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.

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..."

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?

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.

Who the **** invented shame?
Is it some evolutionary development to prevent our "tribe" from murdering us?
Or is it just this handicap that society has placed on those who do wrong?
I mean its as old as the bible,
Yet i see it in infants who cant even read 12,000 or so pages,
By choice or not, why shouldn't we feel confident in our actions,
Shame and downcast glares have no place in this bittersweet journey of life.
Good or bad.
Right or Wrong.

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...

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...

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.

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?

"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..."

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.

The flow of emotion can be therapeutic,
and yet i want to hold onto that emotion,
a lucrative feeling, letting lose thoughts,
but what do you let go of when you are all out?
an empty tank, zero balance, closet void of light,
disappointing to that greedy aspect of I.

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.

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?

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...

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!!!"

Loose that inspiration,
off like a gun,

POW!!

These rounds may miss, but the recoil is the goal,
free that pent up energy, just reach flux once again.

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

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.

She seems to care, is my greedy ideology,
We see through fair, its by fleeting ecology,
a balance between organisms, but how can you balance on a pinpoint with no end?

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.

I ignore all warnings,
to fulfill the burning hole
in my chest, in my throat, in my head,
Like a net I am everywhere, yet all falls through.

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...

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

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?

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.

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...

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.

Living life after life,
Moments flying by,
Minute after minute,
how much can we really fit in,
Look where we sit, a throne,
Of lies, failed tries, lost times,
Moral crimes, its 2 am and we're counting dimes, looking for something,
Is it purpose?
A thrill?
Or is it just my pen?

"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.

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.

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 ****.

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.

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

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

:)

When you get caught doing something you shouldn't,
you learn,
you figure out how to do it right,
but when we succeed we blame it on luck,
on skill,
and pure justification of thrill,
so if you get lucky once, then twice, then thrice,
how will you ever learn from mistakes with no consequences...

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.

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.

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?

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.

I thought I was better than this,
expected more,
a sense of superiority,
maybe i thought i had it all together,
and just didn't care enough to use that,
but no, it was all chaos,
uncontrolled chaos,
anxiety every day,
thinking of every way to move,
but frozen with no real options,
out of fear of failure,
I was always the best, and then I woke up with nothing.

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...

Hair secured like a bonnet around the back of her mind
flowing down like a water-fall divided by crag over cliffs,
I look back and its in a tail but hardly pony, almost as long as our conversations, talking about the tunes got me loony,
cant wait to call you roomy, see you when your'e moody,
Soft hands molded like the clay they manipulate,
Soft words bolded by the way they abdicate, from her lips,
Oh my, you have me falling, floating, oh wait I think I just tripped.

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.

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.

After the third lie I thought it was over-
but no, not one of you stopped it,
six years later it's catching up to me,
but no, I said I wouldn't care,
and now its going right through me and hitting you,
like
I
said

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.

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.