A place built for two with an eternally vacant cushion.

Battle your venomous creatures as I preach to the preacher creatures.

I look at the sky though my heart's been put to rest below the earth,
along with my conscience--- waiting for it's promised rebirth.

I know about forgiveness and how it's impossible to forget.
I know about mistakes, but somehow it's impossible to regret.

These are the days when my head can't find the clouds
and my batting lashes can't even black out my troubles anymore.

A White Wolf Stands Strong,
A Black Buck Stands So Valiant,
Tension Swarms The Air

A Rose Slowly Blooms,
Then It Slowly Starts To Die,
A Soul Is Then Born

Two Golden Orbs Scan,
Our Forever Changing World,
The Pupils Contract

Wings Spread Greatfully,
Giving Way To Sweet Protection,
Then Resurrection

A Black Wolf Stands Calm,
A White Tailed Deer Panicing,
Green Eyes Batt Quiet

Patient Is The Sun,
The Stars Have Their Own Heartbeat,
Very Few Hear It

Je Suis Le Lóbo,
Ne Vois-Tu Pas Mes Cicatrices?
J'ai La Mentalitè

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o’ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wrackful siege of batt’ring days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays?
O, fearful meditation! Where, alack,
Shall Time’s best jewel from Time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
    O, none, unless this miracle have might,
    That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

I’m so done with you
You made me cry to the point that I couldn't no more
You shook me up, and thrown me down
Called me names
Do I really listen to what you call me
I know you’d want an answer to that one
Just to get a reaction  
And sit there all innocent like and batt those fake eyelashes of yours
I’m so done just walk away
You words course through me
Taunting me, yelling at me pounding through my blood that I don’t belong and I’m a freak
If you listen closely you can hear the demons begging for me to join them
“Just walk away and come to us. Thats it listen to us.”
NO
I’m so done just let me be
I’m done
So done
Done….

the words we
wrote on our
slitted pieces
of paper wer
e all lies and
i hope that w
hoever pulls
our old batt
ered notebo
ok out of th
e dusty ches
t in the man
or falling ap
art that we r
ulled with p
aper hats an
d painted na
ils knows tha
t our love wa
sn't really me
ant to be.

I never leave my wall.
I was watched, but not remembered
Lonely as September.

Sometimes I wish that I would die,
Hoping they'd see, my batt'ry replace,
Just to be touched and show my face.

I see him in your pocket
Another on your wrist.
And now I've been dismissed.

Taking none of the time that's
Displayed upon my face
to glance upon my place.

I have never left my wall
But you don't even care at all

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"O, HOW SHALL SUMMER'S HONEY BREATH HOLD OUT""

each hive
a tiny planet
inhabited by bees

the beekeeper
looking for all the world
like a medieval astronaut

"God..." think the bees
coming in a puff of smoke
they fall silent

God takes off his face
throws down his gauntlets
becomes our father

"Good.." grins God
our father
"...that should do the trick!"

we watch the honeycomb
floating in its jar
fantastic as an alien being

the comb hangs above me
most of it drizzles into my mouth
the rest in eyes and hair

when father isn't looking
I put the cage on my face
pretend I'm a fencer

far away in a field
a bee
chatting up a flower

the bees and we all asleep
God's hand and face
a still life on the table

*
I wanted to get it from all perspectives...this simple job of work...from the bee's point of view to the kids to the dad and then the scene when all are tucked up in their beds...even God.

The title of course is stolen from Shakes's Sonnet 65

And of course...the bees...the dad..the kids...this particular summer whose "whose action is no stronger than a flower?" are saved from the might of time by....

O! none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Alas I am not a beekeeper...this was told to me by a friend remembering growing up with her beekeeper dad as we flicked through her photo album after he was gone...the poem is a bric a brac hodge podge of the things she told me...the things I could see...you might have notice that one of God's hands is missing in the final verse...but that's another story. They were playing boats with the gauntlets in the river by the house and one of God's gloves just got...carried away! Daddy didn't know 'til the next day that one of his beekeeper gloves had gone to heaven and boy there was hell to pay!
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wrackful siege of batt’ring days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Sonnet 65:
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE