On clear summer nights, I like to find big empty spaces. Find fields the size of oceans when you lay in its middle and I watch the wind orchestrates ballet dances with runaway leaves.

I lay down with my hood under my head to keep the blood from filling up  the narrow spaces inside my skull.

I breathe easy.

My body sinks into grass blades and dandelions.  Bugs I don’t even know or can see travel the unknown my body is to thee

I stare straight up to space, transcending my sight past our atmosphere.

I can see higher than the planes.

The wind blows through the beaches; it’s gusts playing Bob Marley covers.

Worn old surfers, who once had blonde hair past their shoulders with girls under both arms, still yearn with their souls to be young again.

They still see the sun for the first time while they make love to the waves, the only honesty left in their hearts.

I hear the beach beginning to sing the vows of “Redemtion song” as the night brings the waves closer to our civilized world.

The pink sky shines on both old and new love; Providing them just enough light to find their hands in the silence between crashing waves.

Wow, I never thought I’d finally do it. Dream’t about it, thought about it, talked about it, now doing it. Just her and I in the middle of my neighborhood Golf Course. It had to be a bit past 2 am. There Miles of space and just us.

The Sky Wore like a black dress, the stars white polka dots. They were everywhere, as if the universe decided to host a social that night. Who else would really?

With space comes silence. There’s comfortable silence and then there’s nails digging into your back silence, the silence that tugs at your heart with tiny strings. This was the former, the silence that shuts the world off, and you are simply… just alive.

We all have talents, skills that we work on and hone, gifts that the gods bestowed onto us. Billions of people a genuine unique essence for each one , a mixture of abilities that know no mirrors.

Everyone of us as unique and different as the dreams  of the seekers and as precious as the faith inside the believers.

Some we put our talents on display while others sit and let them waste away. The system in which we live gives us excuses that make our very passions seem to become elusive.

Not an option, not feasible, because somewhere between

What if God’s breath was the reason for waves and the the three little pigs triumphantly tempt him to cause tsunamis some days?

Everywhere we are consumes a crease in his mind, and everywhere we are not is just frozen in time.

I could only see what my mind could construct, my eyes are the only ones I could trust. For conception can not be complete without my mental perception.

What if my mind send messages from my heart, conveyed through my soul?

Would that make my soul the almighty and my heart the Picasso painting my reality?

I once loved somebody so much that her smile put invisible walls around us for protection

It looked like we here in a castle wrapped in ivy flowing in different directions

I loved somebody who I opened every door I could for, so it could feel the fifties drinking milkshakes in an old chevy

I once loved somebody so much I would do good deeds because I had a hunch I owed such somebody something so they too could feel gods touch

Movies could only show shadows of us

I ride around at night on my purple mountain bike inside a neon lit city infused with fog swimming in the dull bright light.

All through the streets are the scattered ghosts who look like old cartoons of the people we know and once knew. They’re all wearing funny hats with monocles and canes; Sipping whisky from wine glasses and strumming one string guitars.

They look more sad then angry, their cold ghost tails fishing for ankles of those still alive.

I reach as far and high as my body could reach trying to escape the floor where they reap as the sky continuously floats further into into the dark depths of the deep.

But I remember, I remember  to channel the violent waves of passion crashing inside my veins and the hard piercing truths in the depths of my brain.

I stop and I Listen, listen to  the notes humming from my breath.

Suddenly all my ideas of me dissolve and my soul begins to cover up the top of my skin.

Night was out. The streets humming with trouble, crashes of trash cans and loud cat meows. 24/7 deli windows lit up the dark streets. Everyone out wore fitted baseball caps, most of them in ginny t’s, short denim jeans and boots with lose lips. You kinda knew by the bending of their knees who was scared stupid and who was stupid enough to answer to their dares. Where were we in all this?

Explorers to this land with knapsacks and mountain bikes, a bag of pot and a pipe, worn out notebooks still dripping in ink, sipping spiced rum from flasks while waiting for the sun to come up again.

“Let’s go to that deli on top of the hill, looks sort of friendly”