Creativity
is a prism in the mind’s eye.
A spectrum of knowledge enters,
a rainbow is projected.

Stupidity
is like electricity
it takes the shortest path
with the least resistance.

Insanity
is mistaking traits for objects,
and thoughts for forms of energy.
It forges syllables into art

Sleep has left my weary eyes,
Like a soul that softly cries,
Searching for a land so far,
Past the seas, beyond the star.



I think of where I used to play,
Long for its soil every day,
For people’s smiles I used to know,
But my homeland feels so far to go.


The sun and moon will find their way,
To meet at dawn, then fade away,
But I can only touch that land,
In dreams that slip like grains of sand.

10,000 miles I can hear you calling
10,000 times I am still falling
Next to you that’s where I belong
Next to you that’s where I feel strong

10,000 days every day is still the same
10,000 nights every night you call my name
In your arms there is nowhere else to be
In your arms I am you and you are me

10,000 beats our hearts work together
10,000 steps we will walk in to forever
In your heart I know light shines for me
In your heart I know that’s where I need to be

10,000 kisses each like I’ve never felt
10,000 arms around me I think I’m going to melt
In your eyes I can see the light
In your eyes I know this is right

10,000 miles we have traveled up and down
10,000 times we’ll be coming back around
In your dreams just keep on loving me
In your dreams that’s where I will be

Poets write poems
They think and think
Pickup their pens, it’s over

Birthdays and gravity, the cause of it all
The older I get the more often I fall
Too old to have nice long hair
Too heavy in the middle to fly through the air

Birthdays and gravity, you are slowing me down
Old and heavy, I’m stuck to the ground
Too many candles and too much cake
Birthdays and gravity, that’s all it takes

Fooling myself—
“I’m halfway through.”
I dive with my eyes closed.

The sense of direction
vanished a mile back.

I wade forward,
bleak effort in each step,
doubting the trails I pass.

I embody Sisyphus—

Living in the past,
I wonder
if it would have been different.

I travel
but reach nowhere.

I’ve changed.
I’ve grew,
and not for the better.
I used to laugh.
But now I wither.
I lie in my room and stare at my ceiling.
I wish I was different,
but times have changed me.
I’m not the same.
I don’t smile, I cry.
And I’ll watch myself die.
Because I’ve been changed,
that’s life.
Always a different person inside.
Change exists, and I hate it.
Take me to 2019,
when I wasn’t hated.
Change change, and more change.
Nothings ever the same.
Grow up, go back.
Life’s insane.
Oh, how I hate change.

A boy with a guitar in his hand
Doesn't sing for money or a band
He sings for himself, for town, for world
For love, for hate, or maybe a girl

When I saw you for the "first time" I still remember that innocent smile, I was just a teenager. Rude yet kind, with an ounce of hope and prayers "in my mind."

I am missing "the sound of my heart beating with delight, when I saw you in the shadey light walking across the lake with the bouquet of lilies while I was beholded by just the presence of thee."

"It was never about the outline nor about the view. It was always about the soul and forever about you."

He hummed as if the sea found its waves
He expressed as if a soul found its face
He waved the strings as if to tell how flowers bloomed
Or to dress up for someone groomed and perfumed

The words he sang, recited, or spoke
Had an essence of love, of fear, of hope
The love for the first talk and fear for the last glimpse
And hope that still lies silenced in the speaker's lips

He continued to sing and tried to answer
The whys that the listener demanded                                Who ?....
Maybe also cried "when I saw you die
I just wanna close my eyes and remember ,whom I said to wait"

With the scar in his hand
The boy said when the last notes arrived
Listeners were spellbound with love
And all the beings learnt to adore their beloved

It may be a flower or just a petal
It may be a magazine or a piece of letter
But all that matters are the feelings true
And there may be a someone which will evoke the guitar boy hidden in you