
Pasta and Lemon Pepper Chicken

Ashes to ashes
I am still a Buddhist
Loving to Love
The love that knows love
The way Love should be loved
Dust to dust
I am still a Buddhist
Chanting to chant
Chanting for Love
Loving to chant
Like smoke I spread
Disappearing I am still all
And everywhere, I rise
And Fall
I am still a Buddhist
The colorless exhale
Once the wind blows
From ashes to dust
Burning yet yearning to exist
Still, I am Buddhist
born, created from ashes
Gave me everything You had
Still You weren’t the one for me
Never had a chance to be mad
When You should been the one for me
Drove your car through a snow storm
To prove You were the one for me
Greeting me in fine form
Why couldn’t You be the one for me?
Call You on the phone with nonsense
Because You were there for me
I knew you couldn’t ride the fence
You thought You were the one for me
I spoke up for You when You couldn’t
Did they wonder why You were with me
I spoke up about your pains
Then realized you weren’t the one for me
You see, I should have had the chance
to tell You, to say to You how much more I wanted and needed
But, You made it all about me
and how little I did to keep You happy
You did it all out of necessity
And that’s why, You’re not the one for me
When you think you’ve found love
Don’t look for anything in return
Blessings come from up above
There’s a chance though, You might feel a burn
But, I’m sorry You just weren’t the one for me
Cover me in Love, Love
Show me your true color
Don’t leave me with bruises
Just so I can make excuses
Cover me well Love, Love
Make me feel like I should feel
Don’t treat me like some ordinary fellow
Paint me in yellow
Cover me happy Love, Love
And kiss me all night long
Don’t mind my bleeding heart
While you try it all apart
I want to wrap myself around you
Holding on and back so tight
Try to have mercy on me
‘ Cause I’m too bright for the light
Cover me Love, Love
Sing to my front and my back
And if I try and get away Love, Love
Just pick up the slack
Cover me in Yellow Love, Love
Red comes on too strong
Cover me in Yellow, Love
A vase of yellow roses so long
You came
without alerting me
Was I to know
that your feet were clean
before you entered?
Now, there isn’t a vacuum
to clean up the mess
You made inside the home
I made comfortable for myself
My self now houses
all that your soul conquered
before
You came
to get me to say,
“I’m sorry you had to wait”
If only I held out a little longer,
You couldn’t have come
and I couldn’t hate you
like I do now
It would have been
someone else
who cared about what
they brought inside
He was an unfound door
waiting to share
what was behind it
The endless possibilities
of what real love
not true love
had to offer
If only one would turn the knob
and gently push
Push
even if there was a test
of resistance
A little force would show either
sincerity or selfishness
Still, he was there
And, welcome all would be
And, welcomed they would go
Would there ever be a sanctuary
of unnecessary things there?
He knew who Life was?
Your label need only say
One word
One that I know is my sustenance
Like thirsting for a piece
that would welcome or not my
animal nature
Like a top is to a bottom
The mission will be accomplished
The way I squeeze your supple skin
provokes a melody not even Beethoven
could arouse
I see your end
And I quiver
I need much more
Much more
Until I’m done
Until I’m done with you
Only one position is possible to empty you
The only way I can accept all of You
The only way to feel accomplished
Though, a vacuum down your middle
could work as well
Apart there is intention
Reconnected
the time has come and gone
For now
Sometimes, it only takes once
And like a gentle bully
a place is located for you to rest
One that houses or has bedded others like You
Then, I will remove You
Either as trash or to receive my security deposit
in return
We are insatiable
I am so distressed, right now.
My Jimi Claybrooks piece, “The Solid Rock,” was damaged. Not only have I tried finding a replacement, I have no been able to connect with the artist.
The framed print is so inspirational and sentimental to me. In it’s pristine state, I was the envy of all my friends in Atlanta, Georgia. I purchased #1052 of the limited edition 1800. It would be okay to have anybody want to ask, “If it was so important to you, why didn’t you protect it better?” I deserve that! Just like one’s own spirituality, it should be protected…well-grounded.
Things happen.
I am in great hope that I can capture the attention of either the artist, Jimi Claybrooks, or someone who can point me in the direction of a newer print nowhere near the $850 asking price.
Sometimes, I guess you can put a price on sentimentality.
Oh, how glad I am that I can love so that I can be loved!
Show me again
How we do it
Do I have to be under covers
or is it something I can share
with my brothers
Show me again
How we do it
I may dress the same
as they do
Or maybe I just hold the chalice
better for You
Oh, the things I hold
Reading as You talk aloud
I get a sense of urgency
to be proud
Such a sensation
Comes over me
Until a face turns and gives me pity
Show me again
How we do it
Your word is Your bond
and of that, I’m quite fond
To know that I should know better
when Your voices becomes
an “I Love You” letter
Never will I divulge my secret crush
Hush.
So, Show Me again
What made You do this to me
Was it the air I breathed
when You walked by
Did my subservience entice You
and fixate Your eyes on the sky?
How many times did I
touch Your robe
Before we made plans
to see the golden globe?
But, in time, I’ll be on my own
Trying to establish a name
from which I’ve grown
And Anaphora will keep haunting me
in ways that it could only be
Show Me again
what made You do this to me
Show Me again
so I can have my one true friend