I was in a dream
Or so it seemed
I was in a River
And I heard a sound that made me quiver
It was the call
Of a water fall
Or rather a roar
That shook me to the core
And I tried to fight the current
But I was caught in the torrent  
So what could I do?
Then someone who knew
Called from down below
“My dear fellow!”
“Just let the water take you”
“But I will be pummeled?!”
I shouted above the rumble
“You shall be bruised but the water will push you through”
“I know this because I went through”
So I let off from from the fight
And woke up in the light
Twas merely a dream
But this mirrored my life it seamed
For struggles were full in me
But it was He
The one too whom I bend my knee
Was the one who put me here
And because of his care
Brought the torrent
That was to me abhorrent
But it was for my good
And now I understood
That was for my betterment
God the trial had sent

The beat was our hearts
We both new our parts
She was the melody, sweet and vibrant
I was the harmony, strong and steady
Even when we were silent
We made a perfect melody

If you were to write a story what would you do with the main character?
Would he start off small?
Then grow tall
Only to fall?
Then with the fall comes some great epiphany
As he faces his fears
And all the crowds cheer!
Would your story end there?

If you were to write your story how would it go?
Would you pass over the trials?
Would you skip all the miles?
Would you go straight to glory?
Would you tell your past story?

If you where to rewrite your story how would it go
Would you add all the bad?
Would you go back and edit?
Would you make yourself forget it?
Would you take away past memories?
Would you add greater journeys?

If you changed but one event in your journey
Would you be ready for a different story?
Would you face the new you?
Would you want to change?

If God where to write your story would you be mad?
When he makes you go through the bad?
When he makes your trials?
When he makes you walk the miles?
When he holds you from glory?
When he was the one who gave you your past story.

If you want to change
Make the exchange
Put away pleasure
Face the displeasure
Change your ways
Quit dreaming through the days

It is up to you
God made you
The end of your story will bring him glory
You can fight against his way or accept his story
Face the trials and walk every mile
Till this life does vanish like the vapor it is
And you go on to be all his
But the choice is yours
The rest of your story lies through those two doors.

What form of art do I chose today?
Is music my way
or shall I paint the suns golden ray
Nay
I think I shall write today

What is riches to a dying man?
What is fame to a drowning man?
What is glory to a lonely man?
What is talent to a broken man?

What are these things to me?
What are these things to you?

Do they hold a place of high worth
And for them all your effort you put fourth
Oh, how temporal our minds are
And how fleeting our desires are

A void we try to fill
A deadness we try to heal
A soul we try to revive
A corrupted heart we try to make alive

But for what, a moment of better feeling
But for what, a second of happiness that does not help the healing
But for what?

What words of comfort my I give?
I know not your pain
Your life I have not lived

I know not what to say
I cannot promise it will be better
For I know not how your troubles are arrayed

So again I ask what words shall I utter
To a man or a woman in the midst of struggles?
I would merely stutter

But I will go to them
I will sit in silence and hold them
And do my best to help a friend

When my lids are heavy I do write
For that is when creativity is at it’s hight!

When dreams run wild
And I am as free as a child!

When waking is hard to keep
And all others are asleep.

When the sun is down
And all is quite in the town

When the Moon is up
And I think about my screwups

When the night begins
And my mind spins

When my lids are heavy I do write
For that is when creativity is at it’s hight!

My heart
It fell apart
Looking at it now
I wonder how
It could ever be called art

For people have spoken
That you can be beautifully broken
But I fail to see
how this could be
For I feel like a mess when I am heartbroken

When things fall apart pick up the pieces and make some art!

Your language is dreamy
And your thoughts are gleamy
But why should I read them
Might my eyes fall upon some more desirable emblem?
No I read another poem
For they are all handsome
And I might get a crumb
From those who know how to write a poem.

Woke up this morning without you
How could I have been such a fool
Your hands are holding another
Your lip another does smother
But what shall I do without you?

Words words words
All I have is words
they flow
and go
to no one knows where
Oh how I fear
Oh how I tremble
Then of a sudden
a new sensation does **** in
Maybe love
Maybe just the thought of a dove
It is troubling to be in a state of flux
Where you are lost, it truly *****!
Lost in a world of words
And endless imagination
Have you been in such a state
Passion does over come
Have you been called dumb?
But for what
For stuttering over words like “but”
Twisted in mind
I see many kinds
I insert them in wrong places
And take others out when they are right on the pages
What, you do ask, am I describing?
Or have you already considered me disturbing
For you can not track the motion of this rhyming?      
Well if I can let me explain what you’ve read
You’ve
just
been
inside
my head.

Now tell me where this has lead?

Words have weight
Cast a rude one at your mate
And he is bound to hate
Toss a kind word to elevate
And he will elate
Try it so you can relate
If what I state
Is true or inaccurate?

How many times must I open my heart
How many times must I play the lovers part
Just to be told it ends tomorrow
Just to be filled with sorrow
Some call this brokenness a work of art

I Just feel torn apart
My heart has been run through with a dart
I bleed out my sorrows
And am found dead but not till the morrow
This could not be art I’m just a spare part

What if we just watched the stars
and waited the sun?
Unless God tear us apart
We would never part.
Till the time did come
And the morning was done?
Would that help you to see
That you are everything to me?

Would you walk with me
Down all life dreary roads?

Would you listen to me
Down all my mental rabbit holes?

Would you hold me
Through the dark nights?

Would you kiss me
Though I may be as stupid as can be?

Would you?
Oh please don’t lie
Tell me the truth!

I’ve been played before
I’ve been drug out the door
I’ve been thrown in the mud
I’ve been through the flood

So please don’t take me there again
For I have already been
And I don’t want to take you there
For I am sure you’ve had your share

So darlin would you?
Oh darlin could you?
Just let me know!
Don’t let this all be for show!

Write about your feelings
Write about your dealings
Write about your emotions
Write about your notions
Write about anything you want
Write about what does haunt
Write about your life
Write about your strife
Write about your happy times
Write about it all in rhymes

Reach but you shall not attain
The glory of a great writer
Never will I gain
For I write but I am not a writer
So I only feign
And now I weep for I can not be a writer
All my work is mundane
But I desire to be a writer
And will continue to go through the pain
Though I will never reach the hight’s of a writer
I will go until I wane though all call me insane
All to be a writer
All to be a writer

You walk through life with your arms wide open
Which means you catch quite a beating.
But to tell the truth
If you walked through life secluded
You’d miss all the blessings
And you’d be second guessing
The purpose for your living.
For in extending your arms
You catch the falling charms
That others do miss
By simply making a fist.