the generation of strength
a low burning flame
a need to say what needs must be said

a cauldron
furnace
soul of Man

poetry of language
a spear
a roaring fire.

Human interaction is a wide place
allows for the unconventional

poetry can be that place
a place of communing deep

a place of sharing that,
which cannot be easily defined

a way to be Human
on the road of Mankind.

Artists are like God in that their happiness comes from the ability to create.

Pick up a paint brush and discover a religion.

Down where the river flows
   This is where the old souls go
Where water dances in lustrous blues & bright yellows
   Some died old & others were young fellows
They play jazz & R&B tunes
   Drowning out their gray moods
Each one shows up sad
   Then leave with a smile worth a grand
But none are here for money, no
   They're here to forget the ones they let go
Heartbreak hurts indeed
   But having a broken soul, nothing competes
Down by the swaying willow tree
   Old souls become free
Dressed in the hues of their stories
   Sneaky eyes have tried to read
Careful! Don't be seen
Humans shouldn't intervene
For there is a soul from the past
   A boy who's last breath was a laugh
Still young & naive
   He craved a new world to see
The sight of a girl led him to the town
  And his laugh became an alarming sound
All souls searched and seeked
  Braylen Otto Oakley
Whizzing past familiar places
   And seeing grieving faces
They shouted his name
   Wanting the pain to go away
Rummaged through their past
   Hoping these feelings wouldn't last
"What is it you look for?"
   BOO
Where did he go?
   Nobody knew
Till then they scream out Boo

Her walls are
indestructible,
I throw rocks, stones and catapult boulders,
I chisel away through nooks and crannies trying to find a weakness,
I hit it over and over with a sledgehammer,
Yet no matter how hard I hit the wall
I cannot knock it down,
I have merely chipped my way into her heart.