The Unfortunate dips in vocal sounds

Really Is it that bad?
Is it that obvious?
Just because my words fade from strong to soft
doesn't mean I have nothing to say
Why are you smiling?
Are you making fun?
I'm still talking.
You can't hear?
Ok..
Self conscious... words
come out slow. I notice the pause
between your eyes as I look
into yours..another pair of Peurivan eyes.

The encounter

Whom should I ask?
Whom should I say is responsible
for my wreckless behavior?

Your lips turned to a sweet smile
& I knew it would take a while to forget
Whom should I turn for relief?
All my days I haven't taken
so much time to weep

You & I

Can I dine with you tonight?
I just want to beam at your face
as our head bobble in
 conversation as we dance our words
together in a melodic tale
of unimportant tales

Love Again

I heard it like this:

I’ve died many times before

only to come back to love again. 

And every time, just to love and love again.

I’ve been through so many lives before

just to be born and born again.

If love is worthy, then pain is not for us to keep. 

So let this pain pass through me like a cloud. 

Oh I’ll leave it all behind.

Every time I come again.

Its time to love again.

So can I can love. Love once again.

And I love myself to the core. And tears come with great joy.

Its time to teach you to love again.

Its time to teach you to love again.

Its time to send some love to a friend.

It’s the love that brings me.

It’s the love, love, love that brings me. Again and again.

2013 (c) Misa Ney

Strange Men

They take their leisure time
they take their flicks of woman that
prance back and forth along the sidewalk gray.
They sit. They stand. They stare.
Open. Closed.
They laugh among themselves as if they were in
on the biggest secret known to man.

The cement and the broken glass below.
The loose electrical wires and cloudy skies above.
"Wonder what new creature will past?" they ask.
I wonder what new creature will past their street.
What new topic can they turn on their tongues.
Tongues that are numb from the cold $2 beer.
Tongues accustom to the dry, calming draws of
their slender cigarettes.
Who can pity them? Who can ignore them?

As the sun settle again back to its safe retreat,
these men draw in air one last time and
look onward inside for their next
distraction.

What If?

What if? What if its true?
What if its out there?
What if all that I've been waiting for is just waiting for me?
What if I walked passed my golden door?What if I've been walking passed it for so long?
Who's out there?
Who's waiting?
I don't see you but
I see myself.

2013 (c) Misa Ney

It

Fuck it. I’ll admit it. I’m trying to

reach perfection. Perfect this.

 Perfect that. Hoping that this perfection

will settle the sand to the bottom and clear

the muddy water, so  I can enjoy the perfect life.

And the perfect lover, perfect homes, perfect

cars, with perfect friends with perfect

light and perfect walkway as

I dance across the floor.

Even the perfect mike, so I sing,

that sad, pitiful like no more.

Yes I’m trying to attain it.

I've even read the books

sat on my bottom, trying to contain it.

Sat Indian style, trying to inhale it.

Pretty perfect picture – Buddah, Jesus, Krishna,

a flower, a stone. I still seem planets away from perfection.

Yet I enjoy looking at it. Every part of it as I walk down the street.

I grab a little here, take a whiff there, listen to some of it

everywhere.

But really

the only thing perfect is …..this…. moment.

As the lotus opens up and float downstream,
reaching every corner without much harm,

it blooms even more beautifully, relieved

that it was made perfect for this moment.

(c) 2013 Misa Ney