don't be so formal!
I put my pants on every day,
over my head,
just like everybody else,
just like a {you,man}

it helps me see better,
two pants legs,
one for each eye

it narrows the focus,
makes you care
where you tread,
where you t-read,
so when you write poetry,
you write
more slowly,
put one foot
or one eye,
before the next,
so you don't post
***** like this

Have you ever sat and realized
that birds sing for themselves
that trees werent made for paper
that you werent made for me?

Have you ever sat and asked yourself
how many times have you cried
how many times have you laughed
how many times have you fallen in love

Have you ever sat and sobbed
about her
about you
about me

Have you ever let the wind take your hair
without pulling it back behind your ear?
I believe your hair is pretty when it's free

I think for a moment, it belongs to
the world
to the birds
to the sand
to the waters
and to me.

There are a million and one,
rainstorms, tucked neatly into those tearducts
enveloped in those beautiful eyes of yours,
didn't anyone ever tell you, love,
its okay to cry.
So let those rainstorms fall,
lace your cheeks and tumble gently over your pursed lips.
There's beauty in the break down,
There's beauty in this,
Moment of vulnerability,
Unfamiliarity,
And there will be clarity,
Once your storms have been exhausted,
And the sun will rise again,
In those eyes.
So darling sit and pull yourself close,
Let those liquid droplets,
Drown you in your clothes,
For i promise you will float.
Pull your knees in tight,
Cuddle up in your own embrace,
And allow those weighty storms,
To trickle down your face.
Feel free to whimper and maybe ask why,
Sweetheart, its perfectly okay to be hurt, be vulnerable, to cry.

I'm an avid reader of books,  many different books
Tolstoys War And Peace took me seven days to read
Lord Of The Rings Trylogy just 3 days
One of those books I've read just once
The other I could almost quote
word
for
word
I read some truly great works of poetry here
Some simple with a message loud and clear
easily understood
Some long but with a rhythmic flow
the sort of poem where you cant let go
Then there is the long drawn out dirge
full of metaphors and unusual words that I don't even understand
I might read it once,  try to understand then file it under done
I just write the simple stuff,  that's what I do best
But, no matter how or what you write its all good.

                           After all, poetry is not a test ~
                      it is an expression of our humanity.

Pasta

They ask, “what is poetry?”
I’d give them a bowl of spaghetti.
Naturally they’re taken aback.
No surprise about that

Still I’d tell them,

“Here, take a bowl of my tiny soul.
If you look into it well enough
You would know that it’s not just a mush of twenty-six alphabets
See, I took the sticky dough that composes my mind
And shoved it through the tiny holes I call standards
And carefully pulled out the strands of words.

I’d tell them,

“Then I would pour the red sauce, my personal favorite,
That I cooked up with my blood and tears.
If you taste them correctly, a voice will sneak into your minds
And speak their reality.
Although it may hurt, that way you will see.
That’s my poetry.”

I would tell them, but I think they weren’t listening because
They would just drink up the whole thing like hungry savages.
And I would quietly stand there in awe
Because they wouldn’t understand.