he taught me the wrong ways to love

his love was always a knife my throat

lost the definition of trust

is this all your love

is this what I need

Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.

I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.

the truth is untarnished , the truth never lies , it needs no excuses
or cheap alibis.
the truth will expose every deed that is done ,
for the thief and the liar it's a hot smoking gun .
the truth will set free those wrongly accused , the truth always knows when its just being used .
the truth can be a companion and friend , or it can come crashing down and bring it all to an end.
So , search the truth in your heart and you just might see , that you have been hurt and abused but now we are finally free

They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time. In the end of the argument and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them. Because it would never stop. Their love was beyond. It rose above any border that would dare to try and stop it. There was no finish line

because they were each other’s end game.  
-L.R

Dallas, November 1963
Fifty-seven years since they shot Kennedy
Everyone saw then live on T.V.
what happens when you challenge
secret society

Some say the mob or the CIA
Either black or white, but the truth is gray
and long since buried 'neath Texas clay
right next to good ol' LBJ

I ask not what my country can do for me
Blood on her hands, Lady Liberty
Let sleeping dogs lie, leave history be
The truth died in Dallas, 1963

Poetry runs through our veins. Meant for cold hearted people, whose hearts are covered up with stains.
Until pure love is the only thing on this planet that rains.

I'd like to cut my heart open
to take you out
or maybe
to see you one more time

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 and break the lock on the door
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.

Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

It wasn’t “I love you”
but at least it was goodbye.

the soft ''i love you''
we whispered as you left,
will forever be burned
into my memory

tomorrow, darling,
you say to me ,
as you walk out the door,
and I drift back into sea

she woke up screaming
windows and china tea cups shattered
she blinked
another nightmare, she recalls

when was the last time she dreamed?

missing you is like
resisting the urge to shave my head

To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
apart.

Let me dream

but not too long

lest I wake up not

and lose hearing life's waiting song

The coming of Biden and Harris reminds me of one of the most beautiful and evocative songs ever sung, SAN FRANCISCO. It was written and composed by John Phillips and sung by Scott McKenzie. Implicit not only in its writing and composing, but also in its singing, SAN FRANCISCO emotes the most  powerful message that can ever be delivered to and absorbed by humankind:  LOVE.

I would have been in Haight Ashbury in June, July, and August of 1967, but I was a patient at the famous Menninger Foundation at that time, the best help of its kind in the world, and expensive (my father was a rich man). But it was my mother who finessed my way into Menninger’s, not my father. He wanted me to become an attorney on Wall Street and make millions (now billions). That is, after all, why he had gladly paid a fortune to send me to the best schools in the world:  Phillips Andover Academy (prep school) and Columbia College, Columbia University. I attended law school after college, but began to have problems sleeping that only grew worse during my first semester. The less sleep I got, the more difficult it was to study. Finally, I couldn’t sleep at all. I dropped out of law school right before first-semester finals, an act for which my father never forgave me.  

But my sleepless nights continued even after I dropped out, which ******* up my mind and my life terribly. I had no idea why this was happening to me. If my mother had not surreptitiously intervened and got me into Menninger’s, I no doubt would not be writing this to you. Psychotherapy not only saved my life, but also allowed me, for the first time in my life, to realize I had feelings--my own feelings--my hopes, my dreams, my wishes, my needs. And after months, something magical happened when I unconsciously married my intellect with my new-found feelings:  out of me popped a poem, and I have remained a poet to this very day.

What does what I’ve just shared with you have to do with Biden and Harris? The answer is that both brought, and now bring, great promise, great hope. Out of total darkness comes the bright light of a new beginning--a caring, a compassion, the lack thereof almost brought me to my death, and our nation, democratically speaking, to the same. Now there are, metaphorically speaking, flowers in our hair once more.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

In the cold, dark
        of January,
         I remembered
              you
        the most.
  As the chill
      snapped bones
              like branches,
     as the afternoons
   bathed themselves
in gray,
     as the birds
and the backs
      shook,
so did my lips
   around your name.
I'm so happy
     January is almost
over now.

Everyone hates me.
I feel like I hate me sometimes.
I’m such a *****.
I’m not a nice person and people think I’m rude.
I’m just shy, and awkward.
And sometimes I’m not in the mood for people.
And I feel judged, and misconstrued.
I want to feel accepted, and appreciated.
I want to feel loved.
People hate me, and I hate me too.

Eating my beyond burger with a fork and knife,
drag race in the background,
my Samantha doll by my side.
This isn't loneliness anymore.
This is just life now.

I'm not very good with words anymore,
maybe I never was.
So little has changed and yet everything has.
I still long for love.
I still want to be wanted.
That might never change.

Yet now this lonely world is one I've come to accept,
come to love.
I may be my only friend here,
but that's one more than last year.

Nothing I create is good,
but I'm learning to create anyway.
I'm learning to share my bad art,
at least it's art.
Right?

I dream of slitting the throat of the dog next door.
Someone outta shut him up.
I used to think that was an evil thought,
now I know there's no such thing.

I turn 21 in 2 days.
Math. Yuck.
I'm old,
getting older every second.
Whatever.
I will grow into this skin,
I'm sure of it.
Maybe.

I'm grateful.
More than anything I am grateful for it all.
The pain,
the pleasure,
the guilt,
the anger.

Pills,
family,
friends,
dolls.

No one reads these except me.
So this one is for her.
For you.
Anne,
my love,
my villain,
my biggest fear.

May this year be kind to you,
may you be kind to it.
May you listen to your spirit guides,
may you accept what you never could.

Growth is sticky and wet,
Knowledge is thick and grey.
May you be the light and the darkness,
the cut and the band aid.

More than anything,
be okay.
You're gross,
in a sort of beautiful way.
May you be okay with that.
Truly.




Bad art is still art.
Right?
I think so.
For now.

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.