2557 Quatrains Set 100
(in order of creation, newest first)

Can I call you yard to yet.
And believe you too can fly.
The sadness of a humming bird's bet.
Is that you both know why.
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When two bodies meet in space.
They pass or they collide.
But I suspect the darkness smiles.
When say reveal where an orbit hides.
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Water in a faucet.
Like poetry on the mind.
Hope is there when you turn a tap.
But the source has been refined.
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The most beautiful colors of a painting.
A universe or pun.
Where sometimes we find are two.
There was only room for one.
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Know how just like piano keys.
I love to hear your news.
So saddest part of your worthy notes.
One time and just one choose.
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When silence comment's on a situation.
It provokes no reaction.
The hardest heart in the deepest despair.
Surely needs that traction.
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Of all my highly scary things.
Culture scares the most to me.
Never been known to heed red lights.
Is the subtlety that stampeeds.
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No point in naming clouds.
Why didn't you tell me sooner.
They pass by fast like eyes of strangers.
Named not once we fewned her.
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A research grant for curly phone cords.
That's what this world needs.
Find out where oh tangles come from.
To go where art that leads.
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I always know when I'm in love.
Like trees a desert lends.
I thought I saw you twice today.
Of course it always ends.
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A snail appears so slow.
But oh how fast it is.
To take from life at such a rate.
And just as fast it gives.
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Humble before the one you cove.
And especially the some you can't.
Try to be the one they love.
And the hate they wish they shan't.
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I admire your stillness.
How like an unknown lake.
But would a ripple be so bad.
Those words of friendship sake.
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A million decisions all day from.
Each between come nor gone.
But as a person better becomes.
The difference hums not that long.
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To aim not hurtful words at thee.
As archers' trounce go wry.
If I could be the air they move.
When angry arrows fly.
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Fine arts I sell you truly.
Where no one has been.
If pun moves so carefully.
Yell that's where worlds begin.
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Artists and poets are found by witch hunt.
And humanity is searching it's true.
Just keep pointing an admiring finger at others.
And hope they don't point one at you.
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She visits the coffee shop frequently.
Frequency is how to tell.
Heros hide in higher specdums.
You have to fine tune well.
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Hierarchy is a magic word.
We say it all the time.
In fact there's no way not to say it.
How else would you fill a mind.
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A royal flush is a care thing.
Dare so is the own.
Elation is not so a rare sing.
It's the only thing you keep in your home.
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The sides of a ladder are made with cuddles.
A lifetime's length in size.
And the rungs of a ladder are made with troubles.
In every heart one hides.
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I'll make true art when it says nothing.
And nothing has not spoken clear.
The heart is a mighty master.
But so is what we can't hear.
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Nigh not last so mighty shush.
It does to end or stay.
Pretend instead though lighty hush.
Woe walk away that day.
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Until we find the real reason.
The truth will have to do.
We can only know so much.
So there's always something new.
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That which is not paradox.
Can be so much at times.
Had until you find it.
As that makes it so fine.
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Bolts of lightning are like careers.
They take the easiest paths.
And retirement is like the thunder.
Which echoes of the past.
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Considering the much of us.
And the emptiness of space.
Sure there's alot more nothingness.
But nothing goes to waste.
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Within a perfect stillness.
Is there a place for me.
I could only till the hush.
To respond to thus as seed.
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You don't have to be a poet.
You don't have to carve in wood.
Just by telling who's your favorite.
Shows just how you could.
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The peaceful in constant battle.
Against the bored who would do anything.
Hand one a peace of paper.
And the other the fight that it brings.
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One votes no and four vote yes.
And so a story begins.
And always when they wish they didn't.
Wisdom is their friend.
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I wish there was a movie called Fine Tuning.
About how people grow.
How they change their inner thoughts.
Until themselves they know.
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There's only one advice.
That's worth more than another.
A life time of choices sends you somewhere.
So treasure the voice of your mother.
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Where you'll find our spirit.
That place that's made of thirds.
No light, no sound, no merits.
Destination between the words.
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Vibrations are the seasons.
Vibrations are the tides.
Vibrations are a world at work.
And that's why people cry.
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If we all think about it hard enough.
We could change the speed of light.
So yes I'll have a cup of coffee.
And keep you in my sight.
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That is where we'll meet.
Divide the number pi in two.
Where lonely philosophies touch once.
A single night's truce wooed.
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Though diamond may be the hardest stone.
It's not quite the hardest thing known.
When broken heart lungs ask why.
So hardest is the breathless cry.
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I shall never know such beauty.
Like a person so hard at work.
That as she oh near sips a coffee.
Which no cost can compute such worth.
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If I believed in you hard enough.
I was sure that you'd appear.
Just like, how a snow flake.
Can wish to join a tear.
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Peace shall cause war.
And war shall cause peace.
Dare but to choose friend.
Or both when's shall cease.
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When I look at constellations.
I can see what your dreams are.
You'll have one million thoughts a month.
But you only get five stars.
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When men on the moon first saw the earth.
Well the first time I saw you was like that.
Oh surely I was in such awe of your beauty.
But then I remembered where I was at.
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A valentine I give to thine.
And pretend we were divided and then.
Like Plasticine in a child's dreams.
We forever recombine again.
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Symbol metaphor I do see.
Gentleman lady and voice of thee.
A thought filled word moves so eased.
In hath through others a brevity.
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You know that shape of humans.
Well humans are nothing like that.
But kept secret hidden inside somewhere.
Is where their circle is at.
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Art and poetry teach like mountains.
What the hiking boot needs to know.
Nothing to shoelaces could be more louder.
Than the silence of something so old.
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Appreciation oh what are you.
If only one can care.
Go boldly oh the heart that plunders.
What others have held dear.
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That is the strongest shield.
When anger sounds like don't.
Nothing can hurt the warmth of self.
When a kitten's hidden in your coat.
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Did you ever climb a tree.
Because that's where might be.
And find one upon the thinnest branch.
Because that's where no shy men dare chance.
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Hang his paintings in the bathroom hall.
If a need has such a lovely wall.
But I should think needs are deeper still.
His art we'll hang upon the old free will.
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Inspiration is the loneliest torment.
But oh what a place to be.
No one can join such a tiniest moment.
But lo may I hold hands with thee.
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To send them adrift upon oceans of time.
Kept but afloat in the vessels of minds.
Hallways may never love metaphors.
But rhymes to hum shall swim corridors.
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Please excuse my thoughts and words.
For although I feel they're new.
They're all but oh so obvious.
Most worlds already knew.
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Oh what is this thing so cruel.
If when pushed stops like a mule.
And flutters like a cobweb's code.
The ironies of life I rode.
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Culture has to choose direction.
And to learn or not was his.
When two artist meet.
Something has to give.
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When hate tries to climb a ladder.
Please try not to stare.
Its plight is a private matter.
Remember you were once there.
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Every culture grows.
To a point where it disappears.
If a billion dice were rolled down a hill.
I hope that ours are near.
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Life is like a pair of socks.
You can hold it in your hands for years.
But no sooner than you forget to think.
Oh god it disappears.
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You too can be a heaven.
And know what a universe said.
Behold your transistor radio.
Until its battery is dead.
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The spear thus flows to shield.
In the hand that also throws.
Yet no breeze be uglied thrice.
By the art of the rose thorn's pose.
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Poems are just coordinates.
Locations on a map.
Revel not in the words themselves.
But where the mind is at.
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As refrigerator paintings disappear.
It is voices that glue the seams.
To bind a world with conversations.
An artist can only dream.
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Time unyields its additions.
Ideas are my bars.
To speak of thus a butterfly.
I must have forgotten the stars.
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Lumber Jacks and tire swings.
What could fill such needs.
Can an artist love such beauty.
If woman is a tree.
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An artist moves everything that is not a brush.
The brush just gets in the way.
I looked at a Dali this morning.
This evening I returned a tray.
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Build your mountain with every thought.
Inspect each and every seed.
Then stand back 40 miles.
And see the shape your dream.
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The battle fields behold.
And kingdoms tear their reigns.
While all the while the pebble streams.
Hold the fiercest fights for names.
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To behold we look for kinship.
No distance can stop our stare.
As we would search our lifetime cursed.
Why did we not see the air.
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68.2 soldiers good.
31.8 soldiers bad.
Beauty is but 1 soldier.
Such divisions make him sad.
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A world of hope in all friend's eyes.
No hearts would beat that cannot cry.
In rest of names all wolves would hide.
Behind their masks of butterflies.
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Oceans of oceans and dusts of dusts.
Or between the wills of men who must.
A shore line renders but beauty best.
I'll make my whom on the thought of this.
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What is a poem without a wake.
Or a toilet without a dime?
The fires of life must vent or break.
So I hope you'll look at mine.
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If one bites the bully.
The bully will bite thee.
As frost upon the window glass.
Records the dance for tea.
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I would be your gentle lover.
You would hardly know I'm there.
Just like your home drip coffee maker.
When you make one cup and stare.
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Like raindrops from an ocean.
With every word I've spoken.
Every billionth letter put together.
I've just learned spells your name.
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The flower that grows so small.
Is the saddest wilt of all.
For there is no red or hue so lived.
As the color of the uncorsage.
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Apply the breaks when needed.
Life but needs control.
I will not tell you my opinions.
Until the light turns stroll.
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Thoughts are like a waterbed.
Did you get any sleep at all?
For any belief that rises.
Another one must fall.
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Of all directions life can bend.
A million terribles or a million friends.
I'll not wish for direction two.
And accept the one that's led to you.
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Put your palms together.
Then push down quick with force.
Then put your ear to the Morse code key.
And listen for a pulse.
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Sweet attention to focus thee.
Upon the world in front of me.
To watch their shadow's loanlydance.
Untill you see their eloquence.
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Ideas are like coke cans.
They're everywhere for those who look.
And turn their collections in for rewards.
Each poem worth a cent.
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Show me an ant or ten forest streams.
And I'll show you a mountain or a single seed.
Details and distance are forever entwined.
One needs the other for understanding of mind.
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There's no such thing as fiction.
Let the truth be told.
I'll draw our world with tooth pics.
The heart said to the soul.
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Here's to the mountains who subtlety grow.
From all stimulations craved and known.
A toast to just need a painting.
And a toast to just need a poem.
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To talk all day and never say.
That which we all think.
Then somebody writes it down.
Oh man what a wretched fink.
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Someday I'll be a real poet.
When I have nothing to say.
Then the poems I want to tell you.
Shall already know the day.
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Would all eyes touch morning.
If sunrise could be sold.
The world would need a sun oh bright.
Or a princess to behold.
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To see a strife from orbit.
That's what dreams are for.
Let no moment hide it's beauty.
So minds shall always soar.
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That most silent target.
In the noise with no end.
Oh curse the search.
For the quiet friend.
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The job was open.
So the young man applied.
And the old man waved.
You're a poet now hide.
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Action is a place.
Where sighs don't need to be.
Were every happy pulse to race.
Somewhere rustle leaves.
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Soft spoken hearts.
So golden their means.
Opinions like soap bubbles.
Should float to their gleams.
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Oh what irony an eye becomes.
When a tear can hold despise or love.
And the hardest heart with hate filled stare.
Will have mementos too somewheres.
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Tell me only autumn leaf.
How do you like your brook.
Should the water be so calm.
Or move just oh so lill.
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Of all the sciences to study things.
Poetry works the hardest.
To look through mirrors and microscopes.
The moist eye sees the farthest.
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Snails clung to amusement park rides.
Drinking morning dew.
Move as carefully in new directions.
As breakfast washers do.
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It's not my job, turning forty.
Ask any bells of man.
Turn a profit, then give to arrows.
The great loss, of who I am.
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The back of a city bus may be owned by the devil.
But the bus couldn't move without it.
A balance that keeps a world so level.
Never changing and never shouted.
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