------------------   -----I
                               IG
                              NITE
                           ­    LIK
                            E FIRE WH
                            EN THEY S
                            PEAK IN M
                            Y EARS.  S
                            O LIGHT M
                            E LIKE A C
                           ANDLE, YO
                           U MOONLIG
                           HT VOICES ,
                           LEAVE ME O
                           UT, I BURNY
                           OU DOWN. P
                           UT ME OUT,
                           AND I WILL
                           MISS THEM

My mind is filled with scraps of poetry
The words he owes to me
I will never get back
The fact I failed to submit
Shows I'm only bones
And the range of the water
I have been given
Has out lived the living
But the waves of the yesterdays
Like blue days of a dream
The scheme of things have played out
My food for thought
Was laid out
On the couch where we said
Monsters hide at night in bed
And tell you to give up the dream
Of winning faith and dying clean
And if the thing of things must be
The living clean
The way I live
Or never have lived
Could not hold up the way of the shiv
And if the living hope to live
Or love or all
Then washing over once was dry
Will flood the eyes of beggars choicey

I close my eyes and sing
With my heart;
I don't move my lips.
No sound escapes
But it rings in my ears
Taking away
From all my fears.
In this moment I am free
In this moment I can sing
In this moment all I feel,
Is this embracing me.

Took the road to El Dorado
From Okeechobee to Colorado

Took the road away from riches at home
Children you have to help grow

Took the road to El Dorado
From Okeechobee to Colorado
Left your children at home
And they've grown without you

I find myself
Waiting for the end
Begging it to come
The sticky sweet beginning
That drags its rotted body to the eyes of
the Sun and stars
And I
Cannot wait
For the cycles to close.

The poets job is to think too much
To over-analyze the situations
They are in
Or exaggerate the way they felt
For someone to understand.

The poets job is to use words
As a form of catharsis
So far this way has left
nothing but pain

The poets job is to convey
A world inside their mind
With the words
And leave no emotion behind
To reminisce on things
They hardly remember
Cause they feel too much
For a past
They hardly lived

Or maybe it's just me
That feels this way
But the job we share
Is to entertain
Or strike a thought
To take our lives
And put it into words
On a paper
Because without it
We could not do our job
And our job is to feel