Missing Greg

The bed is empty and I cannot sleep
the pillow does not replace your
sweet head or the feel of you
I count the days till you return
I will melt when I see you and
make love to you on the baggage
round about metal and movement
will not stir me from drinking
in your essence of pure Gregness
the house has no meaning now
your not there in your chair
or working on your speakers
I feel small when you are gone
small and lonely for your touch
Counting the days till I touch
the edge of your shoulder the
palm of your hand and fingers
To catch the glint in your eye
the days will pass but the nights
are long without you in the hall
How can I love you anymore than
this how can I be without you

wowowowowowowowowowo

We are one they say we are one
imagine that we are one son
we are shimmers of breathe
I am in awe of your being
no matter who you are now
you are part of the one - breath

We are all on the bus now we
are going to see the grandmother
to learn how to knit our lost souls

Benjamin Fulford

What a soul you are refreshingly honest
a wonder to me your courage abounds
in the eye of the needle you are
a slim white fine delicate strand
of pure light trying to save the planet

My eyes are the windows

I look out and not in and I see utter insanity
based on the lies of living with others lies
this country is full of half baked notions
of nothing nothing at all silly meaningless
screwed up logic devoid of any heart ness
It must be because we live under the snow

I look in and I see a wondrous beauty a
a divine light of pure clean crystal joy
that is for my being born in the land
of fairies and little people dancing and
singing in amongst the hawthorn trees
the tree of the the heart the tree of faith