of the easter bunny.

Do you feel it.

A shadow close as skin,
Across the soul intuit,
The heart that beats akin,
Half sworn sword spirit,

I miss your smile,
This mask I adorn,
And it’s scars compile,
Yet still it is worn.

The eyes brim sadness,
you are hid from sight,
love a gentle madness.
I turn to face it’s might,

It is for you I bled,
for the missing bliss,
Only silence instead,
A steep cost for a kiss.

April's Fool from the new story

I officially despise April with the power of 1000 white hot suns.

Always without fail has been a bad month for me. Just wondering if in the mists of memory the dead remember. If upon walking the road of shadows, between the dreaming and the dead, do you remember all your joys born of my sacrifice. Do you know ?, do you care?

Foolish I know. But today is the day for fools and I have been both Jester and Prohphet. I've been the omniscient Greek chorus and the knavish clown.

But I always think in my dark moments what it is to be erased what it is to wipe out all in a quest to wipe out the bad with the blood the good.

Tell me it was real with more than just a few banal words. Tell me it was worth it. Sometimes gods should reward us for our faith. That love is eternal when it is sworn.

It is the doom of men that we forget but the fool remebers all. So do you remember me. Confirmation of a vow and a memory of love made long ago. Or am I now the secret shadow across your soul.

But you've gone across the veil. The Harlequin is just a witness.