Art of Soul

Oh Lordy
I think I've done it
I think I've done it again

I didn't mean to fall in love with you
perhaps I had hoped
perhaps we had hoped
I can speak of we
in this way
because
if there were not a we
I wouldn't be here
with you.

I've never been good with timing
Perhaps this was the worst
example of this so far
or maybe the best

I always jump the gun

it's the potentials
that drive us
humans, that is
the Socratic
unmoved mover
be all you can be
halleleuah
god save
this humble shell

broken is a good word
it's stronger than damaged
I had broke
several times
we've shared our scars

You are broken
You now Realize
Before, thought just damaged

Life beats some of us
when we aren't defeating ourselves

Jesus I'm sorry

You were drunk
I was close
But after the first kiss
I was stone cold sober

Christ I fit so easily
into your world
whereas
I dont fit into mine

You love your son
as deeply as I love
my daughters
there is magic all around you

All I can do is speak
of Magic
and Loss

(Pardon me Lou)

But this chick's the tits

She laughs
and it hurts
but she laughs
a lot

she's driven
she's learning
she's fucking in hell
and yet there's still magic

She kisses soft and tender
her touch is slow to come
but tips of fingers to face
tips of tongue to teeth

her body os silk
she drinks the attention
the drinking is the problem

it breaks down no walls
a common misperception
it does build new ones
temporary ones

what was I thinking?

I know where my thoughts lay
as I lay beside her
listen to her breathing
after watching her soul
live, for three days

My thoughts lay with her
I want to heal
what I cannot fix
I dont want to
a magic pill
I just wish I could
wave it all away

A moment of clarity
reason
and mended soul

dreaw off the pain
so we can look
and maybe know

I knew at once
from her art
that there's a depth
of art
to her life
to her existence

Perhaps I bore you
because you think I am fawning

well, maybe I am
but deservedly so

I think what she may learn
what she must, on her own
is that she is not broken
just battered

She wants it all to be right
she has tried to make it so
what I have learned
is that it never is

But the art of living
is rarely mastered

And I was wrong
My dear friend Linda
for myself- my own definition
although there are many
different answers
it is not an equation
of compliment
or contrast

It is instead
the energies
of the artists
and a common canvas
on which to practice
where one finds love
what now
I feel most
is intangible and wholly sweet
the trace of peaches and apricots
on a warm early summer breeze

What I fear most
is the unpredictable winds
that the canvas was stretched
and gessoed
too short and too soon
that the moment
will end
just at that,
itself.

I think
my sweet woman
you will emerge
after the crash
and know my words true

that you are just fine

It pleases me to know
I've helped bring you here
to a place- where you are
questioning everything
I can only hope
that as you move
beyond all this
that we may
travel it together.