The turn of a lip, the rise of the cheeks, that smallest action that makes my heart skip a beat.
Often they come with the cheapest of prices, even produce through electronic devices.
Other times, not even all the money in the world could entice one.
They are made for love, made for laughs, made for fond memories flooding back from my past.
Unrestricted in pleasure, forced in times of pain, there is not much better, then kissing one in the rain.
Some say they are small, some say they are trivial, but to me not getting them in life....unlivable.
Starting of excitement, cleanse away anger, the best thing to see when you first meet a stranger.
I'm speaking of giving one to many, but only really to one of a few, she may not know, but this is for you!
A smile costs nothing....yet they will change your day...
So, Smile.......smile away!!

Why break unto the will of the suffering when the summation of the whole amounts to nothing.

We can hold on to oversaturated dreams that portray a future not yet broken.

However, that past is where a misery is left, choking, a soul of unbreakable will with love.

Much like a moth diving into the most beautiful flame,

Expecting to be warmed rather than burned alive, but from the inside.

The internal struggle of aspects far deeper than the sum of four simply arranged letters.

From the habits we have to every emotion we display,

The meaning that fits between the space of each letter is an infinite array.

The construction of the connection so strong, it is only bound by the effort given in pursuit of that bond.

But like a pond still as glass, there is more underneath the surface for which to grasp.

We tread through life with water like emotions, hard and cold or warm and soft.

We take flight to places far beyond, breaking through emotions bonds to a new state of mind.

A soul so confined to infinitely roam, having lost the line that ties to the reality, stingingly true.

A wondering light, often too bright for others existences, never choosing a direction of conception.

But with the detection used by inner wisdom of once overturned beliefs, a soul that learned.

In the end there is little we can do to affect the grand design, to change the laid path or rewind time.

We are a grain of salt, melting away...

Much is lost in moments....A broken dress string...a broken cigarette....

The light from a star is never more near to your eye...than music to your ear.

Thunder may break...neutrons may shake, but light is still the fastest way to travel.

For I do not know what the end brings....but I can hear the song play...people dance...love.

You say your cigarette won't light....it's too dark.....my dress string broke....I am not pretty.

But the lunacy of counting cars...straightening cards...ensuring obsessions are filled...not forgotten...

Is my front door still open..........or is it merely the worry of precious things...left unbroken.

Lightening may strike...electrons may excite....But light in your eyes astounds...people look...beauty.

Bummed cigarette.....safety pin fix........Much is lost in moments..

In darkness I once sat, feeling, pining, and wanting to forget.

But patients heals the heart, giving love a new start, and a place where it is fostered and cared for.

So in darkness I must grow, so in light I can show, that that which did not **** me, made me stronger.



As the hurt has subsided, so have I been reunited, with the person I had worked so hard to create.

It is no longer a trial, to raise with that smile, that even broken teeth cannot defile.

For as darkness changes to light, my phoenix takes flight, and the fire that burns inside still remains.



It is not out of spite, but a personal fight, to bring back the lion that lives inside me.

So I give thanks for the lessons, the late night confessions, and the times that will never be forgotten.

But it is not the end, but a beginning again, of something quite different from how it started.

The thorn in the brush,
The thorn in your side,
The thorn you contend with,
The thorn you despise,
The thorn that goes on, long after you are gone,
The thorn that sings your passionate song,
The thorn that makes a roses life go on...

Into......

The rose in the bushes,
The rose of your eye,
The rose you hunger for,
The rose you admire,
The rose that always keeps you close,
The rose that writes your marvelous story the most,
The rose that is reborn under the protection of the thorns...

As I watch you sleep, you wonder through vivid dreams,
This must be the reason for your kicking and muted screams.

As you slept, I held you so tightly, even though your naked body excites,
Which is a blessing on cold winter nights.

But as morning creeps in and the light starts to begin,
I create with a tiny lick, the most arousing sensation.

And as her vestigial legs slide so easily, I being the lovers embrace,
Bathing in her ocean of taste, great emotion fills her face.

"Oh, I am sorry sweetie, did I wake".... "oh no my dear, I did not want an oversight,
For a wish or a dream in the night, a touch so softly, there is no fight.

I figured I would stir you in the seeking of a snack,
But don't you worry a little bit, just relax and lay right back

For there is no greater act, then to lick our passionate parts so sweetly,
In between your thighs, while I drive my tongue so deeply.

But what I do with my tongue at midnight, when there is no one around to hear the yells,      
I would go into more detail, but a gentlemen never tells!

The highest mountain rock falls to ripple
In the lowest fountain water
There is no time to stop,
For we are merely landfill fodder
Most burn the candle at both ends
To some that is very quick
Yet others have no ball of wax
They merely torch the wick
I do not say a Plain Jane life
Is a not stray in any manner
One could not make me trade my weird
Even if using a hammer
It is not that I am deranged
Rather it is that I will not conform
I refused to tear my fabric
To yield to any twisted norms
While the strange societal few
May only be fodder for the gristmill
We are lowly forceful water
Bringing highest mountains to rubble hills

There is no speed
No distance vast
Strong enough to exceed the blast

The beauty has no singular compare
More like all things combined as one
One that no words could possibly share

Yet when staring at the burning heart of dying star
There is cool, calmness that evokes compassion
In all beings as we forget just who we are

Deep within the shattered matter a singularity birth
Set to feed on an umbilical meal of helium fusion
Never an illusion to the mass gravitational worth

A neutron core wrapped in superheated love so tightly
Yet a billion years is a moment death
To a hydrogen star that shined for many so brightly…


……….BOOM………

In the forest of my mind,
Few words are ever spoken
Sounds are lost in the distances,
Thought become so broken

Shadows casting daydreams,
Which my darkness cannot release
Singularity in Sunshine of a future outcome yet to cease

Finding only stillness in balance of the off centered night
Wondering whether my body,
Or my soul,
Will catch flight

Soaring above the emotions ebbs,
Of imaginary flows
Trying to avoid absolutes,
Inside tumultuous lowed

But perfection is elusive,
Like a sun that sets in the east
Never change to something,
That does not call to your inner beast

Internally we see the thoughts of grown incineration
A challenge of the right for pure chaotic contemplation
To replace the patterned reverberation of the status quo
Into the things we strongly talk about and often burn to know
Not the fodder that wastes the precious ticks upon the clock
But those of substance that provoke intense curious thought
No more sticking birded heads into glowing TV filtered sand
Now is the time to hold ****** dreams inside your very hand
Gone are the days of holding smoldering feelings in silent
Now we see the weaknesses and now we see the triumph
For we each imprison the Brightness that burns in the ever dark
Forever-hunting shadowy places just to bring a light's spark
We fight unto the darkness to remain inside the light
Within the very soul of us, not merely day or night  
As we try to fall away from dark world bent on decay
We bring the light by eating spoonfuls of sun everyday!

You sit there staring at a man I hope to be
Imagined only through your radiant eyes
Just like the woman, I profess to see
That you would meekly disguise

You tame a lion's flaming mane
With the loving waters of cooling rain
Never the enchantment or baited wish
A steely promise of love never diminished

I long for mornings with your touch
Afternoons wasted on guilty pleasures
The distance is not really that much
Yet I fail to say, I miss you beyond measure

Fondness is what grows in my absences
As we move away from our own past tense
Into a new life, destine for loving light
Set on a path we could never fight

When storm clouds rain,
it absolutely pours,
and people still walk in and out of stores,
and the sun will shine very soon,
because no matter if it is June,
or possibly May,
a good rainy day can cast your troubles away,
I do not mean the liquid that falls from the sky,
but the kind that are emotions and rush from your eyes,
the things you hold back until no one sees,
the thoughts that eat away at you like a perilous disease,
when all you have to do is release the gates,
just breath out all the hand and body shakes,
listen to your blood move a methodical rhythm,
like the drums of a marching band when the spirit is within them,
push away all your worries and false clad frustration,
and when you stand at the edge of comprehension with egotistical hesitation,
that what you perceive as a cliff was never a fall at all merely the crack of a larger foot print that show you just how small.....you really are...

Twisted recollections
Superficial self-esteem
Boorish charms exceeded
Only by a dream

So cocky is the strut
That often shows the stature
For the nature of the beast
Becomes its hidden disaster

Calculating deeper calamity
To justify split design
Depicting cheaper denominations
Harden psyches face decline

Epithetical clichés inanimately
Falling like all conjectures
But no closer to actuations      
Only changes without measure

If it is a penny for your thoughts
how about a quarter for your secrets,
the ones you always try to hide
until others reveal where you keep it.

Shiny calcium structures hidden
behind stout oak closet doors,
stained with shame and guilt
most assuredly, they are yours.

Locked in soooo tightly
how much just to take a peek?
thoughts seemed to be on sale
I wonder what's up this week?

A thought can hold an idea
but a secret can hold a dream,
thoughts are ever fleeting
only once can you crush esteem.

Thoughts come cheaply
secrets are worth so much more,
some thinking is on the surface
while beliefs are to the core.

How do I perceive this?
How do I react?
I had to address this,
I was quite taken aback,
The astonishment,
The surprise,
It is really difficult to believe
What I view with my two eyes,
And the more to the point,
What I hear from this guy,
I am not sure that I get it,
This may be a joke,
But that guy just slapped my ***
And blew kisses as he spoke,
Now I am no hater,
But I do not swing that way,
So instead of being violent I turn and politely say,
"If you slap my *** again, sir...you are gonna have to pay?"

Continuous reflections of every light that passes,
The detection of my eyes as water simply dances.

Stillness shows a shimmering reverse dimension,  
Tires break the water shattering buildings in its reverberations.

Tiny droplets hit the glass like little expansions of reality,
It is often sad that wet blacktops lead to many fatalities.

But despite the flaws water at night is still the greatest,
Yet the warmer rain brings the sweeter kiss.

In the midst of a rainbow one I cannot resist,
But as we drive down the path.

Seemingly dark and dampened,
You grabbed my hand so tightly.

I never saw the edge of the road,
Flying through the air.

The water seems so very cold,
Now a love of something leads to never growing old.

Beauty is what
Beauty is thee,
Beauty is whatever the ******* see
It is a flower,
It is a tree,
It is in thee,
Can't you see,
Beauty is where ever you'll be,
The sun,
The sky,
Your light,
I see,
All within the scope of beauty,
Again we cross,
So bright,
Yet clean,
Beauty is what I see in a dream,
Beauty is what I mean,
Mean to dream,
Forever a theme in a hallway unseen,
For a beauty so demandingly obscene
It is potent,
It is powerful,
Undeniably supreme
Passion,
The fire
The beauty in between,
This has to be a dream,
Her beauty makes me scream,
I am unclean,
In the love I am serene,
But my beauty is the monster,
I choose to let run free.
Beauty is me!

Can you smell the little pastries cooking down the hall
Can you hear the sound as my heart begins to crawl
Interlaced corridors of cordial metaphor
A coffee cake pace in a curious position set a forth
Can you see how sensual measures make me shake
Can you feel that you are my love's potentate  
Lost in a scatter-brained impulsiveness to force annealing
Chasing that radiant love that feels like constant healing
Knowing that it is pouring in half of your soul
Knowing that equally given will always equal a whole    
Giving all the potency of love a spirit can possess
Realizing that Love was never really a test
But more falling into a breathtaking abyss
Lost in the epicness of her every kiss

I.
So long are the thoughts of someone so beautiful
pulled in by a vision of body and mind so young
chasing inspiration to steal the gaze of a woman
like a fire that burns so to a heart seated in passion
and even harder to fight the warmth of attraction,
yet a gentlemen waits until he is given the pleasure.
II.
In a moment, one can see his eyes filled with pleasure
given a glow whilst reflecting something beautiful.
She never shies away from the design of his attraction,
hard to build a foundation on a ground yet so young.
Yet there is no limit, even one such as age, to limit passion,
rarely does time measure wisdom between a girl or a woman.
III.
His pheromones work magic to his beating heart for a woman.
She seeks to be the resting of his desires that fulfill his pleasure.
There is a slow creeping thought that feelings are merely passion,
and there is little but a burning lust rather than something beautiful.
Harder are the connections with the ones who venture young,
but an old soul has the experiences that altered fates attraction
IV.
There are those who walk away from such an attraction
Envisioning a different path with an older woman
Seeing little to gain mentally from a person fairly young
Never realizing that her mind was always his pleasure
Not just intellect, but thoughts that were oh so beautiful,
With words that reflect such a bright heart of passion.
V.
No matter resistances or distances, their connection is their passion.
They write to impress one another, flirting to increase the attraction.
Displaying their hearts for each other in writings so beautiful,
many poems composed for and because of, a certain woman.
Never by touch but a pen evoking feelings with written pleasure,
sharing in a cryptic way the hidden feeling from when young.
VI.
Still one cannot find the power to resistant a flower, young.
Merely looking for a fuel to fire our deepest passion,
never forgetting the strength of giving pleasure.
Baring his shyness to show complicated attraction,
in the pursuit of a hope that she is no ordinary woman.
Like hoping on a sunrise, but knowing it will be beautiful.
VII.
Intricate is the passion in the face of his attraction.
So too is the zeal of the wanting young woman.
Still the greatest pleasure is that she is beautiful.

Penetrating deeply into a heart much colder,
Gone is the time for need of a comforting shoulder.

Sympathy and caring far less then genuine,
To the realization, you are not a patient of mine.

Seen as a sight of angelic manifestation,
While truly a heathen of antagonistic isolation.

A heart that bleeds for others without a witness,
But trying to shrink your head was merely witless.

Trying to fix aspects that I felt were broken,
Only to see they were merely ways of coping.

With problems that inflect both of us the same,
What I view is my own scope, is not always that insane.

So I see what I see, and I feel like a **** heel,
But one does not always find the need that they feel.

The day that you made me, planned with such care,
the greatest moment, you could see in my stare.
I was not so varied, so different from the rest,
but the love that you gave me, would make me the best.

Year after year always so loved, always in your highest grace,
sometimes it seemed over my own blood, but this was not the case.
For you loved us all equally, and always so meekly,
the only difference was, you loved me uniquely.  

Fathers always think of passing aspects on, while mothers rarely do,
but the only person I will really carry on, is only you.
Always my friend, not a secret we keep,
my closet is your closet, and those bones never speak.

I wish that I could say, you taught me everything I know,
however, the best lesson you gave me, you taught me how to grow.
The greatest words you gave to me, "do what makes you happy",
and living by this expression, I am never lacking.

My heart is not the biggest though many would disagree,
you're the reason I'm so gentle and loving as can be.
There are no real words that capture, the feelings I aim to relay,
but I write my thoughts down anyway, and hope it makes your day!

I love you momma...

Behold, the broken soul
The pain of others drips from angry teeth,
A true destroyer,
Willing to destroy his own world to decimate yours,
Hate cowers like a ***** in his presents,
Passion in veins colder than ice,
But still truer than a touch.
No amount of bleeding will suffice,
A price that stops short of my life,
Store bought anguish,
But you cannot reside where this pain lives,
You wanna fight,
I wanna bleed,
But we will only feel a need,
For all the sorry's said in jest,
I am not the boyish clown,
You already know I am the worst,
When it comes to girls, I'm gonna flirt,
But I always came home to you,
Never lies, only hard *** truth,
I never meant to be so ruthless,
I am merely akin to pointing out *******,
And when you speak,
I have no doubt!
Cause shity words come out of your mouth!

The most elegantly glimpsed aptness of blue,
So colorfully unique in it's intending,
Of the brightest pastels found inside the Louvre,
In the depth of the sky in it's ever mending.

A cascading stain above as the dawn breaks,
A changing shade away from night brings a warming tone,
The vastness of profundity only seen in Great lakes,  
These dripping streams of patiences are not yet overblown.

A color we bleed when we need a companion,
The tint we see in oceans at the eye's length,
And fills the sky on the most stunning day in the Grand Canyon,
The deepest blues are seen in weakness and less in strength.

A chagrining emotional torrent coursing to a commotion,
Water flies above as airy type materialization,
Seeing spirits crushed by the weight of a winter squall Atlantic ocean.
But reveals a illusive blue when in a frozen glaciation,

The most beautiful blue is so intrinsic,
Like the inner part of the flame burning insistent,
But with far more life that is so simplistic,
Whereas my life without blue is nonexistent.

There is a very fine line between a heart and a mind,
That are often confined to the smallest of spaces.

For each logical burst, there is an emotional explosion,
leaving very little room for any actual collusion.

Logic is the mind's steady locomotive moving along,
Often derailed by the most violent emotional bomb.

Emotions are the heart's scorching streams of fire burning hotter,
But are easily cooled by buckets of logical water.

The battle between these two is as epic as tectonic,
But possibly far less visible than supersonic.

The internal conflict rages on to yield one winner without a doubt,
Typically depending on the one we most needed out.

Of all the issues that were disputed by the other,
Like making the correct calculations or choosing to spend time with a lover.

His constant burn in the absolute black
Is the forever warmth to which she attracts
He sits ever still merely watching her lingering gravitational slow dance
Gracefully spinning she wonders if touching him is ever a chance
Blasting his light on the side she shows the most
She knows his brightness is always close
In the darkness his fusion burns
So he can light the universe just to watch her turn.

So, just how ugly can you get,
stuck between your tongue and lip,
the rudeness you display,
and viciousness you let slip.

But I am no angel,
even if I harbor the name,
yet, I do not need to be rude to those who under me, remain.

Being the better person,
does not always mean walking away,
it means watching what you say,
and what you verbally ******* think!

If a person takes the time,
to lend what they have to say,
take a moment to listen,
give them the right of way.

But the kindness in my heart,
wants to beat your funking ***,
cause you lack solidarity,
and a single ounce of class.

Because all I see is rudeness,
that you relay your inner heart,
and this makes you the weaker...from the very start.


Rudeness is weakness.....and one day I hope you see,
that due to the way you act,
Love will never be given for free.

Catapult cherry bomb metaphors
Like pestilent adolescent authenticity
No sharper then dull is the witless then before
Yet we ignore constant facts that lack congruency
Purely a jest to elements of a vicious nature shown
A lead lined carpet with no broom large enough
Hiding only chucks of self that fade to dust
Pyrex houses have shorter lives when granite flies

Butterfly, my butterfly; You touch my hair so sweetly.

Butterfly, my butterfly; Sad Star can only stay so briefly.

The nights that I stay, are always the ones I cherish,
The nights I am away, are cold and lack your appearance.

You touch my heart like the morning sun kisses the frozen flower,
Giving life to a new day, when past, dark clouds overpower.

You lift my spirit, when she breaks me down,
You never hesitate to lift me off the ground.

And even though you say, Star treats you better than the others,
Pain is still yet too close to make you my lover.

It is not for lack of love, Star la la you every day,
But even you are having trouble pushing the past "him" away.

Butterfly, my butterfly; Your Star cannot hold you tight.

Butterfly, my butterfly; Gently held with fragile hands all night.

Time could be so beautiful, if we gave it half a chance,
I can play the stronger man and you can be all sassy.

If you would only cuirass, as I have always done,
We would not have to let down our guards, to have a little fun.
                                            
Butterfly, my butterfly; My love does not come out just right.

Butterfly, my butterfly; You will have me completely one night.

Just give me time to heal my heart, so I can keep from falling apart,

And you will have your Star.

Cryptic quotation offer shattered self-esteem
No solace for the personality flaws
Not quite the proclivity for annihilation
Yet, every stab at the paper breaks new teeth
Curious is the looker who looks through filtered eyes
Even still, there is no need to protest
An awkward moment of exaggeration
Or a sardonic belittling of subterfuge
Coordinated to change the sided nature of self
Crowned by the masses so intimately
But without a shred of deeper connection
And the line grows longer but no one knows why
Blind are bridge jumpers who love high numbers
Just like you never hear of lone sheep
Is everything so tragic…

She is so tender, she is so sweet,
What did I do to deserve such a treat.

From the first moment, from the vision of first sight,
I knew I would be writing, about her by the end of the night.

The look of her beauty, her words my delight,
I would give almost anything, to see her again some night.

But it is my shyness, that makes it hard to utter,
"You are unbelievably beautiful, do you have a lover?"

I may be too forward, or too arrogant to say,
I would do anything, to remove clouds from your gloomy day.

I know I seem like a ******, but please don't have a fright,
I merely offer friendship, and maybe to fulfill an appetite.  

I wish I could say in person, what I thought when we first met,
It would be much better, it would have been a time never to forget.

I always miss your presence, when the sky is clear and the sun shines so bright,
and forever sleep so soundly, when your thunder gives others a fright!
You are my patron power, the strength I command with a warriors cry,
You may not be the father, but I will worship you till I die.

My Norwegian blood calls, to the longship and coldest seas,
I long to sail as my ancestors once did, and put my restless soul at ease.
I offer my devotion and ritual now and again, and you have always helped in every strife,
Although I'm not a warrior and never killed in a fight, I am a scholar and defend knowledge with my life  

I tested your power, when I wore a younger mans shoes,
Now I see your tenacity, and I know I will never lose.
I wait for the day, when I pass into a forever tomorrow,
For I will be in Valhalla and in your presence, there will be no sorrow.