I can’t make people feel things
Anymore
It doesn’t matter
Anymore
If I use different sp a   C in    G
Or

Stanzas

The broken poet
No rhythm
No rhyme
Anymore

Plane poems
Plain poems
Poems written on a plane
Poems written plainly

Inspiration struck
But not quite
Not quick
Out goes the candle wick…

Plane presses on my lungs
The thinning air on the outside
Popping ears on the inside
Plain seats, faces, copy-pasted

Cookie-cut, Repeated
My knees buckle
My belt buckles
Playing, plane, plain

Napkins greet me in blues and yellow
Bellowing clouds, smoke, steam
From the plains under me
Under the plane

Let me cloak you,
like a curtain of rain-
where time is sacred,
and touch is reverence.

We can unravel here-
not in sunlight,
but in the dance of moonlight,
where no one sees
how wild we burn.

Yet, my vulnerabilities fly,
And my walls rise,
rise,
rise.

And these glimpses dissolve
into cryptic riddles,
manufactured by my own mind.

In dreams,
I drown my demons
in pools of fog.

And in this dream,
we live out loud-
lips on neck,
unbound by time
or furtive affection.

When we cloak each other,
we trade truth for reality.
The kind that needs no introspection,
just seen in the soul.

If dreams were real I’d fly away.
I’d live in a place where monsters stayed at bay.
Our lives only controlled by our will and words.
There’d be no ruler we’d live like a herd.
We stay together, and leave no one behind.

No fights, no war.
No hatred, no discrimination.
No bullying, no torture.
Just us and our freedom.

So if dreams were real I’d sure not be here,
because our world is filled with monsters that are held dear.
We have no control, and instead live in fear.
Were controlled and taken, we care for no one but ourselves

Lurking in every corner of our would is satan.
Ready to spring at all times is temptation.
We need to be ready to fly away to our imaginations,
so this place can’t keep a hold on us, or our creations.

So go, and go now.
Try to find anywhere, but this world with no dreams.
So, good luck to you, and good luck to me.

In the ocean of life, I'm caught up in the waves                                        and they come crashing down on me every day                                                              ­                                                         Sometimes I can swim with it and stay above                                                            ­                                                       all  of the negativity it's made of                                                               ­    There  are the days where I almost drown,                                                           ­                                          everything in life is weighing me down                                                             ­                                                      I  reach for my life line, reach for hope,                                                            ­   but there's no one there at the end of the rope                                            Weather beaten tired and torn                                                             ­                 I am caught up in life's storm

Nothing can grow in the darkness                                                         ­            and that's why you've become so heartless                                                        ­                                             In  hibernation licking wounds of rejection                                       unable  to face your mirrored reflection                                               You've  planted poison ivy in your garden of pain                                                             ­                                           that  flourished turning the vines into chains                                now  you've grown with roots so deep                                                           unable to sow, unable to reap

You've changed so much, I don't recognize you                                                              ­                                                          We're  so out of touch, maybe I changed, not you                                                              ­                                                            You don't want me to grow, you know it's true                                                             ­                                                           but I already know you don't want me to outgrow you

Tree tops, tree tops,
Air swinging back.
Driving, driving,
Until water pops.

Fallen and dying trees,
who lived to help.
Wood that stands
With sticks as hands.

Hands that stay still,
As you go downhill.
The world follows
This oblivious drill.

Yet you drive and drive
Until water you find.

You’re an evergreen.
You don’t take to survive;
You’re a shelter for life.
If you drive and drive,
I know water you’ll find.

If you can still breathe,
It can still happen.
If you can still move,
Keep your pencil sharpened.

If you can see the dark
If you can feel the cold,
It means you still have a heart.
Just— your story’s untold.

Let your wings unfold.

Im not being rhetorical,
Or sarcastic, or philosophical,
Or any fancy, poetic way.
I’m just saying, there’s always a way.