Underlining the main point.
Striking words to a page.

It's troublesome when,
One has no rage.

The trouble with poetry is,
One with stanzas united.
Going in rhythm,
With the sound of a heart beat.

Beating down the rhythm,
Of a Skull's drum.

The trouble with poetry is,
One life corrupt,
In a demise.

When the sword strikes stone,
Igniting a fire.

One heart, One soul,
Encrypting each poem.
It's troublesome,
When one has no soul.

From sunlit towers pale sunflower petals fall.
    Heaven watches falling flowers, her blue eyes widen, her red lips part.
        In the gardens of men, a young man catches the falling showers,
              and with those petals in hand, captures her heart.

              Bare feet take halting steps, and frantic hands fail to halt her sure advance.
      What stopping power has God's legions in the face of such a thing?
             She takes a step from the safety of the clouds;
                 Heaven opens arms out wide, and closes tight her eyes and wings.

             Ashes rise up from behind as her wings burn away into the welcome dark.
Bodies tangle, intertwined, as the young man returns her stray, angelic heart.

We are outcasts
Children born into dark
We listen to music that relates to us
We try to stand up and make our mark

Everyone thinks we cut
Or that we are depressed
They joke around and say mean things
Think we worship Satan and try to bless

But that's not who we are
That's not all we do
We cry, and laugh
We can love too

Yes, we may cut
And we may want to cry
But all you think we do is
Wish that we could die

Nothing is happening...
I may have lost my ability
to form words.
Still nothing is happening.

My pen is empty.
My fingers tied in knots.
My tongue has wrung dry.

When will it all being anew...
I ask.
When nothing is happening,
with this heavy block crushing my hands
of any progress I might have brought into the light.

All because nothing is happening,
when you have The Writers Block.

All I have
Is
Everything
I have ever and will ever
Need.
Want not
For want is
As useful as plastic
For sealing in freshness of fruits
You were about to enjoy
Anyway.
Eat up,
Drink slow,
There is more to learn than know
And I
Am so grateful
To be a cell
In this
Whole.

You could break my heart into
Tiny
Little
Pieces,
And I'd still pick them up
And put them back in your hands.

.
                                 I will
                           love my body
                        I will be more sp
                       ontaneous I will d
                        iscover new erge
                        nous zones I will
                        be more confide
                        nt on top I will g
                        et out of the bed
                        room more I will
                        become a blow-
                        job diva I will no
                        t be selfish I will
                        learn what I real
                        ly love I will spe
                        nd more serious
                        time with my va
                        gina I  will  stop
                        over   analyzing
       I will get to                know my G - spot
  I will play out   my     fantasies I will stop
  faking ******* I w    ill just kiss more ofte
  n I will stop saying       something feels    
    good when                        it doesn't