Desire and dreams,
lofty clouds casting distant shadows.
Momentary shades of calm,
convert to blinding flame.
-
Torpid question marks rearrange
exclamation points.
Hues of commas and periods,
vibrant adjectives and adverbs.
Grunts and growls of wildered existence.
Perpetual noise.
Such picturesque nonsense.
-
Belief of charging knights
and moonwalks
decay to disappointed waistlines
shaky hands,
confused with living.

What beautiful strangeness,
the prospect of becoming.
-
Do we chase the shadows or create our own;
flourish roots
with ardent fingers?
Imagine with ferocity
enriching curiosity?
-
Dig deep, my child, and know you're real.
Or don't
We are substance and shadow,
words of florescence.
Or won't
Disheartened by cruelty
unfamiliar reflections,
resigned to naked truth.
Or can't

Do we accept,
or will we refuse?
Inhaling why,
exhaling when.
-
Blooming breaths
Horizons anew
Warmth of sun,
serenity of shade.

Seductive little lies
escape your lips
like lullabies.

Truth is but daydream
when I dance between
your thighs.

If morning comes,
I'll greet the sun
and wake
from toxic
ecstasy,
but until then
I'll say amen
and worship
every second
with a lustful
apathy.

What can you hold,
with hands made of fire?
Attempting to warm
those lost in the cold;
pining to dispel
the darkest hallways.
Do I help,
or do I harm?
While intending
to inspire...
am I setting lives
on fire..?
Lonesome embers
leaping from my lips
and fingertips
of flint and steel...
should I keep them
to myself?

Passion spreads
like a forest fire,
Forgive me
if it burns,
I have so much
left to learn.

How do you lay flowers
on a grave
of something still alive?
Haunted by
the amogheist,
do we mourn
or
should we rage?

To be aflame
in the throes
of passion,
warm and comfortable
only to remember
how cold
the world can seem
when fires
are extinguished.

Memory can be
a blessing,
or a curse.
Do we haunt
or are we haunted?
Left with words unsaid
and eyes
bathed of
fading moonlight.

Grateful to be reminded
of a flame
thought dead,
but lamenting
the knowledge
of how fleeting
it can
be.

There are dreamers
in the sunlight,
away from
beds of warmth.
Images and wonders,
a theater
of possibility,
performing behind
the eyelids
of modern
troubadours.

Poets in
moonlight,
but actors
by day,
weaving
fairytales
of color
in an age
imbuing
grey

I will die,
but what am I?

There are footprints in the dust
behind me,
for a breath of seconds,
the span of decades.
They fade to breeze,
like echoes of a nameless lullaby.

I gaze at my hands.
The veins shrivel,
muscles deteriorate,
bones crumble.
In the minute vastness,
I see a reflection,
distorted by mortal
destruction.

I push forward.
Daunting truths
reverberating,
like hymnals.
My steps will,
one day,
cease leaving marks and
become part of
the dirt.

In a space of unlimited
light and sound,
What am I?

“Your existence is a burgeoning leaf,
growing and breathing
to change with the passing of seasons
and one day…
Let go.
Carried by the wind
to destinations unknown."

In a sea of vibrations and
energy,
what am I?

"Moonlight in a shadowed forest.
Tenacious wind, unfurling sails.
A bird building nests
through a storm.
Impassioned tears, of a lost love.
The distorted reflection
staring back
at you.”

Through all the screams
of arrogance
and shame,
An ethereal voice
continues to
chant.
What are we,
in a land of eternity?

"You are more and less than egos know.
Countless footprints
are left to dust,
but each one in the same.
Every step
and grain of sand is
you."

What are we
in such a fragment of the
cosmos?
What are we,
in such fleeting of moments?

“I am everything.
You are everything.”

One day I will die
…but what am I?

Leave me be,
enveloped and enraptured
by the poetry of silence.
A private island
in a sea of faces.
Wistful but aware,
between
elation and despair.

Please forgive my
love of solitude.
The people of this world,
too beautiful for words,
are better from a distance.
Their voices,
a far off fanfare.

I feel safer here,
beneath a shield of
tranquil secrecy;
keeping a heart slowly healing
from wounds of long ago.

I have no shame
to hide from pain.
Would you deny me solace,
nestled in a home
of loneliness?

She used unspoken parts of me
as if they were discount treasures
in a thrift store,
tossing them away just as casually.
The violet version of me
waiting for a dance,
in the corners of my mind.

"Time heals all wounds."

Well,
years have passed,
and I can't find them anymore,
the loving whispers and tender fingers.

I built walls without a door,
for romantic ghosts
to haunt a lonely king
in an empty castle.

You've been drowning too long.

Break the surface,
fight for air.

Your burdens aren't too much to bear.

You're all alone,
but so am I.

Expand your soul
and learn to fly.

The world may never love you
but you can love yourself.

There may not be a helping hand
but you can heal yourself.

Awake, my child.
There's hope ahead.

Stand up, my child.
You're far from dead.

The world is on fire,
and we are the flame.

Ignoring reflections
when we are to blame.

Pointing our fingers
while causing the pain.

Battling evil,
though spreading its name

Our lives are on fire,
with no king to reign.

Just hearts in a graveyard,
avoiding the shame.

Into the woods my path may go,
where flora whispers to shadow below
Lose your feet then you might see
my phantom in the willow tree.

Perhaps the mountains call my name
to catch a beast no storm can tame.
With every precipice I'd know
an answer hidden in the snow.

But every stream heads to the sea,
where depths are raging, wild and free.
Endless waves, a soul of blue,
the water sings for me and you.

The sky may be a road as well,
far beyond the gates of hell.
May clouds and starlight fill my eyes
until my "wandering" finally dies.

Paths to travel, roads to meet.
I feel the world beneath my feet.
The universe has opened wide,
for heart and mind to step inside.

There is salt within these bones,  
akin to carvings on a stone,
made by ancient men
who left a mark,
to lead lead their weary feet
back home.

I've dug among the dirt
and I've sailed along the seas,
searching for the answers asked by questions inside me.

The salt,
the sand,
the sunshine,
took my body for its own.
With memories of my travels,
I can know,  
at least,  
I'm not alone.

But perhaps,
in time,
instead of being tattooed by the Earth,
I can leave a lasting fable
of a boy who found his worth

I wish to topple wicked kings.
Rage and slice the hidden strings.
Watch the temples burn and fall,
lead revolts and breach the wall.
I have no wish to take control.
There is no "greater" noble goal.
I have no plans to own the land
I want no people to command.
The only thing my heart desires,
is truth unbound, unyielding fires.
To see the world without the veils,
as evil dies and good prevails.
The kings of man who lie and scheme
to spread their fear and vicious dream
will watch their statues disappear
entombed against a new frontier.
I wish to topple wicked kings
rage and slice the hidden strings.
I'd gaze upon an empty throne
if I could just defeat my own.

I barely dipped my feet
while you dove head first,
into treacherous waters,
seeking enlightenment
only to find each euphoric second
drip away
draining your sea.

Ten dollars a hit,
five dollars a hit.
"I promise I'm finished,
I promise I'll quit."
A cost higher than you imagined, unfortunately.
Not just for you,
but me as well.

We got high in the mountains,
dilated eyes gazing up to the stars,
seeing God masterfully paint the universe.
It was beyond description.
Then...
it ended.
I treasured the memory like a secret lover
you chased it in fervor,
one after another.

****** powder dripping from your nostrils,
hiding holes in your skin,
you stared in my eyes claiming you saw the heavens,
opening your palm,
as if you held the key to paradise.
I closed it and offered mine,
a key to escape the unseen prison
you've bound yourself in.
You frowned and turned away.

I wanted to scream,
whisper,
plead...
but I said nothing.
I let you sink farther and deeper into chasms of the deep.
Merely, watching.

Now I sit here at the edge,
with the waves around my feet,
watching your figure disappear
into the foam
and the unforgiving jaws
of choices you've made.
Forgive me.
I gazed into the abyss while it swallowed you whole,
I could have done more to save you.
I should have tried to save your soul.


**...but I didn't...

Welcome to the world of no direction.
Just paved roads and dirt paths leading to...
nowhere in particular.
A job you despise.
A family you never wanted.
The land where you don't even step forward anymore,
because you're used to ten steps back.

Southern in creed but envious in nature
Chasing the silver screened gods
who tell you,
"Anything is possible"
I guess I can't disagree,
but I want to **** the messenger.
I guess I can't complain.
But I never feel spectacular.
Young in spirit,
but my body feels the weight.
Generations of turmoil passed
down, and down, and down...

I want more than this.

Dear God,
let me be your Solomon.
Ask me what my heart desires.
I will not tell you a limitless bank account.
I will not ask for a beautiful reflection.
I only want peace,
an placid heart.
Wash away this electrified rage within my soul,
and let it spread into the ground I tread, Oh Lord.
Give me peace.

I will work until my fingers bleed and push until my lungs are empty.
Just let me see something else than this,
other than my destructive apathy.

If the clouds give no answer, and the sweat reveals no treaure,
what else is left?

The last bit of strength that says,
"No, I will not give up. Not yet."
Keep driving around these empty roads.
Searching.
Longing.
Hoping.
That one day we can find what you need,
and if it never does,
give me the wisdom to see our existence
with brand new eyes.


Whisper into my ear, oh southern bards in the setting sun,
*"There's always room for a second sight
when you reassess the world
and take a path around the red light."

The honeysuckle blooms,
emitting fumes,
of blissful change
and sweet delight.

The dripping of nectar
through colorful rays,
soothe and sway
an endless day.

A season to die,
a season to grow,
an ocean of time,
the ebb and flow.

Winter is waiting with songs left unsung,
but now it is winter and life is still young.

Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.
I am,
like my species,
young.
Naive in mind,
Reckless in heart.
Wild in thought.
Spontaneous in action.
Good and evil are not born from sunlight.
They did not emerge from the soil.
Whether through confusion or fear,
we created it.

Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.
We build and oppress ourselves.
Constantly raging violent wars.
Closing and opening wonderful doors.
Heaven and hell
exist
inside of us.
It's our choice which one
spills
into the universe.
Though our history seems so vast  
so countless,
we are still
young.

Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.
Singing and screaming into a sky full of stars,
hoping that someone will take pity on us,
will understand us.
will guide us.
So far no one has.
So we build our own towers.
Fabricate our own explanations.
Dig our feet in the dirt and defiantly say,
"We know the truth!"

Forgive us.
We are young.
We know nothing but think we know it all.
I think I know it all, but I know nothing.
I am young.
Forgive me.

Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.
In the quiet vastness,
our planet was born.
We crawled from the sea.
Filled our lungs with oxygen.
Molded our bodies to the craft.
Forged our minds to the art.
Millenias of trial and error,
leading us to this moment.
Never forget.
We are young.
Though cruelty persists,
virtue exists.
Always remember.
We will survive.
We will overcome.
We still have a hopeful spark
in our dying world.
A species of dreamers
whispering into the unknown,
"Have patience with us.
Have patience me."

Turn the lights off and let me see you bare.
Even in the darkness,
all I want to do is stare.

Fall into the sheets
and tell me what you crave,
I'll let you whisper secrets,
if you let me misbehave.

The words are softly spilling
from your breathless wicked lips,
they make me grin in pleasure,
with my hands upon your hips.

The time for talk is over,
with my face between your thighs.
You come across an angel,
but the devil's in your eyes.

We both can drown in ecstasy
while the world ends in our kiss.
Climb on top of me and moan,
as we meld
into the
bliss.

I want a life of quiet wildness.
A soul roaming free
in a forest
made for me.
The steady
drop
drop
drop
of rain landing on each leaf.

Ive been running through the green in my mind,
while walking through the day to day.


A safe haven of feral peace where I listen to a loud world through the ears of a quiet spirit is what I require.


The world seems to be getting noisier,
but the untamed parts seem to be vanishing.


Like entropy,  
is the beautiful chaos seeping out of the world...


...or out of me?

It's our choice to gaze into the crushing weight of hell and howl the word
"No."
It is not our job.
Not our duty.
Of this we are not required.
With ease can we close our eyes and allow despair and time to rot our bones, decay our souls;
gently allowing ourselves to become a
fractured stranger.

This is our choice,
no matter where the fingers may point.
Though death may take us
and pain may shape us,
by our own volition do we decide the internal outcry against malevolent depths.

Find the strength of a mountain fighting the year.
or silently hoard through bank vaults of fear.
Persevere or surrender yourself.
Against the weight.

Choose your fate.

I've been living as a flame without oxygen, warmth and fury underneath the skin without a means to breathe.
Attached to that which gives me life,
or at least the illusion of it.
Fire needs fuel
A spark remains
This world is cruel.
Oh please explain
Why do I feel my spirit growing weaker every day?

The energy from within is not what it used to be,
and I am the only one to blame.
Relying on fleeting sustenance
while the true hunger
wears and tears
my cares and prayers
making me think I'm beyond repair.
I've been searching for nourishment in all the wrong places,
while my soul accepts defeat
and my embers all deplete.

Yet...
that voice has never silenced.
"It's not too late to change.
It's never too late to change.
Stop your life and rearrange,
the puzzle of existence that seems so concrete."

If my essence is fire,
then let it become
Unbound.
Untethered.
Expound.
Unweathered.
Give me strength to burn away the artificial reality I have created;
become a creature beyond reason.
**A dying phoenix on a path to be reborn.

I want to fall into the arms of nothing
before the cold enters my bones
and freezes my spirit.

I want to laugh in the face of darkness before becoming the punchline.

I'd rather die with my boots on,
full of life
and a warm roaring flame,
than stumble into the snow
and collapse;
the blizzard of time stealing  
my hope for a better tomorrow.

I pray to you, soul of the colors, and Lord of the stars.

Give me strength to never surrender the aroha coursing through my veins.
If the laughter and music fades,  
allow the shadow to clasp my hand
and lead me away from the temptation of deterioration and apathy.
Allow me to be free.

I drink too much and love too fast.
This life of mine's not meant to last.
The world I seem to occupy
will never see me eye to eye,
when rules which bound our fragile lives
will leave us fractured,
in disguise.
But if I went a differently path,
and found some peace in all my wrath,
could I escape into a realm
where'd I'd be captain at the helm?
Rid my soul of all the fear
that there is only order here.

Do not follow what they say.
Don't just live from day to day
Fight away the "nine to five"
and find what makes you feel alive.
Be strange.
Be weird.
Go search for you.
Climb the peaks and sail the blue.
The high you'll feel is not unreal
just emptiness you wish to heal.

In places where my feet have tread,
I never fail to leave a mark.
Remnants of a pensive light,
or wreckage from a noxious dark.

I will walk away a failure
if behind me doesn't yield,
the tattoo of a memory
or a scar that never heals.

Warden, I have a question, answer if you will.
You think you'll ever tame the beast inside who's always hungry for the ****?
Do you believe these chains will save you when I sneak off in the night?
Or will you lock the door and cower by the bed in shameful fright?
Oh do come closer, don't be shy.
I want to look you in the eye.
Do not blink, or you may miss
the deepest parts of my abyss.
Feel the rage and look for aid,
go through pages on the shelf,
The only truth which you may find is that you brought this on yourself.
So keep me here, starve my soul, fracture the walls that keep me sane.
I'll howl and gnaw against the bars.
Deafeat the fear, embrace the pain.
Just do yourself a favor...

Pray the damage that's  been done is something I can overcome,
because, if not,
I'll  never stop
until the world around you rains with ash
and smells like putrid rot.

The good die young,
or so I'm told.
I can't help but agree.
If I whispered this in your ear,
would you mistake my words as a cry for help?
I promise you, It's not.
Let me tell you what I fear.

I don't want to grow old
and watch my body decay,
wave as the child within sails away.
Turn into another taxpayer
trimming the hedges of my perfect little transparent existence,
desperately searching
for the moment when I
gave up.

One day I will become the soil,
this I know,
but must I first become a rusting foundation;
the remnants of a castle long after wonder love and freedom have been stripped away?

If the flame of my anatomy has an inevitable destiny
of being smothered by the weight of torment and time,
than I'd rather my soul depart
while shining at its brightest,
so I can find my way through the darkest of mysteries and discover a place in the
loudest kingdom of silence.

Burn a bridge between you and I,
if that's truly what you want.

But...
Let's hope,
for your sake,
I do not survive.

'Cause if I do,
I'll come back stronger.

I'll build it once more,
frame by frame,
for the sole purpose
of walking across,
to drag you to your knees.
in front of
me.


...before burning it back down myself...

I needed you to tear me apart.

In your hands,
I built a caricature of what I thought
Joshua
wanted to be.

Then I stood back and watched you burn it to the ground.

I needed you to break my heart.
I needed you to set me free,
so I could find myself once more.

Now,
even while I love
and despise
your hideously radiant
soul...


I guess I should thank you.

I look inside your fragile head
and saw the terrors which you dread
I whispered, "You don't need your meds.
I'll hold your hand on paths we'll tread."

Unfortunately.
I guess it didn't matter what I said
when you just let him in your bed.

So now you'll be alone instead.

I’m the man humming to himself in the corner.
The one you will not notice,
until ten years down the road
when it’s last call,
and the dance floor has begun to clear.

When you are left all alone.

                                But that is fine,
                                                           I honestly don’t mind.

   I have a flask in my pocket and the taste of trouble on my lips.

I do enjoy dancing now and then, but never mind going home alone.
Sometimes it is preferred.

You will walk up to me
    and timidly ask
                              through drunken words
            for my hand to dance.

I will smile and answer,

“No.”

Then I will softly brush away the tear running down your cheek
and leave you to drown
under all the bridges you have burned.

No other task have I witnessed more arduous,
than crawling out of the filth of our souls.
Black stain of self destruction,
the cynical hatred of life clinging to each heartbeat like weeds on a home
once majestic,
but abandoned to ruin.
Such frustrated sadness in the hindered steps of a man retreading the same path,
searching for confidence which waits off the beaten trail.
You can teach the tools of self discovery,
but cannot force hands to wield
while they fumble over unnecessary burdens still being held.
The world does not corrupt us,
we corrupt ourselves.
We build the walls around us that become a sanctuary or a prison,
but no wall is strong enough to withstand the will of a determined man.
Find your courage and I'll do the same.
We can crawl away from the putrefied ruins and be reminded of who we once dreamed to be.
Destroy yourself and rebuild again and again until you are monumental once more.