Aimless

There was a time

when I stumbled

deep into the blue

sailing through a sea of booze

often aimless

and without a clue.

Then came the time

I lost my mind

in the broadest

of light

I looked for it

all through the night

without a beacon

burning so bright

to show me the way home.

So it was my spirit

I had no choice

but to hone,

before the sun

I could ever be shown.

For it’s the boat

we must rock

hidden in morning’s haze

is where we make

the most waves.

All that is left

between death and my next breath

is an oar carved in lore.

What this story has in store

awaits on yonder shore.

Not over there

cuddled with the puddle

of you

on the kitchen floor.

BeLove © 2017

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She > He

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I will be out of the office 11.8.17 through 11.15.17.  I will return 11.16.17.  I apologize for any inconvenience;)

With Regards-

BeLove

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Headwinds

I am sorry

if I took to long.

I thought I’d found

where it is I ought

to belong.

It seems as though

that I thought wrong.

Leave it to me

to the find the place

I need not be.

While I am here

I’ll continue to circle this sphere

just a little longer

with an instinct

only getting stronger.

Habit has fallen extinct

by way of addiction’s conquer.

From my head

I try to escape

the shift of wicked’s shape.

In my heart

I rearrange the space

touched by a thought

that I must retrace,

while sifting through

the emotional waste

of a desire displaced.

BeLove © 2017

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Wind Chime

You run through my mind

like a wind chime

singing with a summer’s breeze

somewhere lost in a slipped time

most days I don’t even notice it

should they dance by as they please

but sometimes when my thoughts go quiet

and I feel at peace

I listen for the trees

whispering to the sound of that wind chime

with harmony and a rhyme

soft, pleasing, and distinct

on a wind-swept summer day

I guess that best

describes the way

I like to remember the beauty of you

BeLove © 2017

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Guy Clark / “Somedays You Write The Song”

Pauper’s Parade

Wealth is not measured

By what you bury in a bank

Wealth is a treasure

Measured from within.

Life is a measure

That holds no rank.

It is not the truth

I’m trying to bend.

But the fountain of youth

I seek in the end.

My thoughts they march

To the beat

Of dancing feet.

Where ideas were always meant to thrive

In their isolation they come alive.

High above the shade of

A pauper’s parade.

But Old Jester, he turned a trick

He was somewhat slick

In a game he played

With his slight of hand

For the fool he planned

A simple quote

One in which he wrote

With charm and a schtick

Lest his imaginary sidekick.

Somewhere his secret sits patient

Where his words are no longer kept skeptic.

.

BeLove © 2017

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Mondo Cozmo / “Shine”

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