Such currency

Spend no more

Than a single worry on want

Because such currency comes

At a dire cost to today

And in spending like this

You can never get back

The tomorrow

Once spent

Engines of true desire

Hearts
Powered by
The fuel of musts
Run engines true
And as needed forward

But a fuel more pure
Than wind or fire
Than sun or nuclear
Stands tall as this
A heartfelt desire

All the same, embrace

A change

Isn't necessarily a heartfelt

Sigh

From either such tongues

Or minds implied

Yet change is change

And new is new

And the memories of old remain

For as long as you let them

Or wish them

Through perceptive desire

To

Don't be afraid instead

But embrace all the same

Anew

Time Instead

Time spends no self

Worrying about the malcontent

The disbelief

Or trampling feet away from truth

Instead

Direction is everything

On the path of one

Of many few

To you

Tires, thoughts, a haiku

These things they call sound
Circle round us beneath us
And all the way, there

Whispers and white clouds

If memories could speak

And converse as us

Like the whispering trees

And faded skies above

Which hollow into reds

And above dying leaves tread

Down and across old paths of time

Then we as humans

And these beings of part

Once separated from the whole

Would never seek

To see another sky again

Out of blissful pain seeking

Rememberence missed

Instead our eyes are foward

Not back

Dreaming of everything but are

Sometimes the dream

Of ought to go

And thus could be

Is more enjoyable than

The act of stepping out

Let alone forward

Wherever you currently are

Now

Sacrifice and tankas

Who's happiness should

Be sacrificed for who I

Wonder now if we

Ever inexplicably

Will be in such unison

Sweet silent thought

Give me this

Sweet silence to think

Bright sunshine on my back

And time just to be

Away from all of these

Elongated expectations of self

Which demand fulfillment and fire

Warm but not unborn

Is where this most desirable moment

Waits

Unappealing

The cutest thing

Is the thought of want

Without a single action

To move want towards reality

It’s cute

So he said

Not

Was the only one who saw it

Today I woke up
And the sunlight was different

All the cars drove by
With their people inside

And noone noticed the sky
With its wide open, downward cast, eyes

Looking out down at me
With its selfish smirk and reprise

As a different type of light fell all around me
And I

Phantom almost memories

To live as past

The days of past

Is a familiar way

Of known around

And yet I

Still am me

With nothing left

To be

These phantom

Almost memories 

Sounds like sky

And earthy trees

Which I like to see

And sometimes hear 

When driving past

Permits

Thinking of my own memories now, and others too

If memories could speak

And converse as us

Like the whispering trees

And faded skies above

Which hollow into reds

And above dying leaves tread

Down and across old paths of time

Then we as humans

And these beings of part

Once separated from the whole

Would never seek

To see another sky again

Out of blissful pain seeking

Rememberence missed

Instead our eyes are foward

Not back

Rivery Haiku

Here runs a little

Moves alot of heaviness

These streams and rivers

A tanka, smiling down in rememberence

This tanka almost

Whispers like falling snow tears

From the eyes of skies

Out of which pours down a smile

Even painfully alive

Ownership

Owning a space

Is so different than providing

Than striving

Than thriving

And even failing itself

Comes with its own

Give and take

Of another nature yet prevailed

To me

To see

To all those around

We are in fact

Players in a game of fading dawn

The kind of day to night which always

Prevails

Searching for patterns forever in others

Consistency is

What other humans do like

Because then they find

And do think they know

What is expected of you

But in growth

In true growth

There is something to be said

For this growing together

For these experiences true

And in the untangling of self

And self fault as well

There, there is to be found

Many horizon to try and abound towards

With each and every day anew

And you should

We should

Do

Tanka, tentative, perhaps

A minimal yes
Is not a yes at all true
But just a maybe
A mix of might just be
But probably wont be you

Open spaces and a tanka

Where sunlight never

Fades but falls like light room clouds

Where intuition

Soars beyond there winter shrouds

Like the dove above is now

Red lump (perspective)

Perspective is the warmth

Of a glowing molded

Red lump of burning coal

And in turning over you find

Not a cooler side at all

But a warmth of same

And an appreciation of heat

And a refining of new

And a new take on old

Or so I feel