There's something about everything about nothing about how we were created, tiny blips in a system of "Nothing Even Matters" starring the worst producers in the universe. One could catch a glimpse of us as they pass by to get to somewhere better and laugh, and shake their heads and they would know our only purpose in existence was to make them feel better inside. But whoever writes a book in the view of the indifferent? Whoever directs a movie where nothing different happens? That's like asking who remembers the forgotten, it's possible but ever so unlikely, and sure as sine is undulated, under appreciated, somewhat very deflated, and though we aren't remembered, we sure aren't too terribly hated.

There's something about anything that could be distributed as significance in this underrated little beauty, flourished world that runs about full of life and clarity, streaming with disparity, slow depreciating, and sometimes we're defeating the purpose of why we're unique, and we slowly take the filters out of our little selfie, loosing all this isn't healthy, and we diminish all signs of  any significance and we become as lifeless as a meteor, and I sometimes think "What is this for?" And then I simply sigh and take my sunglasses outside and stare into the sun, and wonder if anyone in the entire world has gotten off their iPhones or TVs and stared at the sun along with me.

There's something about how I feel when the little things get to me, like grades or dating drama, getting larger, more dramatic, oh it's such a ceaseless phlegmatic, and I sit at my stirring house and wonder how I can bear to live it anymore. But then I start to realise the person passing over is really staring us in the face and watching this world run in place. I'm not going to think about it anymore, it's all part of Earth's perpetual cycle, I'm not going to stop this utter nonsense now because it's time for me to go to my next class.

i sit at home alone
refreshed and rested,
wonder why i'm alone
take look at the birds nest
try and learn something
compare and contrast his life from mine
found im spending my time
where i spend it best
and only beausei havent found you yet

the prawn we picked is loosing color
and the desert winds might blow it all
if the chicks dont make it
it will reassure that i want all to live

my bands website is www.loudwithlove.com

the sign on the bus says save water
nothing leaves
nothing enters

get your feet wet
dont be scared
lessons from loosing
leave you unprepared

you say when it rains it pours

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

Is it time for the earth to move yet?
I've waited 40+ years: watching,
hoping, and hearing.
Wind's whisper, roaring
and rustling by my side;
brushing, fanning  
Fire's crackle, popping
pool of spilt blood,
soon cleansed away;
Water's cool trickling
rain, refreshed, turning
into torrents down
worn brown fissures,
broken etches arching
back to the origin,
the granite faced dirt.

Is it time for Mountain to move still?
If I'm lucky I have 40 more,
if not maybe 20, or blind
luck may rob me tomorrow.
Is it time to Move? Will I be
lucky enough to tremble
at new loosing ground.