It is a scorching 95 degrees;
Hotter than hell for this time of year,
And I am wearing a dark grey fleece jacket.
I have no clue why I’m wearing it;
Maybe the fates decided it,
Maybe it’s the work of some god I don’t believe in.
But as the sun rays keep shining down
Through the open roof of a powder blue beamer,
Causing the hood to shine like gemstones and
My skin to boil and fry under the dark fabric
I won’t take it off though,
That would ruin the feel of the trip
Of having the wind of the road making it fly
Like a living creature with its own mind

And I am sitting in the convertible
Sniffing the fumes of gasoline and toxins
Holding them in my lungs to ferment a while
Before letting them all back out slowly,
Reveling in the taste of the road.
Going nowhere rather quickly
Flying past other shining super bullets
speeding down the black barrel
I've already traveled these same roads.
And therefore, this trip yields nothing new
Except for a few more bugs in my hair
And a few more miles on my journey

Opa,
It is a word,
But more of a sound,
The sound of
Thrown plates
Hitting the ground,
The sound of
God's cheer
At human accomplishment,
The sound of
Friends together
Stealing away the night.
Opa is expression,
Is happiness in life.

Opa in a name
Of an excellent resturaunt
Nestled in the land
Between dream
And reality
Where the tastes
Of the old
Blend with new
In the seamless style
Of the modern world.
Opa brings hope.

Hope is at
The doorstep
Of my doubtful heart.
Hope for redemption
In forefather's eyes.
That a connection
Can be still made
To my ancient world;
To my own blood,
Soul and flesh.
That I can
Learn to dance
In my own skin.

Opa is possibility
For my motherland
To hold on to life
By the slippery reins
And keep up
With the world,
But not lose tradition.
There is possibility
For me
To reclaim herritage;
To learn my history;
To live proudly Greek

I want to go to war ;
Not for glory and valor or duty and honor,
Not for some government’s victory fantasy.
I don’t even believe in killing,
And yet I still want to.
What a sad sight it would be to the soldiers,
The trained psychopaths who grew up,
In families that took away their fear and weakness,
(Their soul and heart as well)
Who were taught from birth to hold a gun against someone’s head
And shoot.
They will look at me, and
They will laugh until the veins in their over muscled necks pop,
And then they will laugh some more, and
Say” What the hell?
Who gave a pacifist a gun?”

And I will tell the murderous
Merciless
Arrogant
Brutes
“I want to rob a bank as well.”

And they will stare at me blankly
And inquire of me “why would a ***** ever,
Ever,
Ever
want to do something dangerous?”

And I will simply give a knowing smile
And reply
“I’m jealous,
I’m tired of only being a monster
Inside my head.”

Ha!

Laugh at me
Please

Hate me
Please

Maybe then I’ll learn
Maybe then I’ll change
Cause right now:

I’m so fake

As fake as America’s
“Lovey dovey”
Big, caring brother politics

Why didn’t you all tell me
Before?

Or maybe you don’t think it yet?
Yeah that might be it

I can see it on
Your faces
I can hear it in
Your words and
Your voices

You all think I’m
Something,
I’m not.

You all buy my exaggerations,
My down played traits,
(My attempts at hiding
What I don’t want you to see)
And even when you don’t
You miss what I am

Why are you throwing to third?
I’m just reaching first!

Can’t you see the
Contradictions?
Oh there’s so many.
Can’t you see the
Unexplained?
Maybe it’s not obvious

Laugh at me
Please
Hate me
Please
Call me fake
Please

Cause I’m not what you see
And I’m not trying to be me
(Me just ain’t cool enough, see)
Doesn’t that make me a poser?
Shouldn’t you be *******?
(That’s how they say it should be)

This is as much about you
As it is about me.

They call me sauvros
Or in the English style,
Saurus.
As in dinosaur,
Those terrible lizards.

But I am just a Saur,
Just a lizard,
Though,
That's bad enough.

I am a scaly thing
A grotesque personality
Crawling around
In this guy's head
Whispering bad things
Dark, terrible things

And you'd be loathed
To see me angry.

Scary thing
About money
There's never enough
To buy what you
Want.

And
When there's enough
There's nothing
Worth buying

So why spend a life's
Time
For a million in dough
When in a night
You
Can have a million dreams

Let love not spring eternal
But rather give it decay
And leave it days numbered
So few as to be counted
On only fingers and toes

Let love's flame burn
Not eternal
Not forever
But rather in short bursts
Hot flares of passion
With cold spells between

Let love be a flickering eye
Let it pass from one
Person to another
Let it not rest on its
Quest for a partner

Let love flow on
As the seasons flow
Waxing and waning
Let it change daily
Growing maturing
Aging developing

Let love leave home
And stay away
Until it is ready
To settle down
In its true place

Let your love not rest
Until it falls upon me
Or
Let my love not remain
With you who loves another.

Dark clouds loom heavily
On the horizon's edge.
Gray shapes in the image
Of hopeless, lost faces
Torn apart  by harsh agony
With hatred and despair.
In the clouds are the souls
Of the ******, the doomed,
And as the sun goes out
Hidden by a myriad of troubles,
The darkness of the human soul
Throws shadows on the Earth.

But the torrential rains fall cooly,
Drowning out the chaos with
The constant rhythmic beat,
Rat-tat-tat Rat-tat-tat.
The rain washes over me
Cleaning the dirt off my face.
The showers quench the fires
And grows new life within me.
A new plant takes root,
One named experience.
Even in the shadow's gloom
Good things can sprout.

A scuffed black mastiff entered stage left
Grumbling, growling, it pulled on its chain
It wretched and snarled, screaming for release
But it was beaten back by faceless master
It looked upon the watchers with eye of hell
Blood dripped from fresh made cuts and welts
There would be vengeance, the creature thought
As with hate, it looked toward the west

In stage right was a victim of a vicious world
A slave, a prisoner, beaten to the verge of death
A man once noble and just, forced into action
To protect all he had, he stole the bread
To prevent starvation, he fought authority
And now he was sentenced to humiliating decay
He would become the star of a roman play
That would be the last scene he’d perform

An order was given and the hound released
The dog was allowed to fill itself on the feast
Like death rising from below, the mastiff struck
Sinking razors into sweet warm muscled flesh
With back on the ground, the slave did not fight
And the mutt was confused by such a stance
Expecting a fight from his opponent, it waited
It waited with suspicion of the imminent strike

But the last flailing lashes would not fall
The transgressor would not fight one of his own
He saw in the beast, the same eyes as his son
And he understood the frustration of the beaten
The slave would not blame the simple dog
For his own faults, and the evils of the master
And the dog lessened the brutal assault it laid
Knowing that the one on the ground was friend
With dignity, they rose from the dirt together

The senators pondered as they looked on
The reason for the bond seemingly impossible
The lord infuriated ranted to his guards
Over such a refusal to die for the empire
The poor, the hungry, the oppressed rose
They fought back, chanting “We know why”
Why the man went to sleep with the dogs
He went to bed to be rid of the fleas

After giving up on homework
I'm going to write a poem
About what I have done
And where I am
And what is my worth

Those are questions on my conscious
Right now, I don't have the time
This why I want to take
A mental photograph

I want to take a snapshot
Of the single moments
Where my mind is off
Leaving the feeling Melancholy
To sweep up.
A time where I sit and wonder
What my point is anymore.

Of the times when my Mind
Comes in from a late day
At work
And the traffic was bad
And there was no promotion
Nor bonus nor reward
For the extra work
He had put in this week.
So he plops himself on the sofa
And his on the couch
Drinking yet another can of beer

In the kitchen
His wife Conscious cries
As she puts away the candles
And stows away the meal.
A romantic meal is all she wants
Mind will not put in the work
This was not the man she loved
Not this burnt out corpse

I wonder why I keep going on
Why I keep pushing myself forward
There's nothing special about me
I'm just a normal mortal

When I look into the mirror
I see flesh and bone
And tired eyes
I see acne and scars
And razor cuts
I do not see a god,
A creature that's special.
Just a simple human
Not worth all the hype
Not worth a penny more
Than all his peers
Actually, probably
Worth a penny less

You who read this might think
Is he depressed
Sick
A whiney *****?
The answer is
At times to all

I'm merely just a
Tired
Burnt
Angsty
Teenager.
With the constant nagging thought
What have I done?
Where am I?
Am I worth all the compliments?
Am I worth all the insults?
Am I worth anything at all?
For even teens
Filled with angst
Can question themselves sometimes

So I'm filing this snapshot
Along with all my more coherent ones
Is this a good idea?
I hardly read the work.
Oh who ******* cares
This is more for me
Than for you

The naive boy
Helped his friend

The naive boy
Was told not to

The naive boy
Cried "the Earth is flat"
Too late to find
In fact, it's round

The naive boy
Was a kind young thing
Hospitable to all.
Now he knows
The lengths some go
In getting what they want

I am not
The naive boy.
No longer!
Just an angry boy
Betrayed by friend
Who did not deserve
The kindness given

But I will not show
My internal rage
And they will never see
Thoughts on my face.
Who is now Naive?

Son; he says;
I am going to die.

How soon; I ask.
Real soon; he says;
Twenty, thirty years,
I've lived a while.

Why are you so old?
I ask, brokenly.
Because I was not
Ready to be a father
When I was younger;
He answers,
understanding.

I don't want you to die,
At least not so soon;
I grumble weakly

But, I'm ready for it,
I've spent my years
Holding onto life;
He says;
With you in the world
My last real job
Is to teach you
How to live.

Life's too short;
I say.
So short;
He agrees.

Now,
Let's talk girls
He says with
A wink and a smile

You speak so softly
Barely a feather
In the gentle breeze.
But your word weigh
Heavily on my mind.
You need to speak up.

How could anyone tell
What exactly you mean
When you have no conviction?
Especially oblivious me?

You cannot juggle words
Like they're flaming rings
Unless you want to burn.
Words must be thrown
Like darts at a target,
Each one hitting bulls-eye

This tentative manner
Might hold your audience
In a momentary trance
But they will move on
If all you ever do is dance
Around your point.

You may ask for me,
For my support or
Indeed, my company
But if your only words
Are lost in between
You only say, please leave.

I may understand why
Your words never come,
I may understand why
You desire not to hurt,
But I don't understand why
You leave others in the dark.

Little bird, little bird
Stuck in your cage
Why do you want the sky
There are storm clouds out there
With thunder and lightning
And Hunters fire upon you
Shooting you down where you fly
With anger and hate
The world’s a dangerous place
For little birds to fly around
You’re safer in the cage

Field mouse, field mouse
Why do you run
I do not wish to harm
Just that the cat’s loose
And I want to protect you
And call you mine
People lay down their traps
They wish for you dead
I will not grant their morbid wants
I love you field mouse
Please stay with me

Beating heart, beating heart
Pounding in my chest
Why must you make a racket
Be quiet and still
You are driving me mad
What’s wrong with being subjected
When it is just by me
I let you run a while ago
And now it is time to rest
My beating heart, slow down a bit
Before you give us away

Tryptophan, Turkey comas
On a stuffed stomach,
Chock full of dreams
Button bursting insight

So much food
So much family
So much joy
So much to be thankful for

Thankful
Not to be dead,
To be enjoying life
Here on Earth

Thankful
Not to be poor,
To be able afford
The comforts in life

Thankful
Not to be alone,
To have friends and family
Helping to guide me

Stuffed
Sprawled on the couch
Realizing how much I have
Realizing it could all be
Gone within a blink.
Thankfully, I’m here
Thankfully

I’m alright.

The recipe reads:

2 and 1/2  ounces dedication
To 3 pounds *******
To a gram of work
To a ton of cheating
To a tablespoon punctuality
To a gallon procrastination
All with a base of
Genetic Luck

Success,
Success,
**** this

What's the big idea
Of having to succeed?
I don't need to succeed,
Not by your standards.
I write my  own formula
For a successful life.

One
Bitter
Shot
Of
Not dead, Yet.

Tap, Tap… Tap, Tap
Morse code at its finest
Each time pencil drops
A resounding click is made
Marking letters and words
With sound’s punctuation
Click, click… click, click

I wonder what it means
The code the pencils use
To communicate their thoughts
Does the pencil shout
About its abuse and misuse
Or does it cheer
For guiding hand and beauty made

What does it feel for me
It knows me as I am
Through the love poems
And the angry words
Does it agree with what I say
With what is in my soul
No matter, it’s still my closest friend

The pencil knows my confusion
But with each “tap, click”
We whisk the fogs away
With each line we write
We feel more free.

I woke up this morning
With my pillow still damp
From last night's opening,
From that pin-up show
Where truth was first on
Followed by facts then pain
And all was bore straight
Through long held tears.

I woke up this morning
To see your cold eyes.
That Peculiar stare of
The scientist that's scared
Of the monster he made.
Those isolating looks.
That tells me your view
Of me has changed.
Those worried, sad eyes
That are ready to jump
To my aid if I fall

I woke up this morning
To hear those careful words
That tentative speeking
Telling me that you're afraid
That any word you might say
Will cause me to fall apart
Will cause me to take my life.
And honestly, they could
But your cautiousness could
Drive me insane as well.

With your love,
You choke me
With your worry,
You ****** me
With your care
You stab me
Deep in my heart.

Dear Mom
Dear Dad
I am okay.
I lived this way
Long before I told you.
I know how to deal
With pent up pain.
But you act different
As if I'm a time bomb
Or a mental patient.

That's why
I never told you
Cause I knew
That you wouldn't know
What's best to do.
Casting me aside
As a freak is far
From what's good.

The world is gray.
She can be cold,
Harsh, indifferent.
She will hurt you
In more ways than
You could possibly
Ever imagine.
She will tear you down
When you're high.
She will bury you
When you're down.
She will let you freeze
Starve and waste away.

In the end,
The world will hold
The smoking gun
As she fires the
Bullet into your brain.

The beauty of it all
Is that none of it
Matters. Period.
When the world is harsh,
You can be happy.
When the world is mad,
You can have peace
When the world is grim,
You can be hopeful

Becuase
Before it's all over
You will see little
Miracles made daily.
You will see challenges
Being constantly overcome.
You will meet wonderful people.
And with them, you'll create
The amost amzing magics.

The beauty of it all
Is that we can always
See beauty where it's
Hard to find.

Once there was a day
A simple, plain day
With a middle,
Beginning, and end
With a tea time
A lunch time
A dinner time too
The sky was cloudless blue
And there was a bubbly breeze
As only fits a simple day
As this day was

And enjoying this day was a boy
A normal, average boy
With a large smile
Ruffled hair, and ***** face
With two good hands
A strong jaw
Ten toes as well
The boy played happily
His imagination wandered free
As only fits an average boy
As this boy was

On this day, there was a rock
A dull, boring rock
With no real shape,
Color, or value
With a hard surface
A strong mass
And good aerodynamics
A rock that flew throught the air
And shatterd glass
As only fits a thrown rock
As this rock was

This day, there was a plague
A horrendous, devastating plague
With a death toll
Of six billion
With no cure
No treatment
No vaccine
Stored safely in a vile
Until it was let free
As only fits a bioweapon
As this plague was.

Splat
The hand drops
Smothering the flames,
Causing them to die

For a few moments
The fire knew life.
It had energy,
The essence of power
It grew stronger and
Spread its roots

In a second
What started as
A spluttering infant
Was snubbed out.
It will neve see
What it could be.

So easy it is.
To put out a fire,
To change the future
To end the potential
With the tips of your fingers
Or the flat of your palms.

So easy it is
To end a fire
To say good night
It's time to sleep.
Shhhhhh

Green light suspends my structure
Darkness then enters, pervasive, invasive
Darkness without hostile motives
No reason to ail my beautiful light
It just happens

So long aloft in arms of others
Legs are shriveled, decorations, a show
A show that cannot support the form
Of the athlete the task demands
Disappointment, Atlas failed

Smooth and bare the corridor
Opening into an expanse of cavern
Rough on the edge, ravaged
The Devil took a bite out of Earth
Looking into the space, empty

It is not what is taken
It is the burden kindly given
The freedom to inhale and exhale
To be tossed by storms and make them
The ability to succeed, or even fail
Responsibility

In the garden,
Where secrets hide
Behind every tree
Where black and yellow
Knights float free
where tomatoes grow
Next to smiling children
Where birds flitter by
In the passing of years
And currents of time

In the garden
Where my safe house
Meets the outside world
Where life trudges on
Like a caterpillars crawl
Where memories are born
With the new spring birds
Where one realizes
This is what life is,
How it's all meant to be

There could be a killer
Standing outside of
The door to your house.
As you and your husband
Sleep quite peacefully.

He could be watching
As you inhale slowly
And as your body falls
When you exhale a breath
That could be your last.

He could be standing
With a knife above you.
He could smile at the thought
Of your beating heart stopping
On the tip of his blade.

That could happen.
It is a fear that runs
Circle about your mind.
It is an outcome that
Could possibly take place
If the fates smiled at
You with sharpened fangs.

It’s doubtful
That it will though,
But you’re going to
Let it control your
Actions anyways.

You’re going to write a will
And see your family
And be with your friends.
And you will feel safe
And unafraid.

And then as you
Walk home from church
You will be mugged
And shot dead.
You fingers will
Already be cold
When the paramedics
Arrive.

All those friends
You reacquainted,
All those family
You helped out,
All your coworkers
You befriended,
Will show up
At your tragically
Beautiful funeral.

While you sip tea
In the beyond,
You will smile
And think
“Aren’t I lucky.
I was prepared
For what could happen
And that helped me
With the inevitable”

But you’ll forget
That the only
Reason
You went  to
The church
Was because
You were afraid
Of what could have,
Might have happened,
Making the could be
Into the did happen.

“So there was this man, rather tall man, dark hair and sunglasses, average Casanova, lady’s man sorta guy. And this man walks into my bar.”

“Maybe he should have ducked”

The buzzed man’s friends gave a collective groan at their buddy’s one-liner. The bartender, a balding gentleman with a protruding stomach, continued his anecdote.

“Well, this man comes in and pulls up a seat next to this gorgeous doll at the counter and starts to chat with her a bit. Happens to be that this gal he was talking to is my best friend’s wife. “

“So did’ya kick the guy out? Seeing how he was trying to get in bed with your best friend’s girl.” Said a second voice.

“Didn’t have to. She told the guy straight out that she was a married woman Threatened to call the police even.”

“And what did the guy say?” asked a third.

“Now, that’s the funny bit. So the man tells the girl that her being married was no problem. In fact, he claimed he slept with every married woman around town. Anyways, she slapped him so hard, it nearly knocked him out. I swear he’ll have a wedding band bruise on his cheek for a month. Talk about irony”

The three men roared with laughter, especially the comedian of the group. Sometime about two in the morning, the drinking buddies downed their last drinks and stepped out into the falling rain. They split at the curb taking separate routes home. The last one on the sidewalk when the bartender shut off the lights was the first man to speak.

He walked to the curb and stuck up his thumb for a taxi to take him back to his north side apartment. A few minutes later, a cabbie stopped outside the bar and rolled down his window.

“Where will it be?”

“Train station” the man decided. Dripping wet he opened the door and climbed into the cab’s rear seat.

“Hey, buddy, you should really use an umbrella. It looks like you’ve been crying.” said the cabbie chuckling at his own humor.

“Didn’t bring one” replied the man. The cab driver didn’t try to continue the conversation.

The man got out at the train station and dashed to the bathroom. He went into the last stall and locked the door.  The man slid to the floor with his back against the wall, and from his pocket came a folded paper decorated with little ringlets of dried tears. He read the note yet another countless time since finding it that morning.

“Dear former,
There’s someone else, and we’re skipping town.
Love you,
Janie
P.S. You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”

Doubled over, the man howled out a mournful tune through broken sobs. He had decided to come to the train station to wonder what train his one love climbed aboard as she left his life.

What pain it must be
To be one of two
When two were one
And the other is done
Leaving one as one half
Not even a whole.

There's not much left
When you're not complete
When the rest of you
Has departed from sight.
You are useless then,
When  you are the other part
To the missing piece.

No wonder he cries
In the night for his brother
No wonder he waits alone
For the one that won't come.
No wonder he cannot
Give up on his hopes
He'd have nothing if he did.

At least there's some good
Lucky, he's not an outcast.

That pain, I hope to never know.
If all is together, uniformly one,
Then to be left out
Is to have never existed.
To be one divided by all
Is less than one over infinity.

I understand what it is
To be one half or one third
But if I was one
Divided by the world.
If I was the last one left,
I think I'd prefer death.

There’s a piano in the corner;
It’s lonely tonight.
It thinks that it’s worthless,
Sitting there without a player,
And it’s one joy in the world,
Making notes flow
Through open ears and minds,
Making the people dance,
And be merry,
But the music won’t come.

It sits there in the home,
Waiting for a master,
To play through its scales,
To run his hand over its keys,
To make it feel warm,
And precious,
And cherished as is.
But the master is gone,
Leaving it to grow dust.

The master left long ago,
Jumping the train to Chicago
To go where the real talent lies,
Where other pianos play,
Nicer tones and smoother melodies,
Where he can make a new life,
Among the stars and the bars,
Leaving behind all the old.

So the piano sits there,
And out of sympathy,
I go to it,
And play a few notes.
Not like the master would,
But still better than none,
And it says a happy
“Thank you”,
As I run my fingers down the keys

So slow
Always slow
Always behind
Traveling slug's pace
Against cheetah's sprint
Seeing the goal
Slowly fading in the distance

Racing
Running
Raging
Struggling to catch up
Never to catch up

The mouth
A lap behind
The brain

The brain
A thousand miles
Behind the world

The world is gone,
Is a spaceship
Traveling to the moon

I am a boy
Standing on Earth
With
My loves
My lives
My dreams
On a one way trip
To the stars

I guess I'll learn
To build a rocket.
I have plenty time
Stuck on this rock.

The snow flakes fall heavily;
Icing over the barnhouse roof,
Turning the fields to cream
And the haystacks to floating cakes.
The early ice cut the land deep.
The crops and cattle will die.
Leaving nothing but icy confections.
And the farmer will only have
One withering cherry tree

A gorgeous tree
With icicle leaves
And branches like fingers
Begging for warmth.
It has the beauty of standing
When all else has fallen.
But the staunch defender
Has seen life's torments.
It's seen summers pass
With the drying of land,
And autumns come and go
With the changing of clothes.

She had been as
Fair and pure
As the cherry tree.
An innocent youth,
Radiating inner joy.
A prize not worthy
For the noblest king.
Yet she loved him so,
Making there parting
Much more dark.

She withered away
One winter's eve
And with one last breath
She whispered "my love".
The farmer bore the task
And with his own hands
Laid her to her bed
And planted the cherry tree,
A grave mark, above her head.

Three weeks pass
And the snow still falls
The fire no longer burns
Old age keeps the farmer
A prisoner in his house
And being a deperate man,
He takes up his axe
And goes into the yard

In the following spring,
A young couple in love
Journeyed by the house
Where there eyes fell upon
The grace of a cherry tree.
And beneath that the tree
Was a farmer buried in a
Soft pink funeral shroud.
Too dignified to harm
The last remaining mark
Of his lover gone.

Crawling upon the ground,
Black specks like train cars
Fall in line
One by one
Carrying their loads
Of prisoners,
Supplies,
And food.
To feed a thousand mouths,
To support the machine.
Carrying gifts,
And wonders from far lands
To bring before the queen.
The train moves on,
Stretching over vast
Miniscule plains.

Like a conveyer belt,
The black lines
Run their circuits,
Picking up pieces,
And carrying them back .
Day in,
And Day out
Until,
One of them says
“Enough!
I won’t be worm meat
Any more.
I won’t go out in the open
To meet my doom,
To work for the good of others.
I will go out and make my life
Elsewhere.”

A thousand eyes,
Each with a thousand pupils
All turn to look at the
Ignorant
Idealist
From a million perspectives.
Nothing is said,
Just a multitude of blank stares
Until the loner
Mutters a quick
“sorry”,
And joins back in line,
Just as things have always been.

Your eyes are cold
Your head is down
thinking that way
Makes Your lips frown

You stand on the
brink of the day
Tween here and gone
And now and there


What will you do
Before you're gone
Do you yet know
It's almost dawn

Where will you go
Until time's end
What will you show
To death, your friend


So please don't think
Don't think about
Eternal sleep
Fading away
For if you do
Then you shall be
Think of what
you will leave

Please think of those
who'll always care
What will they be
Without you there

So think of us
Your family
And how we changed
Your entire world

We'll pull you through
These hardened times
Into the light
Of this new day

So hold our hands
We'll hold to you
We won't let go
Until it's through

So please don't think
Don't think about
Eternal sleep
Fading away
For if you do
Then you shall be
And slip away
Before the day

Before the day

Out in the streets
The machine guns rattle
And the mortats explode
Like som sick conductos
Idea of a drumline.
Rattattat Boom Rattattat
The young rebels play
With their fireworks
While I drink my wine
In the safety of
The corner cafe.

Tonight,
I thought about you
My dear old enemy
And of how long its been
Since we were ther at the
Starting line of this war
That still limps toward the finish.
And already we have left
Our mark upon each other.
You have your scars,
And I have mine.
We've both grown old
From waging our battles.

Yet we still fight on,
And that's what's amazing.
Neither of us has given up
And I respect you for it.
My rival, to you I say.
You are my brother.
You understand the pain
Of the wounds I've felt.
You understand the goal
I strive so hard to reach.
We are brothers by
The blood we spilt
From one another.

I sit in this cafe
Sipping wine with pastries
Lettling the younglings play
Their most dangerous games,
And I raise my cup
To you my brother enemy.
Though one of us must fall,
I hope we'll get along
In our many lives to come.
I pray for you brother
Who follows the same goddess.

The waiter arrives
With the check in hand.
I look it over
And tell her it's wrong.
"Can't you see
I was eating
With my frined?
This should read two
Not just one."
She looks me over
And bids me farewell.
"Be careful now,
There's blood out there."
I assure her that
I know well of this.

I sought calm seas,
The seas I knew,
Where I was born,
Waters I understand.
I charted my course
And unfurled my sails
Just in time for the storm.
To spirit me away
Into the unknown

I though I was
Prepared, a good sailor
But when the skies
Turned dark and the
Waves grew tall,
I was not ready
For my mind to
Fall to pieces,
My spirit to collapse.

I gripped the wheel
Holding on tight
As lightning struck
The deck around me.
With one last wave
The height of the mast
I was tossed away,
Carried out to seas
Yet to be charted.

Floating, drowning
Churned around
By angry swells.
The water floods
My empty lungs
And feeling unexplored
Pains unexperienced
Filled my empty mind.
I shiver in the cold.

I am Schrodinger's cat
My thoughts are an experiment on entropy
I am both dead and alive

I've been tongue tied since third grade
never able to say I love you.
Especially to myself.

I want everything to be still;
I want wars a thousand miles away
To stop causing explosions and children’s screams.
I want movies being filmed as I speak
To just disappear and never be made.
I want all the butterflies to die,
So they won’t cause any more hurricanes
To pull me away from the words on the page.
I want all to be silent, motionless, and calm,
So I may sit here and grow old with my book.
I will sit here reading and rereading the simple lines,
Until vines grow over me and hide me from the world,
Until time stops caring whether or not I die,
Until I turn to stone, a monument to myself,
And even then, I won’t put down the book,
Until I know the meaning behind every word.
The ones I disagree with
The ones that I love
And even the ones that make no sense at all.

Then I’ll be content,
Being forgotten by everyone
And everything

Big Words,
A Grand Image,
Weird riddles,
And metaphors,
Hidden truths,
Subtle lies,
Great irony,
And tragedy,
High classes,
Arrogant “I”s
Games of chance,
And Royalty,
Shrewd politics,
Murderous kings,
Cowardice generals,
And God’s avarice,
Damaged kingdoms,
Injured souls,
Innocent love,
And a downfall,

It’s the recipe
For a melodrama

A hint of feeling
To add some spice,
A conflict, a hero
A maid in distress,
Without these all,
It’s just a comedy,
And wouldn’t look
Like our turbulent lives.

Hold your breath.

For
When you don't breathe
Your brain starts to die
Along with your troubles
Your angers
Your pains
Your fears
Your nightmares
Your failures
Your hopelessness

Your memoy
Your potential
Your family
Your friends
Your opportunity
Your wishes and dreams
Your life
And all that you are
And all that you could be
Will wither as well.
You might want to breathe
Before you lose more
Than you want.

I always keep a wish list
I write what I want
And the price I’ll pay.
Be it a target for a twenty
Or love for an arm and a leg.
I’ll pay fifty for a new game
And my soul for popularity.
Music is a dollar a song.
Friendship is always priceless.
Racing suit costs me eighty
And family costs a few feuds.
The shiny new watch sells for forty
Success sells for just too much.
The only thing that’s ever free
Is the happiness that surrounds me.
All that cost is one’s own decision
To tell sadness, good riddance.

Welcome to my humble abode,
My mind, my heart, my soul,
My madhouse and my prison,
My open fields and dark caves.
Come inside and see,
Where I play out all my fantasies
From simple walks
On sunshine beaches
To chanting crowds
After great speeches.
In one room, I play dress up
With many faces of different sorts.
In another I just repeat one thing,
“I love life”
A million times a day, just to believe it.
You are welcome to wander
My labyrinth of many halls,
Where you might find
Temptation gremlins and inhibition faeries at play.
You can walk through this castle’s yard
On a winding path that never ends,
Passing the shocking sculptures and hedges,
Kept by the half mad, half blind gardener.

In fact,
If you so crazily wish,
You can spend all your time here,
Peeping in to my inner workings,
Finding wonderful things,
Devilish things,
Things that make no sense,
And things that should not exist.

But I warn you;
Don’t try to understand the order here.
Don’t try to pick up any meaning.
Don’t touch anything, don’t get involved,
Or you might get lost in here
And become another voice inside my head,
Going about the rest of your life as merely a
Whisper