Why do I hide behind these lies?
Is it the fear of losing solace?
And when I look up at these skies,
the rain keeps falling,
         down the gutters,
                    my heart flutters,
                                my mouth stutters,
We both know hurricanes won't mix,
we tried all the tricks,
even looked for how each clock ticks,
after years and years,
           tears and tears,
                      fighting fears,
                                peers will leer,
But my brain rains these thoughts,
wood from shipwrecked hulls will rot,
and I just sunk the whole lot,
after you just ran them across the rocks,
are they for naught?
            did we ever have a shot,
                       or stand a chance.
                                  even if the sands,
of time fill these wounds,
and we split to different lands,
try different goods, see different hoods,
new bads, new goods, I don't know if I should.
                           Surprise! This flood has no bad blood.  
                                         But the currents are strong as ever,
                                     So cold they'll cause a fever,
       but so hot she'll make you believe her.
            These temps amp up intensity,
   ripping the leaves from the trees...
                             cars from the roads,
                           tongues from the toads,
                                     toads from the ponds,
                             ponds filled with more debris.
                             tears fill my mind, can't even see.
                                 Storms so mad they can't even flee,
                                                           ­                                 
                                                    each-other.
­
Are they too intense to even bother?
       Will they rip apart from the purest pressure?
              Or combine for a superstorm of pleasure?
       Even the bright sky could see that treasure,
And yes we felt light as feathers,
       But when we are long together,
              The people can feel the weight of such pain,
       and we'll both continue to rain, such a shame.
And an obvious candles flames still burn,
       causing me to toss and turn,
            So from you, I wish to learn but only burn...

Leaves flying by,
feeling my back come to meet my sides,
leaning like Pisa,
wobbling back and forth like a new driver,
                                                         ­           brake,
                                               ­                                gas,
                                                            ­                           brake,
                                                          ­                                        gas,
CRACK!

fall to the ground,
board flies south.
song flies north,
head hits the tar,

laying in the road like a parked car.

This write, has me looking for more topics,
I feel the box, stuck in, inside wrong lines,
Wrong lines, right lines, why must I try to fit,
It is not fine, I am all out of time...

Words and words to make me feel so crazy,
I keep on the grind to get an idea,
Do I not get this or am I lazy?
Building this dumb poem, is this ikea?

Poems have some meter but this is top,
keys to the board, pen to this **** paper,
Trying to write just makes me want to stop,
but soon I will need an undertaker,

For if truly I must, prevail I will,
This dumb poem pattern has now been filled.

Sitting by the fire, here we think,
Life is on the brink but all we have is us,
So why worry about wars,
when you can get look up at the stars at 1 am
teach your peer about holes in our reality,
gossip of current rumors, future tropes,
past trips and falls, runs and crawls.
Why fall when you can jump?

Hatching and shading,
Erasing false lines,
Erase Erase Erase Erase,
Swipe off that mess-
Pencil scratches against thick paper,
I sit and draw even though I should be listening,
taking notes, finishing my work,
but wait, I never finished this sketch of a lion,
that's much more important...
Isn't it?

Reading words we don't understand, won't understand,
walking down halls in every state of mind,
anxious thoughts for fear of these expected surprises,
like standing together in the rain to the very last minute only to get scolded when we get home, but

it was worth every second of forbidden time, time taken from the future,
hypnotic relaxation, that chewy feeling as she passes but wont look knowing exactly what's occurring.

All Thanks!
To those near and to those far,
from the great waves with crests akin to that of a mare,
and the beaches who accept these wild forces,
with open arms of sand and debris of stories untold in unknown waters.
And as these sands of time foster hardy grasses,
These grasses shelter the seeds of tall palms,
Palms foretold to watch over the hermits in their caves,
and to guard young starlings,
whose wings float high above all.

On that half acre of swamp,
there sits rotting wood, countless species of pests and bothers
history of love, hate, pain, and growth,
there sits a home, a house, a building, full to the brim,
with memories? Impulsive decisions?
Just a lot of "stuff"...

Right off the path the lawn sits untouched,
mossy patches, clovers and thatch, weeds and flowers,
ever since i was little they've been there,
ever since i was little Iv'e had such luck,

What happens when they sell that property, does the stuff go to waste?
That "stuff" was born of waste and now when i need luck the most, winters frost sinks those clovers much like the "stuff" in the ditch down the road,
But does my luck sink as well? Or will it grow and bloom next spring into something greater?

One through Five
I sat in my seat,
the ground not yet in reach,
like a petal to the wind we flowed,
never caught on a branch or stuck in a drain--
what a simple life it was....

Six through Eight
One book report, a droplet,
so minor--yet that drop led to the fall,
a fall so great caused by one little drop,
and as one drop may fell a petal,
one drop will lead to rain...

Nine through Eleven
Gusts knock off husks
These flowers grow just to wilt,
Colors fade to guilt--pollen to silt...
While no one may see them bloom
Stalks grow so much they could fill a room...

TWELVE
The time of the season is upon us...
Nothing expected--its all about perspective,
Immense growth, deeply rooted throughout all,
so so tall but not ready to fall,
Its been a long wait but Iḿ ready.

Orange beams, flood through morning fog and wet leaves,
stop signs and whispered phone-calls echo through our minds,
"Was it a good idea to leave the house tonight?"
Running up and down the streets, hearts beating, shadows leading us,
"Was it a good idea to leave the house tonight?"
quietly open the slider, such a warm embrace of light,
We had been out for lifetimes, yet it only read 3:00 on the clock.

Cold nosed,
Sore legs,
Desert dry throat,
And all I can think of is you...

"Yeah shes in the hospital"
"Dont say anything though..."

How could you say that to the only person who truly cares?
One who could always make me smile, or feel light as air,
she may not mean what you think, so pull up a chair.

Laughter and poor taste, leave all to gather, and much to waste
time, money, and all that matters,
but when you feel such joy with 'just' a friend,
"Dont say anything though...", really is just a punch to the liver.

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
Is it...
fallen snow, frozen over a cold evening-
Amber and bronze leaves, felled by a cool autumn breeze?
Or is it simply my barky breakfast bar, leaving me wondering if others can hear me chewing...
I know my mouth is closed, I am trying to be courteous...
But can they hear it?

Disappointed? By what?
Because I won't follow you blindly?
You had plans, and I broke them,
shattered like your dreams.
Call me rebellious or independent,
a trailblazer if you will,
but all I am is me,
The plans of mine I will fulfill.
Let me be free,
let me sow these seeds,
the sprouts of success,
You will see,
What it means to be me.

I didn't know him,
but I knew who you were,
nobody expected it,
and hell I wasn't sure,
i got the news at lunch,
asking where you were,
can't even say i had a hunch,
If you need a shoulder we are all here,
don't be afraid,
throw away that fear,
the future will come,
all gay and full of cheer.

"Sometimes you need to ask yourself: what do I need to do to get a ******* today? Or at least soon ya know? Of course you don't want a looker, that is bad for the environment & you ( also doesn't look too good on the resume).   I have failed to find any legit strats- except maybe going into **** or a legitimate relationship. But it doesn't pay well and the other is a lot of work. What to do?"
- d.m.

They all seem to hate me,
I feel the stares, I hear the jokes,
Is it me?
           Or them?
                         Or you?
I know I am new, and maybe that is it,
but such anxiety over something so small is new,
and old but I thought I had overcome the past.

Maybe I should ask...

If I lose my glasses
I try to imagine them in my mind, but I've had them for so long, how am I to have a more vivid memory than another if i can perfectly imagine them anywhere, so i lost them anywhere i can imagine?
great.
I really did lose my glasses then...

If we measured time in laughs, where jokes were all we had,
Would the eldest tell jokes to all her sisters?
Or would the humor provided by life be enough for them to keep up?
Would she hoard her giggles, smirks, and snickers,
for fear of losing track, having to go back, over dead jokes and those older than herself?

Let's find out.

When we were little, they told us to drop that bad attitude,
as if it were dropping a rock.

And after years of hearing it, I learned how to do that within a moment, and yet when I'm supposed to feel,
Sad,
     Angry,
                Worried,
                               Sorry...
I drop that rock, no matter how hard they try to keep it with me, I've always dropped it.
~
But when you're happy all the time, you forget the relief of anger, and miss the pull of sadness, and who accomplishes anything when they're worry free?

Happiness is a choice.
                                    But always consider your choices.

Such a lack of inspiration cant be possible right?
Am I broken?
Wait, I'm thinking of motivation,
I cant remember not being inspired,
If i could just stand up and start moving, start acting on these thoughts, these ideas, these urges...
The resources are here, there is no fear, no shame, it all feels like a game,
When the perfect moment arises to execute, I have other things in my sights,
All of these questions need answers, and so a search is set,
But the sun starts to set and my job hasn't been completed,
hell I have yet to start, where do I begin?

Polished off the last of my ginger ale,
Sitting on the bleachers,
asking for rides when all I can ask for is sleep,
are you dumb, greedy, careless, or just immature?
These thanks took a lot, no sleep for two days,
I awoke a new person, with control, and a new outlook,
how those pigeons in the lot pitter patter around, chased by cars,
they have no struggle but for food,
the way the light hits your eye,
you cant tell if its truly rude,
the sun feeding from the corner,
right past that old man reading,
that silent newspaper listens from the side of my awareness...

Here say have someplace in Collegetown,
You are on with VW because yesterday you were beginning to fade.
You start down rain now after a sunny morning,
When you slow down the blinking gets worse,
That huge old green house on the corner of the shiny face of you,
You feel terror in your people on their way to Ha D es,
To go all day—in case they can’t stop,
So this is what failed...  You couldn’t avoid that crowd,
Chances are that any one of these people had quarreled with a friend,
The Impact was you... in Ithaca

Week after week,
life drops the weak,
All of this strife makes us reek-
of depression, The Great Depression?
More of a depression of the Greats...
It started with Bowie, all these phonies,
mourn for something- someone they weren't around,
to witness or experience...

Those little moments
Losing your thoughts in her eyes
Losing your time in her lips
Gaining more trust in no lies
There’s no value to life
Yet we assign so much meaning
Like it will all yield some greater prize
Or reward like a lost trunk in the attic
full of old toys and lost memories
All I have right now is hope and a friend

I read your poem,              twice
It really got me thinking...
The structure of my thoughts has never been written down,

. . .

I would say I'm jealous but I know I can do better,
A rivalry in the making? probably not,
But a challenge for sure, as you are something rare I can learn from

. . .

We'll see...         I guess

I don't exactly know what it is,
I've forgotten my bug spray, but we keep walking.
Waking dreams and warnings a many
lead me forwards even with foreshadowing hell.

"Are you ---- ------?"
-  "I'm not sure" -
-         "No"       -

        ' ' N O ? ' '

What have I gotten myself into...

Only a week, and I'm falling through rooftops for you,
like a meteorite on its way into the suburbs,
ready to change the lives of two teens, who discover such a bright reality,
positivity and trust, among the other greats, avoiding what the other hates.
I'm unsure of the thoughts behind those beautiful brown eyes, but I'd like to explore what your imagination can conjure up if you tried.
Freedom. Truth. Humor.

Just a fling,
just a thing,
what shall I bring?

2 servings of joy,
a pinch of serenity,
and a bell just to ring

:)

They said I was a messenger,
from stories I never believed in,
that came from an entire culture I never found interest.
In Hebrew I find strength in God,
the only strength I ever saw was in myself...
Is that selfish or do they expect too much of nothing?

Across the river dances a hurricane of leaves,
flitting back and forth, through one another...

I look left to meet a feast of my closest acquaintances,
some stare as if asked the unanswerable,
others rest in this muddy gold...

Behind me lies a world of in-continuities,
alien life and the holy depths of impossibility...

A west facing path leads my mind to run off,
the wind flows between my reality, yet stops at the grass.

Too much? No, or is it? Such a greedy joy I am, a blank slate in a tub of ink, when I come out, all that's left is a memory of infinite heaven on a tiny beach.

After years of toil, and digging through the soil,
an old man may still look for purpose,
or just for that one who made him feel,
joyous emotional inspiration.
He may have shuffled his deck;

but the only card she saw was the fool,
he may be an ace of spades, or a king of hearts,
but the only card she saw was the fool.

So he will struggle, onwards to the end,
be it victory,
or history...

you need to earn respect,
who said i owed you anything, i didn't choose to be here,
who said i cared what you think,
you cant expect me to be wrong every time.
who the **** are you
why are you so against everything i do,
am i not allowed to succeed,
in life, or my own values? only yours.
what the **** is freedom.
why cant i just live my life,
i love you but why
all these people
no trust here
you ****** this up.
am i supposed to sweep up the shattered dreams and cracked memories.
you just stand above, holding me down, expecting me to push harder,
guilt weighs more than you can accept- doesn't it?
wheres the constructive attitude you taught me to have.
what the ****.
selling knives, learning my own lessons, handling my own problems
are you serious
you say you're the adult, act like one.
let me be me.
*******.
i need to earn respect?
why
who made that rule, you?
i have to do what you say?
you and what ******* army...
why am i being so defiant
maybe i don't want to be like you
maybe i'm afraid of becoming my biggest problem,
my life was so easy before you tried to step in and give it a reason to move
i can trip and make a reason in half a ******* thought
before you can see where you're even falling,
how far have you fallen before you lost hope?
who pushed you
was it your father? how ironic...
i shouldn't laugh at how ****** up that is
but why does anything matter these days
i cant angry when i need to be
i just end up looking like an ***
am i broken, i asked for help...
why cant you help? you ****.

That warming connection,
an apprehensive touch,
do I let abandonment take hold,
or show how much I care,
My interest, my desire
To learn how every piece of you functions,
And glides gracefully through this struggle of mortality.

A one way ticket up,
the man never questioned it, then again, neither did I

Walking down the trail, grapes are raining and the pain in my stomach isn't waning, reality is collapsing all over again and all i can taste is almonds.

These boulders are spiraling out of control, but since when have I had control?
The head of the goat looks me in the eyes as the sun sets over the range,
"Man, you guys are brave", but why?
Am I on the edge?

Too much Too much Too much
/
Anxiety stands over me, looking down at false mistakes
/
Too much Too much Too much
/
I look up with pride in my eyes, I'm free of sin you ****
/
Too much Too much Too much
/
Subtract that value, they don't care, nor will I.
/
Too much Too much Too much

I simply cant find the issue,
Iv'e tried and tried, but
I can't even try to try...
This fight won't make me cry,
but maybe that's because I can't focus on it like that fly.

It's 3am and I won't sleep so we went upstairs-
"Its funny that we can have a joke"
-only to discover personal possession...

Just a whisper too loud, yet the silence echoed much louder.

Waiting to put on two pairs of shoes at once,
wait that's two too many shoes...
put those back.

Sprinting down the street, only to meet a god of a tree.
Golden. Holy. Fading in and out of dreams.

Riiiiiiiing, Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing, Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

"Hello" "Hey, It's common sense, get home"
"Yeah I was trying, but I'm stuck at this stop sign..."

What were you thinking,
sitting on the cusp of your guilt.
Why are you guilty of success?
All that shame and regret that has been built,
Shameful of what, how youv'e been blessed?
Up you look at those who you say don't matter,
serving up your deepest motives on a gold plated platter,
letting those who look and open jewel filled eyes,
observe your life and take what they find,
Don't be so naive, asking for time to breathe,
just use your mind and shut those blinds,
shut down and take control,
Let your passion soaked willpower unfurl,
like a sail after a storm, swirls and swirls,
then open up to the world,
let those colors blaze, clearing away such ancient haze.

Once that sun shines bright, pushing away selfish blight,
Let new ideas blossom, cross your T's and your I's, dot them,
Think them through, Colors red white blue, no,
Just the color of you.

That sense of anonymity,
Among numerous faces,
All searching for-
Things?
Acquaintances?
Or just something to do...
That chaos of complexity,
Gives some stress and anxiety,
But to some,
Can leave a calm sensation wash over their entire experience.

"What is this?"
"What is what?"
"Why are doors up here?"
"That's fine just show me...."

"My friend has an apartment in New York City."
"Why doesn't he move?!"
"It's insane, the expenses."

"No I'm just so curious"
"No, there's nothing for you here"

"Kurt...."
"What?"
"Please...."
"Your voice is so annoying"

"It's his favorite word again."
"What have you got going on here...."
"This is a horrible one..."

S E L F I S H
"All I'm trying to do is help you"
L A Z Y
"Why are you fighting me on this"
A S S H O L E
"I'm the adult, of course I'm right"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

W R O N G
"Where is your evidence"
U N S U P P O R T I V E
"I have choice but if I choose wrong, you won't help, right?"
I M M A T U R E
"Oh.. you left..."

Every poet writes about the 'Seven Deadly Sins'
But what about the eighth?

The purity of the mind may combat such primal lust,

And urges held back through temperance will fend off gluttony.

The charity of giving to others will free the soul of greed.

Any virtue will require diligence and to opt away from sloth,

But one will need patience so as not to resort in wrath.

So if kindness is abandoned all that remains will be envy,

with that keep humble, as not to foster pride.



But rarely, ever so seldom does a poet touch on hope, and how one may 'cure' despair...

Mile after mile, bald tires and no gas,
Half grand car, expected to go fast?
Looking for help, but when asked all they say..

"Hot singles less than one mile from your location
                       Chat Now!!!"

Sins of our making,
Lives are for taking,
Fives for breaking,
No,
Lives more for making,
Leaves raking,
Hands and heads shaking,
Arguments remove our calm,
Disagreements drop like bombs,
Jokes drop like bonds,
Others drop songs,
And yet I drop my fondness of correctness,
and some may be specific but I'm the select-est,
picking and choosing,
who's winning and losing,
singing and soothing.
Incorrect.

What if birds were bees?
And singing came from the trees,
A's turned to B's, B's to C's,
C's to D's, D's to making poetry with ease.
As long as these bees-
make sure to do as they-
please,
and seize,
control of our control...

That would be the bees knees.

If I could just be free
to live as want, and to sleep when I feel,
or to go wherever my mind wanders,
The adventures I would go on, and the people I would meet, would be worth more than all the money in the world...

They say I must stay but I know I'll truly be happy when I'm free.

When I catch a droplet of inspiration,
to sketch out some idea conjured of mine,
such is a spark of creation,
When compared-
creativity to reality,
this "acid free" "medium surface"
sketch paper renders ones thoughts so minuscule,
Leashed down,
like a young pup to a tree,
my ability can only bring me so far...