Beneath every grass meadow,
sun dropped slowly as night.
littlest, bitterly hacked, rises.
begging and glittering,
it wanted to drink each cloud as I emptied any fearing between two psicodelic forests and left this sailor dance under high stars.
Watashi no nagai natsu. (my longest summer.)

the thing about school
is it kills beauty

one does not learn to appreciate
a painting by analyzing brushstrokes,
shading,
one does not learn to appreciate
a poem by analyzing metaphors, similes
form, structure, rhyme.
one does not learn to appreciate
a sonata by analyzing cadence, melody
rhythm, harmony

we love art because when we
look at a painting, we see life in its most
basic form.
we love literature because when we
read a poem, we understand the beauty of
the world.
we love music because when we
listen to a sonata, we can hear the fabric
of the universe unravelling.

dear teacher
you cannot teach us these things
because we feel the earth in our bones
we hear the wind and it echoes in our soul
we understand the way the sunlight falls
over each and every one of us

and we know what it feels like
to be alone
to be alive
because that is how the world works

you cannot teach us how to love
one does not learn how to breathe
you just
do

Freedom was close to me.  
She never did want me to see.
A pain undone
That nobody could bear to run.
  
I went to a few concentration camps.
There were several big lamps.
They searched in the dark black nights.
They held all my frights.
  
Then came my pebbles.
One was round and marble smooth.
There was no dull for its color shone
I bid farewell to the dullness of life and the dullness of prison.
  
Size was fair in my twisted little game.
Pebble One.                           Pebble Me.
Pebble Two.                           Pebble Brother.
Pebble Three.                        Pebble Mother.
Pebble Four.                          And Pebble Father.
One was found.                     I saved my life.
Two was found.                     Welcome Brother.
Three was found.                  Hello, Mother.
  
Where was Four?
I would bother to save my Father.
There it was.
My hidden rocks.
One, two, three and four.
  
Some say that there is tricky feat called a cheat.
That is not what I am.
To cheat means one is beat.
  
I am not what beat is.
I am what a treat is.
Mother shall have her house.
Brother shall boast in his bed.
I will have all the bread.
Father will have freedom that is not forlorn.
  
The pebbles are what kept us alive.
It is as if we are stuck under a beehive.
One came out to sting.
With that sting it took every single thing.
  
The Russians came after many years.
I would have cried but I had no tears.
My life was fuller.
My soul gained strength.
Marion B.  
Had the strength to know when to flee.

Sometimes she is a child within mine arms,
Cowering beneath dark wings that love must chase,—
With still tears showering and averted face,
Inexplicably filled with faint alarms:
And oft from mine own spirit’s hurtling harms
I crave the refuge of her deep embrace,—
Against all ills the fortified strong place
And sweet reserve of sovereign counter-charms.

And Love, our light at night and shade at noon,
Lulls us to rest with songs, and turns away
All shafts of shelterless tumultuous day.
Like the moon’s growth, his face gleams through his tune;
And as soft waters warble to the moon,
Our answering spirits chime one roundelay.

My nervous system's oxytocin production has come to a holt
So please darling, value what I had given you
As that was the **last dose of my love this world will ever see

Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers burn and rave,
And only what will injure them do crave.
Men's weakness makes love so severe,
They give him power by their fear,
And make the shackles which they wear.
Who to another does his heart submit,
Makes his own idol, and then worships it.
Him whose heart is all his own,
Peace and liberty does crown,
He apprehends no killing frown.
He feels no raptures which are joys diseased,
And is not much transported, but still pleased.

It takes one
To earn one
But everyone
Deserves one
Smile

Flowers rise in May of each year,
The colors so vibrant and new,
Exquisite ways to say Spring is here,
But none of the flowers are as pretty as you.