She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.

our lips will never meet
nor our fingers intertwine
and so bless my dreams
for indulging what's not mine

Loving you was a great idea
But baby,
We forgot that God has better plan.

i spent my life trying to please
someone with a twisted disease
i broke myself down
and tucked my feelings away
to become the person
they wanted me to be
i let myself be watched
through the glass of a two sided mirror
of a sociopath
i wallowed my spirit away
and begged for acceptance
but there’s nothing in the world
that i could do
to let the narcissist know
that i am human too

Just the way I see it.


Withered Oak sun soaked
Sharing the horizon yonder
The Earth's daughter
Born of destruction
Glaring at her Father
Beaten and Burned
Alas stale Knight
The wounds are fresh
No end in sight
Blackened salted seas filled with death
Sweet retribution shall be swift
When the tides swell and kiss our feet
Swaying beneath the Judas Tree

my one wish is
to find someone
who sees the world
as beautiful as i do
with their mouth
preaching poetic beauty
as i have once did
to all the boys
i have loved

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

If you’re the one that’s so concerned about the world ending
Why are you trying so hard to bring it to it’s knees?

She is a poem of his heart
He never disclosed
In front of anyone.

There's Wishing it to be
       Wanting it to be
                 and Hoping it to be.
But instead
       Here's how it is...
                 It's REALITY.

It doesn't mean you should stop
wishing
       wanting
              hoping.
Because these are the desires
that keep us
      going
            flowing
                   forward.

Don't forsake it
       fake it
              or forget to take it
this striving in life for meaning.
        Remembering...

REALITY is what you make it!

love was made for two,
but not us two tonight

You were born near the warm ocean,
grew up around there,
With your clear acrylic smile
and sun-kissed blonde hair

I, the winter cold
More north than I can remember,
We met that day you visited,
a brisk chill, that December

We drank and danced,
while the years passed over
Argued and grew apart,
our greatest fears, now sober

My memories of you, once treasured
Now, faded
as sun deprived lands complain,
Forever, jaded

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.

My Mind the prison.
My Heart and Soul prisoner.

The chains,
Anxiety and Depression.

My Body the canvas,
Mindful of my Oppression.

Warm colors in the sky,
The burnt amber reminded me of your eyes.
A beautiful prize,
That I can't summarize.
As my gaze curiously wanders to yours,
Caught those gemstones looking into mine enticed.
With our sights aligned,
The sun kisses the ocean its goodbyes.
As the serene waves serenades the sun,
Pulling our heartstrings on a run.
As the dusk,
Melted into the ocean blush.
There,
Your rosy cheeks.
Brighter than any sunset,
Melted mine into a smile.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

"Though it was at my hands, it was your weight that suffocated me."

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

I thought if I could swallow the stars
I’d be as beautiful as the evening sky
I tried one night    with fireflies
They burned my throat
Their legs striking at soft flesh
But my skin did not glow
No moon crawled from my eye sockets
I was left with corpses in my stomach
I soon learned I would only ever be
A cemetery

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

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

It doesn't matter
if the glass is half empty
or half full
because it's already broken

nothing would make me happier
than to hold your hand for the rest of our lives
grow old with you
and watch our grandchildren play under
the magnolia trees in the summer sun.

Jornaleros que habéis cobrado en plomo
sufrimientos, trabajos y dineros.
Cuerpos de sometido y alto lomo:
jornaleros.

Españoles que España habéis ganado
labrándola entre lluvias y entre soles.
Rabadanes del hambre y el arado:
españoles.

Esta España que, nunca satisfecha
de malograr la flor de la cizaña,
de una cosecha pasa a otra cosecha:
esta España.

Poderoso homenaje a las encinas,
homenaje del toro y el coloso,
homenaje de páramos y minas
poderoso.

Esta España que habéis amamantado
con sudores y empujes de montaña,
codician los que nunca han cultivado
esta España.

¿Dejaremos llevar cobardemente
riquezas que han forjado nuestros remos?
¿Campos que ha humedecido nuestra frente
dejaremos?

Adelanta, español, una tormenta
de martillos y hoces: ruge y canta.
Tu porvenir, tu orgullo, tu herramienta
adelanta.

Los verdugos, ejemplo de tiranos,
****** y Mussolini labran yugos.
Sumid en un retrete de gusanos
los verdugos.

Ellos, ellos nos traen una cadena
de cárceles, miserias y atropellos.
¿Quién España destruye y desordena?
¡Ellos! ¡Ellos!

Fuera, fuera, ladrones de naciones,
guardianes de la cúpula banquera,
cluecas del capital y sus doblones:
¡fuera, fuera!

Arrojados seréis como basura
de todas partes y de todos lados.
No habrá para vosotros sepultura,
arrojados.

La saliva será vuestra mortaja,
vuestro final la bota vengativa,
y sólo os dará sombra, paz y caja
la saliva.

Jornaleros: España, loma a loma,
es de gañanes, pobres y braceros.
¡No permitáis que el rico se la coma,
jornaleros!

There is nothing in
this world that we
can get for free. Every
boy and every girl
were born with eye's
to see. While I was
walking down the
street a man did
approach. He asked
me for a cigerette I
told him I dont smoke.
later on that very
same man was driving
a brand new porche
it turned he was very
rich his daddy was a
morche.The moral of
this story we really
never know the score.
A little bit is not enough,
we all cry out for more.
So in time the man
died from cancer from
the cigerettes he smoke,
life can be a real big
game not meant to be
a joke. So remember
this suggestion do not
accept anything for
free. It may be the death
of you or maybe the
death of me.

Why do I crave
Your attention
This late at night
All I need
Is your breath
In mine
To stay alive

He thought of her laugh
in the wet winters,
remembering what it felt like
to live in the warm summer.

I was falling
for you

the feeling of
being weightless

the sky and
the ocean are
blue

like your eyes

your eyes and
Einstein’s brain

are the depths
I can never reach

but I will drown trying
to reach either or both

the lights flickered from the jolt of electricity

“CLEAR!”

the young girl’s chest bounced off the table and immediately back down

her eyes rolled back and then shut

“CLEAR!”

the other ER doctors pressed the defibrillator down with more urgency

and her body repeated the same movements
except this time the monitor flatlined
and she was dead

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.