Slug,
oh you bug!
Bugging the earth to spin faster.
Slug along,
in slow strides when it’s your time to strike and take this life in your hands.
Watching ants march by,
won’t join them on their way.
You sit on the sidewalk feeling sluggish today.

A poem is a sound.
Its meaning becomes a lyric.
And if you want to feel it,
feel it like a raindrop
that ripples through your soul.
And if it's raining within now,
it's because you listened.

I am,
Truly.
Nothing,
It means.
Say it,
I won’t.
Leave,
I’ll go.
“Goodbye”
I’ll say,
But I won’t say that I am ...

We flow like rivers coursing through the valleys of time.
Flow on, no time for rapids to rewind.

Love is sold, passed through hands that hold.
Shackled by passions and blind ambitions, you hold my hand so tight.
Warm and bright feelings flush, covering us in gushing lust.
It binds us and blinds us but teaches us strength and kindness.
These knitted knuckles and soft chuckles, whisper to me thoughts of tomorrow, let us be one.
Boundless, love has found us, and our energy’s intertwine, as rivers will wind. Love is sold, in these contractual hands I hold in mine.

I spend nights in dark places,
Dim face, black lace,
Subtle street lamps, shoes that stomp,
Legs that run and romp,
I am youth, unbound

Life is a mirror
You get what you give
What's held inside
Its what you feel
What's on your mind
Its what you dream
What you believe
it's the mirror of life
Its poetry