To give life to the inner workings of my mind I ink the surface of these pages with secrets untold,
A breath of fresh air is this release of suppressed expression that now flows freely,
Life is but a muse to the poet’s pen.

Poetry is a universal language that defies all boundaries,
Such serene stanzas touch souls with hidden splendor,
This prose awakens dreams in the heart of the wanderer,

Lost is the mind as it travels across the words on display,
Connected is the spirit as it creates meaning unique to the self,
Life is but a poem waiting to be discovered.

Some say,
laughter is the
best medicine.
While I have
found that to
be true, it's
become so
cliche.
An axiom I now
live by is that
mushrooms are
the best medicine.
Perception's door opens
wide, and my jaw aches
with laughter.
I can taste blue and
green, and hear
tulips sing lovely
ballads for the
squirrels that have
forgotten where they
buried their nuts.
I train my poems like
circus bears.
They rarely maul me.
And, just between
you and me,
The Birth of
Venus painting that
hangs above my
writing desk vibrates and
pulsates like the
Gulf of Mexico.
That red headed
temptress dances
seductively, long into
the night.
And now,
my kittens think
it's funny to
meow backwards.