Some things shatter
Some things bloom
These words illustrate that perfectly.
Broken pieces
Now seeds.
Buried deep
Growing peace.
Something shattered
Something bloomed
A crash
A boom
In an empty room
I once was a poet
Today I’m a poem
Fragmented
Retracing my steps
Finding myself in the empty.
Galaxies between words
Worlds from previous dropped pins.
I dropped pens
Knowing I’d search again.
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 8:31 AM UTC
What is beauty?
Beauty is...
lines and curves on faces
eyes nose mouth
shapes
some characteristics culturally specific
others set apart one from the millions
combinations
chemical reactions
products of love, circumstance and above all
biology
a natural art in itself
The way it is
a wonderful way
the fact that the beauty
of another human being
like you in more ways than not
can render you speechless
mesmerized enthralled
by something so commonplace
that you possess it as well
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
You forgotten color you
no real word rhymes with you so
you’re only rhymed with slang
sign of autumn
complexion of jack o lanterns
patterned with black you are the color scheme of a holi-
well horror day
you are
the color of the sky when
moon relieves sun
you look good with stone washed blue jeans
sun dresses of your hue please the eye
elmer’s glue nozzle tip
you are the good OJ
no gloves or lame *** raps
most important you are my mother’s favorite color
for her to love such a weird tint
just marks the seed of a weirdness that I now embrace
orange
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:31 PM UTC
Love would be disappointed
to have such an unloving act performed in his name I
guess there was more fish present than I stated
and I was selling them
So afraid to hurt her that I hurt her
A secret turned flame of truth
because that’s what fire does
Two wrongs don’t make a right
just a broken heart
shattered
and we blamed it on love
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:30 PM UTC
We only meet where lips meet
soft sweet your scent
smooth your skin
perfect if I ever saw felt or tasted it
plays back like my favorite thing
song movie video
dream
I meditate to you
so I can see you in my sleep
your hair brushes my forehead
our sweat mixes creating
a love potion potent
with potential to end hate as we know it
our lips lock like front and back doors in the hood
tongues tie like two way races
skin to skin we share faces
**** air I like your breath better
we make different shapes but they all feel the same
flawless
vertical horizontal
open closed eyes
high off of your air
breathless
my fingers long to grasp yours again
no umbrella yet the rain doesn’t seem to touch me
I’m all yours
at your disposal
shelf me until your lips want more
I’ll just be waiting
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
You’ll never hear the words
If you don’t listen
Recognize your worth
Beyond the sheer appeal of your reflection
Express yourself
It’s never too late to live
But if you’re not living your dead
Be the change you wanna see
Life’s alphabet starts with u
Know your favorite song
And play it til you hate it
Sing it like you made it
Appreciate all the beauty created
Even the stuff you gotta tilt your head to understand
You’ll never be perfect
But If you were you wouldn’t learn anything
Then again how would I know?
I’ve never been perfect
Everyday can be awesome if you let it be
Bad days only exist when you label them as such
Don’t think
Hush
Find your metaphorical paint brush and get the stroking
Give life
To whatever you touch
Think lush
Rather than not enough
And begin your awesome day with
A goodmorning
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:28 PM UTC
Do things just go black like the tv at bedtime?
I had this belief that on the day of your death
you feel complete
No one around you knows unless you tell them
The scary thing about death is it’s unknown nature
So used to living I can’t imagine not
so used to motion
emotion
thinking and feeling
Do we really fly?
Of all those to die,
I’ve never had the chance to converse with one of them
If curiosity kills this cat
will my questions ever be answered?
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
There are three sides to a story
and I've shied away from each
lost my touch I've grown so numb
to my own feelings
now a new language that I'm
in no way familiar with
only fluent in silence
My problem is inspiration
before long turns to disinterest
will to a won't
or a can't
or a don't
so I don't
try
words are objective
their meanings subjective
so splattering words on a page
like paint on a canvas
or colors on the world
is a step in the right direction
a try
a seed
that will hopefully grow into a
strong poe-tree
with multidimensional branches
that I can climb to escape
But there's no escape if I don't try.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 12:29 PM UTC