deadletter box full of winter beat
its the slush and this steam heat

light this candle black as night
and a drop of blood from a finger
sweet

in the mirror you wait to meet
sit deathly quiet for a sign
the stranger from the other side

South born rain washes the night
tomorrow's forecast : clear and cold
I sit here beneath a dim light
as year and I both become old

Receive from which I can give

For you, none is held back

All exposed ,

Though none withered or cold

Because your love is ..

Well just that Your love

Unequivocally pure and unmatched

More golden then the sun's hue

Is what i feel for you

To say you make my day brighter Is an understatement

I know this poem wont do it ..

It can not fill you in on how much i love you that is.

Because no matter how many words or lines I write

I ll always come up short of expression

Oh, don’t look me in the eyes
You might witness
Pain with no disguise

Don’t fight the urge to walk away
Believe me even the sun
Wishes it could call in sick today

Oh, how easy it’s to say fuck it
When your greatest dreams
Lay by your bedside in a bucket

When your prayers become reruns
As your fears get married
And give birth to daughters and sons

When the only sign that you exist
Is the sound of a deafening weakness
That has no care of being missed

TWILIGHT

The sun sets low into the sea
casting phantom shadows
soulless
empty
reflections of me
and I am surrounded
by my own emptiness.

We're all just passengers
riding on this cosmic ball.
We're here the briefest moment
We live and die, that's all.

Our deeds, are mostly fleeting
like cracks in breaking glass
You and I, alike are pointless
we live, then come to pass.

So, you think a hundred years or more
of time, to be the end...
It's spitting in the ocean-
it's fantasy, pretend.

Frosted plumes of rhythmic clouds
from a heart that can't abide,
somehow I must erase all previous
days with such high tides.

Confidence cleanly shattered
with a look that's undisturbed,
I sit alone in the cold, cruel night
in a place fate had me lured.

However, her chill relentlessly
seeks refuge in my bones,
the writing on the wall is clearly
adding decibles to my groans.

The sound of silence
can fill a room
the atmosphere
clouded in gloom
anger permeates the air
not said, but its there

The crunch of crisp snow,
white snow,
bright snow,
the crack of twig,
the sharpness of the icicle above,
the weighted load,
its shift,
the swish of skis across the lake,
or through the wood.

The sound of space
so quiet,
stilled
around our beings,
wrapped into the world.

We huddle to keep warm,
we watch the stars be born,
the light of dawn is dimmed,
as the sun journeys on,
on its shortest day,
over the sky, above the grey.

Nigella Lawson is extremely peeved ,
About the comments made on the beeb
She told the truth about being beaten
Before the lemon roast chicken was eaten
Despite the fact that her father was famous
Chancellor of the Exchequer, she told us.
Complex relationship with her mother,
Did she love or did she hate her?
Nigel Lawsons not commented yet
He's too busy planning his next project
As I grew older I loved my mother
But despised the rest of them sister and brother
My mother tried hard despite all her failings