Mercy drops from heaven, hot coals burn in hell, everything has it's purpose just like a dinner bell. I am not a stranger to a hard and broken life, I got with the wrong woman the source of all my strife.
But I have learned difficult lessons in this life I've had to live, my heart is three times bigger, it has taught me how to give. I am not complaining in place of gratitude, in its wake I'm forever thankful to the God of me and you.

I’ve been trying, trying, trying trying,
I’ve been crying, crying, crying, crying,
Nothing more to say, nothing left to give

As you stare out into the Midnight sky,
What do you see?
I’ve been flying, flying, flying, flying
Flying high on life, high on energy, high enough to say bye

I’ve been falling!

Not eating, drinking, or smoking for the Will of God.
These mortal morsles seem so significant now - energy to do things.
Dry, sticky mouth.
Slight ache in the belly.
Unfulfilled desire of the lungs.
It seems my reflection is dependent on these and not my soul.
240 million malnurished children.
2% of the world is homeless.
18 million in prisons.
689 million live in extreme poverty.
What can I do, I'm one person?
What can I do, I'm one person?
What can I do, I'm one person?
Give a little more than I spend for me.
Give a little more than I spend for me.
Give a little more than I spend for me.

there are many things i want to say.
but we are too far away.
then i don't feel too well.
i still scared to tell.
but i need you to here.
cause i need you more and more.

New moon,
Dead burnt plaster,
Dried acrylic.

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.

Skin on skin
Lips on lips
Hands touch hands
Hips push hips
Breast to chest
Eye to eye
Knee to knee
Thigh to thigh
One to one
Lip bite sighs
Rhythm to rhythm
Side by side
Complete bliss
Felt inside
Toes touch toes
Force like tides
Skin on skin
Lips touch lips
Head on chest
Sleep in bliss .

Your pool of innocence, gets me
I wish I could say mine remains
But
I am broken
Pieces
Hide away the remaining
Pieces
For they are broken and meaningless

“Falling in love” is a contradiction in itself, because in love there is only the rising, the ascending, not the falling.
You can not fall in love, but rather, rise.

I am a stone, I will make my own ripples.

My heart may crumble
in your hands
like Autumn leaves

but I am a Spring storm in waiting,
ready to drown yours in rain,
until it shrivels up and dies

To all the boys I've hurt before...
I'm sorry for not giving you the love you deserve
I'm sorry for trying to love you
Trying to be loved by you
Because I couldn't love myself.
I'm sorry for all the tears.
The midnight calls,
The impulsive "yes" the impulsive "goodbye"
I'm sorry for trying to love you
When I wasn't over him.

A rose and a cactus fell in love.
They understood each other's thorns.

there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home

not enough time alone
not enough food for me to eat
not enough

im not enough

its okay.


less money spent on me,


less weight to gain.

loving you is like loving sunset
in the end of the day
it happened

it's gradual
it's quiet
it's magical
it's fated

before slowly, leisurely wrap my world in darkness

A misplaced angel dreams of lush facades,
Marinated in an amber-honey glaze that
pools into the streets, homes and
hearts of its radiant inhabitants

I wish to rip that page
from Dorothy Gale's book,
heel clicking until I am back
in that primal womb of sunshine

where I am able to soak in
the richness of natal nutrients
conceived for my angeleño heart

The price of life is death.
The price of death is life.

I will never judge you with hatred or disdain,
I will never cause you strife that you may in peace
remain.
God forbid anyone insult you or clip your angel wings ,
I will stand in awe of you and the wonder that you bring.
I will knock down all the walls that have made you poor
I will help you take the leap and watch your spirit soar
for you I wrote this insignificant poem to tell you of your worth
you will have your portion and your cup , you will be my friend
secure.

It's such a broad question with many answers.

Is it the words that make a poem or the feelings?

The message or the rhythm and rhyme?

A poem is what you see, what you make it, so may I ask;
What is a poem?

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

You are not the love of my life,
You are the life of my love ❤️

they buried a poet
sprinkled his words over coffin
tossed a book into dirt alongside
and waited few decades
to have a leaf sprout
for winds to carry his lines
far
to one with open ears
another circle in a world of squares
have phrases strain down the cheeks
into ink smeared on paper


buried in a trashcan
in a diary
in a library
in dirt
everywhere really...