I was not turned down, I was not sent back,
I was propelled forward.
The world saw me slapped in the face,
I saw the world tap me on my shoulder.
What I was told was, I could not walk through that door.
But what I heard was, that I should fly over the wall.

No matter how utterly you fail, how deep you sink,
You will never end deeper than anyone else,
Exactly six feet from where you are right now.
But the mighty Himalayas are always rising into the sky
So everyone who dares to, will always be
The very first to climb higher than anyone before him.

Epilogue:
It’s not the chair you sit on, it’s the dream.
It’s not the door you walk through, it’s the wall.
If you are good, they will put a piece of metal, on your chest.
If you are great, they will put a piece of metal, in your chest.
Now, do you still choose to be denied?!

The hands of time tied my hands,
And held me from holding you.
With each grain of passing sands
I wish, Oh! Could not we begin anew?

A proud tongue concealed, a deaf me
To the beating of your, heart breaking.
My open eyes, were still blind to see
Tragic music, your eyes were making.

My words and tears now trudge together,
Holding, a broken man on, a broken bridge,
To summer! Away from this untimely weather
So end not in dark chasms, but the warm ridge!

To tomorrow’s love yesterday! I could not see my way,
So not her, but walls held, and souls ne'er meld away
For in my hand a timepiece swung and the principles thereof
But what she held in her heart was a piece of timeless love.

If, all men are born equal, were true
No Songs would have ‘ere been written.
The difference between men shines through,
By their conduct when they are smitten.

Some adopt the use of pedestrian tools, like avarice,
Safely transmuting many a love to single edged blades.
Some few fools instead choose to believe their own lies
That a single story writ in blood and tears never fades.

It will take more than
what is similar between
she and me
to get
her to here.

More than a letter
Perhaps my word
The one,
echoing in her soul.

I miss my beautiful butterfly
I call to her, she won’t reply
What fashion of bait could I vie,
To net me that money can’t buy?
But robbed of freedom love would die
Of what use is a pie in the sky?

So with a song in my heart
And hope in my eye
I wait patiently for the return
Of my beautiful butterfly.

Another day the quill lies alone
A flickering flame above is all but gone
Scribbles on the back of a sheet
Pondering if all this talk of love
And this yearning for it entirely its own
Or some socially inflicted addiction
A restriction on feelings for loneliness
By this unwelcome relationship,
That between solitude and emptiness
But who should fill this sheet?
For what texture and hue does love imbue?
Can ink and blood meld?
The quill stares wondering upon the sheet
If its love will run fast or infuse slow?

******* children of a sordid affair
Between corporatism and consumerism
Enslaved by the shackles of misinformation
Sinking each year baser yet
At the speed of light
In the information age
The world is eclipsed
Tangled in a worldwide snare
of fast-food conversation with men in space
and yet deaf to the voice
resonating in the space within
If I screamed and cried in space
Would they hear my voice?
But if I screamed and cried on earth
Would they hear my voice!