I can cook
I can clean
I can do laundry...

I can draw
I can paint
I can write,

I can play the piano
The gutair
And the harmonica:

I can talk
I can listen
I can learn.

You proved that fear of failure is to be overcome
through such compelling creativity;
and that total dissatisfaction and unprecedented contentment,
well,
are within each of us already-
all we need to do is choose.

1, for the slumber that tumbles us round,
2, for the remedy, the musics bold sound.
3, for the tree that became your canoe
& 4 for the rain, it's ambiguous blue.

5, to escape, to a world we contrive,
6 for the tricks that I played to survive.
7, because heaven, is supposedly on earth,
& 8 for my mother, and her unknown worth.
9 for the failures, the faults & mistakes,
10 for the fears that keep us awake.

11, for my father, consoles me each night, whispers advice crystal clear, filled with insight- words on courage & kindness, love & delight.
12- when you wake but it's already night.
13 forever, with strength glory and might,
14 with wisdom, discretion, insight-
both numbers together sizing up every fight.

15, for my little sister, and all her turmoil,
15, for her spirit, the last one to spoil,
she and the world but water and oil,
15 for her soul, and like the mighty cobra it's coil,
deadly & graceful defends its home soil.

16 for the evil- the wicked & cruel, the endless hate they spin into fuel.
17, for reason, justice & art,
and all the other virtues life etched on my heart,
18, to redeem, to admit your mistake, to truly move on then perhaps to retake.
19 for that shame, always the same, so familiar it almost comforts my brain. 19, for the suffering, agony & betrayal.
19 true stories retold as mere tales- how they surpass logic and induce other's fails.

20. For my years. For the moment, for now. For to the past I salute, and to the future I bow; All with the hope that next year I'll know how

to do what everyone else can.

I'm a rainy night, the silent snowfall in a lonely November; that im the space between each eyelash when you grin.  I'm a sunset that hangs over the smoking, foggy lake, and im the tiny hairs that cover a raspberry.

I'm a song and a poem and an epitaph alike. I'm the dirt gravel path in the forest you hike. I'm the wind and the rain, I'm the first sip of tea
I am the red haze above the deep dark blue Sea.
I'm whips of hard smoke, fresh perplexities-
im only what
you want me to be,

I wish I could fuel you;
fuel me?
yeah-  fuel you.

so you would never end.

When its sharp it storms the mind,
swirls of smoke & hate combined-
slither insidiously they entwine,
damage done worse every time.
Clouds to crave- poison waves
seen through white glass & a delirious daze
to dull forever an old sun's rays
light which used to shine out always
now bends inward, refracting in ways
to disguise & confuse in an camouflaged haze.

more & more & more & more
of the curse that never ends,
be it smoke or crystal spore
or snake disguised as friend.
I feel it deep within my core
I desperately pretend
you'll be back to fuel me or
a hand someone will lend.

A, always absencent and afraid
D, in such distaste;
A, for anger- absoloute
& M, cuz mans a ****** Waste:

Is this a written name?
Of this friend or potential lover
How he Reels this unique pain,
Too bad he wont discover:
That I'm the one whos truth's attentive
Not the one with words incentive-
Take ownership, & be repentive
Your minds absolutely unretentive.

I don't believe that you have this gift
To heal and unlock a Better version
of whoever you think you are-
What you've been given, you must shift
Enjoying that fake xannax bar?

A lthough you hurt
D ont hurt me too
A lways iconsiderate-
M anipulated too.

✌️

A - the atrocity that my life has become
D - the damage, and still,  im not done
D - the denial, the doom in the vile,  dangerous, daunting; forever defile
I - the image I fake of myself, I- my constant &chronic; bad health.
C- the cost of a chemical wealth.
T for the tension, paranoia and fear. Yet it’s the letter that symbols it’s here.  
I - irrational, insensible, intense. I - irresistible iridescence .
O- for the option that I didn’t take, O for the others that still I forsake.
And N for nervous. Nauseous. Night. N, the neophyte, turned narcissist knight.

Transparent to everyone, how its hold is too true
So clear its invisible, Addiction did coo:  

“when you wake and feel my crave,
and all my charms  different behave;
resistance, strength, pain & choice,
may mute my spell,  quiet my voice.”
“embrace what little light is shed”  suggested addiction, faintly he said:

“For I can **** the best man dead,
with only shadows in their head.”

Bubbles & Diamonds go hand in hand,
Slowly dirfting up to land.
Will you find them in the sand?

Like bubbles & diamonds we float & withstand,
All of life's unruly commands.

As Brother and Sister we may fight and demand,
but like bubbles & diamonds,
Complementary we stand.
With the same blood in our bones
  We'll do what we can
Like bubbles and diamonds
To grow hand in hand.

From infant to women
and child' to man.
The importance of family
We Understand.

this is my only poem-
and its been  written to include

me; within its home-

in an unspoken prelude

When the soft rain and distant birds
Play in a May's afternoon,
Look out the window and listen close
For they'll be gone by June.

In the night to jump a fence
As people out of tune,
Run and wander through the course
Beneath the rainy moon.

The artists impartiality
Of their craft's integrity
Is their profound gift
May it set us all free-
& Vanquish all anxiety.

When each page is blank, and book empty
Its full with potential's entierity.
Our real gift is sweet opportunity
To create and contrive
Fearlessly.

Its in our art we become who we wanted to be
With truthfull eyes we garentee
That you'll one day begin to see

The artist's impartiality.

The most superficial of all my troubles-
My backache does prosist.
Throughout all my other ****
That dull pain still exists.

Tucked in every lonley smile
And every insatiable crave
Is that pain, sciatic style
Despite how I behave;

Yet dealing with much more then a backache am I,
Addictions, Predictions, prescriptions, I lye:
Here in my bed in my room in my shame,
harbouring my bodys everworseing pain.

Beauty's rose wilts 
 and petal by petal,
shard by shard;
Faster than fantasy-
time relapses
~
Beauty's rose wilts-
it's soils all settle
Erosion by erosion,
slower than springtime;
the future arrives.
Beauty's rose,
But a wilt!
without trophy or medal,
condolences, by condolences,
at our own paces-
the past persists.



Black flowers, wilted with time,
without beginning, nor end-
are seen;
   &  through the stained glass gaze of love,
are shimmering.

many little bits and pieces
are what create the whole
take a person, for example
body mind, and soul

every idea behind every word
are lonely letters near
until they form a distinct thought
confusion unto clear.

even this piece is made of bits
or random artful thoughts
strewn together in tragedy
love it or like it not-

every single thing you know
are made of tiny parts
and once you truly learn that friend
gift control over it's art.

There's no more them- only us.

Couplets here, leak out of me
out of my very being,
unto the world in front of me
simultaneously seeing: that I'm made up of couplets,
no more & no less;
two lines of written words that arch balanced, they confess:

that first lines nothing without the second,
& alone the second lines meaningless at best

For it's in couplet's regularity, that confusion doth detest  
that there's always one then two, 2 reasons to write the rest.

Dear bumps and brusies Doctor,
To you I never voiced the call-
You say your fee is very simple
But nothing is at all.
And im sitting here and wishing
In the years that are to be
When im faced with lifes real troubles
that your love can still fuel me.

Here I lye with you-
you don't listen, so my words
write reversed haikus

I don’t need your drugs,
but I do need you to know
no one deserves this.

I choose to let you
treat me like I’m blindfolded;
Still, I gift to you-

Graphite and color
a blank sketchbook (with this piece)
Inscribed in the front.

Art is all I know
so this opportunity.
to express it all-

Has such strong power,
you might never truly know…
Still- I hope you do.

I see you, in your miserable high

I wonder if last chances gone by

In protest you'll hear me screaming Why?

N hope the you thats loved wont die

Alone, we're caught in Meg's Constant's
sigh.


Thank You for Taking Me to The Disco
I'd Like to Go Home Now

✋

Hey- you,
Am I doing it right?
You're gone- as always

But you know im still here.

down by the river, we see through the shore,
and bear witness as human proclivities roar.

Diving into the water, we hold its wet hand
for the rivers enlivenment, so few understand:

so down by the river, we will lay in its bed
while lullabies sung by the lapping waves tread;
as the river explains, in liquid morals unsaid-
its teachings, in riptides ,flowing into our head.
  
as the sun on the water, scintillating, does glow
it calls to us now as we're destined,

we go.

Egan Lake, how I long for you
transcended isotropic view
In my departure somehow I knew

I would never be back;

here with you.

The simplest act might be someone’s cure-
I remembered when it was
a knowing look from a real friend,  
heals more then medicine does.

Although alone often we are
and it’s quite the sad affair-
back to that look I do retreat and
life is blessed to bare.

When I’ve gone a little hard
and sobriety’s days away
a real friend’s presence, brief or not
reminds me I’m okay.

So grateful am I, its appreciation like guilt-
I can’t deserve a love so true.
a feeling so many don’t even know
I’m overcome I actually do.

Thank You:
With all my heart, my friends,
the real ones may be few-
but to remind me that I’m loved;
well, I need no more than you.

And when the darkness comes
I'll remember this moment.
Where we held out our hearts
& filled them with faith-

hopeful,

To
    be
        free.

will you, old friend- follow me?
through the great lakes, and the sea?
over the desert and oasis blue-
through boreal forests, and tropic ones too?
will you bathe in natures fountain ?
or live up on the lonely mountain ?

will you see ever- honestly,  
that all that you have come to be
is better than you really know
Lets meet back stage;
after the show.

Right now it might seem like a waste of time.
trust me.
to write down a scheme or emotion
some half dreamed-dreams, particles of truth amongst a mostly fabricated memory.
It isn't.
well when you trigger that human desire
for repition yet seamlessly profound plotting
of the ear
you may hear
all the music I'm writing about.

The river winds in from distant lands
With mercyless power it turns stone to sand
Through its mysterious life, the very earth it commands
And Yet the fearful river still runs through our hands.
In torrents of furry where the deepest currents flow
The rivers wild waters surge with woe. For
Onward, forever, its destined to go
A permenant home it won't ever know.

The river runs from each of us
As a refugee of fear,
It knows in a blink it will be somewhere else
Its waves are really its tears.
It runs from the audacity  
Of the selfish human mind
As Its massive life capacity,
Of flora and fauna combined,
Are threatened by our antics and helpless to our crime
So the river runs on their behalf, from everyone, in time-


even within its whitecap foam
Water's yearning for a home

So roam does the water- endlessly,
till its long gone out of sight
The essential droplets of the river-
Nomads day and night.

An outlet of articulates, is this solemn, surreal site.
Many minds, and many more, shall glow beneath its light.
Yet sadly for myself I've found, the holes within it all,
and now no longer does my heart, answer to its call.

Goodbye poetry, and thank you always; you deserve all you achieve-

Thank you for giving us a place
to share what we believe.

I will say hello to you, and glow with all again someday,
But for now I say goodbye- as I go on my own way.

to turn into  the whole wide world, the one that I design,
the one with lights of glistening gold
and wonder undefined.
Is to ignore the very brutal truth, on one's own accord,
ignorant and powerful, a
mistake one can't afford.
So here I am, as usual, how deeply I deny,
that "everything isn't so bad"
I stumble in the lie.

..maybe one day i'll get to see, right through the guise of gold-
the one disguising my whole life
the one denial upholds

Goodbye tomorrow- stay away- I wish to be no more.
my heart contorted, my mind deflates as
my soul and spirit tore.

when I hold
my own hands
My imagination does ensue
they arent burning
in the cold
and are somehow holding you

And when, away it is you slip, my hands hold tightly still onto
the belief you now know and understand- to me,
What these evil drugs did do.

And in death, maybe you'll
Feel what these constant aches
construe

when I'm holding my own hands,  
it's to pretend that one's s from you
and to comfort my sore soul as
As  life were still all
Sufferings through.