There came a breeze,

the soft unexpected air

on a hot day,

bringing coolness to a hot year.

There it came, like the calm,

and there he was like a smile in my eyes

like a muted, thoughtful, innocent surprise.

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

No one reads this, so it is of little importance to me. However i have these words to write.... despite all my so called strength, and desperate need for independance, it has become increasingly clear to me that i can only pull from a shallow well of strength for so long before the well becomes dry and i become empty. Somewhere along this life, this God that i claim to cleave to must be all that i say he is to me. All your strength becomes your weakness when it ceases to serve you well. You can quote me on that.

Piano Poem

Piano’s play their chords fingers glide over keys

abcdefg back to A again.

Intensity from my soul to my fingers pressing into the keys,

breathing my emotion into life, I  feel the edge come off my disease.

Leaning into the wood my head lingers over the chord,

pain in my throat the music becomes my sword.

Tears hit the ivory I savor the moment

voice swells in the air and sound becomes silent.

Desperately seeking for some solace some relief

I sink into the melody soothing my grief.

Come to me again, or I’ll seek you all day,

screaming notes into the air is how I will pray.

Minor not Major, diminished not augmented

Music finds a way of weeping the lamented.

burberry boy

You are a color and you are grey,

no life in you, you have nothing to say,

some think you are beautiful with your pale sunset,

 but you are empty a life we must regret,

you could have been blue maybe even yellow,

 could have changed something in life

 but your too shallow,

 so we find you in the sky

 which is where you and your concete lie,

 grey in the world you have nothing to give

 only smoke and fog, and a life you did not live.

All the world's a stage

Change the look in your eyes so you can be deceiving,

pain is just behind them but the smile is what your believing.

A common tale i'm sure but this is lifes plight;

to live as thought your ok, to live at though your alright.

Trying to force the happiness trying to force the glee

when reality proves a different path, a path led by a plea.

The plea cries father help me, despair has ripped my soul!

Lord i'm left with tragic memories haunting every goal.

No- one here sees my efforts,and least of all my fears

a failure in my own eyes drowning in the years.