I've noticed...
The way humanity thrives on depression.
When times are sad, the world falls madly in love with despair and clings to it like a fish out of water begging for one last drop.
What happened to the desire to live? To love? To breathe because the  oxygen invigorates you?
Man decays at the presence of joy. Why?
I once fell victim to the monster of misery.
We marvel at the melancholy melting away our hopes for ecstasy.
As we sit idly by, the fleeting moments of good never grace our beings.
Now that I'm in love, I loathe my past of taking pleasure in self-inflicted, nonessential, shallow, self-depracating, purposeless pain.
I'm happy. I feel it and I'm ashamed to share it and express it because of my former comfort in forlorn sadness.
Man must use every pulsing fiber, every flowing vein, every moving, living, breathing cell to escape this false sense of depressive contentment.
I've noticed...
There's life. And there's happiness to it. Find it.

I think I heard the sound
of every rainbow falling down,
collapsing into your veins,
capturing your smile and
painting colours in the
back of your throat.

I saw each and every colour,
exploding from your body,
I think I saw the sun rise
in your eyes,
I think I tasted the rainbow
in your kiss.

It painted colours in your lungs
and left its mark on your breath.
This is the closest I have ever got
to seeing colours,
let alone tasting them on the
tip of your tongue.

Within the four doors that make up my Hyundai Elantra surges gasoline of sublime ecstasy.
                I'm gonna lose my mind and sail the ocean.
               'Cause somebody told me there were cherry blue skies...
Reverberates my radio and pours out of my chords to the tune of the bliss hiding in the highways ahead of me.
Sometimes, I let my voice steer the wheel and my hands touch the happiness in the follicles flying through the winds of the roads.
Other times, I drive without reason--
Without a destination or time limit or objective.
I drive to dream about
                Waking up too early
                Maybe we can sleep in
                Make you banana pancakes
                Pretend like it's the weekend now...
Or to caress the breeze of the sunset's gentle gust grazing my fingers and the spaces between them.
On the surface sits a black car, but inside travels the life inside of me that I cannot manifest anywhere else.
As
      Don't stop believin'
      Hold onto that feelin'...
Turns the corners and the lyrics to my wheels
      Come crash into me...
I can't help but thank the gravel that I drive on and embrace the euphoria that I breathe in and love the life that I live.

The stars from where you stand seem to shine brighter.
Forming a shrine of life, your stars send me through to you like a push-and-pull ocean tide.
Adorn my days with your light and show me the infinite trail towards passionate serenity.
If I stretch my hand way up high and let my fingers fall into the graces of your palm, will you hold my feelings in the form of a fist and fight for our love?
Sometimes I question the quality of life with you and I realize the quantity of pain without you--
Unbearable by now to leave you.
And then I know the answers to all of my questions.
When the stars shine, they shine brighter
Because of you
                   and me
                        together.
They shine brighter from where we stand.

War no more is just a saying.
We say it to make us think we're not playing,
But it's just a saying.
Fighting battles fueled with zealous gasoline,
Going nowhere but to death.
Cold, cruel, clean.
Stop pumping in the hate and learn to appreciate the innate magnificence that the world can sprinkle like a drizzle of sweet, sweet beautiful rain.
Erase the pain and baseless fury,
And hurry towards peace.
Too many die young and too little live long.
War no more. Close the spiteful door and explore the beauty that's worth breathing for.

Writer's blocks build walls of divide.
On the one side jump experience and feeling and emotion and thought, but on the other sit the words that rest in my mind and refuse to wake up from their pesky slumbers of stubborn laziness. All it takes is one word to smuggle itself passed a crack in the wall and there's a melody of language. The ideas can shoot itself only so high without its counterpart on the other side helping it reach the top. Oh writer's blocks, please stop mounting yourselves on top of one and other. With every solidifying brick, another word slips away and slowly writes itself into a permanent shut-eye. I know you mean no harm and simply want to exist in the struggle for perfected poetry, but my life currently lacks its  therapy. I appreciate your necessary hindrances, but if you could help me harmonize my mind and soul, I'd value your necessity much more.