i tried to sleep.
i gripped those dreams that keep
slipping through my trembling fingers
and wondered if i should ever
hold them tenderly and securely
with tumultuous oceans brewing in my eyes
i again begged them,
stay a little longer please
and if not then allow me to
cleave my fingers from my hands so
i don't have to worry about holding anything anymore
i really tried to sleep
but i don't know how to anymore

The Power of Pain, an understanding of stress,
all this lead to, the elimination of duress.

The intuitive knowledge of pain as it is,
The piercing truth that is contained within.
That few see, and many ignore,
yet those who confront it,
are like gifts to be adored

Give power to the weak,
Bring joy to the sad,
Give courage to those, in need of strength

Those who know pain give love,
Those who know weakness give strength

This is the power within all of us men.

Poem streams
Every now and then
I write with my poem streams.
In my literature tent,
About nature and dreams.

I look and write about
Cute little things that I've seen.
I keep going in and out
Like a naughty child I've been.

I've written too much to recall
About all the things I love.
But I can't seem to write, at all
About the person that I love.

we are fire
i am the orange ember, the coldest part of the flame
you are the white hot tip of at the head of the match head
it sometimes flickers blue

you are blue
i hate blue, i always have
i am red
making purple sounds like a delightful endeavour
but i am reminded of the love bite (why are they called that)
that you left
it was purple, it hurt for weeks
it turned green

i hate you.
i hate blue.
i hate the white flame.

Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.

it was pink then yellow then purple,
then it darkened and slowly turned black.

it wasnt the sharp pain that killed her,
but the numbing chill that crept up her poor scrawny neck.

it wasnt knives and swords that stabbed her heart,
but splinters of loneliness that were carefully woven around it.

it wasnt that she didnt seek help at all,
but there was so much, she didn’t know where to begin.

it wasnt the map that made her lost,
but it was the rain and the wind and the places she didnt belong.

it wasnt the people round her that drove her up the wall,
but the cockroaches of love that rampaged on the floor.

it was pink, then yellow then purple,
and suddenly it lightened and it didn’t feel so bad, after all.