A confident man feels not a need to speak
on all things with which he does not agree
Though in the proper time and place
he is not afraid to assert his way

And though his words at times cause spurn,
he will admit when they are out of turn
Fearing not the inevitable mistake,
but rather owning it too late

Caring and feeling without hesitation
and not for reciprocal adulation
Emotions are expressed appropriately;
either subtlety or rationally

As honest with others as with himself;
recognizing what he does and doesn’t do well
Claiming to know what he does know
and asks when he don’t

Pursuing tasks for their benefit and or joy
rather than status or fleeting ploys
Those latter things are often great fun,
but worry of them yields none

While in his mind there is good thinking,
he is more occupied with good acting
In order to have concerns of the ideological,
requires labors that are practical

On his confidence, he does not ponder,
as neither he or anyone wonders
of whether he truly possesses it.
We know it.

As your soft fingertips caress my skin.
     I’m waiting.
Dig your nails deep into me.
      Stab me.
Like everyone else.
     Only.
This one will hurt.

I’m begging you please reconsider.

As the days of life sing
Time dances forever in my hands
So as music is as true as the sky
I'll let the blue canvas stay behind the clouds.

Knowing as the nightly moon meets the sun
I'm happy with this, surely.
For my eyes are so small compared
To them planets so big in the black.

Inside, love will bring peace of mind
As long as people continue to take in light
My body plays along with life's song
And my soul changes with my face and hair.          

Girl, my heart is still a boy
Will you give me the chance to become a man?
I hope my venom stays low, and that these feelings
Do not ignite a depression revolution, because
These worms inside my head
Feel nothing, they want to **** all of my friends.
Don't you understand, woman?
We have grown from the child.

Let us keep the infant away from war
And away from the battlefield where we met
Let us pray he avoids the person down by the red dust
So that he does not have to feel our pain.                                            

On this bright green Earth
Where we can be real anytime we want
And lies and joy exist simultaneously
Could even God come up with something like this?

We humans are everything but cosmic
For we are meat through and through
And although our names do not let expectations fall
Mister Ellison does not have much inspiration left.

I wrote I love you in the sand
The waves washed it away
Before you got the chance to see

I whispered I love you
Sleep stole you away
Before you got the chance to hear

Maybe this is meant to be
A missed connection
Between you and me

Genius is forged by passion
It is this which never dies:
Transcendental elation.

So long as one creation
is moved to dance mesmerized,
genius is forged by passion.

Though stone hearts lack expression,
postmoderns aching to try
transcendental elation

Keeping "plebes" from their "mansions."
Speak this opaque truth as lies:
Genius is forged by passion.

The hive mind *******,
at shared expense they deny
transcendental elation.

Our yearning adoration
causes heaven's voice to cry,
Genius is forged by passion!
Transcendental elation.

O sea! O tide! What wonderful life! Awaits us in the ocean.
Adore! Implore! What wonderful mores! Awaits us in the open.
We roar! We soar! What wonderful lore! Awaits lost trepidation.
Forsake those blinds which you thought chains, to see through the illusion.
Forsake those lies which you thought truths, so you can have perception
of that which does not hide from us, but we’ve betrayed it still.
Though of both life and death, mortals shall ne’er bend to their wills,
but of sole life, though not thou death, thou just might;
before going into the ever unknown day-night.

It is to be on Winter's Eve,
  a holiday for two.
And how the snow will dance for thee,
  with hair matching to boot.

In both its length and in its sway,
  your strands of golden sun
will radiate our merry days
  and blind out lonely ones.

Wine for now to celebrate what
  will only be two weeks.
Wine again to celebrate, but
  these weeks to be the least!

As feast for two will soon be three
  then four, no five or more!
I cannot wait, a father, me?
  Children of ours be born!

Purpose of life, we shall have; share
  our life's meaning we will.
As us to them and they to theirs,
  we will grow old fulfilled.

Not if but when the snow winds storm,
  of me you'll find no sin.
For coat and drink will lack the warmth
  as family's love within.