A year ago I was sitting in my room
dropping out of college
I found a pen and an old notebook
which I got for my creative writing class
in high school
So I picked it up, unsure of what was going to happen
but I wrote a poem called in my dreams
without meaning to
Dude, poetry is gay
but It seemed I had a taste for it
a week later I was writing to drown out the sound
of my roommate fighting with his girlfriend
and the couple was born

I was a secret drop out
I even made up a class schedule
so I would go at varying hours on varying days
to any cafe which had cheap coffee and free wifi
and I would write these ****** little poems
saved in a google docs folder called
poetry
I used to ***** around on the web too much
stuff like stumbleupon
and I found all of you beautiful sons of *******
a strange old website called hellopoetry.com
facebook for those young or foolish enough
to call themselves poets
I was skeptical
I’ve never been a fan of other writers in my atmosphere
but I’ll be ****** If I didn’t fall in love
with the ***** old dog
I wrote and I wrote and I wrote
I may not have been the best
but you can’t spell prolific without pro
and when I finally hit
100,000 views
it was like losing my virginity all over again
only not as awkward and drunk

I’ve been pottering around on here for a year now
and every person who read my work
every angel which clicked follow
Got to see me bang my head against the keyboard
in dark rooms on even darker days
and they’ve seen some of my best work
definitely some of my worst
and I’ve met some genuinely great people along the way
I only hope that you all know who you are
So let’s raise a glass to the year passed
and celebrate
a bunch of wild poet… things
and here’s to another year
of weird little poems

In between the drudgery for hard prose called bread
pick up the hum of a pulsating thread
string them in mind give them a name
frame it in print outline of a poem!

It can be raw ripe cored and sweet
it can be anything but never complete
bitter nut cracked a songbird's tweet
the only opening heart's only conduit!

It can be anything untimely summer's rain
a pain unknown raindrops on windowpane
a sigh muted happy memory's fountain
tears for losing what would never come again!

Hold it for life for all they are worth
to breathe out the prose breathe in rebirth
in colors and shades tastes bitter sweet
a poem that is anything but ever complete!

There's something beautiful
About the way
Your lips speak my name,
And the way
Your fingers fit perfectly with mine.
It's beautiful
How your smile
Pierces my heart,
And how your eyes
Pierce my soul.
There's something beautiful
About your soul, my dear
And the way it intertwines,
Perfectly with mine.

The comfort and warmth,
From the brown bark of trees.
An arrangement of letters, books are my disease.
To read and to read until my eyes are weighed down
With stories and poems these words bring around
To read is an adventure, another life beside yours
Another world you can enter, somewhere safe from the storm
That bashes and booms outside of you door.
When it ends, for those final few pages
You mourn.
As another day starts you choose something to read.
An adventure, a terror, a knight in good stead
To whisk you away to a place not your own
In a readers life, you don't have just one home.