When people ask me
Why poetry
Why not pick a paying profession

Take hold this truth
That I'm laying on you
In which there is a valuable lesson

If you do what you like
You're going to find
Life holds treasure in wonder

Instead of the dough
Taking you out in its tow
And then pulling you under

When you're doing things
Think more the gifts they bring
And not money to be made

When people ask me
Why poetry
Do I really need to say

it comes and goes
no clear pattern
no clear reason
it's here one moment
then gone the next

there's so much
I want to say
but i don't know
how to say it
how to get it out

it's stuck within me
trapped, yearning
for an escape, a glimpse
of what the world might be like
if i knew what to do

but the thing is
i don't know what to do
nobody really knows
what they're supposed to do
what i'm supposed to do

here i sit
tapping out words
trying to focus my feelings
into something that
can be understood

understood
not just by
the people who
happen to see it
and make my numbers rise

but no
understood
by me
because i don't understand
myself

in my life
i've been creative
and changed who i am
to fit who i was
"supposed to be"

acted happy because
i was too young to be sad
acted amused when
it was the wrong time
to be depressed

acted strong
when it was stupid
to be weak
acted mature
when i was still just a kid

but now
i'm not creative enough
to write
or to act
and i don't know who to be

i know what i want
but is it what i want,
or is it only  
what i'm supposed to want?

how come
when it came to
pretending to be
someone else
it was so easy

but now
that i'm trying to discover
who i am
i cannot?
who am i?

Ravenous tranquility of the clay lips
Moistened by the bloods tiny sips
Fangs pierce deep into mortal wound
The bride's hatred hidden and perfumed

Motherly wings wrap the gentle soul
Feast filled at Satan's empty bowl
Squandered hopes paralyze with fear
Vanquished all but the final tear.

Darkness lights the path to hell
Loneliness is the only place to dwell
Round and round the light spins
Night flooded with her ghastly sins

Ravaged arms punish loves demise
Blood pours from the stricken eyes
Gentle lamb and a wooden cross
World's tumble with such a loss

Screams and pleas from bruised knee
Through open window they failed to see
Every thing was perfectly said
Lonely and tortured in the lions bed

**** the night and curse the day
As soaked line begins to fray
Flickering candle gasps for air
Wavering prayer reaches great despair

Clawing open the blackened wings
Satan and his angel sings
Glory to the fallen child
As love becomes delicately mild

Pierced navel and broken jaw
Back and forth sharpened saw
Final pleas for loving arm
As no one meant any harm

Darkness covers the day
As he chose not to stay
On top of blood soaked ground
Place a heavenly mound

Tears upon tears upon the sheets
Rhythm no longer gathers beat
In loneliness love lies still
She failed to pay Satan's bill

Shall there be the day
The heart will no longer stay
Will the arms to heaven high
Reach after the gentle sigh

Will death befall passionate love
As war removes the white glove
Will blood spill upon the ground
As the knee bends on the mound

Long after the blood is shed
Love will rear it's ugly head
No matter the cost to the heart
Love will remain a lonely part

Other hands upon the  tangled web
As the flow removes the final ebb
Nothing but dismal visions remain
As time has invoked lasting pain

Silence falls upon the screaming voices as the lights grow weary. Tiny beads of sweat paralyzing, vitriolic taunts of the demons dance begin. Puddles form upon the heart, the masquerade covered in the nights blood. Prayers for darkness extend to the fathers tongue. The curse of the mornings light, begs for deaths door. The river follows the burned channel, as agony stains the cheeks. Loves mark, tattoos the memories, and haunts the web. Grasping for something greater than air, loves grip tortures the soul. The light  promenades the corpse to the blinded eyes, as mockery hides the night. Bastille's hold falters not, death awaits before dawn's prize. Happiness squandered with premises of a future. Silence, silence, silence, rocks tumble no more. Padded hope brings a moment's relief.