i try to be what you want
no more wasting time
oh i have to study, study, study
but i sit
and all that happens
are the screws in my head grate together
eventually slipping from there locked position
they fall
as do my restraints
all i do is think
honey bees and summer smiles
my bed wrapped in my comforter
only if that was all my life granted me

instead I'm stuck wasting time
writing poetry
instead of writing essays
which will decide where I deserve to be

She breaks the law instead of hearts
Because she wants to be the brick
Not the window pane.
She loves the wind in her hair
Because it makes her feel
Like she's flying.
She relishes the highways
Because they quench her
Insatiable wanderlust.
She loves you
Because you take her breath away
With a single look.

I am looking at the black cover
of my journal..where
these numbers stand 2014..this measure
of the line from my birth..a lengthening
line we each own..now Billy Squirrel
approaches my seat on a sunny porch
morning..and come to think that Billy
knows no line..his moment's interest is
a just discovered peanut..now standing
and hands handle as I would if becoming
that squirrel..are there matters more
important..on this Saturday morning..
than erasing that line..and becoming
as Billy with attention all gathered
to that peanut delight...

Stop trying to remember his scent, he smelled like summer and reminds you of the time he made you laugh so hard, you snorted out milk on that dead, hazy day.

2. Don't waste your day trying to decipher what colour his eyes were, it'll only remind you of the galaxies and constellations that you once saw in his eyes

3. Stop trying to retrace the shape of his mouth in the middle of the night, you'll choke on your tongue trying to taste the mint he devoured seconds before pulling you in for a kiss

4. Stop reliving the times you clasped hands together, the glass plate will fall off your trembling hands.

5. Burn this list, admit that the galaxies and constellations shining in his eyes were wilted, the one in yours are bursting with fire. Remember on the dead, hazy day his laugh sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. Remember when you kissed, the weeds growing from his mouth entangled the roses blooming in yours.

Realize that one day, another boy is going to come and plant daisies where he left behind thorns.

How do you start a poem
I've never quite understood
Should you slap the reader with a shout
I mean that literarily (don't actually slap someone)
Or tap them on the shoulder with kind words to get their attention
Should the lines rhyme
Or stand haphazard as confused thoughts
( I sure hope it's the latter)
Does it need a strong moral message
Or can it be random rambling
( again, hopefully the latter)
Is it meant to be free
Or ordered to fit a certain need
In the end I don't know if this is a poem
But it is what I meant for it to be

men ekkoer af stilhed raser når jeg kigger mod vindueskarmen.
lagnerne er krusede, men aftrykkene efter dig er her stadig. derfor har de sidste nætter været på de splintrede gulvbrædder, hvor du engang stod. dig. i fulde figur.

selv min morgenkaffe smager af dig, men jeg savner den bitre smag, så vil du ikke nok           ?

*f.b

as the oak is always the acorn,
so the poem is always the word,
no matter, how decimated       the tree,
no matter, how faded
the word,

inside resides, the tree, awaiting  the catalyst.
inside resides, the poem,
awaiting the esprit.


always, the essence remains,
embedded...  
always, is the outcome, foreshadowed...
etched in, by a code,
known, only in it's base intricacy by one...
the creator.