The rain is swelling with truth
Drops hit the ocean
ripples to waves
that hit me
on the edge of a yielding cliff.

Collect your courage
for the moment you have no grip
Don't seal your heart.
Align it with the butterflies in your stomache
and the sound in your skull
When you hit that water
you get tumbled

Remember, you're mostly water
speak to it as the closest and dearest.
You'll find your truth
and it's safe in the heart.

The ocean sits still in many needed moments.
Take the trust gratefully.
You are not alone in this.

Build your ladder to the stars.
Have patience.
Stand up after each defeat.

Hold that star with your stare.

I'm getting older, you can see it in my eyes.
It's been breaking me and faking me, this wonderful terrible life.
I wonder what it's like to live in a happy home?
To know when you cry, you'll never cry alone.
Never walk out the door without a hand to hold.
To have family love you and treat you like so.
But I've never been so lucky, except for my younger days.
But when I grew older, something so suddenly changed.
Her words became harsh and daddy's never home.
I prayed real hard at night for some savior to intervene.
But no matter how many tears would come, no one came to me.
I envisioned a handsome man, bold, strong and sweet.
To come to me in whispers and bend down on one knee.
Tell me not to fear, his job was to protect.
My heart & my life. No they'd never feel neglect.
To fight the tears back from my eyes.
When my strength was all but gone.
I'm almost twenty now.
Still hoping for a change.
I've found a man, bold, strong and sweet.
I swore it'd make it all better, if he stood next to me.
But no matter who is there, no one can slay the demons related to me.

Every time I hear your name my heart jumps
Into my throat. And when I think of you
my heart cracks a little more and I
can’t help but remember the agony
of losing you, has it really been eight  
Years? It feels like yesterday you were here
But now I find myself searching for your
face in everything. You would be nineteen,
Off at college ready to start your life.
Instead I struggle each day to bring up
My memories of you. Was it me or

You who told that joke? I can’t remember now
The feeling of staying up laughing
our heads off till three AM will never
leave me. I sometimes pray that by the morning I
will have forgotten everything and the
pain will have melted away, but how could
anyone wish to forget you? There are
no answers for why you are gone, some things
must stay as questions. now days blur into
weeks, months, years and I’m still here and your not
and every time I forget and try to
call you, it will be the same terrible
realization like every time, that
no one will answer and I’ll be back where I started,
trying to remember, to put the pieces
together and once again pick myself
up, thank you for your friendship, I will hold
you in my heart forever because that’s
how special you became to me. So, this
is my farewell to you,
                                    Goodbye my friend

soul searching
Lost inside what I cant find
The words to say exactly what I need to
They flee from me. Far from you.
You were someone who always said you loved me
And I knew it was true, even with the bitter beer
Even when you couldn't hear
Reality ringing in your ear
I always knew you loved me
Funny how I remember you
Like two people, fit snug
In one
You said horrid vulgar things
Followed with the a laughter
Always following so much faster
Humor was your shield
It would rain but their was a sun inside you
You hide it, fought it
Drown it with hams
But it surfaced and id see
All the thing I loved in you
Truth is, i'm sad
Sad to see that life is leaving you
That you let it take
What even alcohol couldn’t break
Your spirit
Your love
Will to live
Chills me,spins disorients
Because you are the biggest presence, personality
The loudest voice, largest part
Of the start of my life
….
…
…
You were a lot of things
and you are just giving up.
Cancer is taking you away
And I hate it. I almost hate you
Ironic because you are finally sober
Just a reminder you don’t always want what you think you do
because whats taking you
was never what I thought it would be
and u have just got to know me
I love you

i feel dirty tonight.
blaze. smoke. residual tokes.
bitch coughs?

my lungs hurt
take a hit
remembering what happened last year.

breath covered with a mist of booze.
uummm
foreseen arms drenched in blood.
ya
and that was the end.

I used to claim "I love the Rain",
But that was when I had you.
It used to be an enjoyful thing,
The things you and I could do.

And now it's just a dreary pour,
Another day with cloudy skies,
Bleak and Pointless and icy cold,
As the memory of you dies.

No comfort here, in the rain.
No soul warming ray of light.
Just soggy clothes, we cigarettes,
Bad memories of every fight.

My own little world, of grey gloom.
Feelings of Numb, empty, and anger.
Knowing I could have handled it better,
That I didn't need to be so mean to her.

But it doesn't matter anymore, not now.
The past is the past, never again.
I'll have my brooding, silent smoke,
Til the sky clears, but till then,

I used to claim, "I love the Rain",
But I'm not so sure these days.
Nothing but hurt and memories,
Wishing we hadn't parted ways.

In the dark room
Sparks fire—
Whispers of the sun
And silence blankets the sky,
I was born amongst the ruins
Of gentleness and wounded love,
By the dug kurgans of the Amazon,
The brands of rains ever burning
And foils of hope, fated, turning,
An outer beast eyes and howls,
The merciless stars ever sweep
And cowl in coldest sparkle flame,
Merest minded words, fainted, stab,
Drop in the down volumes of space
Evaporating under the brooding
Mortal emptiness.

Now that I'm over you,
pickup trucks don't bother me anymore.
Red ones, green ones, old ones, and even older ones.
I don't think about summer nights in their beds,
nor first kisses in their cabs.
Now that I'm over you,
I can walk around our town with no problem.
I can go antiquing with no issue,
and I can walk the pawn shops without crying.
I don't want to hold your hand,
and I certainly don't want you sneaking kisses at the farmer's market.
Now that I'm over you,
your sister and I can be friends.
I don't see your face in hers at all.
I don't hear your voice in her words, either.
I'm always surprised when she mentions you,
because you haven't been on my mind at all.
Now that I'm over you,
I can fall in love again.
I can smile back at a stranger and catch their eye.
I know that I'll be fine.
I know that I don't want you anymore.
I never miss you, either.
Thank God that I'm am over you.

I know this story
Two broken toys
Lives miming parody
Cruel tragedy

A girl behind glass
We can't touch our
Hearts live in the past

We could  press up
Against the pain of glass
It doesn't matter what we want
When your broken you just can't

I know how it is
Fate whispers tragedy
It can't be I want to die
Living dead presently

I see the world through glass
A world of people to see
They're mouthing words I can't hear
I scream but they can't touch me

I'm disconnected and distant
Shadow soul ghost echo
Ephermal intangible animal
Easily confused by what's real

Surviving starts this prison feeling
Crying staring at the ceiling
With every fiber of being
Longing to feel anything

I could sleep with you
Never touch soul just body
Fickle fates heart is a tyrant
One of life's little ironies

So you'll always be

The girl behind glass
Pretty snowglobe to stare at
Cold winter dream untouched
Secret hidden heart hurting enough

Find enough snowglobes
You'll learn to let go
We only have what we hold
Was it you we'll never know

But I'll remember you fondly
In your time of winter and trees most
Memories of hope I'll keep close
The last time someone touched my heart
These days I don't have many of those

Dear brothers, sisters,  strangers, lovers, nomads, squatters, bozos, hobos, dharma pilgrims, wierdsters, screwballs, friends and punks;

Lest not we forget all roads are open--
gates, tollbooths and traffic lights are phantasms
of the night and mirages during the day.
I pray your drive for answers doesn't distract
from the scenery.
The Places
you pass have a story buried
under the grocery stores, banks and police stations.
The People
who walk in and out of your life
or even next to you when crossing the streets
have a story burning in their veins.  
The Things
you touch; be it a plastic shopping bag
or a dear friend's soul are stained by your mental scents and sounds.

Each moment on the road is adventurous--
our wings of profound restlessness
and legs of conscience wanderers
speak without words to our hearts and minds,
because we know there is more beyond what we perceive
inward and outward.

Follow those cravings, aches and questions
even if there are no visible answers
on the highways, boulevards and alleys.
Rejoice in now!

Because I know I've got good intentions
But no one else here thinks I do
Is it because of a bad impression
Or because an honest word is something new

I guess it doesn't help that it seems
I've something that I try to hide
Behind a bitten tongue, a shared bottle
And another starry skyed black night

We sit here in front of a fire
Sharing stories of fires past
Most are told by perfect liars
Yet they all think that mine move way to fast
Don't they know that's how all the best things happen
That, and they're often all done out of sight
And just because they unfold quickly
Doesn't mean they weren't done just right

The fire keeps on keeping on
While the group breaks off into smaller cliques
And as the bottle drains its way to empty
They look for other things to wet their lips

Couples start to vanish in the fog
To places that are best kept secret
Like vampires running from the sun
They disappear from places kept well lit
A small blonde with a pixie haircut
Takes my hand and leads me somewhere silent
She kisses me, hands on my chest
And tells me we need to keep things quiet

So now I sit here with my mouth shut
For just the second time tonight
But the hush didn't last very long
My voice was given up without a fight

I don’t need to know you personally to know that you are actually worth something. You are worth more than you think. Why do you feel the need to believe your own lies? You need to believe that you are worth it and you need to believe that you will get through this, the more you tell yourself that you aren’t worth it, you will start to feel like you’re not worth anything when the truth is you are worth everything. I understand that sometimes, the ones who surround you can make you feel like a worthless piece of shit, they can make you feel like nothing. Simply because it always seems like no one cares about you, but I care about you, your family care about you, your followers care about you, your friends care about you. Sure, sometimes their actions seem to prove otherwise, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t care. Why would you let someone down grade you to something that you are not? Why would you let yourself fall for other peoples lies? You see all those people trying to make you feel like crap? Well you are above them and you should know that by now, simply because you do not feel the need to put someone down in order to make yourself feel better. Don’t you ever let an ex of yours, feel like you aren’t worth anything. Why give someone the power to control your life? To control what you do and how you feel? This is your life and you need to live it how you want to. This is your life and you need to realise that you are here for a reason. You don’t need someone to come along, to make you feel like you are worth something. You don’t need someone telling that you are worth it. Because you have always been worth it, whether you choose to believe it or not, is entirely up to you. Don’t let someone shape the way that you live and think. Don’t live in fear of never being good enough. The people around you see something special about you and now, it’s time for you. To see it within yourself. You’re worth it, see it. Believe it. Because its the truth and one day you are going to have to accept that fact.

I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!

It was your voice I heard,
You waked and loved me so—
I send you back this word,
I know, I know!

i spent a year as a ghost and when the equinox came i choked on every sunset i had seen and passed out in your attic, i'll just wait here until you realize the chains don't rattle anymore and maybe you'll wonder what happened to that unwanted guest or maybe you'll just be thankful it's gone, maybe my ectoplasm will drip through the attic floor and into your bed and with  a passenger in your dreams they'll be even lonelier than before i'm sorry i keep corroding a hole in your heart but i can't help the way my ghost-self falls and when it's gone altogether you'll be a ghost of your former self, walking in the shell of your life glazed eyes glazed words glazed world a ghost with a body is the worst kind of all cause they never fade away to heaven they just linger and linger and linger until they ROT and you can't forget that a ghost was there not with that body on the floor and could you have helped them it's hard to tell you never were an exorcist but maybe if you tried hard enough you could have put some of your life in that body or just ripped the ghost free and ended the misery, heart corroded through and i in my ectoplasm will wait in your bed wait for your shell-body to give up the charade each night and with my arms holding you you'll be lonelier than before - i spent a year as a ghost and cried over your bright eyes every night, i spent a year as a ghost but now, i the ghost of a ghost and you the living ghost in a breathing corpse, we're a modern romance horror story of the eternal kind, and when your heart's corroded through i'll hold you so tight but for now i will wait in your attic, putrefying ectoplasm and bitter sunsets, i never felt this much when i breathed and now it's caught up with a vengeance out for blood when i have none to spill i'll just lie here and choke and wait for this to pass this will pass this will pass this too shall pass, you move below and gam zeh ya'avor i pray this for you that your bitter life shall too pass, i spent a year as a ghost and watched you moan every night i spent a year as a ghost and watched you curled up on linoleum the only thing i could do was sink inside and try to absorb some of what you felt but i think all i did was corrode you further, i'm sorry i'm so sorry that my body is acid and my arms just eat you through, i tried to be your friend but i just made you lonelier your dreams are so empty when you're held by a ghost, they say you only dream of people you know so it's no wonder you dreamt of nothing everyone disappeared so fast it was hard to believe they'd been there at all, a mirage a puff of smoke you never really knew and that fled when it got dirty and dressed in all the white clothing you owned you laid on the bathroom floor and breathed smoke you laid on the floor and ground your knuckles into your eyelids as my ectoplasm dripped into your open eyes and cupid was a demon that ripped at your chest and laughed cupid was a demon and you brought that demon to your bed for nights and nights i cried i cried and you bled from all the scratches in your chest and s i g h e d, cupid hissed and snarled and bit but you know everybody has their flaws so closer and closer you held cupid till cupid ripped straight through to the other side and i tried to warn you but you just sit now on your bed with your back against the wall and bleed from your hollow torso you sit on your bed eyes blank eyes glazed and bleed bleed bleed and my ectoplasm drips in your chest, i tried to warn you i tried and tried but now i'll just lay in your attic and wait because the chains don't clank anymore to give you some kind of company in your empty house empty life, maybe you'll notice and here you can find me - the floor of your attic was always the closest i could get to heaven.

Chaste Love,
Youthful but so careful with fear,
Of falling too far,
To only be stricken with tears.

A chaste love,
Far and far fetched,
Falling quickly for the ideal,
But never so quickly for the catch.

A boy I had always sought,
Never knowing I had sought one at all,
Until, like thunder, you came crashing,
Tearing, and annoyingly ripping,
At all these stone built walls.

A boy I had known,
A boy I had known to never be the end,
A boy, only if I’d known,
My heart would always give it’s best to defend.

A stupid boy.
Dumb in many sorts.
Who threw around accusations,
And judgement of many sorts.

A boy who struck fire,
To an often dead and frosted heart,
And at many time,
Tore it and ripped it quite apart.

Stupid boy, who came quite frankly,
Stumbling in my world,
Who danced on my patience,
And laughed when my anger curled.

Who understood my indifference,
When I did not,
Who looked at my inside,
When I could not.

What stupid boy.
That time can’t seem to forget.
What stupid boy,
That’s place no one can fit.

What stupid boy.
Whom abandoned the only heart who knew him best.
What stupid boy,
That brought a broken heart to it’s best.

What stupid nights,
That poison my once chilled heart,
What stupid feelings,
That tear and shred this world apart.

What stupid man,
As you moved on to bigger things,
What stupid man,
Loosing a love you’ve never seen.

What a stupid girl,
I’ve quickly become,
Surrendering to a heart that’s once again cold,
Instead of the heart,
That stupid boy ..taught you to become.








-K.B

The hallway seemed to sway with the motion of the tears filling my eyes. I tried to keep going to get to the door, but I collapsed there in the hall. The weight crashing down on me. She was dead. My only love was dead. I’d been with her for six years and we’d been waiting to get married. That was all over now. They had killed her. I laid my head in my hands and let it all go. I fell spiraling down into the darkness at the edge of my consciousness. My very last thoughts echoing in my head as I slipped into this grief coma, they would all pay, they would pay.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly as I made my way to Mr. Jefferson’s office. The hallways were empty, an unusual thing for a Monday morning in a business firm. I tried not to let it get in my head. I had a job to fulfill. If I didn't get this one right the boss would surely wring my neck. She wasn't the most understanding person, and tolerated no mistakes. A dark cherry wood door lay at the end of the long hallway with a silver plate spelling out Mr. Jefferson’s office. All the other doors I had passed had, had similar ones.
I knocked on the door quietly waiting for an invitation inside. I took a deep breath and steady myself. Telling myself I had to do this. There was still no beckoning to come in so I knocked louder, but was only greeted by silence. I opened the door quickly and peered in. Mr. Jefferson laid slumped over his paper work in the messy piles on his desk.
A bullet through his head. Well this was just great now the boss had another reason to chew me out. I closed the door quietly and made my way to the body. Blood spilled from the back of his head and off his shoulders dripping into the puddle on the floor. I took my phone from my pants pocket and called Leo.
“Hey, Leo we got a problem, Jefferson’s already dead. They’re a step ahead of us. What’s my next move?” the line was silent for a minute until he replied, “what was the cause of death?” I looked at the back of Jefferson’s head one more time to make sure that was no other abrasions. “Bullet wound in the back of his head, no sign of struggle either.”
“Alright, I’ll inform the boss. You should probably make your way back to the headquarters. I can tell you now the boss isn't going to be happy.” I sighed I already new that. The bitch had been riding my ass all month now. It wouldn't hurt her to give us all a break once in a while. I closed my phone. I made my way out the door. No doubt someone else would find Jefferson and would immediately go for the video tapes.
Luckily I didn't come here alone, I brought my computer genius along, that could erase us from every tape and cover his tracks. I gave a polite smile to each person I passed and had to fight to walk calm and smoothly out the front doors. Brain already waited inside the car looking anxious. We were both fairly new to the working in the field. Usually the boss assigned me on small assignments. I got inside the drivers side and pulled out right away. “Jefferson was already dead when I got there, bullet wound to the back of the head, what I don’t understand is how no one heard it, or why he didn't struggle,” I told Brian. “Maybe a silencer on the gun? And perhaps his lack of struggle was because there was a gun pointed at his head?” I thought it over. It was possible but that was different from all the others. “They usually cover their tracks better than that though,” I looked over at Brain whose face was crinkled by his deep thoughts. “Maybe they were in a rush?” The wound had looked freshly made. “Perhaps,” I said still mulling it over. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait for the police reports.”

As I had figured Liana was furious. “How is it that four out of seven of the people I've told you to get information from then take out have ended up already dead when you got there?” She spit angrily in my face. Liana was a scary lady but she didn't scare me.
“I don’t know you tell me,” I said and smiled at her. I could feel the audience behind me stop what they were doing and cringe. “Do you think this is funny?” Liana said quietly.
Her face had gone rigid and her fist clenched so tightly at her sides, the knuckles had turned a ghostly white.
I knew which battles to fight and which to surrender. “No, nothing is funny,” I spat out clenching my jaw. I really hated this stupid job. If it wasn't for Liana keeping my brother alive I wouldn't be here. And just as I thought it Liana cheerfully reminded me, “do remember darling, your brothers life lies in my hands. One wrong move and it’s bye bye brother, understood?” Her dark eye’s drilling into mine. The feeling of hatred seeped from my body as it was overflowing inside me now. “Understood,” I growled.
“Good, now get out. I’ll call you when I have your next assignment.” She turned but stopped to look back,
“ and next time do not mess up,” then walked back into her office slamming the door.
I let the breath I had been holding out and left quickly before they all burned holes into me with their heavy glares. I made my way to Kyle’s room. The walls were painted dark blue with small silver stars painted all over. I had painted it for him, he loved the stars. “Kyle?” I said shakily looking down at the boy. His tiny body shaking in pain. He wouldn't eat. The vomiting broke his bones sometimes. His bones stuck through his skin like his skin had only been draped over his frail bones. The tears flowed from my eye’s and down my face. He was only fifteen.
He was so sick, I just wanted him to be okay. Healthy again. The reason I’d signed up to join this place was because they promised to save him. They said as soon as I finished the biggest assignment they would heal him. But I grew more and more doubtful.
Kyle had been infected, by the scientist. A super parasite they’d created. It caused brain disorders, like anorexia. Kyle’s brain was being attacked making him suicidal and making him believe he was anorexic. Making him believe he had to do these things. When it first started he was only depressed. He began cutting himself. When I saw the deep cuts in his arms and on his stomach  I asked him about it and his answer had been, “I didn't want to do I just had to“ . At the time I’d misunderstood him.
Now I knew. He literally had been forced by the parasites inside his brain.
His eye’s were closed and I could see the struggle it took for him to intake each breath. His arms, thin ropes, laid at his side. It took a massive amount of energy and strength for him to even turn his head. “I will fix this Kyle, believe in me when I tell you that, I love you.” I kissed his cold forehead and left shutting the door slowly.

This the inspiration from the same old songs
Painting memories as the sunrise sways to moonlight
Writing out immaculate fantasies in which I long
To see vividly in reality as an endearing sight
Seducing fixated thoughts into a surrealist abstract
A senseless halucination seperated from common fact

Spilling out vague accounts of thoughts days before
Monotonous literal interpretations of living dreams
Dwindling epiphanies leaking from persepections pore
Forgotten pieces of satisfaction that we can't redeem
Except on these tattered memoires I've come to resent
Piles upon piles of dying highs rotting on parchment

Despondent attempts to reanimate decaying emotion
Through a larger than life sincerity hidden in rhyme
Showcasing empty facades and uncertainties devotion
In vain of the first conception that changed as time
Makes a mockering of the beauty lost in every moment
Restless sensations trapped within all the verses spent

Broken words of rememberance that a poem leaves behind
Untimely rhythms growing more useless as days pass by
From the deliverance of meaning in our star-lit minds
To the desperate hour where we can't find a reason to try
We're searching for an excuse to have our names defined
A theme on a story that will mean something once we die

my inspiration
      and worldly alligation

      seems gone
like a vivid eluscation

       writings in thin air
                as mindful retardation

slivered like a broken mirror
     of lost fantastication

my mind feels empty
    my mind feels blank
        like bound for a fall

        my body feels drained
           like sunk in a tank
             of nothing at all

The black deer graces headlights again,
Unusually an often occurrence.
Beams burn the animal,
But it feels love.
Absolutely, entirely backwards.
The deer is broken,
Like the light reflecting off your cheeks.
Head pain, a headache,
Left little for the mind to chew
And I've been suffering for weeks now.
I drew inspiration from dust off strangers feet.
I've never been so dull, so bland, so colourless.
Mental instability, she's pretty but she's dead
And he's looking for cheap porn.
Welcome to psychedelia and the twisted webs of today's society.
Paint your own empty shadow,
No one else wants it until you join pop
And pop ain't my thing.

The holes in the ozone layer have cracked
and all the fog is rising
and diffusing into heaven
where the angels choke
and lay dying
beneath the sky stained black.
Light up the dark with the flick of a switch,
the power will simmer as circuits brake
because now the sky is dimmer
then ever before.
The glow at the end of the tunnel is weak
and the angels no longer sing
because their lungs are heavy with the sting
of the smog that fills heaven
too much for fragile eyes to handle.
Tears dissipate and trickle to earth
but these drops are not enough to reverse
the draught and dull of the human curse.

This is the way
Hope falters
Ebbing like a dying flame

This is the way
Innocence is lost
With whispers
And secrets

This is the way
A girl loses her mind
In silence

This is the way
Pain exists
In the shadows
Of the soul

This is the way
A life can end
An accumulation of sorrow
And the cage closing in

Infected USA
Ample Change
And Not Law
Appended DNA
Ein Volk
Ein Reich
Ein Gott  - away
Rotted out Eye Sore
Old motorbikes
Old Doctrine Shout!
No, Amalgam belief
Needs Amphetamine
And it just wasn't like that before
Not before
The Cold War.

The first time I stepped into school,
Admiring that beautiful wall of fame.
Carved in gold were so many names,
Dated back from decades ago.

Each year has a different name,
Each name part of history.
Shining bright under the light,
Too prestigious and too rare.

I told myself what if I could
See my name etched on the wall,
Nothing else can sweep it away,
Nothing else can wash it away.

But this dream of mine is dashed,
Thrown into the deepest sea,
Crushed almost for eternity,
Something I can never be.

I can't measure how much I've done,
Working so hard to get a step closer.
Each time I think I'm almost there,
I'm actually disillusioned,
I'm going nowhere.

From here I have two paths to go,
One to chase and persist on my goal,
Or I could simply accept my fate,
Give it a try,
Open my mind.
Perhaps that's where I'm meant to be.

My minds says one thing,
But my heart says another,
I hate these moments,
They're my greatest bother.

Is my life a book written my God?
Do all things happen for a reason,
Because that's how my fate was destined?
I wish I could know all the answers,
But I guess some things are secrets for our lifetime.

I wonder if I should go chase my dreams,
Be brave,
Be bold,
Be ridiculed at.

What if I grow to love my fate,
Loving,
Sharing,
Caring for others.

Is this the place that's meant for me?
I don't know the answer,
And I'll never know.

But how about the names in gold
And everything that seemed perfect to me?
To go forth and chase my dreams,
Or to just accept
My fate?

On Monday, i am invisible;
nobody seems to know i exist.

On Tuesday, i am a glass door;
visible, but sometimes forgotten.

On Wednesday, i am a three leaf clover;
nothing special.

On Thursday, i am a camera without a memory card;
there, but unwanted.

On Friday, i am a pea;
noticed, but ignored.

On Saturday, i am a fun-sized candy bar;
respected, but never good enough.

On Sunday, I am a queen.
I have survived another week in my life,
and it feels amazing.

Until ten o'clock at night
when i realize in nine hours i will be invisible again.
I try to enjoy my last moments as queen,
but it’s hard to pretend when reality hits you.

I cannot decide if i like Sunday.
It is like a bag of chips.
In the beginning, they are both pleasing.
You have no school for the second time that week, you have a deliciously unhealthy, but wanted, snack.
But then,
you realize there is school tomorrow, you realize you have been defrauded and the bag is practically empty.
They always end in disappointment.

I cannot decide if the good balances with the bad,
or if one is overweighed.

I cannot decide if i prefer six and a half days of disappointment,
or half a day of bluffing myself.

I cannot decide if i like being queen,
or if it is a waste of time.

I cannot decide if pretending is superior to knowing what i am.

I cannot decide if life is enjoyable when it is like a broken record,
the same situations repeating over and over.

Because before i am able to decide on anything,
i am too busy being invisible again.

The light is racing from our room,
seeping through the cracks under the door.
The darkness grows,
casting us into shadow.
but all things including light die in the end
utterances in the small places of my dark mind
lend themselfs to such times
i would not suffer to pass
the hour without bringing forth all the angers
and mettlesome ways that confound you
the smokes rakes against my mind,
hiding me behind my eyes.
The truth came calling
along with the clock's toll,
but who among us could answer such an ominous cry?
When the hours between midnight
and 4 am are so unforgiving.
i am filled with tears
until i can bear no more
your words kiss my mind
and i cannot return this tenderness
for it would turn to love
i am waiting these hours
in the desolate towers of cold
for the rescue of dawn
but it gives little comfort
were that i could reach out to you
but i dare not
i dare not


Edit et al:           Collaboration Poem written by alyssainwonderland (http://hellopoetry.com/-alyssainwonderland/) and I (Mark John Junor); alyssainwonderland contributions are in italics

How heavy the days are.
There's not a fire that can warm me,
Not a sun to laugh with me,
Everything bare,
Everything cold and merciless,
And even the beloved, clear
Stars look desolately down,
Since I learned in my heart that
Love can die.

I am experiencing the human condition
Or I would be, if I knew what such a thing was.

They say poetry is an art form designed to show emotion
emotion of course representing such a thing as a human condition
but my poem is broken

I must insert 25 ccs of suffering more,
50 ccs of subtlety more,
and 100 ccs of emotion more,
not to mention the 600 mg of lithium,
the 25 µg of Wellbutrin,
and the 100 mg of synthroid I put in myself.

But my poem is broken.
And if poetry is a form of the human condition
and I cannot form my poem
then I cannot form the human condition.

This is an inevitable factor in the world of man
most people tend to forget it, but it is so
the more I cut myself off from the world around me
the more I become what the world needs from me.

Then comes righteous silence.

Silence is golden but only in small amounts
Silence is only golden when the faux silver of duct tape must
simply not do.
Emotion is a human condition, but I must take the pills.

After all, if these pills are not effective,
they’ll simply electroshock my brain
in order to find my human condition

Who am I?
Why am I here?
Forget these questions--
hey, hand me another beer.

But surely--or Shirley--the animal crackers in my soup
are just as sick and tired as I of being a pawn--
afraid of the magic space wizard destroying us all--
they are just as afraid of the inevitable,
that indeed, everything all along has been true
and tis all forbidden
Afraid that perhaps the friendly raccoon’s intentions
are not so honest as they appear when we first move
to our new woodland home

Perhaps my animal crackers in my soup
are more afraid I will lose myself
as I stumble down the rabbit hole
looking for the man who burned down my home
only to discover he truly was the innocent
(In this crime, at least)

Or perhaps as I stare these pills down,
muting my human condition has come easier;
no longer am I attacked by strange men
for a golden woman carrying a blue staff

No long must I boldly proclaim
that I’ll go out through my kitchen
when indeed, for someone with my body
(human condition aside)
belongs there, if only to make a sandwich.

If only there was a dictionary definition in the back
of every high school textbook
and we are made to ‘put it in our own words.’
Defining what should be such a simple thing
should be rather easy then.

But nobody said it was easy.
We were all told that we were special
but I have come to the conclusion that
saying everybody is special is really saying
that nobody is.

And if nobody is special,
should not our own human condition be the same?
or is is simply that no,
humans are manufactured on a mass-produced scale
for the pleasure of those powers that be?

Yes, they have a tough game with tough rules,
and they’ll win (and I’ll always lose)
but am I a design flaw?  Something wrong in manufacturing?
I’ve traveled to these human distribution centers
and there were many babies wrapped
in blue or pink cloth dictating from birth
a key aspect where the human in question
has no choice.
And their human condition has been dictated to them
but I paid no mind

(I ignored the stains on)

I allowed human condition to be dictated,
knowing most of these children will grow to be
a design flaw like me.

Lost.
Confused.
And waiting on a mother swan to come
and tell me I am beautiful, and indeed
I have been in the wrong place the entire time.

And as I left this distribution center
of humans, and the human condition
I asked myself
“What god would make this world?”

“What god would make this world
with so much suffering and pain and make us
unable to identify for fear of what will happen to us?”

“Was it an angry teenaged god who played a game
only to find that his friends were murdered around his ears
and he must have to build this universe by himself?”

“Was it a god who lived in a world all alone
only to hate any form of life beyond himself?”

And as I asked myself these questions
I prayed that it wasn’t true.
That maybe, this is just exclusive to my
inability to find my human condition.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

Walking through the New Orleans night
The streets are thick with smoke and sweat.
His glass splashes red red wine as he marches his school of misfits through the cobble stone parade...
"How heavy this air is tonight, gentlemen"
The moon shines so bright that it reflects from his clever eyes..
So many thoughts run through his lonely mind...
Her face haunts him though he never says a word..
The copious amounts of wine ingested tonight is a clue in to the emptiness of his soul..

His heart might as well be bleeding in his hands from the look on his face...
He is broken.
Half full and fading more every second.
His brewed watches as his light darkens with out her..
The beauty of his words and the strength in his step disappear with every blink of his eye
and tonight, they will lay him to rest as they always knew they would..
For with out her, he is nothing..
An empty shell of a man before he met her
and a faded dream now that she is gone....

The memory of you still exists in my mind,
three years, two girlfriends, and a thousand bottles later.
The way i look for your eyes in a crowd is unsettling,
searching each face as they walk by in their own quiet parallel universe
unaware of the longing for the comfort of your soft voice and gentle touch
I look for you because you still are the one,
the one who suffered with me without question and saved me when i was in need.
Salvation was in large supply.
Redemption was a certainly familiar entity.
and the road to your heart was a unpaved trail through the wilderness of time and space.
Let it be the one i stay on till the end.

Vague and unsettled
Restless feeling of sadness
Sprouting
From the hidden depths
Of my soul
Disturbs me

I want to live before I die
I want to enjoy life
I want to rejoice

But this feeling
Of emptiness
Is on my way
I can almost hear the sound
Of its weeping mourn
Yearning for my soul

I want to free myself
From its hold
Peace and contentment
Is what I want
I live between black and white
Fighting inner demons
Holding on to the light

~Natasha~

The mother told the daughter  not to cross the line,
But she didn't listen, she was so blind.        She saw a beautiful  flower, and saw another flower,                                                   she took the beautiful flower just for the mother.                                                                                                The person from the underworld was driving his horse and adupted her.                  Her mother was worried and it was very late,                                                             she started to think that she was yesterdays bate,
She went to ask zoos for help and told them they have the daughter.                                She thought that it would be easy like drinking water.                                              the devil told the daughter to eat a parmergrant seed.                                         They kept her for six months.                       She should of listen. If she didn't do that junk.                                                            The mother got angry and started to bleed

there is the world so much i think i have felt it

have felt by it
and by it felt

so much it
(the world)

who in droves presses ugly Spring against me
who in heards comes dying and immortal
who in sleeping flowers laughs most
(the world

by sting invisible
impulses each rotund death
of lungs upon heaps of dying
to go out and wear more gladly it

it girls laughing
it boys sweating to be first
it arcuate of hips
it thundering of industry
it of millions tinly each


each pointless
each fathomless
each more than last
each next than other
each the other than the next

i think and i have seen by it
and have i?
way north over the barn where goes the winter
when in neatish crimson hulking pricks comes

first small coming

then steadily gargantuan

Summer

in deep veins of failing gold
only to brittle
only to fold and tousle
only to rubble and quake

alas

and i have thought

alas

and i have read

alas

and i have felt so proud to get at the meanings of poems

) but ever have i known it?

No.

i have not been my feet to push of it a million splendors

i have not been my throat to scream so loud my body shook

i have not been amongst its people

i have not tasted

i have not been by the skinny bank of a winding stream in the middle of Summer when the cool water tickles across the span of each toe the wholeness of being

i have not kissed so long to love

i have not breathed so long to speak

what then can i say?
but do i say it?
of course

i say it by hands between quick thighs
uncurling hurting bruises of hot sharpness

i say it in the hunched play of a girl's wetness

i say it in the calm stroke of a withered dog's scalp

i say in quiet moments as in loud moments

i speak(and i always speak)

and i think i have the world so much by it felt as to know it

and i think i do not know it

and i think it is not so much

and i think i have not felt it

A rainy cold day, wet...windy...nasty like a child's tired temper.
Labor away some hours with sweat, pain, and moans
Building...pumping...burning to the bones
Ravenous cravings, once fed off to bed
tired and exhausted, sleep not always the rest it should be
Now internally...explore...peace and calm
Rejuvination is short lived but enough to carry on
With occassional breaks,
I will indeed get my many tasks done.

from the start to finsh i wonder why the cuts look good in this messed up lie the blood that trickles down my arm people all stare at the girl who self -harmes :- "the emo"they call me i turn my name they act out head myfeelings of being alone i hide myself for a day joust whating to go home i sprawl on my bad with my razor in m hand and take my self away to much better land i stare in the mirror andlet my self cry looking for words to the day that i die . . .

Looking up at a fresh blue sky with patches of angry grey here and there
I looked back down again as he said
"Besides, look at all the flowers your father has given me."

it’s suddently solemn
   it holds me back and tears me down
i swear i can’t even hear
(certain people are so easily drowned)

But I
   I am easily lit
   Fire like you’ve never seen
And it is captivating
I’m showered in red-gold
                     And no one will be amused at all.

I am the calm
  And I am the woman
               And I am the fire.

Snow dont fall
On summers time
Wind dont blow
Below the sea
My loves lies
neath frozen skies
And waits in sweet
Repose for me
Her eyes did laugh
Her lips did sing
Her legs did roll
My soul to bring
Her hair did curl
And her thoughts unfurled
Like birds upon
The wings of spring
My love I need not see
To know she cast
her glance at me
Snow dont fall
On summers time
Wind dont blow
Below the sea
My loves lies
neath frozen skies
And waits in sweet
Repose for me

(1)

In a moment
the adrenalin rush
courses through my veins;
a torrent of frustration.

Rational expression gives way to loss of all reason
as vitriol spurts forth from my lips;
a stream of abuse:

I want to goad you
I want to hurt you
I want to abuse you

The foul profanities are carefully aimed
sent hurtling from my mouth
in a barrage of spittle, all semblance of sanity gone,
and the air reeks with rankness from my verbal barrage.

A vein pulses at my temple
and the crescendo of my heartbeat
is a rhythmic chant that drives me on
to ever greater extremes.

And as this onslaught congeals and festers in an instant
inside my head, it forms into a clenched fist
that assumes control of its own existence
to strike out and feel the satisfaction as it makes contact
with your soft flesh and delicate bone.

My froth and spittle is flecked with your blood
but I am removed from the person flailing you,
punishing you,
and I have no control over him.

My eyes, if I could see them reflected in your fearful eyes,
are wide and wild,
my lips are curled back over my teeth,
my mouth opens widely as my screams of rage
are vomited at you,
my gasping breath rasps between rants,
my chest pistoning,
as you lie at my feet bloodied and subdued.

Now as I stand over you panting: an animal subjugating my kill,
your eyes look furtively and fearfully into mine,
wide and frightened.

(2)

In a moment my wild triumph flees and such regret washes over me as I kneel, cradling your head in my hands, brushing away the sweat-bonded strands from your face.

I plant a soft kiss on your lips and our tears mingle saltily:

I lick my lips and taste that salt
But it only serves to heighten my guilt.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, and pull you close, letting your tremulous heartbeat calm me.

I feel like a big man
in a straight jacket
who has just learned
despite all his strength
he'll never break the restraints

I'm not saying
you should ever give up

Just relax when you can
Don't fight so hard
You'll be free soon enough

It is  what loneliness feels like on late nights
and I find myself drunk texting poetry

I want to make your ears time capsules
for the things I have to say

Sometimes I settle for your phone

I want to wake up
in the morning
with a message from you

A picture of your smile
Your smile
Your stupid beautiful smile

It is all I ever really wanted anyway

another tear cried,
another empty lie

another broken heart
another painful start

another wish-less star
another ageless scar

Sometimes my insides collapse-
shrinking down to the size
of a rolled up wad of
those-paper-scraps-stuck-to-the-side-of-a-notebook-page-thats­-been-torn-out-too-fast.

My body is left in a standstill
No lungs to collect air
No heart to pump life into the shell

Sometimes, too, my insides expand-
an ever growing balloon animal
stretched to its very limits
growing to fit the outline of my body's mold,
a child's face frightened of the oncoming POP

My heart races faster trying to contain the blow
My lungs have already burst from the pressure

Sometimes my mind goes off and thinks too much-
my body knows, my body rebels,
cutting up each fabric of me

I wish I could help you
with your girl troubles
but when you ask me
what to do
to garner her affections
I don't know what to say
'cause I like you plenty
just how you are

shh,
I'm not allowed to say that too loud
because as much as I'd love
to scream it to the high heavens
my lips are too busy with
his

(though I'd rather
they be busy
with yours)

I never knew
how hard it'll actually be
for my heart
to let you free.

Your constantly in my dreams
Always reminding me of what I miss.
From what it seems,
my heart is stuck in a dark abyss
full of love,
that I want to give.

I want him to feel the love I can share
but how can I, while your still on my mind?
None of this is fare.

How can you let go of something so fast
while I'm over here
still thinking of the past..
The love you once cherished
is now gone; perished in the fire
of my burning heart.

To sleep -- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
For once your life's candle is but a nub
Your fate has been decided and you cannot run
And you wonder what happened to bulletproof weeks
In your arms, just building sky-castles of words
And as you open your mouth, the raven first speaks
Telling of cabbages and kings, and gentle demon birds
Playing an asphyxiated song of angel's wings
Leaving me intoxicated and feathered with silver crowns
And as the breath from my lungs makes rings
Of vapor in the air, the mist settling on ancient frowns
The future runs through me now to capture
Absolutely clawed leviathans, found in rapture.

I remember,
how the beach felt
beneath our feet.
Arms wrapped around my waist,
as the tide carried our troubles
back into the sea.
Salty lips,
yearning to taste each other.
Crashing waves
soothing happy hearts.
Now the beach is bleak,
and I am afraid
that I will keep my promise,
of loving you forever

The garbage heap
of the universe is called hell
by those who don’t know it deep

I remember the morning clearly. It was actually one of my first real memories. I remember waking up to a blinding light.  Like looking at the sun through a magnifying glass. Once I shook off the shock I realized it was still dark out and the blinding light was my brother shining a flashlight in my eyes. I guess that's what older brothers are for when you're five years old.

I finally got my bearings and heard a commotion in the other room.  My curiosity overcame my desire to sleep.  I found my grandparents and my mom speaking in hushed voices about something in the living area.  I thought it was odd for my grandparents to be there and so early. Before I knew it I was being handed one of my grandmother's famous scrambled egg sandwiches and shuffled out the door into the car. Still in my pajamas, wondering, are we going on vacation?  The only time they come this early and we get egg sandwiches is when we're leaving for vacation.  Why didn't anyone tell me?  

After a short car ride in my grandfather's sea green pickup truck, we reached our destination. So much for the surprise vacation.  The place was familiar. We had been there many times before. Its where we went to see daddy when he would go away to get better. The sterile white walls is all I remember. And the smell. I never understood that smell but it always made me sick to my stomach. Still does to this day.

This time something was different. There were a lot of people standing around. Some I knew. Some I didn't. Some wiping their eyes. All speaking in the same hushed voices. I have no recollection of the conversation that followed. I'm not sure who told me or what they said. What do you say to a five year old? I cant fathom.

I do remember going back to the room though. My mom holding me and my brother's hands. Trying to summon the strength I can't imagine finding myself now at the same age she was. When I walked in, I thought, he's not gone. He's just sleeping. That's the last memory I had for at least another year.

When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide,
He dropped where he loved on the burst pavement stone
And the funeral grains of the slaughtered floor.
Tell his street on its back he stopped a sun
And the craters of his eyes grew springshots and fire
When all the keys shot from the locks, and rang.
Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart.
The heavenly ambulance drawn by a wound
Assembling waits for the spade's ring on the cage.
O keep his bones away from the common cart,
The morning is flying on the wings of his age
And a hundred storks perch on the sun's right hand.

Rays of sunlight hit the thick lens of your glasses and illuminate the golden frames
Every single ray is completely absorbed into your perfect skin through the sunrise.
Resonating within the inner workings of your mind, igniting an inferno in your soul
I wish to become those sun rays, surrounding your body, penetrating your eyes

Warmth flowing throughout your tender body, surging through your inner being
You radiate joy, the after effects of a splendid moment marked by an influx of pleasure.
Laying on the damp, dew-stained grass parallel to your your delicate boyish frame
Like a sort of unseen force, the happiness we've shared here is unable to be measured

You open your mouth, and suddenly ideas of the future trickle out and run down your lips
Destroying the perfect, serene silence of the moment with your unachievable fantasies and plans
About the mansion you will build her, about the children you will have with her, about your bed
You turn your head towards me, your eyes are fixed on my face, you tell me you won't be my man.

I stare back up at the sky, expansive, free, a light, playful shade of blue, not too dark
I realize that I'd much rather prefer to be the sky above your head, free and independent
Seeing the world, but not affected by the pressure of mankind, not affected by pain or lust
So when you look upon me, you covet me, you realize that without you, I'm still transcendent.

Prosthetic monster men playing heavy rock
A laderhosened Austrian gives his squeeze box all he's got

Desperation dance routines, too hard they always try
Wailing divas, rigid smiles,
Do we laugh or cry

A Fin from the back woods plays a fiddle fast
Our song is pretty good but still we might come last

Hello Bratislava, hello Tallin, hello everyone
Votes are cast for friends as the evening never ends

At last we have a worthy winner, well done indeed to you
But with too many 'nul points'
Once more we meet our Waterloo

Even I, with scales on my eyes and large, heavy headphones pressed tightly against my ears, can see that this three week conversation has died out, although I have made every attempt to keep it burning.
Even I, with my nose bleeding, and my heart bleeding, and my soul dripping some strange, red liquid, know that this has run its course, which, coincidentally, was directly into an iceberg which I never saw. An iceburg that only exists in your eyes, yet this ship sailed, serene, into it, with no word of warning from your lips.
Even I, with guts spilled out, in the street, in front of your house, spelling your name, must aknowledge the fleeting nature of the situation. I guess.
Even I, with next to no knowledge of myself, know that I am lying.
But they are lies that I must eat with the eagerness of starving foxes - for that is what I am now. I am made of lies and paw-prints in the vacant lot, near the abandoned sugar factory, that place I still believe is haunted, to this day. Maybe it houses my ghosts.
But after my dinner of hollow lies, I am left famished still, even though I choked down one too many, coughing, and gasping for air, as if I were drowning in my own falsities. After my unsatisfying meal, I only want one dessert: A cigarette and an answer. But only one is possible, and I have already made my choice. The pull of Nicotine is much stronger than that of closure. So I don't really need it.
I am a blind man, who has wandered onto the train tracks, far outside of town, where the iron horses can really run. In the city (or something that may only resembe a city,) they prance. On display. "Look at my tall, graffitti-stained walls. See my beautiful face of cow-catcher grin and headlamp, cyclops eye."
I made my picnic on the tracks, thinking they were a bench. I guess that was a bad idea. And my reanimated corpse agrees, as it trusts that another train is still far away and stumbles about, picking up lost pieces.
I should build a house here. I really don't mind rebuilding, and the trainwrecks ain't so bad...
All in retrospect, friend.

You were my all.
My whole world, the only thing I looked forward to in the morning.
We were so alike you were so into sports .
Like football we are both on teams.
You also like soccor.
These past few nights I have sat down watching the soccor world cup thinking about you each time germany made a goal I thought about “I wonder if I would ever see you make a goal and I have. you made it to highschool.
You have moved on to a better place. I havent I am living in the past thinking about you and all the time we spent together and the times that should have happened.
But its all gone now.
Im in a deep dark hole full of despair.

Almost always, he falls asleep before me
and I get to listen to his breath slow and soften -
this does not happen during the day,
he hates his heartbeat in a different way than I hate mine.
He views it as a rhythm that may stop
while I often wish that my song had never begun.

In December, I got to feel him cling.
I got to feel how he must feel every day of the week -
when I am conscious, I barely let him think
now he has his hands glued to my cheek and I
realize that he can be strong though still needing me.

Almost always, he sees the morning before me
and I reach out my hands like a dead flower
but he says that I am fragrant yet.
He likes to listen to me breathe, he likes to kiss my neck
because he fears that someday I’ll be gone
not seeing that when I wake, I’ll make him breakfast.

sometimes i wonder if
kacie would be happier if
she didn't smoke, or
if that is the very thing that
holds her together

(judging by the way she is
now, i suppose i'll never
really know)

Fashion this as liquor to give spirit to
a song in write.  Seen seldom to weigh
words at play in search, sewn
expensive for time spent in trust and
recite.  Penciling not for profit so
rhythmic this may show.  Find in the
presence to open and reflect our
woes.  Only prescription for
uncommon those in write.  A same
those who compose.  This on display is
the compromise of sheltered dreams
and the soul, of rhythm in gentle prose.


This is the allure of the jewel of
life.  Sent as promise a same a
wish.  Stem those genes and make
heavy this vision and prayers in
might.  These are our rays made ink, to
weigh the pressures of waves constant
in cycle, to detract from nature’s
Heavenly sight.  Lost we shall dream
and ever so patiently grow old ~ but in
heart live bold.


Rugs were in Persia mathematically
correct and with an Indian craft
colorful, Heaven sent.  Only captured
in a metaphor this day, so men do
master, so simple this way.  Simple this
as to measure the years past, shudder
away tears, for the river purifies our
passions commandeered.  So culture
our gardens to prosper and replenish,
in the green untamed, and natural in
wonder, behold.


Today we thimble a sew for tomorrow,
for our craft is spared only to simple ~
ness of editing, not journeyed journals
to an ever-changing composition.  
Perhaps unfamiliar this vest, this
life.  Sample the living, in books that
inspire.  Dismal I think the desire to
purify a pen in this heavy practice, a
dance an art.  Time lends a flavor,
marinating appealing to a fashion so
write.


Always calm to prolonged righteous
reason, modern making, yet captured
still as storytelling.  Uncommon
to cues, but refreshing at leisure, is now a
computer who makes simple what once
was wasted time.  Measures made in
this art are laborious, the passion is
for the pen, reel it in as your tool,
rations will in turn ~ give as a well and
nature and sow, the seed of the write.  


Refinement ~ un-forsaken, notes of
detail, must reinvent and inscribe in
ink.  The bank of intuition lay tender as
our diction.  Replenish in the soil of
our Native grounds to seed another
tool, the luxury of our lingo.  For
inspirations may befriend or become
uncharted if left in the cold.  Sold but
without a surrender to all integrity, we
will call for many souls to ship and
receive what Forefathers intended.  In
over our heads, over watering our
behaviors, half unknowingly over
diluting our mental treasures, is this
the liquor of life, all too fancy in
measure but it was the tea of rebellion ~
and so I toast ~ to a drink tonight.


Inherent as memories of a generation
now surely within time, we will fill the
promise within crafted lines, and
file away ~ many promises ~ many
revisions ~ many times.  In spoil we shall
not surrender our bounty of honesty
and wisdom, so gray in years we
mend.  Dent our self-serving self ~
respect, make and justify the wheel in
role common.  Like a beard in keep,
intention is relevant.  Surely women
refine makeup as to show beauty in
character.  Thus what we intend to
refine is an endeavor to unwrinkled
and celebrate the qualities of growing
old.  Time is of new defining, for the
times are naturally at all times in
ritual of change.


Memories to grace the gift of sight ~ are
the shades to carry our reflections
away.  One, who trusts and so cares,
lay in the daydream of light.  In a wish
sent salient, reference to eyes unveiled,
patiently as a seed shall ripen, the
flavors of life will flower in springs
day.  We hanger ~ thus shelter, the rags
made clothes, best when leather to
weather firm and tight.


Regift the promise, to harness the
wind and make words potent as those
before did without regret.  Today in
general we lean and conform on the
fundamentals, too disciplined, mirror
of stale literature.   Similar to wood
varnished but without the stains of
life.  First revision is not for giving,
only what is taken, luxury of
time.  Color your copies of the wood
you talk in and pencil in your
pressures to relieve the pain, simple ~
ness and cold feet lay sold, as buttered
bread to fill.  But imperfect, so
forthcoming, wills the literature of
today ~ finding promise in ceremony
by charting drafts and revisions to
send in message to those young in
read.  This voyage is regretfully gentle
as our host made monumental any
verse, so breathe within the soul and
hearts of men, to find new styles to
milk the mind of reason.  Leafs from
the tree of intuition ~ censure the
picture, sell in the filter of Freedoms
fight, not first drafts ready when
write.  


Battered but purely by pace and
meager beginnings, the wave of
procurement in the arts of linguistics
will saddle and shelter the idea
profound.  Don’t toss away the raisin
of a pen in hand,  for we lean to easily
in bits and bytes.  Promise of Heaven's
pennies falling in rhythm will sing
tonight.  


Majestic in find, common in ground,
gift a find, in leisure, in time.  Gather
they guard and uphold the greater
good, not to entertain but inspire.  Just
as ones soul is when right.  Humbled
in behaviors so chips in clever may
fall.  But poker face we have become,
once centered in earnest of essays in
rent, now owners of ideas
embellished ~ in verse ~ our native
treasures.  Second we charter the raft
of ideas in mend, to conceive works so
aspiring as the poets and linguists of
historic claim.  So riddled ~ so
mastered.  Surely a new discontent
shall offer, in a pebble of examples
met, but with practice and structure
our youth will pen.  


Demand must be patient, for
procurement in the arts of linguistics
will nurture and mother our future
Leaders to a discipline in their own
right.  Never forget the days of past
generations for they marveled in the
arts ~ and in rain it falls in our hands
~ to luster and defend.  Poetics are too
political if not in share.  Protection of
this is how Freedom was rung.  The
hungry will maintain its resolve and
rightfully so.   Riddled as sow ~ these
lentils, this meal, these feathers, this
ink ~ shall fuel the fire.  A dance in the
pillows of night ~ shall brush the painting
in the Autumn of ones days.  Flaccid in so
many ways.  


Glorified by the shadows of
protection, but only one day is stored
for this intention.   Freedom is in the
work engraved beside it, within it,
sharing we celebrate it, and our Brave
provide it.  Celebration comes by way
of duty and hard work, and is rises
high and early in the dawn.  Yes, on
the Forth Day of July.  Food and
pleasures are gifts for price paid by
our Soldiers and Agencies who protect
and defend our freedom and intelligence, and
calmly watch over it as we carry
along.  All under the calm watch of
Gods umbrella.  Future dreams are
blessed a same, for all under this Flag
by notion alone, seam and dress and
hence sail ~ with solemn truth.  Trusting
the winds of reason to keep us Forever
Free and on course to replenish the
soil, for those young in years.  Students
in the day dream of life are in the send
to allow their pen to charter this
peaceful but daunting Nation to one of  
peace and prosperity.  Willingly and
calm the lion stares afar from
American shores, Democratic in nature and
always reinventing in this idea we
call ~ the American Dream.

The gush of water over rounded rocks
Elevate to echoes,
Echoes that echo in the space between
Tree and stone.
The sun rays are even and smooth
Wherever you turn.
Go round and round in a full circle,
It’s all even,
Except just before you return to where you started,
In that one split second and space of air.
The evened light from the sun
Will be molded differently here,
It will form tall slender shadows
That fall over the giant rocks.
In the shadows you can see
Two lovers, both nude,
Both having reached complete happiness.
Both their arms are around one another,
Holding the other’s shoulders and back like a conch.
The tops of their heads are crowned with
Fern circlets,
The green of which makes their skin look pale
And the hair on their head look light.
In this embrace, within the echoes between tree and stone,
These two lovers hold their ceremony,
One that belongs solely to them,
A secret from the world outside nature.
The sun rays bind them
And the echoes between tree and stone set them free.
Here they hold their ceremony,
With the fern crowns on their heads
And love within their beating hearts.

Illusions
What is an illusion?
Life is an illusion...
Reality is cruel,
And then you ask yourself
“What am I doing with my life?”
That’s an illusion.

This world is full of deception and lies
Full of these illustrated illusions created by your inner most thoughts
Sometimes I wonder how many people I’ve looked at in my life… but never actually seen.
Have you ever stopped and just thought about pure existence?
Have you thought about nothingness?
It’s deep, no doubt, but not rocket science.


Can I ask you a question?
Do you want to live in an illusion?
Do you want to become the slaves of the common place!?
I know that I sure don’t.
I want to become the exception to ordinary,
the justice in the courts….

What is an illusion?
Illusion is simply trying to decipher reality.
Live your illusion to the fullest.

Well this is new

You've broken my trust

You hurt me in ways I really didn't think possible
You've shaken my already fragile frame and broken it, shattered it, when I needed you most.

But then again

I was a naïve fool to think this wouldn't happen to me eventually.

I was a naïve fool to think that I could be so trusting.

I was a naïve fool to open up the way I did

I was a naïve fool to think I it wouldn't happen to me at all.

I was a naïve fool to think that I could be trusting at all.

And I was a naïve fool to open up at all.

Thank you for teaching me that lesson.

You don't know how long i've struggled
crying each and every night
but today's the day I redeem myself
as I sit here writing in this light

I write the last chapters of my life
and place it on this shelf
then I go to grab this kitchen knife
waiting to take my place in hell
but now it's time to wonder, who really knew me well?


So by the time you dress up in black,
my story has been found
but don't you weep young one
cause even the mighty have fell.

Don't ask me how I feel
because I'll say the same thing I say ever day
I'll say I'm feeling fine
yeah
I'm feeling great
better than I did when I hated myself
because yeah
now I love myself.
And I'll stand there and lie through my teeth
because the smile it puts on your face
makes everything okay
up until the second it fades away
the second everything comes unglued
just like it used to.

I had once a Simple Plan
To bribe a lady for a Kiss
With a Nickleback in my hand
And an Eagle tattoo on my wrist.

I brought her to the Linkin Park
And gave her meatloaf and Bread
But it had Red Hot Chilli Peppers
So she ate the Pearl Jam instead.

My tongue was like a Rolling Stone
As I tell my Nirvana of love
But I didn’t know her Metallica heart
Could stench the Aerosmith above.

It stung me like the Bee Gees
Or a Scorpion tail’s as fine
The Beatles are all crawling down my skin
When she broke this Heart of mine

Guns N Roses were the choices
That were left for me to Root
But a Cheap Trick with the latter
Ended my romantic Journey afoot.

we all start out as empty canvases
until one draws a line
the line is covered up
for no one to see

roll up her sleeves
remove her bracelets
see she's no longer
an empty canvas

the lines painted red
and cut to the core
she's different than the rest
she's different than you

as you try to comprehend
she pulls down her sleeves
and gets down on her knees
the lines no longer blend

pretend you care
leave her bare
then run away
and leave her to decay

Birds singing
in the dark
—Rainy dawn.

The one with the
         crack
along the middle,
dark and so thin,
words could fall through
like water in a colander.

Under the grand chandelier,
a slew of sheets
spat with confident blue juice,
cardboard-covered notebooks,
a team of paper balls to be tossed
towards your wooden crate.

Sketches of mice, polar bears,
a recipe for rabbit at his right elbow,
red Shakespeare
and a well-read thesaurus
as scruffy
as recently rinsed blonde hair.

You always screw the lid
on your own pot of ink, black,
sleeping silver scissors
near your French dictionary
and shells
over your plastic sunglasses case.

The table
in the room
in the house on Tomás Ortuño,
serenity bathing you,
your source,
your hope.

Since the beginning I loved her                    My one and only daughter.                              But since the day of those flowers.                       Over her I had no powers.                                                          My brother took her away from me               How could just like that betray me?                                 Giving her to that gloomy creep                            Now..... They both shall sow for what they reaped.                                                         For there shall be no more harvest,no more   Cause they took my heart the very core.       Now more fruit,food or color.                        Cause the took her my 1 and only lover.          And that's my rarely sad story                          But don't worry for their end shall be extremely GORY.

Oh no...

I think this one is better

left alone.

My nightmares are hot and steamy,
Because by contrast, they have to be unlike reality,
Which is cold and calloused.
Dance this silly shadow dance,
As the cooler drops dead,
In favor of sweat.
I walk circles around it.

Tears cascade down her face
Each one that rolls down her cheeks
Is another splinter in my heart.
I want to hug her and tell her it'll be okay
But I'm stuck to the spot
So I'm a coward
Because I can't even help the girl I love.

The oven is lively,
It’s been scrubbed clean of blue.
I watch it immobile like a Crucifixion lemon head.
Always I will love Lemonheads.

I know why the oven is so lively.
It is filled with laughter, as I laugh when I think of you.

The exterior is growing bright now,
The suture in my fingers is energetic.
You are climbing up, up, up.
The oven sings praises of you.

I know why you are singing, oven.
I granted my favor, and you granted yours.
She is returning now, her essence beats loudly.
My songs are caressing your neck.
Songs that are yours.

Greetings, hearth.
You are not going anywhere.

Absolutely

it will end how ever you wish it.

Absolutely

someone will hurt you.

Absolutely

You will be saved.

I cant feel my hands,
they're trembling too rapidly
My body feels as if it's going numb

I'm gasping for breath,
it's as if my lungs are rejecting oxygen
If I pass out this would just go away

These thoughts won't stop,
they're flooding my brain
I can't help but feeling like I'm going insane

I have no control


m.s.

With margerain gentle,
  The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
  Is of your maidenhead.
Plainly I cannot glose;
  Ye be, as I divine,
The pretty primrose,
  The goodly columbine.

Benign, courteous, and meek,
  With wordes well devised;
In you, who list to seek,
  Be virtues well comprised.
With margerain gentle,
  The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
  Is of your maidenhead.

With graceful strategy the circling hawk
Whips my circling sorrow to dive and strike;
Indiscrete for action the poison oak
Thrusts up her flushed face for attack
Lizards and herbs and flowers admonish me,
Strict in their innocence: I am cowardly,
Nor will the mourning-dove condone my fault
Who breasts all hazard for a humble scrap
And when she coos courts punishment. My guilt
Is obvious, and I cannot escape.

When you give with no hope of receiving, you have made the choice to be kind.
Kindness is a coloring of cheeks,
A fumbling of hands,
A ringing peal of laughter.
Dewy eyes and an essence of purity
Spark choices;
To pursue kindness.
Far from where eyes can meet and lock,
Possibilities flit in the humidity laced twilight.
I lean in to kiss you,
Leaving outlines of joy hanging on your lips.
I wear a sinful halo, colored in lust –
Crowning doe- eyes.
Your arm is slung across the car seat,
Absent-mindedly painting that velvet with silent melodies, making me shiver.
Breath mingles in an impatient dance; skin converging.
Light up smiles
Leave stinging trails scrawling down my cheekbones -
In peaceful shadows, promises kept.
I chose these fragments.
I revere them.

That's it,
Isn't it?
What you're trying to
Imply
Is that
I'm the cause
Of all this?

Every single thing I do,
Every single word I say,
I'm the whole cause of
Why they're like this right now.

I'm the reason why
They're
Never
Going to get back again.

This whole thing is just
My fault,
Me, myself and I,
I caused all these problems,
Now I have to
Suffer
For them

Have you ever
Stretched a rubber band?
It’s easy.
Just grab both ends
And pull
And pull.

The tension builds
Tighter
And
Tighter

The rubber gets
Thinner
And
Thinner

Soon
The tension gets
Too much
And

The rubber
Band
Snaps

Remember
The pain that comes
With it?
The sharp
Sting

That brings tears
To your eyes
But just within
A short moment

It’s over.

It takes a special person to know who you are, to know what to say, to touch your heart.
It takes a special person who really cares, to make a connection with someone in hours, that take other people years.

You're this special person, you do all this and more.
I spread out my wings, but you helped me soar.
I chose to learn, but you made me stay.
The extra period I spend learning is what makes my days.

It takes a special person to help me see, my potential and who I can be.

You gave me hope when I thought all was lost.
You may think you've done nothing, but you've done a lot.
I can say I am a better person because of you.
All from spending one period with you.

From the day you walked in the classroom,
I could see something special about you.
It wasn't because of your beauty or your really nice hair.
I could sense a radiance of inspiration flowing throwing the air.
And an inspiration you are, you leave me in awe.

You are a very rare breed, one of a kind.
You saw a light in me and you helped it shine.
You are a very special person Ms. Haggith, you are.
For you helped me see that I was a star.
That I could go places, that I was great.
You gave me an unbelievable amount of faith.

An inspiration, you are one of a kind.
I hope you are given the chance to help other student shine.

Sometimes.. I wish I was still dark. Wish I hadn't been saved.
And sometimes... I wish I could hold on to all of this pain and rage.

But I'm not myself when I follow that darkened path.
I can't deny who I am. Despite my attempts, it never lasts.

I always felt this day would come. The day I wanted it back..
The day I missed the darkness. When I could finally accept the past.

Sometimes I wish I could find myself. Others, I wish I hadn't begun.
Sometimes I feel both... And all that makes me want to do is run.

I wish I was better at writing music. It makes me feel so alive.
But I can't find out who I am. And I really don't know why..

I'm not really feeling any pain.. God took that away from me.
And though it doesn't hurt, I still feel like I'm not yet free.

Sometimes.. I wish I could talk to you. Just suck it up and try.
And sometimes... I wish I was still dark, so that I wouldn't hate to lie.