<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519</id><updated>2011-08-22T05:56:56.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poem from a Pisces</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>176</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7621642162464327776</id><published>2010-01-10T00:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T07:19:42.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hummingbirds don't sleep</title><content type='html'>Am I teaching you freedom&lt;br /&gt;Or when I point out the roses&lt;br /&gt;Am I losing mine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I catch u as you hover around the flowers&lt;br /&gt;Too deep to risk the sweetest juice&lt;br /&gt;Of Now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your wings buzz fast and furious&lt;br /&gt;So much work for so little reward.&lt;br /&gt;I’d offer a straw but&lt;br /&gt;Hummingbirds don’t stop to take a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I blocking your path&lt;br /&gt;As the brigthest most dangerous tulip&lt;br /&gt;In a field of green. Red-capped and smiling.&lt;br /&gt;A siren of sorts, not meant to be, but unavoidable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your heart beats fast and furious&lt;br /&gt;So much work for so little reward&lt;br /&gt;I’d offer a pillow to rest on but&lt;br /&gt;Hummingbirds don’t sleep while their singing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I denying nature&lt;br /&gt;When I ask you to sit with me and wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your mind spins fast and furious&lt;br /&gt;SO much work for so little reward&lt;br /&gt;Yet you offer me a runway and give me wings&lt;br /&gt;But I can’t fly&lt;br /&gt;And Hummingbirds don’t ever land&lt;br /&gt;And I wonder why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You ever flew so close to me&lt;br /&gt;When u always knew&lt;br /&gt;There was no time to drink.&lt;br /&gt;but&lt;br /&gt;Even Hummingbirds sometimes buzz less fast&lt;br /&gt;And fly less furious&lt;br /&gt;I know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7621642162464327776?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7621642162464327776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7621642162464327776' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7621642162464327776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7621642162464327776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/hummingbirds-dont-sleep.html' title='hummingbirds don&apos;t sleep'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-916214175268886060</id><published>2010-01-10T00:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T00:26:33.758-08:00</updated><title type='text'>passenger</title><content type='html'>So much promised&lt;br /&gt;So much to gain&lt;br /&gt;From knowing you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shelter, safety and warmth&lt;br /&gt;From hearing you&lt;br /&gt;Strength, direction and knowing&lt;br /&gt;From touching you&lt;br /&gt;And when you took over the wheel last night&lt;br /&gt;And drove us far past the city limits&lt;br /&gt;I know I had found &lt;br /&gt;Trust, loyalty and another forever friend&lt;br /&gt;From loving you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many ways to see&lt;br /&gt;So many roads to show you&lt;br /&gt;So many things to find&lt;br /&gt;I never knew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-916214175268886060?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/916214175268886060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=916214175268886060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/916214175268886060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/916214175268886060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/passenger.html' title='passenger'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1011894277365392892</id><published>2010-01-10T00:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T00:24:04.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>sighing eyes</title><content type='html'>Your skin was smooth sand&lt;br /&gt;And the tide rose and fell inside each breathe&lt;br /&gt;And between each moment when the waves brought you to me&lt;br /&gt;And you joined my shore.&lt;br /&gt;The surf is silver here, as the Moon wanes&lt;br /&gt;And my driveway is the pier&lt;br /&gt;You are light years away&lt;br /&gt;But somehow by trickery of the light&lt;br /&gt;You are before me&lt;br /&gt;Kissing me&lt;br /&gt;And telling gentle stories I know are untrue&lt;br /&gt;Of how you are wanting me, and this is real&lt;br /&gt;I want to believe too&lt;br /&gt;I truly do&lt;br /&gt;The moon shines so strong tonight&lt;br /&gt;Ill float a while longer&lt;br /&gt;Your eyes sigh as your waves lap the rock&lt;br /&gt;Of my patience&lt;br /&gt;And settle, knowing full well&lt;br /&gt;That even the clifftops give way eventually&lt;br /&gt;To the ocean.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1011894277365392892?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1011894277365392892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1011894277365392892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1011894277365392892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1011894277365392892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/sighing-eyes.html' title='sighing eyes'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7256981502336399766</id><published>2010-01-10T00:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T00:19:15.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'>raw</title><content type='html'>im raw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was never tamed &lt;br /&gt;i came to show this civiliztion&lt;br /&gt;u can be free and real and deep&lt;br /&gt;short and long lasting&lt;br /&gt;momentary&lt;br /&gt;fleeting&lt;br /&gt;and eternal&lt;br /&gt;hard to understand know or hold&lt;br /&gt;yet beautiful when moments allow&lt;br /&gt;u never tamed me&lt;br /&gt;I wanted you to&lt;br /&gt;but it got too hot close&lt;br /&gt;and I had to bolt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7256981502336399766?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7256981502336399766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7256981502336399766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7256981502336399766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7256981502336399766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/raw.html' title='raw'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-938439921018771388</id><published>2010-01-10T00:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T07:20:56.925-08:00</updated><title type='text'>regular, manly, me</title><content type='html'>I stayed up for you&lt;br /&gt;I stayed up long past bedtime&lt;br /&gt;and just drank a vitamin shake because I knew&lt;br /&gt;id sleep well past lunchtime&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;u made me lose the schedule I never had yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I let you&lt;br /&gt;I allowed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to dissolve before you&lt;br /&gt;have you nail me&lt;br /&gt;not cross, but aggressively calm&lt;br /&gt;u personally lift all I could want and desire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;natural&lt;br /&gt;manly&lt;br /&gt;regular&lt;br /&gt;you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to be these things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;regular&lt;br /&gt;manly &lt;br /&gt;me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-938439921018771388?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/938439921018771388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=938439921018771388' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/938439921018771388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/938439921018771388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/regular-manly-me.html' title='regular, manly, me'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7680798037994315090</id><published>2010-01-10T00:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T07:21:55.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'>polaroid passion</title><content type='html'>You're my fantasy&lt;br /&gt;sneakers, no socks&lt;br /&gt;when I asked&lt;br /&gt;u didn't smile, you wore the&lt;br /&gt;couldn't care less jock look&lt;br /&gt;and your pits were hairy and deep&lt;br /&gt;and u looked at me like u sit here all day&lt;br /&gt;stroking me&lt;br /&gt;letting me stroke you&lt;br /&gt;we're buddies&lt;br /&gt;your legs are hairy&lt;br /&gt;my fantasy&lt;br /&gt;you touched your feet on my chest&lt;br /&gt;you spread your legs and sat in my computer chair&lt;br /&gt;locked them around me&lt;br /&gt;watched me&lt;br /&gt;let me watch you&lt;br /&gt;you wore an athletic shirt&lt;br /&gt;and were so laid back&lt;br /&gt;so calm &lt;br /&gt;I wondered why I couldnt run into you &lt;br /&gt;in the game of 'im a free spirit but I wouldn't mind &lt;br /&gt;being with you&lt;br /&gt; a lot longer&lt;br /&gt;I am raw I see this now&lt;br /&gt;real&lt;br /&gt;you are my fantasy&lt;br /&gt;but you were here&lt;br /&gt;you were&lt;br /&gt;polaroid passion&lt;br /&gt; an instant you were real&lt;br /&gt;I felt you&lt;br /&gt;touched you&lt;br /&gt;u even left pools on my pillow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; my fantasy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so many thought swim through my head&lt;br /&gt;when I see you&lt;br /&gt;I know it's from something I dont quite remember&lt;br /&gt;or dont quite understand&lt;br /&gt;and I have a feeling i'll be &lt;br /&gt;revealing and reliving a lot of that these days&lt;br /&gt;this next chapter&lt;br /&gt;to finally have what I wanted and to then let it go&lt;br /&gt;is that my game now these days&lt;br /&gt;to have you and let you go&lt;br /&gt;because I came to experience   &lt;br /&gt;    want&lt;br /&gt;and desire&lt;br /&gt;            but no longer need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are my fantasy&lt;br /&gt;your feet turned me on&lt;br /&gt;the way the hair stopped at your ankle&lt;br /&gt;the way you put shoes on without sox&lt;br /&gt;the way you said dude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the stolen smile&lt;br /&gt;I owe you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're my fantasy&lt;br /&gt;and you said and did everything perfectly&lt;br /&gt;on time, in line&lt;br /&gt;I dont mind if you have flaws&lt;br /&gt;ill sweep them under the rug&lt;br /&gt;with mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a trip (up) that'll be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7680798037994315090?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7680798037994315090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7680798037994315090' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7680798037994315090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7680798037994315090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/polaroid-passion.html' title='polaroid passion'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7361206763447560609</id><published>2010-01-10T00:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T00:09:28.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>amber alert</title><content type='html'>its a neon no&lt;br /&gt;a crimson cant&lt;br /&gt;a weeping wont.&lt;br /&gt;and a slow-mo don't go&lt;br /&gt;and a two-tonne sorry&lt;br /&gt;it's my load lightened&lt;br /&gt;beneath the crushing weight&lt;br /&gt;of stern silence&lt;br /&gt;and conflict contemplation&lt;br /&gt;an amber alert of iressolvable&lt;br /&gt;idiosyncracies &lt;br /&gt;differences once divine&lt;br /&gt;now, sinfully separatist&lt;br /&gt;horned angels&lt;br /&gt;don't ask&lt;br /&gt;won't tell&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7361206763447560609?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7361206763447560609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7361206763447560609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7361206763447560609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7361206763447560609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/amber-alert.html' title='amber alert'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1972166334941729160</id><published>2010-01-10T00:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T00:08:52.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bottle broken</title><content type='html'>all under the twinkling lights of downtown, still&lt;br /&gt;such noise, such sharp bottle broken jagged journalist&lt;br /&gt;war-words, unresting&lt;br /&gt;uphill, battling gravity&lt;br /&gt;and spinning like stars in a glass galaxy&lt;br /&gt;of stones, thrown&lt;br /&gt;mirrored by loves reflecting rays&lt;br /&gt;that stopped,  twinkling like the lights of downtown&lt;br /&gt;that shout their silence to me, still.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1972166334941729160?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1972166334941729160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1972166334941729160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1972166334941729160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1972166334941729160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2010/01/bottle-broken.html' title='bottle broken'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1216171961557230994</id><published>2009-11-17T02:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T02:30:20.354-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lions Den-ial</title><content type='html'>tripod trio fire&lt;br /&gt;you walk in&lt;br /&gt;scorching Salem stains in the ground&lt;br /&gt;bright burnings telling tales of&lt;br /&gt;polished pride and unconquerable&lt;br /&gt;insecurity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fish fry in your pain pan&lt;br /&gt;spitting by the sizzling sun&lt;br /&gt;of overexposure. swimming upstream,&lt;br /&gt;I find myself on the hunt myself,&lt;br /&gt;but for solace, for solitude&lt;br /&gt;for shade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like the ones you wear.&lt;br /&gt;Can you yourself see your own glare&lt;br /&gt;when you stare too long in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;My mirror.&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;On the reflection of my surface, I see the rain&lt;br /&gt;and the storm clouds ready to burst&lt;br /&gt;to cool me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pride is tiring.&lt;br /&gt;Soon you'll clamber off the tread&lt;br /&gt;and mill not scorn-corn but defeat-wheat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe then we can swim and march together, &lt;br /&gt;you and I.&lt;br /&gt;without the oversensitive tantrum tsumanis&lt;br /&gt;and holier-than-thou heat we generate.&lt;br /&gt;lion and fish, swimmer and stately.&lt;br /&gt;placid and proud. turbulent &lt;br /&gt;    and too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1216171961557230994?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1216171961557230994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1216171961557230994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1216171961557230994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1216171961557230994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/11/lions-den-ial.html' title='The Lions Den-ial'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-121128442856548830</id><published>2009-08-18T04:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T05:03:03.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aqua</title><content type='html'>Water-bearer&lt;br /&gt;you did, you actually brought me water&lt;br /&gt;you hand delivered &lt;br /&gt;all 20 oceans of it&lt;br /&gt;to my back yard pond&lt;br /&gt;politely! without breaking a sweat&lt;br /&gt;you shocked even me&lt;br /&gt;when you shouted and the room jumped&lt;br /&gt;and jovial, wild winks&lt;br /&gt;huh?&lt;br /&gt;you came before me?&lt;br /&gt;I know. I forgot how the winds wane&lt;br /&gt;and H20 is made up of so much oxygen&lt;br /&gt;why did I ever think I'd drown?&lt;br /&gt;I breathe in bubbles&lt;br /&gt;and you were right,&lt;br /&gt;I swim in the clouds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-121128442856548830?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/121128442856548830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=121128442856548830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/121128442856548830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/121128442856548830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/aqua.html' title='Aqua'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4128838221411733094</id><published>2009-08-18T04:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T04:58:57.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>caffeine cool</title><content type='html'>ringing my hearts hands out&lt;br /&gt;easy, allowing the stillness&lt;br /&gt;of its beating beauty&lt;br /&gt;and simple silence,&lt;br /&gt;ever effortful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yet through you, in this&lt;br /&gt;i find it&lt;br /&gt;when my frozen frap's condensational&lt;br /&gt;comfort, melts beside your manic&lt;br /&gt;laugh and you remind so effortlessly&lt;br /&gt;that &lt;br /&gt;freedom feels like me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4128838221411733094?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4128838221411733094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4128838221411733094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4128838221411733094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4128838221411733094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/caffeine-cool.html' title='caffeine cool'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4015599646556892821</id><published>2009-08-16T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T21:10:26.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mirrorball</title><content type='html'>twinkling like a candle flame&lt;br /&gt;dancing in the dark&lt;br /&gt;your ability to light a room&lt;br /&gt;shocks me &lt;br /&gt;an electric-blue backlight of &lt;br /&gt;neon knowing&lt;br /&gt;strobe smiles,&lt;br /&gt;my mirrorball&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4015599646556892821?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4015599646556892821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4015599646556892821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4015599646556892821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4015599646556892821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/mirrorball.html' title='mirrorball'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4245076005033945383</id><published>2009-08-16T01:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T01:59:28.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>law of distraction</title><content type='html'>like draws like&lt;br /&gt;same draws same&lt;br /&gt;i guess that makes&lt;br /&gt;unlike draw unwell-water&lt;br /&gt;from the despair drain, too&lt;br /&gt;my hunger for famine,&lt;br /&gt;my love for you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4245076005033945383?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4245076005033945383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4245076005033945383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4245076005033945383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4245076005033945383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/law-of-distraction.html' title='law of distraction'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7522382707970183207</id><published>2009-08-07T19:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T19:24:23.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I wonder...</title><content type='html'>I found this today&lt;br /&gt;a message that quietly came my way&lt;br /&gt;to softly sit, and sadly say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Something is most appealing if it is most forbidden, disapproved, condemned, or unattainable. &lt;br /&gt;If we could have whatever we wanted, there would be no fantasy. Would that be any fun?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;we were over before &lt;br /&gt;we begun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7522382707970183207?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7522382707970183207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7522382707970183207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7522382707970183207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7522382707970183207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-wonder.html' title='I wonder...'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7665128009069406371</id><published>2009-08-07T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T19:22:06.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>spell</title><content type='html'>i hear you.&lt;br /&gt;and wherever you are,&lt;br /&gt;you hear me&lt;br /&gt;i know you hear me&lt;br /&gt;and you don't want to &lt;br /&gt;but you do.&lt;br /&gt;deliver me paper cut envelopes of gone guilt&lt;br /&gt;my name misspelled I before U&lt;br /&gt;but you put U before me&lt;br /&gt;dotted and slashed my T&lt;br /&gt;eclipses darkened the door&lt;br /&gt;where you left the boy,&lt;br /&gt;what about the girls?&lt;br /&gt;dog whispers and cat calls&lt;br /&gt;wolves wait for no one&lt;br /&gt;you devour the darkness&lt;br /&gt;skulking skull&lt;br /&gt;no longer any eyes to even see&lt;br /&gt;but i hear you.&lt;br /&gt;moving in the sand.&lt;br /&gt;choosing the ending.&lt;br /&gt;rewriting the story.&lt;br /&gt;ill close my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;the sand is strong, and its time&lt;br /&gt;to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7665128009069406371?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7665128009069406371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7665128009069406371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7665128009069406371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7665128009069406371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/spell.html' title='spell'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7204569166298687371</id><published>2009-08-07T19:20:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T19:21:26.064-07:00</updated><title type='text'>aloe</title><content type='html'>sculpting&lt;br /&gt;a nest or wall&lt;br /&gt;warm clay&lt;br /&gt;cold shoulder&lt;br /&gt;conditional hugs&lt;br /&gt;i putter, potter&lt;br /&gt;shape me&lt;br /&gt;we had no vessel&lt;br /&gt;we were falsely framed&lt;br /&gt;and barely formed&lt;br /&gt;we were in the making&lt;br /&gt;and it got muddied&lt;br /&gt;but not from salt, &lt;br /&gt;or sex&lt;br /&gt;you deserved the desert&lt;br /&gt;and its dry there. you drove off&lt;br /&gt;cut with a cactus,&lt;br /&gt;aloe then goodbye&lt;br /&gt;healing halted&lt;br /&gt;arid arrivals&lt;br /&gt;your wheel no longer natures&lt;br /&gt;cycles for one&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7204569166298687371?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7204569166298687371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7204569166298687371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7204569166298687371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7204569166298687371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/aloe.html' title='aloe'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7441119655128040726</id><published>2009-08-07T19:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T19:20:40.409-07:00</updated><title type='text'>takes two</title><content type='html'>duo directions&lt;br /&gt;tandom trails&lt;br /&gt;there were options&lt;br /&gt;we could have gone&lt;br /&gt;the back pedals hit me&lt;br /&gt;and i look behind, i still do&lt;br /&gt;and my ice cream drops&lt;br /&gt;it takes two&lt;br /&gt;you let me cycle solo&lt;br /&gt;there was a northern exit&lt;br /&gt;before it went south&lt;br /&gt;you let me sit solitary&lt;br /&gt;why not wait&lt;br /&gt;like i did, &lt;br /&gt;shins bruised, from slipping&lt;br /&gt;cracks covered&lt;br /&gt;instead of asking me to &lt;br /&gt;walk without&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7441119655128040726?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7441119655128040726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7441119655128040726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7441119655128040726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7441119655128040726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/takes-two.html' title='takes two'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-297950779801952705</id><published>2009-08-07T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T19:20:11.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>turning saltwater into fine wine</title><content type='html'>i never hurt you&lt;br /&gt;i never tried to&lt;br /&gt;and we could have eaten ice cream this fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you always listened&lt;br /&gt;you always heard?&lt;br /&gt;and we never slung snowballs in summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;we should have done what &lt;br /&gt;we could&lt;br /&gt;to patch the spring we leaked last winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and we could be here, seasonal still.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-297950779801952705?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/297950779801952705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=297950779801952705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/297950779801952705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/297950779801952705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/08/turning-saltwater-into-fine-wine.html' title='turning saltwater into fine wine'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3379305172173627946</id><published>2009-07-20T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T16:12:06.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oh pisces fish</title><content type='html'>Oh pisces fish,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 months&lt;br /&gt;52 weeks&lt;br /&gt;epsom salt sighs&lt;br /&gt;countless silent clouds&lt;br /&gt;timeless cries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and one txt message&lt;br /&gt;that it's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was your net worth?&lt;br /&gt;worth the net&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh pisces fish?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3379305172173627946?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3379305172173627946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3379305172173627946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3379305172173627946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3379305172173627946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/07/oh-pisces-fish.html' title='oh pisces fish'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4460070591692595818</id><published>2009-06-29T20:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T20:05:38.267-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ouroborous</title><content type='html'>A lot of things came full circle &lt;br /&gt;this month&lt;br /&gt;My surgery&lt;br /&gt;our foreshadowed shadow&lt;br /&gt;I guess that always hung overhead but which&lt;br /&gt;by my divine power of self-deception&lt;br /&gt;i believed gone.&lt;br /&gt;A lot wrapped around, an ouroborous, &lt;br /&gt;serpent circling a figure 8, eternally returning&lt;br /&gt;back to where it came&lt;br /&gt;so much returned, and resolved this week, after one year&lt;br /&gt;did it create relief? i guess some&lt;br /&gt;this time though, I'm letting all the pieces fall into place&lt;br /&gt;and not fighting it. What is there to fight this time?&lt;br /&gt;All is, was and will be One&lt;br /&gt;And in that centre, there is no war&lt;br /&gt;No reflected projected&lt;br /&gt;no polarity&lt;br /&gt;just an endless and eternal moment &lt;br /&gt;smiling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4460070591692595818?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4460070591692595818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4460070591692595818' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4460070591692595818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4460070591692595818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/06/ouroborous.html' title='ouroborous'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-375080079234463536</id><published>2009-06-29T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T20:05:10.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Healing Hurting</title><content type='html'>Maybe it's all mirrored&lt;br /&gt;a surgeons knife cutting my skin&lt;br /&gt;your heart torn&lt;br /&gt;my feeling your care is conditional&lt;br /&gt;and my faith in us,loosened by that&lt;br /&gt;Maybe my healing of physical&lt;br /&gt;aids yours&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's all mirrored&lt;br /&gt;one of us is always looking at&lt;br /&gt;at something that reflects within&lt;br /&gt;i guess it's all a question of gaze&lt;br /&gt;i'll heal in&lt;br /&gt;and maybe you'll heal out&lt;br /&gt;maybe we''ll come together&lt;br /&gt;or maybe in the very act of becoming whole&lt;br /&gt;the hole of you will seal&lt;br /&gt;like the surgical skin i'm blotting with warm water&lt;br /&gt;every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-375080079234463536?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/375080079234463536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=375080079234463536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/375080079234463536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/375080079234463536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/06/healing-hurting.html' title='Healing Hurting'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3768887607254493709</id><published>2009-06-16T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T16:20:41.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>juggling your tears</title><content type='html'>I'm glad i woke &lt;br /&gt;this morning&lt;br /&gt;i thought i was late&lt;br /&gt;but i was right on time&lt;br /&gt;for another chance&lt;br /&gt;another go around at this &lt;br /&gt;Moment Thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last night dragged&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me down?&lt;br /&gt;no.&lt;br /&gt;i found the latch in the secret door&lt;br /&gt;where i'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine&lt;br /&gt;fine is all there ever is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and did u see it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just died right here in my manager chair&lt;br /&gt;and woke up to find you still there&lt;br /&gt;still wondering when the clock would strike &lt;br /&gt;its match, when your healing would ignite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when it's already come&lt;br /&gt;you're whole and healed&lt;br /&gt;and i'm smiling juggling your tears&lt;br /&gt;and you laugh&lt;br /&gt;as i fall over my own advice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3768887607254493709?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3768887607254493709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3768887607254493709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3768887607254493709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3768887607254493709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/06/juggling-your-tears.html' title='juggling your tears'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8719499618951852740</id><published>2009-06-16T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T16:15:18.562-07:00</updated><title type='text'>coulda woulda shoulda</title><content type='html'>i could wait&lt;br /&gt;outside your shell&lt;br /&gt;knock on your phone&lt;br /&gt;shout up to your hate&lt;br /&gt;and chase after your door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the hopes&lt;br /&gt;you'll open&lt;br /&gt;answer&lt;br /&gt;reply&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i wont&lt;br /&gt;why not?&lt;br /&gt;because my love is quiet&lt;br /&gt;and it's sitting beside you&lt;br /&gt;right now, and watched you &lt;br /&gt;nail bars to the windows&lt;br /&gt;           me in a coffin&lt;br /&gt;       and yourself on a cross&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8719499618951852740?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8719499618951852740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8719499618951852740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8719499618951852740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8719499618951852740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/06/coulda-woulda-shoulda.html' title='coulda woulda shoulda'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4221535149612126681</id><published>2009-06-03T00:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T00:17:31.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>our neverending story</title><content type='html'>there's no end point&lt;br /&gt;no perfect us&lt;br /&gt;no finally there&lt;br /&gt;there's only the road we're on&lt;br /&gt;discovering, forgetting, rediscovering&lt;br /&gt;following winding ocean pathways&lt;br /&gt;scaling salty cliff walls &lt;br /&gt;sinking into sand&lt;br /&gt;taking glass elevators to top floors&lt;br /&gt;revolving at night&lt;br /&gt;lying still in darkness&lt;br /&gt;running in light&lt;br /&gt;sharing words, stealing glances&lt;br /&gt;knowing without proof&lt;br /&gt;you stained my glass heart&lt;br /&gt;holy,&lt;br /&gt;and i believe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4221535149612126681?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4221535149612126681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4221535149612126681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4221535149612126681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4221535149612126681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/06/our-neverending-story.html' title='our neverending story'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-2968223771730212303</id><published>2009-06-03T00:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T00:15:52.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ventura Pier</title><content type='html'>remember it?&lt;br /&gt;of course you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someone else remembered&lt;br /&gt;the girl who I guess left us there&lt;br /&gt;a balloon tied to the bench&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a passing cyclist cut the tag&lt;br /&gt;and read the verse, left for her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we though it strange&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you showed me the cracks in the wood&lt;br /&gt;and the water lapping beneath&lt;br /&gt;and the walls we'd built previously&lt;br /&gt;cracked too, and your heart lapped&lt;br /&gt;my shore, or was it my neck&lt;br /&gt;I felt it pounding in both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we didn't walk all the way&lt;br /&gt;we didn't need to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;remember it?&lt;br /&gt;we don't need to go all the way&lt;br /&gt;we already have&lt;br /&gt;and now, we'll take our time&lt;br /&gt;under Ventura Sun, to walk idly&lt;br /&gt;with all the time in the world&lt;br /&gt;taking it slowly&lt;br /&gt;savoring the scent of sea-salt&lt;br /&gt;and deciding it's time to go back to the car&lt;br /&gt;because it's chilly,&lt;br /&gt;and time for a hug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe one day we'll reach the end of &lt;br /&gt;the Ventura Pier&lt;br /&gt;but maybe it doesn't matter&lt;br /&gt;my memory of you floats on the water&lt;br /&gt;that covers all shores&lt;br /&gt;lapping all piers I dive from&lt;br /&gt;when my heart joins yours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-2968223771730212303?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/2968223771730212303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=2968223771730212303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2968223771730212303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2968223771730212303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/06/ventura-pier.html' title='Ventura Pier'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3416328935377333749</id><published>2009-05-28T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T14:13:22.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Malibu Moment</title><content type='html'>did you know the ocean beats inside you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i heard it, its sandy shores whispering&lt;br /&gt;from within your chest.&lt;br /&gt;it soothed me, quieted words,&lt;br /&gt;as the sea spray soaked me in you-dew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did you know this moment was all there ever was?&lt;br /&gt;when you became the beach and I cuddled the cliff &lt;br /&gt;of your chest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was the sun shining?&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. were we alone?&lt;br /&gt;of course. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the tides within you ebb and flow,&lt;br /&gt;we come and go,&lt;br /&gt;sometimes choppy, sometimes&lt;br /&gt;so clear, so crystal, so calm&lt;br /&gt;i can see the depths&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before you put your hand in&lt;br /&gt;and make me ripple and it's lost again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Malibu, our hearts stopped.&lt;br /&gt;And yet we were more alive&lt;br /&gt;than ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shhh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; here comes another wave &lt;br /&gt;for our surfer souls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3416328935377333749?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3416328935377333749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3416328935377333749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3416328935377333749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3416328935377333749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/malibu-moment.html' title='Malibu Moment'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8949878786279882528</id><published>2009-05-28T14:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T14:08:02.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>stillness</title><content type='html'>and the trees seem to know.&lt;br /&gt;the wild leaves seem tamed.&lt;br /&gt;still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even the dogs don't bark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the dust settles.&lt;br /&gt;the silence cuddles close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a blink takes an hour&lt;br /&gt;and a smile, about 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from the moment you catch me&lt;br /&gt;to the moment you turn away&lt;br /&gt;glowing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8949878786279882528?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8949878786279882528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8949878786279882528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8949878786279882528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8949878786279882528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/stillness.html' title='stillness'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8014655655624523767</id><published>2009-05-01T19:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:54:43.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The ER of I and U</title><content type='html'>The ER of I and U &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    no wonder I got burned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they said I was a guy magnet&lt;br /&gt;they’d melt into me&lt;br /&gt;they did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they never told me the pain&lt;br /&gt;of the heat, &lt;br /&gt;of the passion &lt;br /&gt;melting&lt;br /&gt;my little wax heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;especially when you tried that afternoon&lt;br /&gt; to pull away&lt;br /&gt;and tore the only illusion I ever thought&lt;br /&gt;would stay.&lt;br /&gt;my skin was soft and smooth&lt;br /&gt;but lost its shine&lt;br /&gt;when I needed surgery &lt;br /&gt;to take &lt;br /&gt;what of yours&lt;br /&gt;had merged with mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your smile&lt;br /&gt;a piece of your frown&lt;br /&gt;your roughened hands&lt;br /&gt;you offered when I fell down &lt;br /&gt;shards &lt;br /&gt;of  trust, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fragments of&lt;br /&gt;damp-sweat and tear-wet &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lust&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and a tattered       &lt;br /&gt;      tattoo&lt;br /&gt;   in its place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your heart beat firm and fast&lt;br /&gt;beside mine.  &lt;br /&gt;Your face…&lt;br /&gt;such a long, long while.&lt;br /&gt;Was with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A final hug&lt;br /&gt;And one last smile.&lt;br /&gt;And the endless tug. &lt;br /&gt;    Of our war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s why&lt;br /&gt; it took&lt;br /&gt;Such a long, long year&lt;br /&gt;And still, today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To heal the wounds of our&lt;br /&gt;Spiritual surgery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8014655655624523767?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8014655655624523767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8014655655624523767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8014655655624523767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8014655655624523767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/er-of-i-and-u.html' title='The ER of I and U'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4993932487180543971</id><published>2009-05-01T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:49:24.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i don't know your number</title><content type='html'>I don’t know your hands&lt;br /&gt;But I know their warmth.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know your lips&lt;br /&gt;But I know the words you whisper.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know your name&lt;br /&gt;But I know how it sounds last at night.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know your whereabouts&lt;br /&gt;But I know you passed by two days ago.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know your number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just stood by&lt;br /&gt;And saw me ask for your number&lt;br /&gt;In your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I saw your caller id blocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just watched&lt;br /&gt;As I walked away&lt;br /&gt;And cast your eyes away from the headline &lt;br /&gt;We just announced&lt;br /&gt;In secret&lt;br /&gt;Down to the news in the morning paper&lt;br /&gt;In your hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just said nothing&lt;br /&gt;As I wondered and wanted&lt;br /&gt;And hid beneath your gray sweater hood&lt;br /&gt;Roughly shaved and&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful, I walked away untouched&lt;br /&gt;By the shards of growth in your chin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just shared a snapshot&lt;br /&gt;Taken in the dark room of your space&lt;br /&gt;Which never had time to develop&lt;br /&gt;In the bright light of our next morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just felt so good&lt;br /&gt;And I touched your soul&lt;br /&gt;During our nightlong conversation&lt;br /&gt;And if you give me your mind&lt;br /&gt;Which you did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve given me all you ever could.&lt;br /&gt;A piece of your heart&lt;br /&gt;Unknowingly…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4993932487180543971?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4993932487180543971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4993932487180543971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4993932487180543971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4993932487180543971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-dont-know-your-number.html' title='i don&apos;t know your number'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7957257017512860827</id><published>2009-05-01T19:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:47:33.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this morning</title><content type='html'>Your warm butter back melted&lt;br /&gt;       As I curled up close&lt;br /&gt;And strapped my chest around you&lt;br /&gt;                 holding the cold off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could barely breathe for the fumes&lt;br /&gt;    Of you were stronger than the scent &lt;br /&gt;Of oxygen I was used to, on cold&lt;br /&gt;             mornings like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were barely audible over the &lt;br /&gt;sound of your heart &lt;br /&gt;playing hop skip and&lt;br /&gt;.,…jump&lt;br /&gt;    with mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was skipping hop-scotch&lt;br /&gt;With the number of times you blinked&lt;br /&gt;back a thought and stifled a worry&lt;br /&gt;And swallowed fear&lt;br /&gt;Each time you came up for air&lt;br /&gt;As I did, &lt;br /&gt;then lost the desire to breathe&lt;br /&gt;and we died together once more, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;drowning  in&lt;br /&gt;     the ocean &lt;br /&gt;   of this mornings &lt;br /&gt;      togetherness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7957257017512860827?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7957257017512860827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7957257017512860827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7957257017512860827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7957257017512860827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-morning.html' title='this morning'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-485196235176783360</id><published>2009-05-01T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:44:20.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>in the valley...</title><content type='html'>Your lips met mine&lt;br /&gt;Where it matters&lt;br /&gt;Your eyelashes fell between&lt;br /&gt;My own, as we nestled&lt;br /&gt;And your smell&lt;br /&gt;Is something that still, &lt;br /&gt;Still remains here.&lt;br /&gt;Your arms wrapped round mine&lt;br /&gt;Stronger than strangers&lt;br /&gt;And harder than hardly anyone&lt;br /&gt;Had held me before.&lt;br /&gt;Your kisses were planted somewhere&lt;br /&gt;In the fertile fields of my neck&lt;br /&gt;In the valley where only a few are allowed&lt;br /&gt;To go.&lt;br /&gt;Your smile is like my own&lt;br /&gt;Deep, sustained and real.&lt;br /&gt;And the way you feel&lt;br /&gt;Is similar.&lt;br /&gt;I admire your strength, the way you talk low&lt;br /&gt;And aim light, the way you sit in awkward silences&lt;br /&gt;Comfortable. &lt;br /&gt;We gave and took equally, and that is where my peace lies &lt;br /&gt;This morning. &lt;br /&gt;If dawn came sooner I could sing your praises with the birds&lt;br /&gt;But I serenade your secretly in the shadows.&lt;br /&gt;I carry your touch, your eyes, and I know I’ll be thinking of you&lt;br /&gt;And wanting to see you again soon.&lt;br /&gt;We met on an enchanted week, after the full moon&lt;br /&gt;And where our Journey leads, who can tell&lt;br /&gt;I thank you for the way you held me, and most of all&lt;br /&gt;For leaving behind&lt;br /&gt;Your smell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-485196235176783360?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/485196235176783360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=485196235176783360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/485196235176783360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/485196235176783360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-valley.html' title='in the valley...'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-593613574606823066</id><published>2009-05-01T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:42:03.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bending time</title><content type='html'>How come in the last thirty&lt;br /&gt;Minutes since you cradled your head&lt;br /&gt;Against my neck&lt;br /&gt;Did I swim in the warm ocean for 3 hours.&lt;br /&gt;How did the sun rise and set&lt;br /&gt;And how come we arrived back here&lt;br /&gt;Late for your appointment&lt;br /&gt;When we only closed our eyes for&lt;br /&gt;A moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t set my clock by us &lt;br /&gt;Any longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its too dangerous when you draw near&lt;br /&gt;Because my heart races and my blood warms&lt;br /&gt;To such a degree that the coziness of your arms&lt;br /&gt;And the scent of your lips&lt;br /&gt;Is just too much&lt;br /&gt;My eyes begin to close&lt;br /&gt;And I'm so safe, &lt;br /&gt;In your so familiar arms&lt;br /&gt;That I could die inside of you&lt;br /&gt;Without a care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this mean I love you.&lt;br /&gt;And does this mean we have time&lt;br /&gt;How can I be conscious with you&lt;br /&gt;When all our time is spent&lt;br /&gt;Trying to reach for breath&lt;br /&gt;Trying to see through all this warmth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t set my expectations&lt;br /&gt;By us, any more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just promise me, that you’ll be waiting&lt;br /&gt;There, when I managed to break free&lt;br /&gt;And come up for air&lt;br /&gt;That’s all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can set my head down&lt;br /&gt;Cradled in your neck&lt;br /&gt;Til you say its time&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-593613574606823066?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/593613574606823066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=593613574606823066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/593613574606823066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/593613574606823066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/bending-time.html' title='bending time'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-9154041273973218635</id><published>2009-05-01T19:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:40:43.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>more time</title><content type='html'>You don’t want to touch me &lt;br /&gt;Til after work.&lt;br /&gt;Fine.,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll be paddling upstream with the boy who has less money&lt;br /&gt;And more time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-9154041273973218635?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/9154041273973218635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=9154041273973218635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/9154041273973218635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/9154041273973218635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/more-time.html' title='more time'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7658093544974085595</id><published>2009-05-01T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T07:24:20.781-08:00</updated><title type='text'>late</title><content type='html'>you’re touching me through&lt;br /&gt;Gold plate glass&lt;br /&gt;Stroking my gloved palm&lt;br /&gt;And kissing my veiled lips&lt;br /&gt;Holding me close with your &lt;br /&gt;Heart, caged.&lt;br /&gt;Your words measured, meet my &lt;br /&gt;Mind watchful, and together we somehow&lt;br /&gt;Find intimacy, feigned&lt;br /&gt;Hidden behind smiles&lt;br /&gt;And wrapped around careful words&lt;br /&gt;Aloof freedom and possessive walls&lt;br /&gt;Scaled in moments of aloneness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re calling to me through&lt;br /&gt;The thick of the night&lt;br /&gt;Close, from a distance&lt;br /&gt;And open, behind the doors of your crystal&lt;br /&gt;Cut blue eyes.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You’re talking to me through&lt;br /&gt;The stained glass tears I cry.&lt;br /&gt;Seeking solace by the radiant fire&lt;br /&gt;In the haven you won’t create inside yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re wondering through&lt;br /&gt;Your wandering questions and flickering gaze&lt;br /&gt;Why there is no closeness here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m tracing my steps my steps back&lt;br /&gt;Through the&lt;br /&gt;Looking glass, finding the small hidden area&lt;br /&gt;Of my soul where I gave up intimacy&lt;br /&gt;Where I followed seeds into a maze &lt;br /&gt;Not of my own making&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rabbits hole is wider this month&lt;br /&gt;But I didn’t fall&lt;br /&gt;The door closed too early to&lt;br /&gt;And the earth fell in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I’m late. &lt;br /&gt;Always late&lt;br /&gt;To get the message&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I taste you&lt;br /&gt;And my soul shrinks&lt;br /&gt;And I drink you&lt;br /&gt;And I’m taller overlooking all my faults&lt;br /&gt;Reflected in yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wander in this land&lt;br /&gt;Through the shadows&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7658093544974085595?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7658093544974085595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7658093544974085595' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7658093544974085595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7658093544974085595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/late.html' title='late'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8511619647771755388</id><published>2009-05-01T19:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:38:53.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>winged messenger</title><content type='html'>I just saw a white pigeon &lt;br /&gt;Pass my window&lt;br /&gt;Its not a dove&lt;br /&gt;but its peaceful here.&lt;br /&gt;Its eating worms brought up by&lt;br /&gt;The rain&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8511619647771755388?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8511619647771755388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8511619647771755388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8511619647771755388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8511619647771755388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/winged-messenger.html' title='winged messenger'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4000104920177372731</id><published>2009-05-01T19:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:37:44.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>woman on the cliffs</title><content type='html'>I could be her&lt;br /&gt;She sits waiting over the ocean&lt;br /&gt;Watching under the tide&lt;br /&gt;Green blue and aqua foam&lt;br /&gt;Rising, then falling&lt;br /&gt;Within reach of her and then forgetting&lt;br /&gt;I think she came back here tonight&lt;br /&gt;To remember too&lt;br /&gt;Who knows whether the dark blue above the horizon&lt;br /&gt;Is really the ocean she searches&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if she sees me standing &lt;br /&gt;Watching her through the white waves&lt;br /&gt;Smiling.&lt;br /&gt;And I wonder if she remembers&lt;br /&gt;My name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4000104920177372731?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4000104920177372731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4000104920177372731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4000104920177372731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4000104920177372731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/woman-on-cliffs.html' title='woman on the cliffs'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-177478887787767145</id><published>2009-05-01T19:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:36:57.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>at the time...</title><content type='html'>Because....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is how I felt at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send me as much silence&lt;br /&gt;As the time I ignored you&lt;br /&gt;Shower me lightening &lt;br /&gt;As I did when I shouted&lt;br /&gt;Banish me to darkness&lt;br /&gt;As I left you out for 2 cold nights alone.&lt;br /&gt;Talk to me as If I am nothing&lt;br /&gt;As I have locked you out from being here.&lt;br /&gt;Switch off my soul&lt;br /&gt;Like the light I tried to extinguish inside you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall sit and feel too&lt;br /&gt;Just how bad I was to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banish me, hurt me&lt;br /&gt;Make me suffer for all I said and did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I shall bravely take it all&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I would not change a thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are you leaving me&lt;br /&gt;And telling me with such cold indifference&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow me the same right as I allow you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was how you and I felt at that time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-177478887787767145?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/177478887787767145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=177478887787767145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/177478887787767145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/177478887787767145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/at-time.html' title='at the time...'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1855239402252555026</id><published>2009-05-01T19:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:35:41.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I thought I'd find you there</title><content type='html'>I thought id find you there&lt;br /&gt;Within the curled up wire and rustic void&lt;br /&gt;Before me, but you did not come&lt;br /&gt;And I do not know if I should now avoid&lt;br /&gt;This empty room, this naked place&lt;br /&gt;Where I cannot feel your presence,&lt;br /&gt;Even see your face; I come each night&lt;br /&gt;But I leave still hoping, more if more might&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if you wonder too&lt;br /&gt;If you sit and wait and question what the others do.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot stop, I will not cease to find you&lt;br /&gt;In this empty city heart there’ll be no peace&lt;br /&gt;Here, no place to start, if the darkness blows&lt;br /&gt;Your name this way, but nothing else&lt;br /&gt;Just rain clouds gray skies, that is all&lt;br /&gt;Hope that will not die, although its about to fall&lt;br /&gt;And broken still I will not go, until I see&lt;br /&gt;Your faithful beauty in haunting glow&lt;br /&gt;Before me for I do not lie&lt;br /&gt;Ive sat here waiting, ask me why&lt;br /&gt;I do not know, I know not where&lt;br /&gt;I came here tonight because I thought&lt;br /&gt;I’d find you there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1855239402252555026?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1855239402252555026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1855239402252555026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1855239402252555026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1855239402252555026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-thought-id-find-you-there.html' title='I thought I&apos;d find you there'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8797389313295572326</id><published>2009-05-01T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T19:34:34.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>remini-scents</title><content type='html'>I know you’re a hologram&lt;br /&gt;Wearing a different smile&lt;br /&gt;And clean blue eyes&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn’t make it any easier&lt;br /&gt;To leave you behind.&lt;br /&gt;I know you reflect my own fear&lt;br /&gt;But on this time-line yours are just &lt;br /&gt;Too hard to bear, and I'm too sorry-soft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss your arms the most,&lt;br /&gt;The way you make a veggie burger&lt;br /&gt;In whole wheat toast&lt;br /&gt;How u curl up behind me&lt;br /&gt;When I haven’t even asked to be held&lt;br /&gt;And I miss the way you felt&lt;br /&gt;The warmth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I miss the way you smelled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8797389313295572326?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8797389313295572326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8797389313295572326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8797389313295572326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8797389313295572326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/05/remini-scents.html' title='remini-scents'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-6690400214617280445</id><published>2009-04-26T02:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:28:46.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sidekicks and Kicks in the Side</title><content type='html'>I love you all&lt;br /&gt;The words you used&lt;br /&gt;The way you somehow managed&lt;br /&gt;To make me look to the only thing that mattered&lt;br /&gt;Look to the only thing that really was important&lt;br /&gt;To feel and see all I needed to&lt;br /&gt;To gain all I ever wanted&lt;br /&gt;The way you somehow managed&lt;br /&gt;To make me look&lt;br /&gt;At me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-6690400214617280445?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/6690400214617280445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=6690400214617280445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6690400214617280445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6690400214617280445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/sidekicks-and-kicks-in-side.html' title='Sidekicks and Kicks in the Side'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-2027785169434143841</id><published>2009-04-26T02:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:27:29.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sensuality</title><content type='html'>The steam that rises from this tea&lt;br /&gt;Curls a million saspirilla smiles around me&lt;br /&gt;Smiles that hug and warm&lt;br /&gt;And tickle at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The metal on this cold unyielding&lt;br /&gt;Machine sculpts my hot, tearing muscle&lt;br /&gt;Building it back stronger and more supple&lt;br /&gt;So that next time, the love this cold hard steel makes&lt;br /&gt;With me, is deeper and lasts longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scattered waste of yesterday around me,&lt;br /&gt;Wrappers of treats, and crumbs of love’s cake&lt;br /&gt;Remind me how much I forgot that spirit&lt;br /&gt;Dwells here no matter what time of night&lt;br /&gt;No matter how slow I am to rise&lt;br /&gt;And no matter what I feel is wrong or claim&lt;br /&gt;Is right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The taste of the rain across my lips&lt;br /&gt;And the smell of the wind at night here&lt;br /&gt;Is almost too much, at 3am as &lt;br /&gt;I walk home. The stars are dripping golddust&lt;br /&gt;And I can barely see for there are so many tears here&lt;br /&gt;Shed between shard of rainglass&lt;br /&gt;Broken from the mirror in the sky above&lt;br /&gt;Where is Venus today?&lt;br /&gt;Where in the sky does she look deep into&lt;br /&gt;The river of  my own heart&lt;br /&gt;And see such beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The skin I wear&lt;br /&gt;The things that surround me&lt;br /&gt;Are the river upon which I float&lt;br /&gt;Each rub of my jacket sends me somewhere else&lt;br /&gt;The smell of my freshly washed shirt&lt;br /&gt;Pushes me over the edge&lt;br /&gt;And I am making love all over again&lt;br /&gt;As the door opens and winter washes over me&lt;br /&gt;I am born as the leaves blow inside&lt;br /&gt;And as the storm clouds gather above&lt;br /&gt;I know the rain will not cease&lt;br /&gt;And I’ll have another reason&lt;br /&gt;As the moment before is washed off&lt;br /&gt;By this one&lt;br /&gt;Another reason to love&lt;br /&gt;This place I keep finding myself in&lt;br /&gt;Again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-2027785169434143841?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/2027785169434143841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=2027785169434143841' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2027785169434143841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2027785169434143841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/sensuality.html' title='Sensuality'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1066247689725985879</id><published>2009-04-26T02:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:25:43.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Setting Sun</title><content type='html'>Circling in the possibilities &lt;br /&gt;That come with the night&lt;br /&gt;Your entrance brought in a new tide&lt;br /&gt;That spoke of quiet passion&lt;br /&gt;The depths of which tales were told&lt;br /&gt;By campfires and dragons were slayed&lt;br /&gt;By dawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I caught your wonder and I sense&lt;br /&gt;Your desire but perhaps it was too quick&lt;br /&gt;To catch or maybe it was already gone&lt;br /&gt;For you moved so smoothly with the shadows&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if the fact I’m an Astrologer &lt;br /&gt;Sends you away, as I bring the sun to all I do&lt;br /&gt;And you’re much safer hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to own you for but a moment.&lt;br /&gt;And u let me. Somewhere in the deep sea sighing&lt;br /&gt;Of your heart, I heard a chorus of surrender&lt;br /&gt;Serenading the little piece of me I left&lt;br /&gt;Inside you. And as I recall this morning&lt;br /&gt;The small trace of your own mystery takes shape &lt;br /&gt;somewhere&lt;br /&gt;Buried beneath my skin, .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pyramid hope I build &lt;br /&gt;Comes effortlessly now. Sacred architecture &lt;br /&gt;Built on nothing but a foundation of possibilities&lt;br /&gt;That come with the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who can say if what you spoke of &lt;br /&gt;In the shadows, with your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Is a written oath or a rite of passage&lt;br /&gt;Legal in its day and dated with the rising&lt;br /&gt;Of tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quiet, its quiet here now&lt;br /&gt;The morning is too far away to even find&lt;br /&gt;And I am lost. Lost here in these dark&lt;br /&gt;Possibilities, that dodge my grasp&lt;br /&gt;Knowing full well I live in the light&lt;br /&gt;And they shall pass if they are glanced upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ill stay a while longer&lt;br /&gt;In the dark. Till morning shines its lighthouse&lt;br /&gt;Call. My siren song is nowhere near as hauntingly long&lt;br /&gt;As the moment we shared this morning.&lt;br /&gt;For someone who lives like the sun&lt;br /&gt;I would bow my head and bring night&lt;br /&gt;If only to hear the silence that pours from your&lt;br /&gt;Skin&lt;br /&gt;One last time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1066247689725985879?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1066247689725985879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1066247689725985879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1066247689725985879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1066247689725985879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/setting-sun.html' title='Setting Sun'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3778899370419346790</id><published>2009-04-26T02:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:24:10.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Constant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Life’s not about winning or losing affection – its about finding a constant source within.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3778899370419346790?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3778899370419346790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3778899370419346790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3778899370419346790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3778899370419346790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/constant.html' title='Constant'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4268894635614496550</id><published>2009-04-26T02:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:22:46.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue</title><content type='html'>You’re so self assured &lt;br /&gt;With your childlike eyes&lt;br /&gt;And so undeliberately wreckless&lt;br /&gt;With your naïve smile&lt;br /&gt;That I cannot feign surrender&lt;br /&gt;Or even hesitate to run&lt;br /&gt;From the fires in your ice-blue eyes&lt;br /&gt;And the freedom &lt;br /&gt;In your unearthly tight hold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re so threateningly fragile&lt;br /&gt;When you stop by late, smelling of the night&lt;br /&gt;And as you step inside the place you know&lt;br /&gt;Is warm and free, so dangerously comfortable&lt;br /&gt;I think I could be here long enough&lt;br /&gt;To lose the grip I have so painstakingly made&lt;br /&gt;To the lies around me. So unfamiliarly right&lt;br /&gt;You are, so inappropriately cold it seems&lt;br /&gt;To have to lose your arms for even a moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re so undeniably knowing&lt;br /&gt;In your questions, and for a moment there&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was actually falling&lt;br /&gt;But how could I have been?&lt;br /&gt;It was 5am and you were so unknowingly folding your wings&lt;br /&gt;Around me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4268894635614496550?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4268894635614496550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4268894635614496550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4268894635614496550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4268894635614496550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/blue.html' title='Blue'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4472142522104471866</id><published>2009-04-26T02:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:20:55.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>marked</title><content type='html'>You don’t need to spray cologne on my t shirt&lt;br /&gt;Like you did this morning&lt;br /&gt;The traces of your river&lt;br /&gt;On this parched skin&lt;br /&gt;runs eternal&lt;br /&gt;Even during the drought months when you’re busy&lt;br /&gt;When a phone line is too tight&lt;br /&gt;And your schedule is too wired to call&lt;br /&gt;Or remember.&lt;br /&gt;U seem to now, you know when to find me&lt;br /&gt;Your clock is always set now&lt;br /&gt;To Just The Right Time&lt;br /&gt;That I barely even know the alarm is ringing&lt;br /&gt;When you are finding me&lt;br /&gt;When you are somehow in my arms&lt;br /&gt;And our lips are seemingly one&lt;br /&gt;And you are inside me&lt;br /&gt;searching for the last mark you left&lt;br /&gt;For the unfinished song that echoes there still&lt;br /&gt;Our unending search for each other&lt;br /&gt;Inside ourselves&lt;br /&gt;Starts when you leave&lt;br /&gt;And returns when you are back here&lt;br /&gt;Its been hours and years and a century&lt;br /&gt;Since you were here under my comforter&lt;br /&gt;And silent, smiling,shouting a million words for love&lt;br /&gt;In your silence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4472142522104471866?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4472142522104471866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4472142522104471866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4472142522104471866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4472142522104471866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/marked.html' title='marked'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-2828395734920063897</id><published>2009-04-26T02:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:18:01.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>pieces of pisces</title><content type='html'>A piece of me in &lt;br /&gt;You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not the same but enough to make&lt;br /&gt;Me smile.&lt;br /&gt;And u know fine well&lt;br /&gt;I read the sign you left.&lt;br /&gt;We’l never talk about it again.&lt;br /&gt;You knew&lt;br /&gt;Didn’t you&lt;br /&gt;That when I came you’d leave&lt;br /&gt;A piece of you in me&lt;br /&gt;Too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-2828395734920063897?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/2828395734920063897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=2828395734920063897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2828395734920063897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2828395734920063897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/pieces-of-pisces.html' title='pieces of pisces'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7816323358060255488</id><published>2009-04-26T02:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:15:11.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pole Shift</title><content type='html'>The dual of duality &lt;br /&gt;Was once a deep divide &lt;br /&gt;= And conquer =&lt;br /&gt;A march drum incessantly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calling sides to advance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pole shift changed all &lt;br /&gt;Of that. Where desecrated deserts of loneliness&lt;br /&gt;Faced the oasis of touch&lt;br /&gt;The bridge began building&lt;br /&gt;And the white flags waved, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And two became a third, no north no south&lt;br /&gt;No rising sun in the east, no end of daylight in the west&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeting you changed all of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pole shift in my heart happened quietly one morning&lt;br /&gt;When time slowed and we were caught&lt;br /&gt;Between sunrise and sunset, when it was so dark&lt;br /&gt;I could only follow the pulsing of my hearts light&lt;br /&gt;And so bright, I had to trust your endless faith&lt;br /&gt;In the face of the deepest shadow&lt;br /&gt;Cast not by a fear, but by the unknown&lt;br /&gt;I see here, even in the moment between moments&lt;br /&gt;A duality lies. Only this time, I cannot see myself&lt;br /&gt;Nor you, but the endless possibilities of us,&lt;br /&gt;The bright shadow, and the nighttime dawn&lt;br /&gt;Of Now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7816323358060255488?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7816323358060255488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7816323358060255488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7816323358060255488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7816323358060255488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/pole-shift.html' title='Pole Shift'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4082710834196024112</id><published>2009-04-26T02:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:12:58.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fallen angel</title><content type='html'>ill never fall again&lt;br /&gt;because i found my wings&lt;br /&gt;and i find that in each moment, no matter how dark &lt;br /&gt;no matter how many questions remained to be answered&lt;br /&gt;no matter &lt;br /&gt;no matter&lt;br /&gt;in each moment&lt;br /&gt;my heart still sings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4082710834196024112?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4082710834196024112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4082710834196024112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4082710834196024112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4082710834196024112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/fallen-angel.html' title='fallen angel'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-6812700397443839026</id><published>2009-04-26T02:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:07:11.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>love sick</title><content type='html'>i guess i was already sick &lt;br /&gt;before we met&lt;br /&gt;maybe you had your suspicions&lt;br /&gt;or maybe my diseased cells inside&lt;br /&gt;were receptors picking up pain-frequencies&lt;br /&gt;from your own raw-radio.&lt;br /&gt;But we stood atop a mountain &lt;br /&gt;and all was quiet&lt;br /&gt;we sat, in silence&lt;br /&gt;and enough was said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wasn't that healing enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I can't blame you for &lt;br /&gt;my falling a little further apart&lt;br /&gt;Inflamed lungs, so close&lt;br /&gt;to an overinflated, or underachieving heart.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if compassion &amp; freedom is only found&lt;br /&gt;in forgiving it all, even the one who&lt;br /&gt;sprinkled soil on me&lt;br /&gt;when I was reaching for the sky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-6812700397443839026?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/6812700397443839026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=6812700397443839026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6812700397443839026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6812700397443839026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/love-sick.html' title='love sick'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-5107648004476112342</id><published>2009-04-26T02:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T02:04:34.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>did I miss something?</title><content type='html'>did i miss something?&lt;br /&gt;i didnt see change&lt;br /&gt;your profile said you were over the angst-ridden stuff&lt;br /&gt;yet your music dripped alcoholic tears &lt;br /&gt;and stained the steps to your building&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;was the key not fitting anymore&lt;br /&gt;telling me we'd lost our fit too?&lt;br /&gt;or was this all a forgiveness game&lt;br /&gt;that I screwed up with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did I miss something&lt;br /&gt;did I miss something&lt;br /&gt;as much I miss you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even though I felt&lt;br /&gt;you hurt me&lt;br /&gt;without reason to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-5107648004476112342?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/5107648004476112342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=5107648004476112342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/5107648004476112342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/5107648004476112342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/did-i-miss-something.html' title='did I miss something?'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-702435919986086431</id><published>2009-04-21T01:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T01:06:10.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>there are no victims</title><content type='html'>Even though it seems you hurt me&lt;br /&gt;Turned out the light just as I was finding my feet&lt;br /&gt;I will not let the scarred memory of &lt;br /&gt;Your touch, leave me a victim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall not be one of the walking wounded&lt;br /&gt;Trailing torn heartstrings &lt;br /&gt;A violent violin sonata, &lt;br /&gt;I will not let the trails of tears carve &lt;br /&gt;One more solitary walk home&lt;br /&gt;Down my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not let my beauty be scarred&lt;br /&gt;By the abuse of silence&lt;br /&gt;That rained under your skies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not be punished by your&lt;br /&gt;Words made in jest, laughed at and prodded.&lt;br /&gt;Denied in your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;I deserve the best. I will not make your lies&lt;br /&gt;And your own game, blind me to my own.&lt;br /&gt;I shall not let the memory of your&lt;br /&gt;Unfaithfulness to your word, convince me&lt;br /&gt;To become a victim of your love.&lt;br /&gt;I am not a victim.&lt;br /&gt;I chose it all, and the words to say&lt;br /&gt;That being a martyr is unbecoming&lt;br /&gt;And the victim soul&lt;br /&gt;Is a role I cannot&lt;br /&gt;play&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-702435919986086431?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/702435919986086431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=702435919986086431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/702435919986086431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/702435919986086431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/there-are-no-victims.html' title='there are no victims'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3016139832361149040</id><published>2009-04-21T01:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T01:04:46.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Love</title><content type='html'>My love needs no healing&lt;br /&gt;So I shall not cry.&lt;br /&gt;It needs no reassurance because it finds play&lt;br /&gt;In a lifelong afternoon alone.&lt;br /&gt;My love needs no work&lt;br /&gt;For what is work but necessary&lt;br /&gt;And my love needs not a breeze of this.&lt;br /&gt;My love needs not even freedom &lt;br /&gt;For a need is a void&lt;br /&gt;And my love knows no such thing.&lt;br /&gt;My love needs you?&lt;br /&gt;No. &lt;br /&gt;It just wanted to find a willing hand&lt;br /&gt;Who wants to play &lt;br /&gt;Too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3016139832361149040?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3016139832361149040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3016139832361149040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3016139832361149040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3016139832361149040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-love.html' title='My Love'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3097415162558630621</id><published>2009-04-21T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T01:04:25.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>seeing</title><content type='html'>If you come close, and quiet&lt;br /&gt;You’ll get to see the healing you need&lt;br /&gt;You shall find it reflected within me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need affection?&lt;br /&gt;These arms are reassurance enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need humor&lt;br /&gt;Talk to me for a while&lt;br /&gt;and you’ll brighten as you make yourself smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;want to paint?&lt;br /&gt;Watch the landscape fill with color&lt;br /&gt;As you dare to draw your thoughts before me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want safety&lt;br /&gt;I see the rocks are nowhere near as you think&lt;br /&gt;And as you are allowed to be, with me,&lt;br /&gt;The light turns on, and somehow you see it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ll see what you need to, within me&lt;br /&gt;I often wonder if you truly see me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess you don’t&lt;br /&gt;Or I guess you do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you see yourself&lt;br /&gt;And I am you&lt;br /&gt;Too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3097415162558630621?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3097415162558630621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3097415162558630621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3097415162558630621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3097415162558630621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/seeing.html' title='seeing'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8735473347997748491</id><published>2009-04-21T01:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T01:03:25.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>set and rise</title><content type='html'>Our conflict is not mine&lt;br /&gt;But yours.&lt;br /&gt;And I guess, yes, its therefore part of me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you find the pain eases as you &lt;br /&gt;Honor your feelings&lt;br /&gt;As I have honored mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honoring them all the way&lt;br /&gt;To leaving you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot be blamed for feeling&lt;br /&gt;Sad and for finding freedom again&lt;br /&gt;Why sit and wait to share more pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The skies turns a million shades of turquoise here&lt;br /&gt;As I sleep&lt;br /&gt;More shades than the clouded horizon &lt;br /&gt;You like to drive on in the daylight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say you work long enough to see the sunrise and&lt;br /&gt;the sunset.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t find beauty in that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I find love with you only in the moment between these such&lt;br /&gt;moments.&lt;br /&gt;The sun rises each time I see you&lt;br /&gt;And sets when you drive away.&lt;br /&gt;Which is okay.&lt;br /&gt;I just see more of nature than you do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8735473347997748491?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8735473347997748491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8735473347997748491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8735473347997748491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8735473347997748491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/set-and-rise.html' title='set and rise'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7886810555740960594</id><published>2009-04-21T01:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T01:02:05.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'>modeled after you</title><content type='html'>I am a model&lt;br /&gt;Cash falls into my bank because of my eyes&lt;br /&gt;And the way my skin falls tightly&lt;br /&gt;Over my strong cheekbones&lt;br /&gt;And my lips make millions&lt;br /&gt;Find desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all traditional ways&lt;br /&gt;I am beautiful&lt;br /&gt;Long lashes, dimples,&lt;br /&gt;Dark hair and eyes, handsome&lt;br /&gt;Sexual&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m beautiful in all such ways&lt;br /&gt;Of this world&lt;br /&gt;But yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photograph you take&lt;br /&gt;Sees me in negative&lt;br /&gt;The long lashes I blink as I cry for you&lt;br /&gt;Are webs threatening entanglement&lt;br /&gt;My eyes, accusing in their&lt;br /&gt;Love for you&lt;br /&gt;A judge &amp; jury you cannot stand&lt;br /&gt;Because you cannot see the beauty inside you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can u see mine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone finds me beautiful&lt;br /&gt;But you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that’s okay&lt;br /&gt;I see a million mirrors before me&lt;br /&gt;But I never see your reflection&lt;br /&gt;Except when I look into my own eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you are inside me&lt;br /&gt;Can u see through me&lt;br /&gt;And see &lt;br /&gt;Hjow beautiful I am???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7886810555740960594?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7886810555740960594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7886810555740960594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7886810555740960594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7886810555740960594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/modeled-after-you.html' title='modeled after you'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8284211674051224700</id><published>2009-04-21T00:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:59:44.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirror, Mirror on the wall, are Libras the “fairest” of them all?</title><content type='html'>Your mixed messages&lt;br /&gt;I’m sitting still trying to untie,&lt;br /&gt;with the ribbons when you once said&lt;br /&gt;‘your skin stops me from getting closer’,&lt;br /&gt;now knotted.  You forgot you tied them &lt;br /&gt;so neatly around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The urgency of your need to discover Me &lt;br /&gt;was left behind one morning&lt;br /&gt;when summer sun left storm-clouds;&lt;br /&gt;brewed cups of pain-tea, which you made&lt;br /&gt;but never even drank with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The - slivers - and – shards – of - the – past -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from reflections of us&lt;br /&gt;still cut my feet, when I walk too far into yesterday &lt;br /&gt;       and remember why it was &lt;br /&gt;the mirror fell.&lt;br /&gt;I sit in the ocean, and swim, so far away&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard not to dwell on&lt;br /&gt;where my one safe land was.&lt;br /&gt;Sometime&lt;br /&gt;I’ll build my own lighthouse&lt;br /&gt;so I’ll not need you to steer me away from the rocks.&lt;br /&gt;I’m reaching another shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always wear red.  I was the lifeguard. &lt;br /&gt;You think you saved me.&lt;br /&gt;I think we did a good job at rescuing each other.&lt;br /&gt;I’m piecing together our mirror again.&lt;br /&gt;It may take a while.&lt;br /&gt;I’ll leave it out to dry under the Full Moon&lt;br /&gt;And then cast it into the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;Tied with loose new ribbons.&lt;br /&gt;Dipped in inks of raspberry ripple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re whispering to me, now, tonight.&lt;br /&gt;but I don’t hear &lt;br /&gt;anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard when the waves make more sense&lt;br /&gt;and their crashing serenade against this shore&lt;br /&gt;is hypnotic.&lt;br /&gt;The Universe holds it&lt;br /&gt;now.&lt;br /&gt;If you find a shard of our reflection&lt;br /&gt;send it to me.&lt;br /&gt;I need sometime, to piece it all together.&lt;br /&gt;Or at least keep it in your box&lt;br /&gt;With three pictures, &lt;br /&gt;Two silver rings&lt;br /&gt;and our one &lt;br /&gt;last &lt;br /&gt;. breath&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8284211674051224700?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8284211674051224700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8284211674051224700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8284211674051224700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8284211674051224700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/mirror-mirror-on-wall-are-libras.html' title='Mirror, Mirror on the wall, are Libras the “fairest” of them all?'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3775521508362256528</id><published>2009-04-21T00:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:59:06.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>man on a beach</title><content type='html'>I think you’re just strong&lt;br /&gt;You smoke, so maybe your lungs &lt;br /&gt;Are a little weak, but you don’t flinch&lt;br /&gt;When you tell how you carried rejection&lt;br /&gt;Uphill. You fiercely took on the wind&lt;br /&gt;When we bladed downhill&lt;br /&gt;At 5am.&lt;br /&gt;Physically you’re greater than me.&lt;br /&gt;You have light brown eyes that are smooth&lt;br /&gt;Mellow chocolate and I could be scared by you&lt;br /&gt;But your aggression isn’t so much a lie&lt;br /&gt;As a tattoo you wear that looks painful and tough&lt;br /&gt;Yet is delicate and sensual.&lt;br /&gt;Your eyelashes sweep the night air&lt;br /&gt;Causing the waves before us.&lt;br /&gt;I think you’re strong.&lt;br /&gt;And the smell of your skin I am yet&lt;br /&gt;To discover. I think I already know&lt;br /&gt;Your arms, you give me them in &lt;br /&gt;Your words. &lt;br /&gt;I think I already know you,&lt;br /&gt;Since you became the daytime memory&lt;br /&gt;Of my moonlit love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3775521508362256528?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3775521508362256528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3775521508362256528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3775521508362256528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3775521508362256528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/man-on-beach.html' title='man on a beach'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4387690165106471335</id><published>2009-04-21T00:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:57:48.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If</title><content type='html'>If only&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’d made sunset&lt;br /&gt;Maybe as the day disappeared&lt;br /&gt;From view, so would the news&lt;br /&gt;You told me on the way there would &lt;br /&gt;Too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’d lived in the moment&lt;br /&gt;Between hoping and knowing&lt;br /&gt;We could have enjoyed the peace&lt;br /&gt;And bliss of innocence&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4387690165106471335?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4387690165106471335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4387690165106471335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4387690165106471335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4387690165106471335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/if.html' title='If'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3598828870052241849</id><published>2009-04-21T00:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:56:27.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>caramel comfort</title><content type='html'>The quiet passion &lt;br /&gt;That cuddles around my shoulder&lt;br /&gt;Cloaking me in warm&lt;br /&gt;Is not unlike the comforter draper around&lt;br /&gt;My heart you tucked me in with, the morning&lt;br /&gt;You met me.&lt;br /&gt;The passion is less fierce as the raging fires&lt;br /&gt;You started with paint stripper&lt;br /&gt;And the gas in your truck.&lt;br /&gt;This fuel is slow burning and made&lt;br /&gt;From melted butter.&lt;br /&gt;Its honey, and warm butterscotch&lt;br /&gt;Baking bread scented and drips of vanilla&lt;br /&gt;Caramel.&lt;br /&gt;I’m smiling because this passion&lt;br /&gt;Is forever. Moving through my veins&lt;br /&gt;With less courage and less determination&lt;br /&gt;Than the need I felt with you&lt;br /&gt;But just as strong, just as long lasting&lt;br /&gt;And true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3598828870052241849?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3598828870052241849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3598828870052241849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3598828870052241849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3598828870052241849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/caramel-comfort.html' title='caramel comfort'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-6892234955817126873</id><published>2009-04-21T00:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:53:29.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'>stripped</title><content type='html'>Further and further&lt;br /&gt;With every word you laid out so heavily&lt;br /&gt;Punctuating periods of thick silence,&lt;br /&gt;It was hard to breathe at times&lt;br /&gt;Knowing not where the land was&lt;br /&gt;Quiet beneath the ocean beside you.&lt;br /&gt;We floated there for a whole Moment&lt;br /&gt;Deeper and deeper&lt;br /&gt;With who knows, and whether;&lt;br /&gt;Hugging what ifs &lt;br /&gt;And when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The aroma of the freedom you feel&lt;br /&gt;In being so open, was so heady&lt;br /&gt;I lost myself twice, and touched timeless&lt;br /&gt;It was the only thing I could do &lt;br /&gt;To catch my breathe, &lt;br /&gt;Hanging up on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ease with which you stripped me&lt;br /&gt;while you shed your own verbal armor&lt;br /&gt;Was so disarming I gladly stood&lt;br /&gt;Exposed for you, for there is so much&lt;br /&gt;I still cannot see, even though I see &lt;br /&gt;You entirely before me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stand, wearing nothing and yet hiding&lt;br /&gt;Everything. How come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U beckon me to you&lt;br /&gt;With a smile somewhere inside your dark brow&lt;br /&gt;Behind your dark lashes&lt;br /&gt;Your breathe is long in motion slow&lt;br /&gt;And a bead of water falls to your lip&lt;br /&gt;Are you going to kiss me&lt;br /&gt;With one more word&lt;br /&gt;With one more thought&lt;br /&gt;With one more way to show how confident you are&lt;br /&gt;To be free&lt;br /&gt;Inviting me to fall&lt;br /&gt;Further and further&lt;br /&gt;With every word&lt;br /&gt;Down deeper&lt;br /&gt;And closer&lt;br /&gt;To a place&lt;br /&gt;Even you &lt;br /&gt;Yourself&lt;br /&gt;Don’t&lt;br /&gt;Yet&lt;br /&gt;Know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only hope so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-6892234955817126873?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/6892234955817126873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=6892234955817126873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6892234955817126873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6892234955817126873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/stripped.html' title='stripped'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4410491118243202534</id><published>2009-04-21T00:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:52:18.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>nightlight</title><content type='html'>Give me freedom&lt;br /&gt;Let me go&lt;br /&gt;Yet squeeze me tight&lt;br /&gt;And leave the Light on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t wait up&lt;br /&gt;I’m chasing stars&lt;br /&gt;Don’t worry I’m fine&lt;br /&gt;Just leave the Light on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m taking off, &lt;br /&gt;Say Bon Voyage&lt;br /&gt;I’ll find my way thru the night&lt;br /&gt;If the Light’s on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m yours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK. You can be mine too&lt;br /&gt;If you stand by my side &lt;br /&gt;With the courage to grow&lt;br /&gt;Even if it leads away from me&lt;br /&gt;If we can speak in silences&lt;br /&gt;And toast marshmallow&lt;br /&gt;Over warm dreams&lt;br /&gt;And talk&lt;br /&gt;Simply&lt;br /&gt;Yet&lt;br /&gt;deep&lt;br /&gt;about anything, everything and nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall always give you freedom&lt;br /&gt;And I let you go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s why we are soul-mates&lt;br /&gt;You squeeze me tight&lt;br /&gt;When its dark and all through the night&lt;br /&gt;You Leave the Light&lt;br /&gt;On&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4410491118243202534?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4410491118243202534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4410491118243202534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4410491118243202534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4410491118243202534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/nightlight.html' title='nightlight'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7809327507618747644</id><published>2009-04-21T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:50:34.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>eyes of an artist</title><content type='html'>so deceiving&lt;br /&gt;it coulda been someone else&lt;br /&gt;who held me on the phone for hours last night&lt;br /&gt;in ten whole minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His voice was thick red velvet curtains&lt;br /&gt;And yet here, now, before me&lt;br /&gt;Velcro blinds, a cut and copy cardboard cutout&lt;br /&gt;Of the shadow shone last night..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..I knew I chanced fate&lt;br /&gt;And slipped myself a hook&lt;br /&gt;The line was a good one&lt;br /&gt;And sinker, I saw myself&lt;br /&gt;Trying to reach for air&lt;br /&gt;Finding any joke I could&lt;br /&gt;To hide the fact I was disappointed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your voice did not match what &lt;br /&gt;I heard last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you speak in misplaced&lt;br /&gt;Truth? I wonder since the rich silence&lt;br /&gt;I heard on the phone, is now broken&lt;br /&gt;By bottle cap shards and s&lt;br /&gt;Syncopated snapshots of your smile&lt;br /&gt;And the glowing embers of the vowels&lt;br /&gt;He left imprinted on my digital audio tape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm checking to see if it was you.&lt;br /&gt;And somehow, through the magic of technology&lt;br /&gt;I think it is. &lt;br /&gt;I just somehow heard you differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ears are such artists&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They paint your words in spring bud shades&lt;br /&gt;And add vibrant color to the autumn&lt;br /&gt;Way your thoughts fall.&lt;br /&gt;And somehow I hear you beautiful,&lt;br /&gt;Where my eyes see you&lt;br /&gt;Aren’t at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And once more I punish my senses&lt;br /&gt;For judging through the color of my own&lt;br /&gt;Winter eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wonder it gets so bitter cold here&lt;br /&gt;And why it’s no surprise&lt;br /&gt;I reach for the peace&lt;br /&gt;Of summer when it’s just too hot&lt;br /&gt;To cry, and just to late even try &lt;br /&gt;To wear yet one more&lt;br /&gt;Fake disguise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7809327507618747644?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7809327507618747644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7809327507618747644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7809327507618747644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7809327507618747644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/eyes-of-artist.html' title='eyes of an artist'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3809243726264295403</id><published>2009-04-21T00:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:42:54.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Seasons</title><content type='html'>I know u have a lover now&lt;br /&gt;and you're busy a lot&lt;br /&gt;learning deep valuable lessons&lt;br /&gt;moving in time with each others darkness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;throbbing over a painful word&lt;br /&gt;an aching trigger&lt;br /&gt;and a moment when you're One.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know time is different now&lt;br /&gt;because you're a different Us&lt;br /&gt;a new 'we'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I miss being around you&lt;br /&gt;knowing you&lt;br /&gt;watching a tv series, in episodic order&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I thought we were linear too&lt;br /&gt;but I keep going back to our First Season&lt;br /&gt;when we didn't know much about our characters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when the drama thrust us into new places&lt;br /&gt;and each other&lt;br /&gt;and we were left on a cliffhanger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always said when moving into season 2&lt;br /&gt;destroy the set&lt;br /&gt;I guess I did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;u still live there&lt;br /&gt;but it's all different now&lt;br /&gt;Let me know when you're ready for Season 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or if they're canceling the show&lt;br /&gt;for a spin off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3809243726264295403?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3809243726264295403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3809243726264295403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3809243726264295403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3809243726264295403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/our-seasons.html' title='Our Seasons'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-171413936770547712</id><published>2009-04-21T00:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:41:10.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving</title><content type='html'>you can make me move&lt;br /&gt;oh Great One&lt;br /&gt;you can say leave&lt;br /&gt;                   Get out&lt;br /&gt;Go away&lt;br /&gt;         Move this week&lt;br /&gt;  pack this weekend&lt;br /&gt;oh Lordly One&lt;br /&gt;You can take my things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you can throw them on the street&lt;br /&gt;(you did)&lt;br /&gt;burn them&lt;br /&gt;make me forget them&lt;br /&gt;or try and steal them&lt;br /&gt;(how can you steal what was given so willingly?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you can make me, oh 'Dominant' One&lt;br /&gt;decide what's best&lt;br /&gt;what rule to erect&lt;br /&gt;        which hoop to spin around me&lt;br /&gt;you can try and make me jump&lt;br /&gt;since trying is all you are left&lt;br /&gt;doing, oh Controlling One&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;since you don't really know&lt;br /&gt;which way my penny lands&lt;br /&gt;cookie crumbles&lt;br /&gt;or if indeed I'll be here tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;   to bet, or eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can take it all&lt;br /&gt;oh Creative One&lt;br /&gt;but I'll still be floating around&lt;br /&gt;watching you, eyeless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;smiling that you thought&lt;br /&gt;oh MisGuided One&lt;br /&gt;that you really thought (did you?)&lt;br /&gt;that I wasn't you&lt;br /&gt;and that I'm not forever too?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-171413936770547712?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/171413936770547712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=171413936770547712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/171413936770547712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/171413936770547712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/moving.html' title='Moving'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-8315428801084231991</id><published>2009-04-21T00:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:38:41.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep</title><content type='html'>I like it when you're sleeping&lt;br /&gt;you're less harm to yourself&lt;br /&gt;or me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you're not neurotic&lt;br /&gt;           worried about money&lt;br /&gt;you're not overcleaning&lt;br /&gt;       overcounting&lt;br /&gt;controlling the kitchen &lt;br /&gt;      because its all you can keep clean&lt;br /&gt;and the dirt of your anxiety&lt;br /&gt;is taking over like &lt;br /&gt;bacteria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like knowing you're asleep&lt;br /&gt;I can wander the hallways and corridors&lt;br /&gt;with oxygen&lt;br /&gt;less polluted by storm clouds&lt;br /&gt;      furrowed brows&lt;br /&gt;and you looking down at me&lt;br /&gt;for not following the rules that &lt;br /&gt;have gotten you this far&lt;br /&gt;on a sinking ship&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-8315428801084231991?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/8315428801084231991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=8315428801084231991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8315428801084231991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/8315428801084231991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/sleep.html' title='Sleep'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3969471887414567838</id><published>2009-04-21T00:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:36:52.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuses</title><content type='html'>It’s Mercury, Ma&lt;br /&gt;It’s mind murder, it’s messy&lt;br /&gt;It must be my mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s Mars, Ma&lt;br /&gt;It’s much too late and &lt;br /&gt;I just can’t wait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    And It’s me, Ma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my my mouth&lt;br /&gt;That murmured misunderstanding&lt;br /&gt;Misguided motives&lt;br /&gt;Muted, and muffled...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3969471887414567838?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3969471887414567838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3969471887414567838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3969471887414567838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3969471887414567838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/excuses.html' title='Excuses'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7447422963513884154</id><published>2009-04-21T00:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:35:17.654-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Word-War</title><content type='html'>Ill try&lt;br /&gt;To walk, not talk&lt;br /&gt;To silently suffer than to sharply speak&lt;br /&gt;At the Academy of Word-War&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weapons cost only a student loan&lt;br /&gt;Here, an unpayable debt,&lt;br /&gt;A hurtful hole on the harmless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll try to be more like you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing taking an arm crashing into your head&lt;br /&gt;You never attended my school&lt;br /&gt;You stayed home instead and painted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that’s why you stand so clear and clean&lt;br /&gt;And were never tainted?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7447422963513884154?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7447422963513884154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7447422963513884154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7447422963513884154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7447422963513884154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/word-war.html' title='Word-War'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-2606835311013218545</id><published>2009-04-21T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:32:41.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>chill winds, prince</title><content type='html'>sleep well prince&lt;br /&gt;for in the coming morn&lt;br /&gt;I lose my way&lt;br /&gt;and the forest glade leaves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will remember your last tread tonight&lt;br /&gt;the echo of the footstep&lt;br /&gt;you are taking with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do wish horseback was for two&lt;br /&gt;bareback riding is much better&lt;br /&gt;when there's a saddle and my name etched there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've ridden wild stallions&lt;br /&gt;my whole solo speeding life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the barn is warn, yes&lt;br /&gt;and the hay a safe space&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      bubbles burst and like dish soap&lt;br /&gt;pop, &lt;br /&gt;   unlike the carnival ones that &lt;br /&gt;children chew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel yours around me prince&lt;br /&gt;not a bubble but a wind&lt;br /&gt;that if you’re quiet&lt;br /&gt;u can feel it still&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even from the chill winds of Iceland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-2606835311013218545?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/2606835311013218545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=2606835311013218545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2606835311013218545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2606835311013218545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/chill-winds-prince.html' title='chill winds, prince'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-5864505972433533504</id><published>2009-04-21T00:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T00:29:24.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fleeting, eternal</title><content type='html'>I'm raw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was never tamed   &lt;br /&gt;    i came to show this civilization&lt;br /&gt;u can be free and real and deep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;short and long lasting&lt;br /&gt;momentary&lt;br /&gt;       fleeting&lt;br /&gt;  and eternal&lt;br /&gt;hard to understand, know or hold&lt;br /&gt;                             yet &lt;br /&gt;   beautiful when moments allow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;u never tamed me&lt;br /&gt;           I wanted you to&lt;br /&gt;but it got too hot, too close&lt;br /&gt;and I had to bolt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-5864505972433533504?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/5864505972433533504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=5864505972433533504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/5864505972433533504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/5864505972433533504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/04/fleeting-eternal.html' title='fleeting, eternal'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-484593385979327941</id><published>2009-02-08T02:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T02:41:55.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss you Mitri</title><content type='html'>You'd sometimes just sit there&lt;br /&gt;your green eyes trained to me.&lt;br /&gt;Watching.&lt;br /&gt;I'd often wonder what you thought.&lt;br /&gt;Whether you just put up with me&lt;br /&gt;or whether you enjoyed being alone together&lt;br /&gt;when the house was empty.&lt;br /&gt;\you'd sometimes ask me for something&lt;br /&gt;and I'd ignore you, brush you away&lt;br /&gt;and you'd return not long after.&lt;br /&gt;I think you knew, didn't you.&lt;br /&gt;(didn't you?) that I loved you&lt;br /&gt;and that you'd get a treat if you&lt;br /&gt;stared long enough.&lt;br /&gt;Did you get enough treats?&lt;br /&gt;You hated me taking a bath &lt;br /&gt;didn't you?&lt;br /&gt;You'd worry I would slip and fall&lt;br /&gt;drown and never wake to hold you again&lt;br /&gt;another day. Or at least eat together.&lt;br /&gt;You'd sit sometimes when the lights were out&lt;br /&gt;and I was sleeping, I saw your green eyes&lt;br /&gt;refleting light from somewhere, a street light outside&lt;br /&gt;perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;You knew stuff.&lt;br /&gt;You used to commune in dreams, you'd say so much&lt;br /&gt;with silence. And I did hear you purr a few times,&lt;br /&gt;so I know you were happy.&lt;br /&gt;And you seemed happy with me around.&lt;br /&gt;But you see, tonight&lt;br /&gt;I'll never know if you weren't doing so well &lt;br /&gt;when I wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;But I tried to come back&lt;br /&gt;to visit you&lt;br /&gt;I hope you know&lt;br /&gt;and I hope you saw&lt;br /&gt;when you lay stiff, your eyes were light years away&lt;br /&gt;and you left alone.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm sad last night you died.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-484593385979327941?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/484593385979327941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=484593385979327941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/484593385979327941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/484593385979327941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/02/miss-you-mitri.html' title='Miss you Mitri'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1874818625701031280</id><published>2009-01-03T02:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T02:09:02.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'>un-edited</title><content type='html'>Before me, the city &lt;br /&gt;Behind me, the hills of lights&lt;br /&gt;Where most of it took place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beside me, a plastic well of spring water&lt;br /&gt;And an empty parking lot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beneath me&lt;br /&gt;A different home &lt;br /&gt;On the same globe&lt;br /&gt;Less friends, more lessons learned&lt;br /&gt;More space, less room&lt;br /&gt;More moments, less time&lt;br /&gt;Less reason to want more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You mentioned starting a scrap book&lt;br /&gt;This month,&lt;br /&gt;But Ive scrapped too much&lt;br /&gt;And someone scrapped having me around&lt;br /&gt;But if it makes for a pretty picture&lt;br /&gt;Or movie idea, I'll tell you my story&lt;br /&gt;And since you're a great surgical editor&lt;br /&gt;&amp; Unpublished healer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe you can re-write my mending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1874818625701031280?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1874818625701031280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1874818625701031280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1874818625701031280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1874818625701031280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/01/un-edited.html' title='un-edited'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4936170343337549544</id><published>2009-01-03T02:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T02:07:05.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>don't know, can't decide</title><content type='html'>The stillness of the aftermath&lt;br /&gt;Always astounds me.&lt;br /&gt;How you can hear the air&lt;br /&gt;And smell the moment between breath&lt;br /&gt;I have 18 cupcakes freshly baked&lt;br /&gt;Un-iced&lt;br /&gt;And I can walk away tonight&lt;br /&gt;And wonder if the cats under the cars down the road&lt;br /&gt;Would even turn their heads as I pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should have done for you what I did for him&lt;br /&gt;Leave when a mood descends and he needs a moment&lt;br /&gt;To breathe&lt;br /&gt;One I'll have to force because he wants me gone&lt;br /&gt;But wants me near&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     But cant decide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I need to make more emotional decisions for those&lt;br /&gt;Who &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     don’t know what they feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I can see it sitting there&lt;br /&gt;Full bodied in the centre of the room&lt;br /&gt;Tilting its eyes at me&lt;br /&gt;Un-entitled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4936170343337549544?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4936170343337549544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4936170343337549544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4936170343337549544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4936170343337549544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/01/dont-know-cant-decide.html' title='don&apos;t know, can&apos;t decide'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4713870468824576249</id><published>2009-01-03T02:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T02:05:21.454-08:00</updated><title type='text'>searchlights</title><content type='html'>I could walk up to the 50th floor of the downtown&lt;br /&gt;Skyscrapers I'm overlooking, and you’d never know&lt;br /&gt;You’d not see the rain pooling this side of the I5&lt;br /&gt;Or the ashamed cascades cutting my cheeks with the lyrics&lt;br /&gt;Of our hurt playing over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could eat meat, for the first time in over thirteen years&lt;br /&gt;And you’d have no clue, nor care&lt;br /&gt;And I could jump from this concrete wall &lt;br /&gt;Too far down to the parking lot below&lt;br /&gt;And you’d be somewhere else&lt;br /&gt;Doing other things but worrying&lt;br /&gt;Other things but bothering to leave an ounce&lt;br /&gt;Of energy and attention for my overinflated&lt;br /&gt;Ego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder which club is playing tonight&lt;br /&gt;Or whether the searchlights in this LA sky&lt;br /&gt;Are trying to find the reason why this week&lt;br /&gt;Had to play out as it did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why i gained a lot of options,&lt;br /&gt;and lost you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4713870468824576249?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4713870468824576249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4713870468824576249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4713870468824576249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4713870468824576249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/01/searchlights.html' title='searchlights'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-540354121474243128</id><published>2009-01-03T02:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T02:02:09.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>apnea</title><content type='html'>You’re in a sleep study clinic tonight&lt;br /&gt;Testing for apnea&lt;br /&gt;You know, those times when you woke you because you&lt;br /&gt;Said you couldn’t breathe&lt;br /&gt;symbolic id say?&lt;br /&gt;My lungs are tighter with the smoke&lt;br /&gt;From our fires&lt;br /&gt;They’ve connected wires to you&lt;br /&gt;And you said its lights out by 11&lt;br /&gt;And you’re wearing the turquoise velor shirt&lt;br /&gt;I brought from England, as company&lt;br /&gt;When I wasn’t there.&lt;br /&gt;I said I still love you, and always will&lt;br /&gt;Even though you kicked me out&lt;br /&gt;Screamed at me because of your pain&lt;br /&gt;Hurt yourself drinking&lt;br /&gt;Neglected us because you needed you&lt;br /&gt;I guess id have done the same if I were you.&lt;br /&gt;And the heart does what it does&lt;br /&gt;Feels what it wants&lt;br /&gt;I try and hold back the ebb&lt;br /&gt;But end up letting it flow.&lt;br /&gt;Its too much pressure to pretend&lt;br /&gt;And risk regretting one day not telling you&lt;br /&gt;That through it all, through the times when you put the light out&lt;br /&gt;Through the moments when you did such a good job at pretending I was meaningless&lt;br /&gt;The many nights you wanted to push and the days you’d be sure to pull&lt;br /&gt;That I cried so much, and it hurt bad&lt;br /&gt;And I wanted to prove to you I could do without anything about you&lt;br /&gt;The mere mention of you, the photo of you, any memory of you&lt;br /&gt;Your old street, the color of your burgundy beat up car&lt;br /&gt;That I thought I saw tonight, but how could it be&lt;br /&gt;Through it all&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;My heart could live without you as I am learning to do&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t miss you&lt;br /&gt;It does, I do&lt;br /&gt;But I don’t know a way yet for us to come together&lt;br /&gt;Without spears or worse&lt;br /&gt;Cold shields that stand so tall&lt;br /&gt;They block the light out&lt;br /&gt;California sun is so big, so proud&lt;br /&gt;They must be vast, our defenses&lt;br /&gt;For such brightness to shroud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-540354121474243128?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/540354121474243128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=540354121474243128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/540354121474243128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/540354121474243128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/01/apnea.html' title='apnea'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-6509891547950612052</id><published>2009-01-03T01:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T01:59:52.741-08:00</updated><title type='text'>deathwish</title><content type='html'>please die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you love me.&lt;br /&gt;go, so I can’t ever see or reach you again.&lt;br /&gt;please hang up your life&lt;br /&gt;so there’s no hope&lt;br /&gt;no chance&lt;br /&gt;no possibility&lt;br /&gt;of rekindling old embers&lt;br /&gt;on dead wood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;please be a disconnected telephone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a forgotten email address password.&lt;br /&gt;please die.&lt;br /&gt;please make it easy to breath&lt;br /&gt;by not existing for me to wonder&lt;br /&gt;to wait, and hope and pace&lt;br /&gt;and yearn, and imagine, &lt;br /&gt;and guess. and expect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and anticipate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;please leave there no option&lt;br /&gt;no chance, no hidden clause of our &lt;br /&gt;two chemicals meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..just please don't &lt;br /&gt;erase our reaction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-6509891547950612052?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/6509891547950612052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=6509891547950612052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6509891547950612052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6509891547950612052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/01/deathwish.html' title='deathwish'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-307377900572613492</id><published>2009-01-03T01:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T01:57:20.271-08:00</updated><title type='text'>untied knots</title><content type='html'>I spelunked into your pit&lt;br /&gt;in the dark &lt;br /&gt;and you winced, hurting you said&lt;br /&gt;from the brightness of my gaze&lt;br /&gt;intrigued by the candle burning bright&lt;br /&gt;and in awe of the electric flashlight&lt;br /&gt;I aimed straight at your chest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you could feel the beam piercing you&lt;br /&gt;you said&lt;br /&gt;you’d lived there many years, undisturbed&lt;br /&gt;by choice; instead&lt;br /&gt;you wanted nothing more than to be left in peace&lt;br /&gt;away from prying eyes and crying lies&lt;br /&gt; - and I grabbed my rope&lt;br /&gt;offered my hand&lt;br /&gt;and climbed back out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and made sure I left, by universal accident&lt;br /&gt;the flashlight&lt;br /&gt;at the foot of your bed&lt;br /&gt;sharing at you&lt;br /&gt;shining on you, by design?&lt;br /&gt;in the hopes you’d wake before the battery snuffed&lt;br /&gt;and follow the ladder up I’d left&lt;br /&gt;dangling there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did the batteries die&lt;br /&gt;or did I not tie the rope &lt;br /&gt;tight enough?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-307377900572613492?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/307377900572613492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=307377900572613492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/307377900572613492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/307377900572613492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2009/01/untied-knots.html' title='untied knots'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-201913331499528148</id><published>2008-11-10T14:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:08:32.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Back</title><content type='html'>did we all take a giant step back&lt;br /&gt;when the clocks did&lt;br /&gt;this eden-less Fall?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blacks in California put a black mark against &lt;br /&gt;same sex marriages&lt;br /&gt;protesters punches and anarchists arrested&lt;br /&gt;and you pushed me away when I was open armed&lt;br /&gt;and waiting for your call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did we all lose a bit of progress&lt;br /&gt;when we elected a so-called Liberal&lt;br /&gt;yet freedoms were stripped&lt;br /&gt;when you forced space&lt;br /&gt;and expected me to sit waiting til you wanted me again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-201913331499528148?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/201913331499528148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=201913331499528148' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/201913331499528148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/201913331499528148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/fall-back.html' title='Fall Back'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-2886496825570018279</id><published>2008-11-10T14:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:08:03.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>shipped back</title><content type='html'>we broke up last night&lt;br /&gt;and I dialed your number by mistake today&lt;br /&gt;somehow I memorized it as the only number id need to dial&lt;br /&gt;so my fingers slipped &lt;br /&gt;I gave you back all the gifts you so nicely gave me&lt;br /&gt;because sometimes you recall them when you don’t get your way&lt;br /&gt;so I shipped it all back and sail lighter today.&lt;br /&gt;you said you’d get therapy&lt;br /&gt;and for the first time I think that’s a great thing to do&lt;br /&gt;since clouds of your past overshadowed our present&lt;br /&gt;and I’m losing sight of you&lt;br /&gt;maybe this Fall will lead to the rise of us (in winter, or spring?)&lt;br /&gt;but I don’t know, neither do you&lt;br /&gt;time has a way of sweeping us to pastures new.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-2886496825570018279?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/2886496825570018279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=2886496825570018279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2886496825570018279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2886496825570018279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/shipped-back.html' title='shipped back'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-6318114921567892846</id><published>2008-11-10T14:06:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:07:26.822-08:00</updated><title type='text'>37?</title><content type='html'>sorry I gave you&lt;br /&gt;your gifts back&lt;br /&gt;they were given to me under false pretenses&lt;br /&gt;gifts that say ‘im sorry for doing A’&lt;br /&gt;when A is all you know&lt;br /&gt;and the only gift you have to give&lt;br /&gt;how can fault that?&lt;br /&gt;greatly and often, right…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry I gave you the nice shirt&lt;br /&gt;I looked good in, back to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why do I wanna look good in you&lt;br /&gt;when you’ve caused me no end of trauma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in YOUR hospital wing&lt;br /&gt;with your drunken disorderly&lt;br /&gt;I never said I liked clinics&lt;br /&gt;yet I’ve sat there waiting for your results&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wow i'm so not into you &lt;br /&gt;anymore&lt;br /&gt;I lost the spark for you&lt;br /&gt;by your childish tantrums&lt;br /&gt;it unnerves me that you’re 15 when your &lt;br /&gt;ID says 37.&lt;br /&gt;How can I imagine making love to you&lt;br /&gt;when you can’t even string a sentence together&lt;br /&gt;without the words ‘I can’t talk about this now’&lt;br /&gt;emblazoned there in big bold print.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-6318114921567892846?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/6318114921567892846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=6318114921567892846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6318114921567892846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6318114921567892846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/37.html' title='37?'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3804963441896962248</id><published>2008-11-10T14:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:06:25.162-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taurus Bulldozing</title><content type='html'>I’ll bulldoze into your world&lt;br /&gt;if I want to, okay?&lt;br /&gt;there's no signs saying stay out&lt;br /&gt;or go away&lt;br /&gt;and if you want me to simply go&lt;br /&gt;then just open your mouth&lt;br /&gt;and say so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3804963441896962248?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3804963441896962248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3804963441896962248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3804963441896962248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3804963441896962248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/taurus-bulldozing.html' title='Taurus Bulldozing'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1820051298111176944</id><published>2008-11-10T14:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:05:41.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>less</title><content type='html'>I’ll be less aggressive, &lt;br /&gt;less assertive&lt;br /&gt;less call-it-like-it is&lt;br /&gt;less complaining about rudeness and the state of the things&lt;br /&gt;less pushy when you don’t call when you say&lt;br /&gt;less upset when you get cold&lt;br /&gt;I’ll be less in your face, less life's-a-circus&lt;br /&gt;less calling you on your shit&lt;br /&gt;less great at arguing and less mean&lt;br /&gt;and less than the person you&lt;br /&gt;secretly need me to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1820051298111176944?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1820051298111176944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1820051298111176944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1820051298111176944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1820051298111176944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/less.html' title='less'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7826422309115980766</id><published>2008-11-10T14:04:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:05:17.535-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturn opposes Uranus</title><content type='html'>Saturn stay the same&lt;br /&gt;opposes Uranus change it all&lt;br /&gt;this week&lt;br /&gt;u want to try and work it out&lt;br /&gt;work what out, it clearly just doesn’t work&lt;br /&gt;and its repeating&lt;br /&gt;am I Uranus?&lt;br /&gt;or do we both need fresh air freedom&lt;br /&gt;far away for a while&lt;br /&gt;to see what to salvage &lt;br /&gt;and what to throw out with our wrath-water&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7826422309115980766?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7826422309115980766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7826422309115980766' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7826422309115980766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7826422309115980766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/saturn-opposes-uranus.html' title='Saturn opposes Uranus'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7207736229378593220</id><published>2008-11-10T14:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:04:50.089-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pinball</title><content type='html'>aaaaaaaaaand….back to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this pinball game of step too far&lt;br /&gt;and reel back in&lt;br /&gt;is tiring&lt;br /&gt;I seem to play too many balls or place too&lt;br /&gt;many bets that we’ll be just fine&lt;br /&gt;that fairness will out&lt;br /&gt;when the bell sounds and you’re pushing me out&lt;br /&gt;turned on when you’re happy&lt;br /&gt;and switched off when you don’t want to play&lt;br /&gt;it’s not fair in your pinball game&lt;br /&gt;I don’t have rules&lt;br /&gt;until I re-write them and re-wire them&lt;br /&gt;they say ‘Don’t call me and go away’&lt;br /&gt;its easier to play all or none&lt;br /&gt;and its easier to say adieu and be gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7207736229378593220?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7207736229378593220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7207736229378593220' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7207736229378593220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7207736229378593220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/pinball.html' title='pinball'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-7591608660366719245</id><published>2008-11-10T14:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:04:04.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my inbox</title><content type='html'>my inbox is a treasure trove of waiting wonders&lt;br /&gt;messages of magic and mystical maybes&lt;br /&gt;until our electrical connection fails and I’m in the dark&lt;br /&gt;reloading and hitting the trigger&lt;br /&gt;for just one wink, one more cry from you&lt;br /&gt;and then, all treasure is but ruined cupcakes&lt;br /&gt;ocean floor forgotten-ments you weighed down&lt;br /&gt;with your frown and left there,&lt;br /&gt;and I drown, from falling asleep while diving&lt;br /&gt;it’s such a long way down to my depths&lt;br /&gt;yet further to plunge your own when you’re cold&lt;br /&gt;when you haven’t eaten&lt;br /&gt;and you wonder if your Mother, lying in hospital&lt;br /&gt;will die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-7591608660366719245?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/7591608660366719245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=7591608660366719245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7591608660366719245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/7591608660366719245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-inbox.html' title='my inbox'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-5003482330050200776</id><published>2008-11-10T14:02:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:03:34.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No Big One</title><content type='html'>I don’t think there’ll be a Big One in California&lt;br /&gt;The tectonic plates here jar daily &lt;br /&gt;with the changing of the lights&lt;br /&gt;uncertainty shrouds us like the smog hanging on the trees&lt;br /&gt;at Griffith Park.&lt;br /&gt;Everything is a potential devastation&lt;br /&gt;crippling egos, felling those standing tall&lt;br /&gt;knocking down dream-homes and those in-the-making&lt;br /&gt;swallowing up those too small to face the Big Questions&lt;br /&gt;The Big One landed earlier today&lt;br /&gt;when you shoved me into the wall because you &lt;br /&gt;things in your life are heating up&lt;br /&gt;I cut myself on the broken glass of lemonade I was &lt;br /&gt;preparing for you&lt;br /&gt;but you didn’t turn to see it until &lt;br /&gt;you’d made all your dramatic calls to family who were held captive&lt;br /&gt;in their own Big One, hundreds of miles away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it’s only ever been a series of Big Ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our circus spins plates in tectonic tantrum&lt;br /&gt;smashing hopes and dashing the hopes that in all this&lt;br /&gt;we can still find safety&lt;br /&gt;when it’s okay to be scared&lt;br /&gt;but no longer okay to run the other way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-5003482330050200776?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/5003482330050200776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=5003482330050200776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/5003482330050200776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/5003482330050200776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-big-one.html' title='No Big One'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-2254304136885710740</id><published>2008-11-10T14:02:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:02:44.865-08:00</updated><title type='text'>so much grief</title><content type='html'>“why am I getting so much grief from everyone these days?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you never got it from the hug&lt;br /&gt;I gave u when I last saw you this morning&lt;br /&gt;or from the pill you popped&lt;br /&gt;to numb everyone out&lt;br /&gt;tonight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grief comes when you care&lt;br /&gt;and if my caring causes you grief&lt;br /&gt;a day of winter is coming early.&lt;br /&gt;and you’ll be able to play&lt;br /&gt;in the snow without mittens.&lt;br /&gt;because frostbite hurts less&lt;br /&gt;than heart burn,&lt;br /&gt;right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-2254304136885710740?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/2254304136885710740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=2254304136885710740' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2254304136885710740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/2254304136885710740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/so-much-grief.html' title='so much grief'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-3648169894371653402</id><published>2008-11-10T14:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:02:23.735-08:00</updated><title type='text'>timestamp</title><content type='html'>I’m sleepy&lt;br /&gt;I woke this afternoon late&lt;br /&gt;ate&lt;br /&gt;took a bath&lt;br /&gt;chased the cats out&lt;br /&gt;chopped onion for our kidney bean hummus&lt;br /&gt;and as though each hour were a day&lt;br /&gt;I’m sleepy, and ready to dream&lt;br /&gt;the rest of my night away&lt;br /&gt;maybe I’m older than the timestamp they gave me&lt;br /&gt;at the hospital 9-5 baby rush&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-3648169894371653402?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/3648169894371653402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=3648169894371653402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3648169894371653402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/3648169894371653402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/timestamp.html' title='timestamp'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4833415239816920302</id><published>2008-11-10T14:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:02:04.642-08:00</updated><title type='text'>cosmic cotton</title><content type='html'>in here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;things are quiet&lt;br /&gt;few words spoken&lt;br /&gt;and a small breeze a fresh clean air&lt;br /&gt;and the possibility – if you want it – &lt;br /&gt;of a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may reach out&lt;br /&gt;I may not&lt;br /&gt;you’ll feel me anyway&lt;br /&gt;from where I sit, right within you&lt;br /&gt;from across this space and time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its like seeing with eyes bolted&lt;br /&gt;with no front door to protect&lt;br /&gt;yet all the safety you could ask for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its as though I’m’ wrapped in a cosmic cotton bubble&lt;br /&gt;unpoppable, that feeling before falling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;asleep&lt;br /&gt;in love&lt;br /&gt;for the illusion that its all real&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if I look dazed, giddy&lt;br /&gt;it’s only because I’m, high on the trip&lt;br /&gt;of just about falling asleep&lt;br /&gt;just about going&lt;br /&gt;just about remembering&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and if I close my eyes&lt;br /&gt;I’ll still be looking right at you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4833415239816920302?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4833415239816920302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4833415239816920302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4833415239816920302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4833415239816920302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/cosmic-cotton.html' title='cosmic cotton'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-9156461440569713251</id><published>2008-11-10T14:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:01:19.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>our improv</title><content type='html'>we’d make a good improv show.&lt;br /&gt;I speak fast, you cut me off with something&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t expect to hear.&lt;br /&gt;the audience is stunned, backs away.&lt;br /&gt;it’s a car crash of words and careless use of the lines&lt;br /&gt;its done, its over. &lt;br /&gt;over my dead body your soul says.&lt;br /&gt;over mine too.&lt;br /&gt;its witty, and barbed. it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;we laugh. silence punctures our test-tube&lt;br /&gt;of laboratory rat juice, and sludge soup&lt;br /&gt;or everything hateful and wrong.&lt;br /&gt;and we’re still poking, well after class went home&lt;br /&gt;smoke in our face.&lt;br /&gt;it’s a mess.&lt;br /&gt;its so un-staged, no one charges for tickets&lt;br /&gt;but yet they keep coming back..&lt;br /&gt;     the audience of friends and onlookers,&lt;br /&gt;just as we seem to spend the week apart&lt;br /&gt;yet wind up there&lt;br /&gt;with something else to say&lt;br /&gt;         something else to try on.&lt;br /&gt;just to parlay, to dance, to play then ditch&lt;br /&gt;to unpick, unthread, rip apart, re-stitch&lt;br /&gt;run, walk, abandon, pick up.&lt;br /&gt;we’re always on our feet.&lt;br /&gt;fists clenched, in orgasm&lt;br /&gt;if not anger.&lt;br /&gt;and just as relieved when its not over.&lt;br /&gt;and we’re not through&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-9156461440569713251?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/9156461440569713251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=9156461440569713251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/9156461440569713251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/9156461440569713251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/our-improv.html' title='our improv'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4745562958199915452</id><published>2008-11-10T13:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:00:19.089-08:00</updated><title type='text'>calendar</title><content type='html'>god its those events we wrote on the calendar&lt;br /&gt;that really fucked me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the things we missed because we were still bent on angry&lt;br /&gt;and hard with remorse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its that time wont set still for one moment out one moment&lt;br /&gt;away from everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;those calendar boxed tripping in a particular day&lt;br /&gt;we’ll never make because our growth is slow&lt;br /&gt;and time is fast. and its gone now, its 2 days past&lt;br /&gt;and im only just beginning to wake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t like looking at the calendar&lt;br /&gt;not for last week anyway.&lt;br /&gt;so ill pretend I just bought it last night&lt;br /&gt;and hung it today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4745562958199915452?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4745562958199915452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4745562958199915452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4745562958199915452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4745562958199915452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/calendar.html' title='calendar'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4404055777672761792</id><published>2008-11-10T13:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:59:03.815-08:00</updated><title type='text'>if i want</title><content type='html'>the ovens on toasting my last bagel.&lt;br /&gt;imagine this really was my last bagel.&lt;br /&gt;I want to run and hug you even though you’re in &lt;br /&gt;the desert right now. &lt;br /&gt;and we broke up&lt;br /&gt;is it easier to love someone you lost&lt;br /&gt;or just continue loving them when you lose your perception&lt;br /&gt;of who they should be for you?&lt;br /&gt;u failed at something, I guess&lt;br /&gt;is that why I was mad?&lt;br /&gt;and now you don’t need to do it, you didn’t and I still&lt;br /&gt;survived so i guess I didn’t need you to do it&lt;br /&gt;for me to live on.&lt;br /&gt;I get it now&lt;br /&gt;i'm getting it now&lt;br /&gt;what are you here for then in my life?&lt;br /&gt;to show me I don’t need you&lt;br /&gt;yet I can want you if I want?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4404055777672761792?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4404055777672761792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4404055777672761792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4404055777672761792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4404055777672761792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/if-i-want.html' title='if i want'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4145277311524835843</id><published>2008-11-10T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:58:07.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pluto...</title><content type='html'>Pluto,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve sat and dug a hole for us&lt;br /&gt;yet you won’t lie down.&lt;br /&gt;I sit and wait, beneath the weeping willow&lt;br /&gt;yet you won’t grieve.&lt;br /&gt;I’ve wandered along the narrow path&lt;br /&gt;that leads from the road, and wondered how old&lt;br /&gt;you are. You’ve run rings around me&lt;br /&gt;more times than the sycamore and Monkey Puzzle trees&lt;br /&gt;I’ve counted, as the crows took off from the headstones&lt;br /&gt;by the hedges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pluto,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m wondering if you won’t lie down&lt;br /&gt;because we’re not done, or because you have&lt;br /&gt;other plans. I heard they bury people standing up&lt;br /&gt;these days? And if so, are we frozen in time already?&lt;br /&gt;But I can speak?&lt;br /&gt;So why are we sitting here in silence, when you hear my thoughts&lt;br /&gt;yet don’t reply?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pluto, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my hands are dirty from filling in our hole.&lt;br /&gt;I’m cold, and hungry. Don’t the dead need no food?&lt;br /&gt;You’re sitting with your back to me yet I can see you&lt;br /&gt;looking at me. Why, Pluto? Why don’t you turn around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pluto,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve closed my eyes. I see now what you see.&lt;br /&gt;It’s quiet. And I see us. We never died? Is that right?&lt;br /&gt;Tell me. Ah I see now. The show you’re watching across&lt;br /&gt;the road. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’re sitting in a diner and the story isn’t over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4145277311524835843?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4145277311524835843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4145277311524835843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4145277311524835843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4145277311524835843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/pluto.html' title='Pluto...'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-633297828618973221</id><published>2008-11-10T13:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:56:42.092-08:00</updated><title type='text'>failure to lose</title><content type='html'>I failed at letting you go.&lt;br /&gt;my heart lied to me.&lt;br /&gt;or was it my head?&lt;br /&gt;I told myself and countless others&lt;br /&gt;we were through. but you were only just&lt;br /&gt;getting me started with me instead.&lt;br /&gt;You failed at letting me let you go.&lt;br /&gt;your heart roped you in.&lt;br /&gt;why do we keep losing each other?&lt;br /&gt;each time is real.&lt;br /&gt;each time the clock stops, the springs whirr.&lt;br /&gt;each time it bothers me so much&lt;br /&gt;that you bring chills to my skin&lt;br /&gt;and make my heart turn gray.&lt;br /&gt;maybe I can make it less important&lt;br /&gt;maybe I can become so strong it matters less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe ill just go and make food and not&lt;br /&gt;worry about it. because I am no longer safe or sane.&lt;br /&gt;and i'm hungry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-633297828618973221?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/633297828618973221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=633297828618973221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/633297828618973221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/633297828618973221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/failure-to-lose.html' title='failure to lose'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-208126883142603331</id><published>2008-11-10T13:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:56:08.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>slug</title><content type='html'>why am I excited?&lt;br /&gt;why.&lt;br /&gt;tell me&lt;br /&gt;u made me cry the other day&lt;br /&gt;and somehow here I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it doesn’t matter&lt;br /&gt;its gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is insanity wiping my mind of things&lt;br /&gt;I feel I should be remembering&lt;br /&gt;you hurt me&lt;br /&gt;it didn’t feel good&lt;br /&gt;and yet because i'm ok now&lt;br /&gt;it should be okay for good?&lt;br /&gt;no. I guess we don’t need to get back in the ring&lt;br /&gt;but why am i sitting outside of this thing&lt;br /&gt;watching this when it's something to be done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no wonder i've felt so sluggish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-208126883142603331?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/208126883142603331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=208126883142603331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/208126883142603331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/208126883142603331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/slug.html' title='slug'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-6180792062122044094</id><published>2008-11-10T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:47:30.752-08:00</updated><title type='text'>only one stretcher</title><content type='html'>something just lifted&lt;br /&gt;the sky is still cloud-n-blue&lt;br /&gt;I’m still over here, me&lt;br /&gt;and the last I heard you sounded like you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but something just changed, something just relaxed&lt;br /&gt;some knot was just untied, just then, just now&lt;br /&gt;and I can’t remember what I felt and what winter ice&lt;br /&gt;was blocking me in from running down the driveway&lt;br /&gt;to greet you? to see you? &lt;br /&gt;or did you just take me out of your vice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something just lifted&lt;br /&gt;someone just came in and tore back the drapes and opened the window&lt;br /&gt;and something is sitting tickling my chest&lt;br /&gt;is Pepsi really that strong?&lt;br /&gt;is this caffeine or is this because I somewhere have decided it’s okay&lt;br /&gt;to not be able to let this go&lt;br /&gt;because its something I want to figure out&lt;br /&gt;or enjoy&lt;br /&gt;do I really enjoy fighting with you?&lt;br /&gt;even after it hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;call the paramedics, have them standing by&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know if there’ll be only one stretcher needed&lt;br /&gt;when we’re dying locked still in am embrace&lt;br /&gt;or neck brace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-6180792062122044094?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/6180792062122044094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=6180792062122044094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6180792062122044094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/6180792062122044094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/only-one-stretcher.html' title='only one stretcher'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-9021710564833486288</id><published>2008-11-10T13:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:45:26.514-08:00</updated><title type='text'>just the removal man</title><content type='html'>there's a gap appearing in your life and&lt;br /&gt;home soon.&lt;br /&gt;and I wonder if its really for me to fill &lt;br /&gt;or i'm just the removal man&lt;br /&gt;who came to help you spring clean&lt;br /&gt;ready for an autumn dirtstorm to roll&lt;br /&gt;its way through your door&lt;br /&gt;dirtying your step with leaves&lt;br /&gt;and leaving someone new after the cold passes.&lt;br /&gt;if so, then I’ll keep my cap on&lt;br /&gt;and keep my sleeves rolled back&lt;br /&gt;and lift heavy furniture for you&lt;br /&gt;and sweep under the rug to make sure&lt;br /&gt;nothing remains, &lt;br /&gt;for your new visitor.&lt;br /&gt;I can help you stock the cupboard one last time&lt;br /&gt;and light a candle.&lt;br /&gt;and brew pumpkin beer and caramel coffee&lt;br /&gt;so it smells inviting, as I leave&lt;br /&gt;and your new guest comes in, &lt;br /&gt;like this seasons calm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-9021710564833486288?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/9021710564833486288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=9021710564833486288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/9021710564833486288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/9021710564833486288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/just-removal-man.html' title='just the removal man'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4215666359368715423</id><published>2008-11-10T13:43:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:44:39.434-08:00</updated><title type='text'>moving in</title><content type='html'>the best way to hash this out&lt;br /&gt;perhaps,&lt;br /&gt;is to move in together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that way we embrace the crazy&lt;br /&gt;celebrate seasons with the psyche’s insanity&lt;br /&gt;and lock ourselves up together&lt;br /&gt;until we face one of two facts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we love each other and will let each other be&lt;br /&gt;or we will never forgive each other for some past&lt;br /&gt;misdeed torturing our souls this time around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we’ll live or die&lt;br /&gt;but there’ll be no playing around.&lt;br /&gt;one way or another the pain has to be faced.&lt;br /&gt;maybe right now,&lt;br /&gt;instead of parting&lt;br /&gt;the best thing is to come together&lt;br /&gt;and not be together&lt;br /&gt;not be an ‘item’&lt;br /&gt;but to live together and hash it out.&lt;br /&gt;or maybe it only works if you share your soul&lt;br /&gt;your body&lt;br /&gt;your secrets&lt;br /&gt;your everything.&lt;br /&gt;but then maybe, there’s more to lose that way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay then.&lt;br /&gt;I’ll lose it.&lt;br /&gt;lets move in.&lt;br /&gt;together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4215666359368715423?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4215666359368715423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4215666359368715423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4215666359368715423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4215666359368715423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/moving-in.html' title='moving in'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1957521895112145536</id><published>2008-11-10T13:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:43:45.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Shot at Sharing</title><content type='html'>I had a boyfriend again.&lt;br /&gt;ha, that’s pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;he was older (again)&lt;br /&gt;but just as cruel.&lt;br /&gt;okay so that’s not really exactly fair.&lt;br /&gt;he did all he could and was really there..&lt;br /&gt;..until I really needed him.&lt;br /&gt;maybe that’s the test and lesson of all&lt;br /&gt;loves faces. moving new random strangers&lt;br /&gt;into closer familiar spaces.&lt;br /&gt;playing the same games, changing the faces and &lt;br /&gt;switching the names.&lt;br /&gt;that we’re all really only meant to rely on One.&lt;br /&gt;ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;the moment we need to lean, to not fall&lt;br /&gt;it seems it’s the time to crash to earth, hurt, sob&lt;br /&gt;and continue on wiser, braver &lt;br /&gt;or at least broken, messy, alone and hurting&lt;br /&gt;but standing tall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1957521895112145536?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1957521895112145536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1957521895112145536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1957521895112145536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1957521895112145536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/another-shot-at-sharing.html' title='Another Shot at Sharing'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-1314587204964213344</id><published>2008-11-10T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:43:02.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears Free</title><content type='html'>your heart may be massive&lt;br /&gt;your gestures grand&lt;br /&gt;you may sing to my balcony&lt;br /&gt;and reach out your hand over the oceans and deserts&lt;br /&gt;throwing train tickets to come get me&lt;br /&gt;your heart may be huge, and your love endless&lt;br /&gt;but I got lost on my way there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when the iron gates said &lt;br /&gt;‘Sorry, dress code.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was crying, and your gatekeeper apparently&lt;br /&gt;said it was a Tears Free Ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I walked home alone&lt;br /&gt;and left you wondering where I was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-1314587204964213344?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/1314587204964213344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=1314587204964213344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1314587204964213344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/1314587204964213344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/tears-free.html' title='Tears Free'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5974865413271424519.post-4229820177910350636</id><published>2008-11-10T13:41:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:42:14.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'>lazer removal</title><content type='html'>my life will continue&lt;br /&gt;I’ll pretend you didn’t leave a scar where you kissed me.&lt;br /&gt;I’ll try and lose the laugh you left me&lt;br /&gt;and I’ll not care for cuddles, movies.&lt;br /&gt;I’ll develop an aversion to tattoos.&lt;br /&gt;cancer crabs I’ll be wary of.&lt;br /&gt;indirect, needing mom, you fit every profile&lt;br /&gt;before you were gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5974865413271424519-4229820177910350636?l=poemfromapisces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/feeds/4229820177910350636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5974865413271424519&amp;postID=4229820177910350636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4229820177910350636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5974865413271424519/posts/default/4229820177910350636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poemfromapisces.blogspot.com/2008/11/lazer-removal.html' title='lazer removal'/><author><name>Neil D Paris</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14732498322003410669</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/188/8303/640/Neil%20D%20Paris.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
