Coming face to face with myself
I stare into the mirror and don't
Like what I see. I want a better
Way of life, I want to feel at
Peace. Though many times I
Sabotage my structure I have
Built, I have to start all over
Again and try to make it this
Time without killing myself.
I see others who are happy
And joyful, I want what they
Have but if that means I have
To bow down to someone then
I don't want any part in it.
I have grown up in an
Atmosphere of do what I say
Not what you see, that has
Lead me to many questions
About where I fit in the scheme
Of things. I placed trying to
Belong so badly with the world
And the people in it I that it
Only caused my downfall. I
Turned my back on what I was
Taught was right, traveled down
A dangerous road of hell, demons
Had my soul, only to come out
Of it with an experience of what
Not to do. I played the victim for
So many years that it's a wonder
That anyone likes me, I would
Cry a river, sing the blues, every-
Thing looked dark and bleak that
Others didn't know what to do,
So they left me be. I found a way
Out that made sense to me, I no
Longer crave attention but rather
Give it to the ones who matter. I
Have stepped across the threshold
Into a new and wonderful way of
Life that needs no commitment but
Rather a little bit of effort on my
Part. It's called surrendering my
Inner being to a higher understanding
That I am not alone anymore, that
The Universe wants to hear from me
And all are beautiful in a beautiful sort
Of way.

I see pretense
I see acting
I see someone I barely even know
I yet to see the real you

I see you pretending to be everything you're not.
Like an actor in a movie carrying out a scene.
But know this..
I yet to see the real you

The love, I have yet, yet, yet to know.

I love you
I hate you
I love you
I hate you
Cliche
But it's true.

How have you managed

                                                   to break down my walls



                                 

                                   with a small plea




You have unraveled me.

a thing lacking in beauty
finds nothing of joy, ever;
it's uncomeliness increases
and will never be celebrated
an unsightly recollection

passed on each generation,
so make the most of opportune
moments to leave a mark
whether in ugliness or beauty
kindle always, that inner spark*


●○
°

War has no meaning, I am often told,
By men who haven't fought them.

Those who have fought are the silent ones,
They rarely recount the horrors of violence,
The existential crises, and the exhaustion.

War is not purification, it is a subjugation of the notes of life
That seem to tie humanity together.
I have seen the weight of my burden, the mortar shells haunt me still,
My service pistol lies under my pillow every night, because habits die hard.

There isn't much sympathy, nobody understands the implication of duty in combat,
My medals are just silent pieces of shrapnel that seem to bleed with the souls
Of those men I could not bring back.
Where is the enemy, I wonder, who was he, the shooter the dark,
Or the suicide bomber, the ******? I wonder if he feels the same
As I do, duty comes with a weight that bears down on my spine,
And bends my spirit.

He noticed her way out into the crowd
When he saw her smile it was as if everyone else around him disappeared
He felt the urge to talk to her
He wanted to touch her
Not in a ****** way
He wanted proof that who he was looking at was not a hallucination
He waited until she was sitting alone with her drink
He walked up to her
Stuck out his hand and introduced himself
She took his hand and as soon as their palms touched
He experienced something he never felt before
His blood turned cold
He had goosebumps rising on every inch of his body
The only noise he heard was his heart beating
He forgot how to breathe
Time literally stood still once their hands met each other
Without thinking he stared at her intently and said

"I want to know you
I want to know everything about you
I want to know what kind of music gives you chills
I want to know what your passions are
I want to know what you look like when you first wake up in the morning
I want to hear your laugh
I want to make you hot chocolate on a rainy day
I want to carry you into the ocean
and kiss you as the waves dance around us
I want to do everything and anything that makes you happy
so that the spark in your eye never goes away
I want to know you on the outside
I want to know you on the inside
I want to know your flaws so I can love them
I want to know what makes you cry
so I can protect you from pain because you are way too beautiful to cry
I want to know your heart
I want to know your mind
I want to love everything that makes you...you
Can I know you?
It would be an honor to know you"

He had no idea why he said all that he said
He didn't regret saying any of it though
As he turned to walk away
Convinced he had scared her off
She took his arm lightly and said

"It is nice to meet you
It would be an honor to know you too"


This poem is dedicated to my Mother and Mike, the wonderful man that makes her happy.

I'm having an affair with words
They take away my breath
Words tell me what I need to hear
Without missing a step

Words work on my emotions
I'm transcended by their displays
There's legitimate anticipation
Within each and every page

When I look away for too long
There is a longing that takes place
The wonder of conclusion
Vanished, without a trace

Words help me to liberate my own ideas
In the subtlest of ways
Or when my faith seems in doubt
I am enlightened by a phrase

Their sense of humor is unequaled
Words teach us and inform
They can be as cold as ice
Or soothing, kind, and warm.

Words hold many of life's answers
To questions that we seek
When written, we can convey
Much more than when we speak

Words empower, words are strong
They help decipher right from wrong
Words can guide you,
Lead you home
Words are your friends
When you're alone

Words can help, or they can harm you
Depending on their use
Words can fool you, or misguide you,
Lie, or tell the truth

What I love, are words' transparency
Written right there in black and white
If misconstrued, words can lead to tragedy
Although the stories' plot is trite

We must take part in the mastery
Of each and every words avail
So that the notions we wish to ration out
Are nothing but...
The finest of detail.

Precision personified
Never at a loss for words
Or ****** with a mouth for war
That's when devastation's heard

Instead, a calming smoothness
Inspiration from inside
This, in my opinion, is the greatest use of words
And the peak of humanities pride.