Captivated but the light of a blissful day,
waiting to see the next dazzling array,
I have been lost in a daydream far too many times,
turning to words I want so badly to find,
a quiet place to trap my burning inspiration,
thoughts holding great pressure rivaling a meter ton,
pen tips cannot drive as quickly as the stream flows never-ending,
is it one more thing I think or merely my mind pretending,
the process often moves to fast,
making the scribbling of ideas a habit that never lasts.
Hard is it to catch those fleeting thoughts,
but just as devastating when those realizations are finally caught.

Time is a pendulum that never stops,
tick tick tick
Can you hear the change
Loud as a tornado in the night
Do you see the lines in the sand
Fading away into a blank slate
The morning chime of a new day
Do things are fit like in a dream
Can we understand just what they mean
The fog of haze slow to burn away
The steam creates a new vision in time
Because the pendulum may stop, but never will it rewind

There are times I use this paper and pen to unwind, or merely to start the flow of poetry.
But today I hope to share, a feeling far from despair, it is the love between a father and son.
As I was not there, on the day you were brought in to this world, nor was I the man that made you.
But from your third month of life, till this moment, I have been the only daddy you have needed.
I watched you grow, saw as my heart melted into yours, such love, such caring, such kiss and hugs!
Though you hold not a single biological marker, that I can call mine, no one has ever questions if I am your father and if your mine.
You are my greatest happiness, the light on gloomy days, and even when the sun is not shining, you are my little rays.
I will always love your mother, even though we cannot be together, our love will never suffer, I'll be your dad forever.
You are only three now, and see my love as icky, one day you will see that I was there for you strictly.
You act just like I did, my mom say a spitting image, you even got my shyness, which I had never envisioned.  
And although your skin is different, and in time you will see, I was not the man that made you, but I will foster the man you will be.

My son, I love you.

While falling into oblivion would be a great shame
It might be a pleasant escape from the world's torture and pain

Capitalizing on weakness and manipulated through fear
Boosting of truth yet believing everything they see and hear

One cannot work in absolutes with a rigid one-sided mind
Nor make logical decision when to anything but their view they are blind

No time for contemplating others in a partial calcified brain
Because that is the thought process of a person surely insane

For Neanderthals have little brains that when thinking of compassion, simply stop
As it's a sad state we few have the knowledge that cavemen think like rocks

I don't care if you don't like me,
The feelings all the same,
I don't seem to feel a bit guilty,
That you don't like what I wear.

I don't care about impressions,
Or what you first see,
Cause I am but an onion,
And there are more layers than what meets me.

I don't need you approval,
I can approve myself on my own,
Nor do I need to look cool,
Or show off my awesome phone.

I don't care what you think,
About my view of the world,
I don't care if you're offended,
When I look at you with bore.

But I do care if you love me,
Every good emotion I return,
Cause I don't care about your history,
As you get just what you earn.

Pressed into patterns no one will ever fit,
Holding on to the characteristics far too close nit.

It is hard to define what we see in a heart,
Often left searching for the broken part.

Chained to the pain of our own design,
Always unsure if we can change our minds.

Never truly seeing how much they were taking,
Of a broken heart, they were in charge of breaking.

Yet, we do not fit into tiny little molds,
To be conformed to what another's vision holds.

Only wanting to be our self and be truly loved,
Because a woman should not fit like a splinter, but tight like a glove.

The only thing I ever missed
Was the softness of her kiss
The touch of her finger tips
The sway of pleated hips
The taste of her skin
Feeling her from within
The greatest emotion
Embraced in tender passion
Wanting to feel her heated breath
Push for more until there is nothing left
Nails drive so deeply in seeking
Gratification expressed so sweetly
When she lays gently beneath me
I know I am hers completely
Loving her tenderly till an end
Only to finally realize
It's merely a dream again...

A brain that remains
Far too distant to refrain
From that thought of shame
That slowly turns to blame
Yet I will never complain
For a choice that seemed plain
In a moment, I had no choice but to claim
Never done simply for the fame
Initiating a coordinated change
Of the precious internal membrane
Drifting further away from lame
Treading on the board line of insane
A manic-depressive winding train
Ensuring I am never the same
As something difficult to explain
Existing on multiple planes
In a lifetime of pure strange

Broken.
Batter.
Heart abused.
But what is this lightness in my shoes.
The waters of change washing great burdens away in floods of emotional inoculation.
This raging stream within my heart, so rarely changing course, embarking found a new port.
I dare choose a certain path, for when I do, my heart will show and break the walls I have built just.
Perpendicular lines in a certain arbitration make for brutal collaborations in the releasing of frustrations,

Where my neck is pleasantly pained, my back shows marks of her strain, of passions so uninterrupted.
The deep diffusion so rapidly placed, like the strongest engine turning, on the verge of breaking.
I feel the tension of need, so accurately placed, like the invariable pressure felt by a diamond in rock.  
An embrace from the canines allows me to see, the limit of her threshold I am lust blind to see.  
Not anger, but an ****** loss of time, dipping inside your soul with fingers of my mind so delicately.  
Her pleasure is the focus of my passion.
Fully exhausted.
Loved.
Cherished.

It's a start...

Fearless from the start of the race rodents revere, lost fiddling with a purpose never truly clear.
How can feet carry you onto the path, when a weary heart lay beaten in the past.
Where can we run when there is no where to hide, how do we defeat that which pours from the inside.
In the bitter dust of an awakened realization, that this fear does not control the direction I've taken.
Still held in place by diminished memories, trying to envision the future that may never be.
But there were not enough colors to paint the picture, when the world in stuck in only a black and white fixture.

The deepest facets of a universes unknown, deeper still in the earth are truths yet at home.
How can we know when nothing is brought into the light, how can we see when those against us bring forever night.
To hide that which a heart seeks and often deeply knows, a thirst for a reality that only grows and grows.
We ever search in the darkness for those who will bring us to the illumination, those with mental fortitude and forced concentration.
The ones that strive for truth as a child strives for life, to bring us their wisdom in a war we eternal fight.
They wading into shadows releasing what they know with convictions, forever battered and bruised as the world contradicts them.
Born as light warriors into Fadernauticus in night, destroying fabricated walls that hold secrets and lies so tight.
Spreading knowledge through the air and in deserts far away, gathering learned people who want to listen to words these warriors relay.
As the greatest challenge is to push on to never thinking of turning back, to push on for a new world because we are Fade to Black!

Memories hang like pictures in synaptic hallways of electricity,
Waiting for a sound or smell to release their authenticity.

Flowers in the wind to oceans run ashore off in the distance, hard to fight a flood when we have no built resistance.

Can you smell the cherished past that hides inside the smoke, do you feel your childhood when the softest silk is stroked.

Fall into a daydream of times that have gone by, to live within the moment that often makes us cry.

To miss the ones forgotten in gentle summer breeze, caress the textured stone as we once again greet them on our knees.

But they are never lost for we are always tethered, trapped inside our minds in the pathways of forever.

Boiled blood will crystallize like razors in the veins, poison so uncivilized seeing kindness as so strange.

Attacking and belittling like a viper when they strike, pushing for the moment when a button says to fight.

So sad are poking prods forcing changes in emotion, the difference between hate and love is like a pond verse an ocean.

Always baiting kinder souls to break and cross that line, yet slithering into one that is worse will surely change the mind.

Endangered thoughts swim like dust through streams of warmth in the sunlight of the morrow.
Captured by our vision until lost outside the light.
As those aspects soon long gone fall to the ground in sorrow.
Stirred up only at the glint of an adventure into the night.
Lost in the winds of changes left unspoken.
Contemplation within dreams only dreamt while awake.
Hardly shed the words yet a bond strongest never broken.
Hard to know which is worse, the burned bridges, or the painfully open ones we rarely take.

Thinking of infinite manifestation of fettered frustrations left without a quiet tongue to relay them, filled only with logicless anger from the chemical overflow characterized by serotonin long gone, failing to see into those things from the beyond, yet in our imaginations all things come to pass, as things are merely things, until they have been set in your path, so then we must define them, critique, arrange and redefine them, we look for place to align them, finding in the end...we are them. Forever

Capillaries so ready for bursting, pure excitement that a blood is thirsting.
Exhilaration no closer than before, the feeling that you are always wanting more.
The thought of her sight fills me with pure anticipation, to which there is never enough accumulation!