i'm like an ocean.

i am, like an ocean right now. vast and slow moving. deep, like an illusion, i'm bottomless. i am a means of travel. i am a coast guard, at bay. i have an island of love, blossoming and expanding and taking over the ocean that i am. because i am an ocean that consists of fears. love covers a multitude of, everything. and this island, is covering a multitude of me. You are. i am a jet skier, seeking the thrills of this spontaneous life - no direction, no conclusion, open ended story book, open ended journey. i can go days without thinking about anything other than You and i feel ok. i feel complete.

i feel like an ocean. like a sea. like water. i'm just like the water. i am fluid. i can take the form of any shape and own it. i can quench a desert of its drought and heat. i can clean the insides of a body that lacks, me. i'm a talker. i'm a river. i am a waterfall that talks about tumbling down from the greatest heights to the deepest depths. and i don't try to make the best sense, ever. because it's like a never ending puzzle that can't be figured out. i'm like a puzzle that lost its picture of completion, but i am complete. and if you made it this far, you are interested in not me - but this art. i'm the puddle that stays alive in the scorching heat, because i am complete. i'm whole. i'm full. i am satisfied. i am what you look at to see you, isn't that something?

i've learned that i am everything you never wanted me to be and everything you wished for me to be, all in one. yes. and now, the sun shines brighter than the lights in a dark room over a nation that is so blinded by its governmental issues - i am not interested in another soul vanishing from the earth or another tsunami rushing through and crushing another country if you have no solution to the issues. i don't want to watch you debate over and over and over about who's guilty and why they are if you don't know anything for sure - let it be. leave it be. there is only one solution and this earth repels Him, in every way. and until you're ready to listen, until you're ready to accept - i will forever be an ocean, i don't have to respond back. i'm finally letting go.

i'm free today. i'm new tomorrow. i'm me forever. i am in and out of tunnels of desperation, finding a need for a new level of expression before this inspiration expires. before my fingers and hands grow tired. i'm reaching and soaring to land on cloud 11. somewhere out of this world, i'll be. i'll be like the water. like an ocean. i'm like a novel. a treasure. i'm like a routine that's meant to be broken and retrained. i'm not a program. i'm not just a name. i'm finding out where and who Love is. i am inside and outside of you. i'm floating. i'm boundless. i'm at a destination. i'm trusting You.

two hundred-fifty four.

travelocity, short.

from where i sit,

i see planes, i hear

planes sketch the skies

and slice the clouds.

dreaming.

do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

- John Mayer.

two hundred-fifty three.

july 19, 2010.

it's been a year,

and today it rained.

last year it did too.

i used my own umbrella this time.

asa is unchecked on my playlist.

it's been a year,

and today it rained.

last year it did too.

i'm glad i've been taken out of what was.

what was, was so trivial and fickle and foul.

i learned. i learned you. and i learned me.

how weak flesh comes out to be.

i'm glad you're gone -

i'm so happy you're gone.

two hundred-fifty two.

love poems; II.

your voice, like waves rolling on top of waves

your eyes, like the depths of the seas that i can't reach

your mind, like the rivers that flow alongside still trees

your touch, like the waterfalls sliding against mountains

your words, like streams rushing to a place of containment

your silence, like the pond often over looked, but holds much meaning

your presence, like the lakes between trees under the vast skies

your ways, like the rays bouncing from the bodies of water

your personality, like a trigger i've never pulled because

love rests at the tips of my fingers, with you, love exists.

two hundred-fifty one.

stranger strolling in search of gold.

his feet dragged along a cement trail

two bags of goods in his hands, he held them tightly.

baseball cap, collared shirt with sandals, rain came down gently

as he passed a green garbage can that was fixed in the center of two

pieces of sturdy wood, his eyes and faces fell into its opening

as he searched for whatever gold was to him,

moments later, he continued on that trail.

two bags of goods in his hands, he held them tightly.

what was he in search of?

what does he already have?

where is he going?

these are questions that i can't help but ask.

dragonfly tales.

two hundred-fifty.

love poems; I.

i'll hold you tight like a

tidal wave in the night, my knight

your night will settle across the

blanket of the day and cuddle the

blue skies as if they were mine, as if

they were me . you . we .

and like the ripples in the stream,

we'll roll , we'll tossle , we'll spin

u n c o n t r o l l a b l y . . .

we'll rock , we'll swing , we'll glimmer

in the noonday and sip tea like the fish

on the bay when they escape their expansive tank ,

we'll be free and sing songs of love, have them

dance from my lips to yours -

i'll write a song for you, i won't title it .

but it will be for you - it will be for me.

two hundred-forty nine.

interestingly enough.

when will i?

when will you?

when will we?

pandoraJam.

it's sweet - how this station has translated this frequency that has been jolting inside of me to songs that communicate all and everything i have been itching to let out. the art of song. it's unexplainable. i'm swimming in a lake of sluggish melodies, at ease. lyrics, stretching me through this stream of water. each strand of a wave floating me. moving me. vibing me. take it easy. refresh. renew. rethink. remind. recourse. reroute. go on, floater. redream.

mindful taste buds.

regret has a funny taste to it, doesn't it?

overjoyed.

two hundred-forty eight.

midnight, summertime lover.

her fingertips are made of cutlass

and when she leans in for a hug &

clinches the valley where your spine

lays , she is determined to slice it

open to get an exclusive touch (&

she won't tell) of your insides , as the fluids flow -

like a surgeon , she wants to know

all of you , that she may take care of

all of you , internally and externally ,

she'll know all of you .

leaving you for dead , she's known to

do just that - be wise , don't make eye contact.

just. run.

on, cleaning the closet.

reading things from back then , seems like i was referring to you . like i was talking about you . it's strange . how there really is nothing new under the sun . thoughts . words . feelings . emotions . sketches . passions . stories . experiences . nothing new under the sun . because , back then , i knew you and i knew this . i just didn't know your name . thoughts. i think it's incredible . are my palms strong enough to break this pattern ? this is incredible .

two hundred-forty seven.

bargain lover.

i don't want to go

to a place where lovers pay

a price, i can't afford.

poetry fitting.

"only crazy people can write poetry."

- man at grand lux, as he continued to recite 19th century poetry.

it was a pleasant conversation that my ears fell into.

i can attest to the above comment.

it's the truth.

two hundred-forty six.

june's experimental exit.

i'm thinking , maybe june ,

you're just experimenting -

testing me , for no good reason.

knocking at the door , ear suctioned

to the door , ear thirsting for

a vibration , an acoustic , a sound

from a voice too familiar to the senses

in your , in its , in june's ear .

stimulation not stimulated not stemmed

from her , from me i mean because it's

vacant bhind that door and my voice ,

her voice is traveling on the tracks of a new ,

of another , in hopes to guide you nearer

in this , through this experiment you've chosen to

test me with , to test her with , you scientist.

and i don't like math , or science, she doesn't like

to use those - which is why behind the door , she

no longer waits to share with you the acoustics of

her sacred voice - leave!!!

because when you left , her hand stayed on her chest,

she didn't , i didn't want to say bye-bye. i didn't say

good bye because in truth, that's an oxymoron - you moron, you!

june!

stop testing she.

stop testing her.

stop testing me.

i'm so happy you chose to leave.

*opens door*

welcome to my home, july.

but don't make yourself comfortable.

please.

of, the sunshine.

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have you had enough yet?

have you?