october 26th 2009

i composed this one. yea, it’s 12:45 AM and i’m burning tomorrow’s beautiful daylight by reading through past poems. while I exploded a little bit about my love in my most recent post, here is a follow up:

how i wish you were here
like two lost fish swimming around the fish bowl
year after year.
day after day.
wish you were here.

because once you’ve found true love.
you realize there’s nothing more you can do to your life.
there’s nothing more you need to see
nothing more you need to hear.
no face should be peered at no nearer than the face of your own true love.

no nose should be studied
no lips should be watched.
no hand shall be stroken
and no tear shall be dropped
for any other soul
than the soul of your own true love.

there’s no place to be
no business to do
but serve and share
with your own true love.

cook for him, clean for him
sit with him, stare with him.
eat with him, drink with him
laugh with him play with him.

work through the day
ready for his return
each and every night
no thought of flight
will come about.

there’s no one to see!
no place to flee!
you are here with me
and me here with you.

here we are an us all for ever.
here we are. let us play today and night
and nights ever after.
this is the life we deserve
this is the way it should be
with you close to me
wrapped up, glued tight
desmosomes and fibers unite.
keep this love alife.

Good things come in pairs.

“‘Ya hadn’t oughtta got in the way of my shovel, little worm. I’ll coverya up in this here new dirt. Ya’ll be all right. Ya’ll heal up in a few days, then ya’ll be two worms. Ya might think I’m a purty bad feller. But when ya git ya be two worms, why gosh, you’ll have another worm ta run around with, an’ ya know, talk to, an’ stuff like that. I’ll pat this dirt down on top of ya good. Too tight under there? Can ya git yer breathe? I know it might hurt a bit right this minnit, but ya jes wait an’ see, when ya git to be two worms, ya’ll like me so good ya’ll be a sendin’ all th’ other worms round ‘ta me.’”

Woodchuck Guthrie, age 12

Love’s a funny thing, ain’t it? It hurts you so good and tears you up real bad. Tears you up real fleshy parts of yourself that you would never know existed cept for the meanness and spite of one other individual. This soul attaches itself to your own soul and you can’t live a day without thinkin and thinkin of this other soul. You start to believe you’re telepathin’ with the other soul, late at night… random in the middle of your day. And then, you see em again and you wonder if it’s all real, or is it all made up in your crazy little mind? The thoughts and vibes sent out from this individual, you pick them up real hard over the whitenoise of their actual actions. You see true life over real life. You see deep into his own life. Deeper ‘n he can see…

And as well as you think you can see into him, can he see into you?

Remember, you can’t chose who you love. Well from now on, I’m gonna spread my love, I’m gonna love every farmhand, every pick up drivin good deep pensive soul there is out there… I betcha I won’t find too many of em though, cus they’re the right special kind. But I wanna love em all and every single one.