I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Today I’ll ponder,
on these scars.
Tonight I’ll wish,
upon a star.

Tomorrow may bring,
another wound,
but wounds can heal,
if treated soon.

Yesterday,
I thought of death,
and felt the wind,
sigh with his breath.

Not today,
he whispered clear,
perhaps tomorrow,
but do not fear.

In the end,
he comes to all.
The weak, the strong,
the big and small.

He’s timeless and constant,
Death’s always “been”,
and he has no pity,
foe or friend.

He’ll lead me on,
to the unknown,
giving me the thing,
he can never own.

So I will not fear him,
and I shall not fret.
For tomorrow,
has not happened yet.

They say, all good things must end
forever in your breath
your memory is my only companion
the pain afflicts

I am only your memories.

i wasn’t scared of meeting you
and not feeling a single thing
i was scared of not meeting you
and never knowing

i’m almost certain
that we’d feel something
so why couldn’t we
just try?

feels like putting my hand
on something sharp kinda day
invincible temporary, of course
fight the system on a february dawn

where the lamp's lambent spheres
bob in and out of existence
as the sunshine overcomes their presence

first kiss with you, like hands
dancing in the fires
trying to stay warm in the winter light
an ogre of a dream, a curse to be this shadow

compared to the glow of an angel like you

Bite down hard.
There can be no question of who’s in charge here.
There can be no doubt about the alpha- sheep.
Make sure you hit an artery; we can not allow that kind of blood to flow unbroken inside their veins- and remember that we are only trying to help them remember their place. Because we love them.
Stand back, and let the smell attract the vultures.
Let the laymen see-
EXCUSE ME EVERYONE, THERE HAS BEEN A BRUTALITY
And make sure you lick your teeth clean.
Make sure your breath smells like honey.

Strip them, strap them down, parade them through the public square, declaring,
LOOK AT WHAT THEY DID TO ME.

What a spectacle.  

Why can’t we all just make peace?