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Don't Laugh (I Love You)

and when the sun turns to snow
and the grass doesn't grow
don't laugh i love you
i could look outside my window every day
but you wouldn't be there to come out and play
don't laugh
ernest hemmingway would always be there 4 me
but now ernest hemmingway is dead
if i could get u back someday
don't u say you're going away
and if you licked (locked) me in the sun
to the tinkle i would run
i love you

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The Star outside my window

It was late
I couldn't sleep
The moon lit night was seaping through my window seam
i quietly rolled over on my tummy
as i gazed out at the starry night
i felt so small and weak looking at the millions of stars
just then one star caught my eyes
It was the biggest most spectacular star in the sky
at first i thought it couldn't possibly be a star
i sat still for minutes staring at it
it didn't move
not once
so i closed my eyes in the dead of night
and carefully made my wish to the star outside my fogged up window
i layed back down my eyes blinking shut
a smile on my face
i fell asleep with the sweet though that it might actually come true
that star still shines outside my window every night
my wish never came true

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Don't Laugh

And when the sun, it turns to snow
And the grass doesn't grow
Don't laugh, i love you
I could look outside my window every day
But you wouldn't be there to there come and play
Don't laugh, i love you
Ernest hemingway (ernest hemingway)
Would always be there for me (would always be there for me)
But now (ernest hemingway) ernest hemingway is dead (is dead now)
If i could get you back someday
Don't you say you're going away
Don't laugh, i love you
And if you locked me in the sun
To the tinkle i would run
Don't laugh, i love you
Nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu
Nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu nu
I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you
Don't laugh, i love you
I love you, i love you, i love you, i love you
(oooh...ohhheee..watch it...giveittome..blahblahblah...
Watchit...ooheee...giveittome, etc.)

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When the Forest Turns Gold

During the nights,
The forest turns gold.
Animals are knights,
And the children are told,
That once they set foot on the floor,
They will be pull.
When the forest turns gold.

This is not lore.
Climbers will be cold,
And the children’s heart would tore.
The children will be told,
That they will never reach the shore,
Until an eclipse peers,
Then the children would be unfold.
When the forest turns gold.

Years after years,
Climbers will be old.
The children will be swamps with fears,
That they will never be old,
Because of the magic that the forest hold.
The climbers hold the children tight.
They would always be hold,
When the forest turns gold.

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Patrick White

When The Blue Dove Turns Back

When the blue dove turns back,
exhausted by looking for things
she hoped to find,
blue blood to the dark side of the heart,
no land in sight, no blithe word,
no sprig of olive in her beak,
and the bruised sky turns black
and there’s nothing to seek
but the misdirections of the stars,
she looks for shelter
under the wing of the dragon
that takes her into his darkness
like the night takes in the moon.
Just for her he disarms
the claws on one wing and a prayer
like a dead branch to receive her blossom.
She thaws like snow in the heat
of his ancient serpent fire
and weeps like a window
for things that go on forever.
Like the homeless continuity
of her random flight plan.
He speaks to her tenderly
like silence out of the enormity
of his solitude within
as if she were standing
in the shadows of opening doors.
No lover, no assassin, no eclipse,
no starmap to anywhere,
not a sage of snake wisdom,
his yellow eyes slashed like full moons,
he says, you’ve got wings, just like me
and maybe it’s not landfall youre looking for
not something continental
to rest upon like a mountaintop
but the wind, whichever way it blows,
wherever it goes
that is always vagrantly at home
and everywhere in touch with itself.
Just as the night sea never
severs itself from its own weather
whatever mirror it wears
with or without a facelift,
you might think youre so far out of it
youre flying a kite on string theory,
a high note on a stave of power lines.
But what are these if not
your own umbilical and spinal cords
attached like wavelengths and lifelines
to everything in the womb of the dark mother
who keeps on giving birth to you
from one bucket of a waterclock
to the next forever?
And when youre lost in your own eyes,
is the night not compassionate,
does it not lay out a starmap before you
and say go whichever way you want,
follow whatever star you choose.
In an omnidirectional world of light
they’re all true north
even when youre walking
in the shadows of your own shining.
Even when youre trying to reach landfall
by cooking rocks in a tinfoil crack spoon
like the feminine gender of Columbus
in the Caribbean islands
when you break up
like Pangaea into continents
as if you were fracturing prophetic skulls
that didn’t take their own advice,
hoping someone might name one after you.
And I can think of a few
that could be immediately renamed after you
though youre not the first
nor the last to discover them.
Mu and Atlantis.
But they’re not the kind of place
you want to pilot an ark to.
And if you think it’s hard now
try tugging a shipwreck up from the bottom
to see if even one of a kind survived.
There you can eat the carrion of corpses
like the white crow
Noah sent out first
to look for dry land
then cursed the bird
for feeding off the drowned
with a hoarse voice
and an eclipse of black feathers,
turning diamond back into coal
you can cook in a spoon
like forty nights of new moons
that never open their eyes
because they’re as stillborn
as the porcelain doorknob
of a cosmic egg
you can only break out of
on the inside
by letting the world
unfold your wingspan
like a loveletter to yourself
you finally decide to send back like word
of a blue dove at peace with herself
at the first sight of real land
even from the crow’s nest
youre living in now
from hand to mouth.

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When the Heat Turns Off

Frost, cold.
And yet there is a warmth exposed.
A shoulder is provided to sigh or cry.
And an empathy is sincere and deep.
A weeping shared is also complete.
But when the heat turns off...
A quick breeze is felt.
No pretensions here are dealt with.
This flame that burns is genuine.

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And Then When The Door Goes Bang

yes, when the door goes bang
you know it is closed and even locked
from the inside

and you do not wish to see anything
you are now alone
you do not wish also to enter that room

you feel so free and you go back
doing the thing that you always love

starting all over again
still hiding and concealing
now the giggling starts and then
the usual explosion
of yourself
in silence, this innermost peace
of the soul

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When the sun rises and grows faint

The sunflowers know when the sun rises,
they follow the hot rays
that unfolds in the sky, that fall
on hills and valleys;
similar your presence, humanity draws me
and it's as if
I am destined to you
when the sun rises and grows faint.

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Quatrain #76 - When the light of Love and Truth........

When the light of Love and Truth is awakened in the heart
a person's life is not really the same it was at the very start.
He or she is treading the path forward to their true home
and no longer the mundane pathways of life they do roam.

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Quatrain #4 - When the time comes and.........

When the time comes and if we are faced with the unknown,
it's on the soil of experience the tree of knowledge is grown.
Life and death are the two sides of the one coin of existence
the difference between them is the extent of our ignorance.

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When The Sun Goes Down

Watery and lovely,
And the harder they come!
For it is like the sins of our past,
But i depend on the sun to make up my money on this side of the river.

Hello Mr. President! !
I always stop painting when the sun goes down;
But it is very sticky and sweet at times with the muse of love,
And i need this river over here to make my money.

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When The Love Is Gone Winter Days Come!

What stays there
When the love ends
Nothing is the same
Oh how hurts this pain
Everywhere is dark,
Huge emptiness
Covered and has ebbed my soul
The sense of loneliness
Nothing can fill this rough emptiness
That has empired my soul inside
Though its summer time,
But inside me storms are howling by
Oh love you always bring the spring days
And when you are gone
Unending winter days come,

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When the Lamps Go Out

On any midnight street
Of this morally-bankrupt city,
There is always someone
Ready to bleed and ready to die
As they bid farewell
To their inconsolable existence,

But beautiful girl,
Seek happy days and happy nights
Swaying beneath dance-floor lights
In the strong and forceful arms
Of a man who will treat you right.

Stay with me
When the lamps go out
In a moonlit room…

I am in love with you.

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When The Seasons Changes

In the morning it is very cold!
But in the afternoon it is very hot;
And like, winter in the morning and summer in the afternoon,
But the eagles up high will always find a prey! !
Because, nature had made it that way;
And, we have to accept things as they are.
Try to understand nature in times like this!
Because, you and i know what it is to love someone;
But, when the seasons changes,
We all learn from our varoius mistakes.

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When The Day Of Darkness Comes

WHEN THE DAY OF DARKNESS COMES

When the day of darkness comes
And it will come-
And when I can no longer see or feel the world-
When I am gone
Forever gone-
The same flowers and trees
The same sky
The same morning light
The same human dreams
The same loves and hates and sadnesses and joys
The same human condition
Will still be-

When I am no longer here
You will go on as you always have-

O world,
What will I do without you?

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When The Son Makes The Mistake

when the son makes his mistakes
the mother is always there to comfort him
and lessen the pain and tell her son
to continue what needs to be done

the mother tells him the world is so big
and wide and it will always understand
the world is so big and so wide that
there will always be a space for him

and from there the son understands what
love is: it starts from a loving mother
and the son moves on to find a wife
whose love like that of his mother

must make him a real man since then.

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When the Sun Shines

I am always here
I am in the wind
That whispers thru the pine
I am always here
I'm the achingly beautiful melody
Playing across your mind
When the sun shines, when the sun shines
I am always here
I am the emptiness in the night
Keeping you in memories until dawn
I am the past and future
Lingering on and on
I am always here
And sometimes I call your name
I play across your mind
On waves of memories
When the sun shines, when the sun shines
I am here.


Dena, may you find laughter and dance and song now

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When The Roses Bloom Again

When the roses bloom again,
I know that spring is here.
When the roses bloom again,
love will fill the air;
hearts will start to flutter
like a small bird on the wing.
Voices from the rooftops
will once again begin to sing.

When the roses bloom again,
to my loving arms you will come.
I will feel the warmth and tenderness
of your loving embrace.
When the roses bloom again,
everything will be as it always was.
The perfumes of a new day
will fill my world with love,
and all this will happen
when the roses bloom again.

26 June 2008

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When the wind sighs

When the wind sighs
When the wind sighs
The blind-fold statue sings
The faces of the skies are dark
And the cloud flies.

When the wind sighs
From the door-crevice in
It begs to enter in
How darker are the shadows on the walls
How sad how sad the flame wavers
As on the wall it flickers:

When the wind sighs
The sea’s black turns to green
And on the city-bastions tall
The first chill blow of wind
The first chill dropp of rain
And in the alley strait
Rain-waters gurgle down
The old stone-cobbled streets:

When the wind sighs
When the wind sighs.

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When the breeze on the sea and land is strong

When the breeze on the sea and land is strong
do not feel sorrow when I am gone
as if I am the only man, the only one
and when my ashes are spreading among

the places for which I did long
and become part of every hue and tone
with vivid colours like a anemone
and I am part of the wind, its song

then only remember me
in the words that I leave behind
in their simplicity,
let them remind
you of their beauty and sincerity
as a last legacy that you call to mind.


[Reference: Sonnet 71 “No longer mourn for me when I am dead” by William Shakespeare.]

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When the Eyes Stay Fixed Upon It

Those sick in health,
And always with something negative to say,
About someone else...
Reflect the condition of their environment.
And represent others heard venting their views,
While focused on what people do, who they 'think' they are...
With a competing done in discussion about their ailments.

Is this a cynical comment?
No it is not.
This is a portrait depicting the consciousness,
Of a sleeping people.
Observed as is.
Although...it does seem to have animation,
When the eyes stay fixed upon it.

'You are right.
It does.
I wonder how that was done? '

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