in twelve .

the    four            corners of           the horizon            are held by  the trinity
                                 3  x    4.
             it offers            completeness   .         ending
 and   a wondering          for where's           the shore.
             when one has found its other half
      one plus one         does not equal two,
   but equals eleven.         the properties of one double and the
                                       things those two one's share, they now
                                       both have.
ten begins the countdown
                from the loneliness of the one and the zero
      to the moment the zero breaks
                                   and one stops    hiding from below .
nine brings a      sense of accomplishing
  pluto, being the     ninth planet
             fights for      a right  to be what it knows it    is
 like     two one'sfight  for a right    to be recognized as   what theyare.        they know they have it.
          eight                            repetition
                 where there's repetition         there's success
    practice makes perfect               and perfects what two one's aim for
so             repeat.         repeat .                address  .
            and in 7 is the mystery
 the mystery behind the faces of the two         one's
that        was broken by  a  bond
that           replaced mystery         with sun.
         six is        the sincerity ;
                 the balance , truth , and love in the two lovers
with     the balance   comes  a realizing that
                        the two         were meant for eachother.
         five   is     the     unpredictable .
               the number  of being         human
and      it's the one unpredictable, unforgettable month,
                     a significant    number   to the two one's     with union.
      and the four corners of the earth
                                are like the four corners of a home .
             one plus one equals four . two sets of arms to wrap two one's in
                                                like one's home should be - safe, and not alone .
three. past present and future
the past shaped the present one's for a future together
so that one plus one can equal three
and those two      one's will love that third like the love they have for eachother .
               two       is the communication.
 two minds think a like . two hearts beat the same .
       two worlds come together
                        two people light the flame
          and        one            finally          knows         one        is         the       one
     after      watching      every        swift       movement
                     and memorizing            smile                   lines                    
one was the new beginning. i wouldn't change anything for the world . I already lived the perfect moments

with my one .  

© 2010 The Still Air


A puzzle

speculating. searching. sifting. surrendering
                                                 the piece to the floor
      and rummaging through   the mess
                                          to find  the piece i'm looking for
re-conciliating the reconciled and pulled apart picture
                                 to discover a masterpiece hidden intricately
            and peerless upon perfect placements within her:
and        to think of her as the puzzle
                                    fitting piece interlocking piece
                  to reveal the absolute picture
                                   superlative and immaculate and in peace
if the image weren't this clear,
                                   i would tear away each and every piece of the picture
     and reassemble the    pieces until it was  
                                                unmitigated.  undreamed of.  matchless.  her.

© 2010 The Still Air



it seems meaningless
and its timeless
the one dewless
the one evening to truly mean goodnight .

© 2010 The Still Air


the only night

and still the trees sway
and still the winds make way

and still a season swiftly moves
and still the slightest change approves

and still a fire warms a room
and still the sky reaches gloom

but as the still fire crackles in peace
the stillness of winter will greatly increase

and the stillness brings a silence over the planet
and yet still the clattering glasses of the banquets

will not affect the stillness of the open air
or the people who still watch the silence stare

and still a tiny crack in the night breaks light
and still we toss on this sleepless night

but still it's the only night that uptakes
the only night where we'll smile while we lay awake

© 2010 The Still Air


Time Travel

Time travel is not difficult,
and though difficult  things   are more   rewarding,
this simple   task     can   be more rewarding,
than something   highly   difficult.
You won't   grow frustration,
you   won't    give up       and pack in,
but you  'll   do it     again and again,
and   wish the        moments  would   happen again       soon.

© 2010 The Still Air


The Compass and the Clock.

The   numbersTicked soo sloowly,   aside
    and   the    internal compass could    not decide
 on   north, east,    south ,                   or   west,
   but    unsettling,   settling   our    choice of   nest.

      a motion,   a question,  a suggestion,
   made a notion into  the   promotion   of            emotion.
    SloowlyTicckingNuumbers remained,
as       the   non-directive  internal   compass     constrained

What others    wouldn't   care           to understand,
or     would perceive   as    just an act            offhand,
is that  the  SloooowlyTicckiingNuuuumberrs    made time persist,
and   the never   settling   compass  was just   allowing two  souls  to coexist

 outside          the cliche's of the world on the    shelf
and    I wouldn't  have asked   for anything   else.

© 2010 The Still Air


one thousand pictures

the  words    begin  to      s li p
   right   offyour   lips,
         from       yourprettyface.

   the th r e e   word      confession
       f lls in every         question
    with   oneanswer in           their place.

   The    words     melt      into my   s k i n,
   and my       heart      op ens    up    when,
 the pictures   begin to           BLOOM

                    A pictures worth a      t h o u s a n d    words,
  and I know my                 own standards;
                           onethousand picturesfollow                     ‘I love you’

© 2010 The Still Air



Hello December Air,
  i've  been waiting
for   your   breezes here,
and    your   unique friends to start     
Hello Winter Breath,
i had  wondered if you'd  evenconsider
  letting your  unique  friends  visit
 as     winters     wonders.

Hello Pretty Weather,
  thank you     for  the  quiet,
that         her and   i   will   walk through,
    hand     in   hand,   along  with    your      climate.

Hello Cold Breeze,
  blow   your  wind  across the  sky,  silently
and   let it       turn my red   cheeks numb
 so i   can  sit  with   her by the       fire..          cozy .

© 2010 The Still Air


the trembling.

fear grips
as i
fumble for
the light.

im reminded
that there
is nothing
in the
nothingness of
the night
but i
feel the
nothingness stare.

the senses
fall victim
to the
fear gripping
at all
of them.

then they
are flooded
by a
sudden sense
of relief
as the
shadows are
sent to
smaller corners
of the
dark-less room.

where can
the victims
hide in
this room?

under the
only light.

and now
that the
fumbled light
has broken

the fear
grips my
back again
as the
eyes wander
to places
i don't
want them
to ever
wander again
but they
see this
every night.

fear gripping
my field
of vision.

fear gripping
my back.

the door
shuts and
the fear
disperses behind
me but
i know
it's still
there hiding
from me
as i
hide from
it again.

behind that
door is
the fear.

inside this
room is
the trembling.

© 2010 The Still Air



Why can't   i hide,
in   a  box  for   a King
filled   on   the inside
  with   all   that   hard work   could  bring?

Why   can't    i   hide
on     the    throne by   the queen
     living   so   wide   -  eyed
without    the   city  scope    scene?

Why  can't   i   break apart
or  dismantle      the  core;
the    way    the    heart
has   been   run  so far?

       and   Why can't  i   tear into
    the       story   i wrote
  and    change the    pages  construe
     onto    a        more amorous   note?

well,          noone   said i can't  .

© 2010 The Still Air


don't blink.

don't blink for a             second,
you'll  miss   everything;
your   m nd   w ll   not   f ll   in,
the    things   unseen.

don't    lose   track
when  lost  in   a    mo ment,
   but  fall   into   it
rather   than   falling in   resent  ____

© 2010 The Still Air



singing is an action .
an   action  of passion .
while painting   is the emotion .
withstanding  great  notion .

   Dancing   is   the    action
of portraying     PASSION
through painting             invi sibly,
   with the      free      flo win g        feet.

              let it take you          where it wants,
  let it      sustain,             let it       ha unt
let it    compose   its      w ords
     as    its  rhythm   continues       upwar ds.

yes, i wa nt        to dance,
under  stars    in  the    expanse.
yes, i ch oose   you
not because your fancy footwork intrigues me right through,

but because dancing is the action of portraying passion. 
                                                                           devotion  .

© 2010 The Still Air


The dream

The dream is staring into stars,
wishing they'd  stare back at it

the             dream is
   waiting   in the airwaves

mingling amongst   the     otherdreams
waiting       for an   imaginer  to    open

their     mind    and    let things     exist
the        dream  can   onlyexist   in the beholder

if the beholder exists in the dream.
the beholder only exists in tragedies.

© 2010 The Still Air


a little movement

a little movement,
can  cha nge a day
a little movement
and  you'll   convey
a little movement
to   make a heart  obey
a little movement
you'll feel  de fray

move a little
and  feel    a new
move a little
and   pursue
move a little
and   stare into  vast blue
move a little
until you  know it's you

no movement
shows  you 're headst rong
no movement
makes  time  prolo    ng
no movement
can be all   you are   lifelo ng
no movement
doesn't  putyou   where you    belo ng

so move a little.have a little movement.

© 2010 The Still Air



it was not forced upon me
it forced itself upon me
ruined me, shaped me
it is why i am me

it is shattered, and it is concrete
and it has shattered its concrete
till the initials and prints in the concrete
are shrapnel of concrete

i was not born for the events,
so why put me through the events?
i am a major part of the events
but what was the point of the events?

i do not think i am who i could be,
but i am glad i am who i should be
rather than who i would be
if i was not shaped into me

© 2010 The Still Air


the stranger.

i was the  wakeful
desired and hopeful
as i watched the turning event

i'll never see again
the stranger i called friend
i can't   claim resent

i'm not the angel
on frontlines  of hell
i'm not alone, nor the saviour.

and if i fall at the line
it will  come the time
when the friend becomes the stranger

© 2010 The Still Air


mind, eyes, and body.

when  we  fall               tired,
           our mind,
           our                    eyes,
    and our body
                             work against us.

when  we   fall         in love,
         our       mind,
         our       eyes,
  and our       body
                            work with us.

© 2010 The Still Air


I'm not the one who set the world on fire.

if i had done something so spectacular,
as to setting ablaze this world,
i would non-doubtfully accept,
that i was the one who made events unfurl.

starting the revolution is out of the question,
but being part of the ignition that set,
a set of hearts into a forward, marching motion
is not something to forget.

i take no credit, because I simply can't;
it wasn't me who started this,
and i couldn't say it was you,
but it was that simple kiss.

© 2010 The Still Air



My room has    no expiratio n       date
it s       a little  more     than a        sanctuary
and it       leaves me wi th        no threats
it   leaves me  not        a  statuary.
i m        here.                I want        to be here
iwant        to          feel           your            presence
reigning all around. raining all around.
even   in        a       tOTAL    absence.
 my  room   will start   the    ascent,   and   my mind will    assent:
because ilove to        REALIZE   the  love behind those    REAL EYES
that have got me        DAZEd      on DAYS        like     toDAY
and when the wall's    aligned   FLECKS    begin     to FLEX, I'll realize
                              moments  likethis     bend this     room,
         this         room i m      bound too
and      it will  expand,  and never        collapse,
while    in this room          is                           me&you   . . ..        .

© 2010 The Still Air



Rainbows cannot express true colours
felt by anyone reading the letters
from that someone, listing the ways
love commits amity and sets hearts ablaze.

Rain cannot express true emotion,
felt by anyone reading the notion:
that the standard love won't ever last,
but the determination let's love surpass.

A poet cannot express true quotes
of the feeling of anyone reading the notes
of to-do, do, don't do,  and I do's
written perfectly, impossible to refuse.

A fire cannot express true warmth,
of the prominent skipped beat when all is read forth.
That letter; sealed and locked away for the last time
has written in it the words you had in mind.

© 2010 The Still Air


I'm not

I'm not the type to set the world on fire.
I'm not the type to walk along thin wire.
I'm not the type to try my luck with fate.
I'm not the type to ask of anything great.
I'm not the type to think of any question.
I'm not the type to wander into a lesson.
I'm not the type to decipher the answer.
I'm not the type to infect like the cancer.
I'm not the type to burn the surrounding.
I'm not the type to bring about buildings.
I'm not the type to design and construct.
but i am the type to become an abstract.

© 2010 The Still Air


November air.

I glimpsed it  s       arrival
    i ll         say it   glimpsed  me
and    i saw    it   toda y
in  a way    only  i could   see.

I    felt   it     surr ound me
in it s         breeze       i  had       awaited.
it s          air         had not  stopped
had   not       given  in       or    hesi tated.

I    heard      it
  and       in       a way     I avoided it
by  layerin g       on         resistance
that         made      me          admit:

I  am   not        a part  of  weather
i m          merely   breathing       a ir
and as    i          accept the    art of    everyt hing
i ll     breathe      again             i  swear.

© 2010 The Still Air



Why wait for a new day
when       i'm enjoying this one.

what are     we looking forward to,
before the     day has   won.

It  was    in the  night,
that    I   composed a  dream,

of  us,  all of us,
just    us, fooling     around, it would seem.

And the mo ments   before,
that        we would wish       stayed longer,

were the   reasons      today was,
so      much   stronger



why wait when
        these dream
are what we
         live for?

© 2010 The Still Air



Timezon es,           sundowns,
everything's           different,
when    shesits      quietly,
        and  he   has   the same                  INTENT.

In     that  SilenceContainsConnection,
and a                 distance   can be present,
and it's   how they   k now   it's love,
  when     they 've   both the same           INTENT.

A flash,           and a clock,
and the     ticking  stops   in An INSTANT;
the     eyes    lock   upon
                           an impulse,
    they 'll   know   e ach   o thers            INTENT.

             Across a border,       timezones,
     they 'll be       lost        in the  
                                    mo    ment.
   So    d iffere nt,     so EQU AL;
                            they know    the         INTENT.

© 2010 The Still Air



If reason is what drives ourselves,
Into question after question,
Then how can we accept anything,
If we're focused on obsession?

Reason infects the mind,
And spreads like the cancer,
Until our conscience can't tell us,
  -Not everything has an answer.

© 2010 The Still Air


In Oceans

In a   CRASH with  the       ocean,
in open ing   up the          deep,
we can DIVE into its   waters,
dive       far into its             sleep

In a CRASH with the       wave,
we’ll tumble just
and   with  roll ing,     we’ll never  know  a ir,
but    we’ll never need to           know  .

In a   DROP of   the      ocean,
in the     smallest           little SPLASH,
contains    all     the   things   ne eded,
to      make our     hearts clash,

In a   DROP of a    wave,
we’ll    be hit so   hard,
but   continue      on            ward,
with   our hearts
                          held highly on    g  uard  .

© 2010 The Still Air


A heart stained white

White  w as a    difference,
and   now   i ncorpor ated
in t he   w heel  of   things
to   be    inter p ret ed

                    a s ;


i d  on't   surrender.  even if      i 'm  s tai ned w hite  .

© 2010 The Still Air


wait for me a moment

wait for me a moment.
turn the clock back & break its hands
leave it to die,
and don't let it demand.

don't let it demand your age,
just let it die in discontent.
let it lay with its broken hands.
wait with me this moment.

© 2010 The Still Air



if  knowledge                 comes with age,
does    age define our             knowledge?
or  does       knowledge                define itself,
with  the     experience   of                   how far's the edge?

the        close                  mind,    no matter the     age,
will     not                   develop its    knowledge,
     and                  cannot      define itself,
 even           after slipping over the

© 2010 The Still Air


we're not dreaming.

she can't believe a dream,
because the dream cannot compare,
to the reality of the outside;
the beauty of it's fair.

she believes a dream
because the dream compares
to the reality of the outside;
the skin is fair.

We're not dreaming.

© 2010 The Still Air



When the darkness       comes,
I hide            inthe  light
Afraid  of     the shadow      progressions
Of the        night.

When     the storm       rains 
I hide                   under       shelter,
Afraid o f        lights in     the     sky,
That           make  medeter.

When                        the tide comes to close,
I hide  where I find            height,
To  avoid even the     slight chance,
Of being pulled
                         under tonight.

When the stars don’t shine,
I  watch  the   blackened       night,
Wait   for that                 sunrise to roll in,
I know the sun will still shine bright.

Even if it’s cloudy.

© 2010 The Still Air


the fever

It's     really all          a game,
Where I don't             win or lose.
I'm more    of just the         observation,
With a    confused        FUSE.

In a  moment,   from    spiking,
To  the moment of        looow,
I'm      afraid of my mind,
And the places it will       go.

I'll sacrifice the         hours,
  In an        attempt  for  warm,
Under my   cold   sea of     blankets,
In      this   eye   of    the   minds  storm.

It's a matter     of        time,
Until   the   clock  finalizes,
And    inthat  matter of time,
All   I'll  realize    is

i like   feeling alive  .

© 2010 The Still Air


who is the darkness?

It consumes the            air
it is the                         air
it takes the                   air
the darkness                air

I fumble for a                switch
in a panic the                switch
becomes a panic          switch
rather than a light          switch

I'm not                        alone
the darkness is            alone
but it makes me not     alone
It consumes me           alone

and I was                   alive
ready to be                 alive
the darkness is not      alive

      who is the    darkness?

© 2010 The Still Air



this isnt the same place
this isnt the world
that we grew up in; 
one boy     one girl

its strangely different
differently strange
in a whole new light
in an odd way

i like it
no i love it absolutely
and i want it to stay
forever indubitably

© 2010 The Still Air



we would whisper when we were waiting.
we would wait where we weren't welcome.
waiting where we wouldn't want winning.
we wouldn't wreck when we wait.
we wouldn't wait when we wreck.
we were where we were. waiting. wishing. welcomed.
we weren't wishing.

we were waiting.
we're welcome.

© 2010 The Still Air



  From simply holding hands,
      to a simple  kiss,
  a simple lust
     opened    Oceanic         Abyss
but   divine is this water,
     and defined is my bliss,
so I'll open my heart,
  'cause you're  all that  exists.

© 2010 The Still Air


the moment

it was mad
and it was sad
and it was tradgic,
but it was magic
the way the events
lined perfectly and then

everything was fine.
no more crying.

no more falling out of line.

© 2010 The Still Air


It followed me here

the sound
a leef
or unsettling
darkness cawling.

 i cant deetect
  wont let eyes adjust
id keep this unknown
          but i haf to know... i must.

ill stare and ill stare
and stare and stare and stare and stare
till  breething   quickens
and  my emotions scare

cause  i heard it behind
   and it creeeeped   slow
straight     beside me
and  where my feet must   go.

and now       that im back
its  silent.    its neer.
this blackness, im afrraaide
has              followed            me                  here.

© 2010 The Still Air


Someones Light

I saw a light across the creek,
it meant nothing at first,
but it became clear,
someone’s night must be the worst.

I wouldn’t leave my light on,
with my fascination of the dark;
it’s an escape from reality,
yet strange terrain to embark.

A mystery, to me, 
is who is over there?
Is someone so troubled,
perhaps needs some care?

It’s easy to see,
what this light means.
At 4:12 am,
no one feels like kings or queens.

© 2010 The Still Air



ten times I hid myself amidst,
nine different lies. They
eight their way through
secrets, events, veins, even noises.
six am would make me wish it were
five in the evening, when I was alive and
four reasons that were undisclosed, but I was happy knowing
three years before, I was a wreck and these past
two years have just been the best. No more secrets and hiding, just
One person. One someone. One significant other,
One smile.   One to hold. One who’s laugh makes things lighter,
One amazing person. One to share forever,
One to call my other side. One to call my lover.

© 2010 The Still Air


saved for another day

The eyes closeup             the sky,
control the weather  frominside,
she is day,              she is night

           she opens up her           rains,
 not in dire           rage,
but to save her sun
                               for another day  .

© 2010 The Still Air


never desert me here

feed the secrets,
      repress regret
      set new levels
entering reject.

Represent the represented
      we need rest.
      sleeplessness renders,

the deserted’s needs best.

Helpless, tense,
       secrets depress deeper,

       hence the neglected feel,

sweetlessness dwells perverse.

They feed me the embers,

      The essence enters there,
      nevertheless we let them
they never desert me here.

                                        never desert me here.

© 2010 The Still Air