David Hendricks Poet I do not know?

Two Doves

What do you call your romance

what do you call your love

the strums of pianos to essense

the harps that record the play of two doves

findin love differs the Player...what we call a big GAme....WORLD

.....oh...symbolize your volenteer...to breath in a broken nutshell
to be protected from your mind reachin the outside...

but--- inner skirts tantalize your original complexion

and you adapt to pain

and dish pain

to recognize pain

push it away....but steady Gain...Pain

worn out yet your dove's feathers are not tainted

and the fatigue not fainted....happiness is a goal....so youre invunerable and pain-less

a strong mind brotha and sister..technical wonder and

different beyond reflection but we carry the same compartments

Love is there, focused and clumsy walk that path

to stumble on the world's trap to keep his workers healthy..and fresh

to keep his nutshells a mess....for a new messenger to crack the structure left

and a being....admist a fog is your light

another dove's flight clears the smog...what stains your sight


and when you fly within your breezes wind you never think of the end or past

present or breath to continue the task

or maybe your last

the bond of two dove's wings that hovers over nutshells and

the white feathers of your mate.....makes the nutshells transluscent

but a peaceful matrix of the path....of the doves stride


and quietly amongst the chirp of dove's speach.....you as THEY think

my DOve my DOve...so much ....like my dove I want


So much like the dove I dream...the dove I have

The dove I want to keep, keep , keep I carry dreams should are lips remain attached

Connect our physical depth when we sleep


My dove of perfectness ...the wings

that are not tainted but design around my aura

My dove

My DOve

My DOve


~~
The Breakin of Doves Bond

U dont see, but just happens

and you can change it but you live and live some may attach some may find similar or differnet
....
but the design and dove you model makes you ache

and you change your Doves flight to be cautious

some times using your claws and squawk of the raven in gloomy ways

and that dove was you in every way

so you reminensce on yesterday to get through today and tommorows

but a dove of beatuful white feathers can carry the burden of sorrows
...
....and pain

which...you hid...
pain...you didnt see.

pain...




you didnt give but you recieved


The broken nutshells in the world


broke the bond of two doves wings

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