In a room full of his art,
He stood as strangers admired.
There was only one subject -
The one woman on his mind.

He'd stopped time to draw her,
Living in that one second for hours or days.
He'd done it so many times
He filled the gallery with paintings of her face.

Iridescent eyes in black and white,
Blonde hair filling the canvas.
He'd seen her from every angle
And what a beautiful sight she was.

Then she was walking through the door,
Moving like air in her red dress.
She exuded the beauty and grace
That his artwork couldn't quite express.

If ever a person came out of a painting,
She was not the one.
No amount of talent and brushwork
Could captivate him like she'd done.

And his eyes did not stray now
As she bridged the space between them.
This meant he had a chance
To try and make things right again.

But he need not have apologized.
She sshed and told him, "It's okay.
This tells me so much more
Than you could ever say."

His paintings of her and only her
Were wherever they landed their eyes,
Save the window where she looked
And said, "It's snowing outside."

"Do you trust me?" he implored.
Curious, she asked, "Why?"
He said, "I need to show you something."
Then he made her close her eyes.

She trusted him - and then froze.
For he'd once again stopped time.
But then he let her into his secret world
And she couldn't believe her eyes.

Everyone they could see was still.
Even the snow floated in midair.
Everything was stopped in that second
And they were the only ones there.

They ran out in the not-falling snow,
Creating outlines with held hands.
He kissed her then, the snow like stars
And they'll decide when that second will end.

Nakatawid na ang gabi sa umaga,
Umuusad ang magdamag ng digma.
Tahimik ang silahis na nakikiramdam
Sa paghulagpos ng salimbayan
Ng mga kulay na nagluwal ng dilim.
Hudyat ang kindat ng kislap ng talim,
Pagtitilad-tilarin sa pakikipagtalad
Naglalagablab naming mga balak.
Talampaka'y mangangahas sumampa,
Sa binakuran **** pagsasamantala.
Kabisado ng mga bisig kahit pa nakapikit,
Imbay ng sandata naming karit.
Matipid sa kilos, mabilis ang hagip
Dinambong sa aming libong ektaryang langit,
Babawiin, handa sa anumang kapalit,
Karapatan, aming muli’t muling igigiit.

...here she comes and there she goes
when she gets up she puts on her clothes and goes home!

Some guys have all the luck
some guys do nothing but *******

Or maybe its best this a way to be alone
Who can say?

I once had her; she kicked a hole in my heart!
My heart was blind so now that hole has grown a third-eye to spy upon
the future misery of a younger man going through the same crap I used to...

here she comes and there she goes...
when she gets up she puts on her party clothes and goes home with his stolen credit cards, jewelry, Rolex watch and more she stole from the guy before...


dclare

Why does normality **** creativity!
Why does it always get in the way
like yesterdays rain spilling into
tomorrows sun.
I cant run from this.
I cant escape this dreary rule of
mundane society.
I want to write!
'Then write' you say.
but I can't,
not with normality being
the murderer of my muse.
How can I create something beautiful,
wonderful,
brilliant,
magnificent
When normality is just one step outside my door.

I came home to you one day,
Your things all packed
like you were going away

"Change of plans?" I asked.

"Change of heart."

a.g

Have you ever cried because you felt so alone?
Have you ever been left outside in the cold?
Have you ever lived in a home that did not feel like your own?
Have you ever wiped the shadows from your heart, only to find bone?
Have you ever seen these eyes?
Have you ever been hurt by lies?
Have you ever left this life?
Have you ever had to say goodbye?
Have you ever had your heart ripped out and put on display?
Have you ever wished you could remember how to pray?
Have you ever wished you could just die?
Have you ever closed your eyes with the intent to never open them again?
Yes. I have

How merciful of memory
softening edges
bluring lines
with time

So, we know beautiful people are leaving
Just as a crab with a soft shell hides under rocks
But the Debs and Donnas only have to hide for a short time
Because we are the rocks of safety
The hate mongers are not poets
Not inspirationalists
They are the ones with a one inch *****
Those who desire the fulfilling *** of poetry
But cannot achieve the ******
And so you who write
Be it good or bad
Ignore the poison barbs of bitterness and hate
Just be yourselves