I know iv been gone for months, but my first post back will be a story...  I hope you enjoy this excerpt from one of my dreams...        

  "I'll walk you to your room", I said.  Sure, it was only up the stairs and into the hallway of her house, but I wanted to be a gentleman.  I also wanted to spend every possible second I could with her.  Her mother, who had answered the door mumbled something to us about not touching each other as she walked into the kitchen, probably back to fixing that evening's dinner.  I led my love up the stairs, trying to savour every second of her hand around my arm.  As soon as we rounded the hallway corner, she turned and flung herself into my arms and held me tightly.  Almost automatically, I bagan kissing her face frantically, as if she could disappear at any moment.  I needed as much of her as I could get.  She ran her fingers through my hair and dragged them over the shaved side of my head hidden by my beanie.  That was her.  She loved every part of me, and everything about me.  No matter what I did or what I looked like, she loved me always more and never less.  I paused, my gaze magnetized to her hazel eyes.  They say the eyes are windows to the soul.  In that moment, time stood still and I could see every detail in each fiber of colour.  The more I looked at the intricacy before me, the more I understood the meaning of love.  Real, true, innocent, pure love.  I was sucked back into reality by the voice of her mother yelling "is he kissing you?"  My eyes traced her long, black hair down to her fingers and whispered, "Not anymore."  She placed her hands in mine and yelled back, "No, it's my hand."  Holding her hands I held the world.  My world.  My beautiful, perfect world.  Tears neared my eyes as I brought her hand up to my mouth to kiss my most precious possession.  Without thinking, I made for her lips.  She quickly slipped her hand between us and stared at me.  Her eyes speaking in our own language saying, "Wait.  We promised we would wait, and we need to hold to that."  I kissed her forehead in thanks.  She was, in many ways, more mature than I.  She returned the gesture upon my cheek.  I could clearly feel the warmth from her lips emanating with trust.  After another kiss, she escorted me back to the door.  We stood another few minutes on the porch, staring into each other's eyes.  We seemed frozen, like two stones in the middle of a stream.  And for the first time, as the wind glazed her eyes and blew a few locks of black hair across her face, I could not read her.  No emotion, yet every emotion.  No feeling, yet every feeling.  Happiness? sadness? anger? No.  Love.  Abstract, matricized, ambiguous love for me. And that was the extent of what I could see on her face...  She broke our stillness by reaching for my hand.  Her mouth played an optimistic smirk as she threaded her fingers between mine.  With her heart in my hands, and my hand holding hers, we walked down the street and into our future.

"In The Most Innocent Manner"

We live in an age of roles reversed,

Where beauty and flaunting are swapped.

We take an image, make it perversed,

Then cringe when anything is said or seen.

We live in an day of censored loveliness,

Melting innocence into the stream of mud.

Even the most pure is taken as ugliness,

And we gasp when something is seen or said.

We live in a time of mistaken words

A compliment means merely that!

Not a hint at fantasized thoughts.

Yet we believe so when things are seen or said.

We live in a cloud of misunderstanding,

Of logic contorted and out the window.

Can't we just think like rational men?

But we don't when anything is said or seen.

"Hey, you!"

Hey, you, yess you!  You like what you see?

Then keep on reading, or even follow me!

I'd really appreciate your taking the time,

To give your thanks for my thoughtful rhymes.

Many could say that this poem is thin,

But here I ill tell th meaning within.

Comment on this post, or give me a plus,

Or share this with friends, you have to! You must!

In short, what I'm saying, is give some feed,

It's greatly encouraging to know you read me!

(Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed my poetry thus far)

"From the Desparate"

Can you go away?

Leave me where I am.

You too.

Both of you leave me alone,

I don't want to be near either of you!

You have no idea what you are doing, 

You are going to mess up my life!

You are messing with my future,

Our Future!

Forget both of you.

Just go away and deplete someone else of their hope!

Don't just walk towards me and steal my life away from me!

(Such an innocent outpouring of emotion, put perfectly by my dear friend;

 my deepest sympathies and prayers for him.)

(The wording has been altered at the request of the readers.)

"Pepsi"

I never understood non-passionate people,

Never did I register with the seemingly insensitive.

How could a person be so complacent,

With the ordinary continue to live?

What is life without the passion?
Routine dullness, never truly seeing,

It is nothing.

Never truly thinking or feeling.

Emotion is beauty, and inversely tell.

Former stating latter, and second evoking first.

"Alexandra's Spectre"

In between a place of love, and its corresponding loci,

Lies the greatest tale of turmoil and tarnished lull.

One life given, another taken, and one to come from two,

Voluntarily sacrificing dreams for Udinov.

Every aspiration of a current future, stunted at its source.

Yet, a glimpse of paradise but a breath away.

Only a few experiences of forever do,

Underestimate the emotion felt the whole way thru.

A falling soul, with nothing to grab,

Letting go of the need to prepare the slate.

Eternity written on comfort's back,

Xenium are given with the story's relay.

Internal distress during the taxi,

Many would only serve in dram.

"I really hope you know I'm sorri"

Says the heart who caused the "mess".

Soon, however, the death will pass,

Youthful ambitions will have their way.

Only the purest love will do,

Ultimate passion to then ensu.

"A Call to Request"

I call to attention!

Anyone who replies,

Shall have they're choice of a topic,

That my rhyme implies.

Do you like this?

Then give me your pick!

Send me a theme of whatever you want,

I'll write you prose or limerick.

A thanks to the few,

Who read my posts.

For a personal poem written for you,

Tell me what you want most.

I will be glad,

To write one for you!

I'll compose another verse,

'Cause that's what I do.

"Beauty Eclipsed"

Comfort is not an attribute among the list of those,

That describe an experience of brokenness.

Splintering dreams and shattering hearts,

Are rarely uplifting in prose.

Instances of illness, of trampled, and of weak,

Are they shared in glorious triumph?

Unattended parades, deserted celebrations,

Swipe away hope from the meek.

There is hope to be found, however,

Amidst the silenced cries of suppression.

For joy can be given in any depression,

That some may see through tear-glazed eyes.

Yea, there is something rare, inside a state of helplessness,

Much sweeter than any peace.

A chance to live, survive at least.

There is beauty within the brokenness.

"Olivia's Mirror"

Such a ornery place to be,

When faced with self-procured adversity,

To doubt accumulative worth and ignore complimentation.

So to stay with the crowd, most choose to be unnoticed.

Such a doubtful place to stay,

Under the shadows of lies woven day to day.

Negligent murmurs of advice and belief.

To remain unseen is to lie in comfort.

Such a belittling place to wilt,

Rooted in hopes of futures she built.

One day will change, and with it, image.

That a reflection resembles commands from the unbelieving.

Such a dismal place to crumble,

The fallacy clothed in robes of the humble,

But still she treads toward the castle of lies

Assuring herself of what she fears most.

"For Lauren"

The heist of sadness comes in a single act,

From one who is, but isn't always.

A hand in the dark.

True.

Love.

The purest in form,

Unmatched in beauty of countenance.

A furtherance of loyalty, a never neglected pact.

Although apart in physical presence: a body away from mind,

Never to leave a distance unshortened.

Though space may interfere,

None triumph.

In time,

When a greeting sounds,

Embrace surrounded with silent breaths,

With whispered affection all previous paths are left behind.

"The Current Focal Point"

The theme of mundane in society is solo,

The concentricity of life is the self.

Shouting just do it, here and now, YOLO,

Reasoning entirety into minuscule pleasures.

Ignorant of bodies outside the dermal,

We focus our sights onto targets of The essentia.

The passing of ghosts surround the external,

Until the persons outside fade into mere agitants.

Has not our plight been slipping from concern,

Of those who matter to contempt?

Then why do we ignore to discern,

The meaning behind our motives and actions?

A blind eye to the deaf, a fist to the vulnerable,

Such a circumstantial position taken against not ourselves,

What was was the primer has melted into tolerable,

And, in turn, become a lost cause.

Society demands it, but must we comply?

"Identities"

Wearing a mask can make a man into a beast or sprite,

The view can change from out to in. Though the outside may look right,

It can never defend the truth underneath.  A light shining bright,

Through a hole in the mouth or eye,

Can reveal the truth about the being who inhabits the inside.

That's not to say that everyone who wears a mask is all but alright,

Just some are live and some are dead, and some are more alive at night.

In conclusion and in moral, the winner is the fight,

The mask is the persona of the person with the plight.

The gravity of life is when the masks are taken.

Wearers will be vaporized, or crushed, or merely shaken.

All will be stolen eventually.  Open eyes will awaken,

And dead hearts will rise, a truth will be not mistaken.

For this is the moment when true identities will come under surveillance.

"Esoteric Messages"

In essence, if there is nothing to say,

One should not speak at all.

Or else listen to the still in seclusion,

Bouncing off the wall.

Echoes of past and present ideas, images, flashes of being, reverberate down the hall.

Much can be learned from nothing said,

A truth amidst a quiet lie,

Is nothing short of annoyance,

If  projected against the sky.

A friend is even sometimes foe when all that remains is the warriour's cry.

A lesson the the airy breath,

A moral from the slightest whim,

Of life, of decline, and even death,

Can all be found from the voice within.

Flamboyance in nature can be discretely mundane if wearing invisible skin.

The best conversations are held in the air,

Lips sealed through distance and time,

But through the blur of noise we swim,

Listening for inaudible rhymes.

The answers in the midst of riddles, become the rarest finds.

"Malhappenstance"

An instance

In taste

Is pudding

"Trancending Unity"

As the lips of fate, so intertwined,

Separate from faith of the Devine,

A tale of true love is called to mind,

That transcends misfortune, distance and time.

The story begins with innocence,

A bond of youth, ignoring recompense,

The building of a wall from fence,

A wall that none could stand against.

The ship sailed on unto the edge,

Then turned and sailed back again,

Companionship with trust to lend,

To handle every curve or bend.

The wiser never understood,

The mask of wrong over something good,

And try as hard as no one could,

Innocence was trialed, but it withstood.

Through ups and downs but mostly down,

Proximity never came around,

And when the storm had stopped, 'twas found,

The mighty ship had run aground.

Forcibly it was torn apar',

And used as rafts and blown afar,

Great distances did the two depar',

they drifted on into the stars.

Thereafter was for hope no chance,

The play had ended its final dance.

But message came of a date too near,

All but joy had disappeared,

For one day reunition cleared,

The edge of Heaven's eye had teared.

And now to wait with anticipation,

For the hour of proclamation,

A love story true in origination,

A purest unity with no abation.

"Poemception"

Anon inside a winters night,

When peace had filled the air,

A lone man wandered through the road,

A task he seemed to bear.

So prevalent was his mode of think,

None other filled his mind.

But when he opened lip to speak,

He whispered this dismal rhyme:

"Love not, have not, much makes sense,

None but just a few, nerve to recompense,

That is captured here in essence:

'To what a great length of life,

To fulfill destiny?

To damn a sole to pain and strife,

Or elsewhat rest in peace.'

This much do assume the truth,

Much of fate will come to you,

Lest we realize must we do."

This message bounced inside his head,

A fortune of a tune.

But couldn't find the melody,

He lost it, thus assumed.

But eyes pried opened he stared at nought,

Focus on nothing at all.

Staring intently on visions of dreams,

He cast upon the wall.

"Maturity"

Shall a boy receive what a man deserves,

When he is below acceptance, unripe in years?

'Till he learns his order of commanded post,

Contented to grow, lest he realize his fears.

"In the Presence"

Were one in the presence, of something more real,

What, in turn, would reaction show?

Pain in depravity, collapsing attempts,

Dying in strength, or melting in power.

Were one in the house, of something more great,

What realizations would trump their former?

Thoughts of life driven askew by demand,

The greater the urge, the farther from perfection.

The exception of Will, by purpose of creator,

To command a life, straight in tangled knots.

To harbor a love much more than enough,

Fate made irrelevant, for plans shall endure.

The Hour of reign, in strength multiplying,

Left with a need to ignore the mundane.

Slow to acceptance, but eyes never shut,

Feel in the spirit, a love that is pure.

"Cryptic Reality"

For a moment if we were real,

Imaginge all that would be.

With me supporting you, and you supporting me,

Comfort of the unknown, is the primary feel.

For a day if what we are, 

Is all that we could dream.

The mystic in the pleasant, the shudder in the theme,

The closest of the plural, the distance never far.

For a lifetime of the true,

The sacrificial mistake,

To give up all the world for truth, the opportunity to take,

An obvious debate rising out of the blue.

For fulfillment of a plan,

To follow the road toward home.

Humbly walking the untrodden path, the map never left alone,

At the end of it all, finally becoming a man.

"20Hz"

"In the music of life, I'll be 20 hz. I might not be heard, I won't ever be louder than you, but I will be there always. I will give you something to stand on, to support you, to strengthen your solo, to boost your lead; and when the song ends, you will know that I was always there, and I will tell you that without you, I would have been nothing more than a mere rumble." -Alan Grey

"Abandon time"

Time is a wall around all that is free.
It forces affection be compressed,
It limits love to be expressed.
It causes things that should not be,
Like the wait for love so felt by we.
So, come with me, we'll run away,
Together we'll live the endless day.
To watch the clock slow down to still,
We will have the time, we have the will.
To sit in our company, let no time pass,
To finally find what we need at last.
To see only each other and live in embrace,
Like harmonic footsteps in melodic pace.
The fragrance of love and trust in the air,
With peacefulness wafting everywhere.
I'll pause your time, my love, my friend,
We shall love forever and never end.
Come, abandon time with me.

-Alan Watson Grey