a scream of soul-
I DARE TO DREAM

encourage
discouraging
COURAGE.

my days gone by you do not know,
you do not know what i have seen!
so when i whisper in your ear
the truth about a moment

"i dare to dream, i dare to dream"-
i scream!
into the starless void.

then out of darkness there arises,
the iris star of past demises-
gone!
gone with the scream,

vibrations scare the dark away
so only real dreamers will stay-
for who are they,

but beacons of vibration,
of hope for realization?

When you look in to my eyes,
Do you see windows,
Or do you see black paint,  mascara,  eyeliner?

And if you see mascara, can you tell how much it cost?
or how many times I put it on, and washed it off before deciding it was good enough?
and redrew the wing of my eyeliner so at least something would look sharp tonight?
and how long I spent debating whether you like girls who wear makeup or not,
and if you would make out my hesitations through the clumps?

And if you see windows, tell me, what do you see through them?
Do you see my thoughts and ideas?
Can you see the garden I planted for you through them?
or did the last person who looked through my windows leave too many mascara streaks?
Or maybe you just see the empty widow frames, and want to install your own glass in them?

Of course,  if you ever looked at my eyes you would know, but you only see in colour when you scroll though my Instagram page trying to decode whether my caption is about you or not, and whether that other girl looks better without makeup than me?
I’d have to agree with you. Mascara is easier to spot when the filter is on high saturation.

If only windows worked like that.

I see it in the asphalt bumps and sidewalk cracks.
Earth, she don't want to be flat.

Smooth her out with concrete blocks
She'll move and turn without a thought.

Spent most of her life clothed with tempestuous life.
This recent pavement trend leads to unwanted strife.

We build our cornered, straightened, flat, leveled space
upon a vibrant, living, rounded, moving place.

No, Earth, she don't want to be flat.

Full bodied, free flowing, seductress, she
scoffs at such mind conceited, power hungry, insincerity;

exposing our cracks in her restless slumber.

Never share your poetry
With people who don’t care
Never talk with those
Whose minds are only halfway there.

Never cram assignments,
Never self-abhor,
Know that if you don’t stand up
Next week they’ll push you more.

Never trust your calculator,
Always have a pen;
That way you can vandalize,
And flee the class again

Do not trust the humans,
Never lie to love,
Listen when they talk to you
But keep your head above.

I am who I am,
                  I am!

                 ...am I?
        ...Who am I?

"Do you believe in global warming?"
they asked me
as though it was something you could choose to believe in
like santa
sitting on the melting polar ice caps

wondering how else he could tickle our fancies
for our momentary pleasure
one sizzling christmas eve

“but”, they said, “but its all circumstantial,
And”, they said,"all natural,
All part of a cycle,
all part of a plan-
And there’s no evidence anyways"
Is santa melting?
Do ice caps exist?
Who knows!

Who knows?

Why the hell was I happy
When you stood in my space
While searching for
Somebody else’s face?

Why was my mind
On what could have been
Instead of what was-
What do you think you’ve seen?

You say you can read people,
Can see their emotions
Like they’re open books,
Full of deepest devotions-

…-so why
Can’t you
Read

me?