words


i have become the prayer, i am the poem


i have asked
i have written
i have cried
i have weeped
i have become the prayer
i pray
the one of patience
             of love
             of forgiveness
             of mercy
understanding
i have become the prayer
i pray
for
solitude
for
clarity
i have asked like a child
i have yearned like a drunkard
           ached like an elder
           whined like a brat
           and 
           wailed
                     like a love song
                                              sang in the dark

i crave my prayer
i have wrapped it around me
engulfing my body
with the warmth in my chest
keeping the cold
away
and with the breeze it feels
i have taken the words
that do my soul
no justice
and spilled them
to reach
and fall
all at once
to soak
and release
all the words
all the papers around me

i cannot write fast enough
i cannot beg enough

i have become the prayer
i am the poem
with all that is covered
and how much that shows
head to the ground
tearfilled rug
i cannot hide this poetry
i cannot not pray outloud













Love Me




Love Me
from far
where is doesn't hurt
love me from
over there
where it is sweet and
endearing
love me in your dreams
where it is perfect
and forever
love me in that place
you can do no wrong
to me
love me in that place
where only I can be
love me from far
admire me from far
need me from over there
and from here
I
could admire you
from far I can love
our memories
from over here
I can see you
love you back
distantly
with far time
in between us
that is how we can be
that is how we can love
far apart
and
in between













john love.




can i just escape on your horn


from my day


of a heavy heart


can i skip on your notes


and lighten my tear stricken face


may i please just lay here


and let you


take me


away


i will close my eyes


open my heart


tilt my head a bit to the right


and enjoy you


like an old friend


supreme.












i found an old friend


i found an old friend in my speakers today
and I remembered many nights
like tonight
where we had this conversation
the paper
pen
speakers
and me
in the night
when i write
my thoughts outloud
my old friend told me
i could
always believed
i would
write in the night
alone
whispering my poems
to the stars
and i dance a dance only we know
i sing the song only we hear
and i paint in my head
like smoke that twist travels in the air
i dance on the sound
and i write
my language
for no one but us
for no other time but now
and for no other reason
but to be
here
twisted in my words
and his song.