Amongst the midnight sky,
I stare at a rose as it dies.

Its pedals are torn and bruised,
such a precious thing to lose.

Yet, when I stare into the full moon,
I see that it will be daytime soon.

When I hear a girl's sorrowful cries,
I know that a new rose begins to arise.

Those pedals are lush and red,
nowhere close to being dead.

And as I find her inside my heart,
I know that I am not falling apart.

I finally realize who I really am,
it definitely took some time but, ****.

It was all worth it in the end.

Little eyes, they are always watching
As I go through fields of sunflowers and clouds of crows
They see everything I do
Little eyes

Little ears, they are always listening
As I whisper words that I throw around like pebbles into a river
They hear everything I say
Little ears

Little hands, they always do what I do
As I pick up the burdens of this life and hold them tightly to my chest
They copy everything I do
Little hands

Little mouth, they always talk as I talk
As I cast my words into a sea of disregarded lies and careless feelings
They say everything I say
Little mouth

Little feet
As I walk down the highways of shadows and allies of sunshine
They follow me wherever I go
Little feet

Hand is falling
Everyday, I grab a pen or pencil.
With it I scribble words all over a page or two.
It becomes a pattern, a routine.
I read and write, every night.
Till I had enough.
My hand is falling
Change pen color n highlighter,
To mark up important things.
It's too much for my hand!
Hand is falling off!
Oh,
When will this end? Perhaps it'll end with I leave?
Or will it end when I've had enough?
My poor hand.
My hand is falling off!!

sometimes i just don’t think
my eyes go glassy in the time of a blink
and i just write instead of seeing a shrink
i type instead of getting another drink

all poetry is kind of stupid if you think about it
but right now, i am beyond out of it
but who gets to decide what rhymes with what?
who decides what words make the cut?

frankly i’m writing this at zero sleep
and i will probably delete this later
and if i even hear a single thought or a bleep
i will deem the entire world a traitor

Does love only happen to the lucky ones,
or is it instead the tricks of the world that conspire within.
Can one be fully happy where there is love
or does love do like the wind
which continues to blow on end
Because with out it how can there be a beginning
as many Christians we know the beginning and the end
Genesis 1&2
But in this world so few can ever know the feeling...
the feeling of love; real, pure, true love
So its only true to ask does love only happens to the lonely ones.

~
Two minutes of perseverance
two minutes of curiosity

Seeking out life
returning with ingenuity

It's all about surfaces and thresholds
and winter hemisphere

Each of us wants so badly
to be that next satellite

Or at least be allowed
to dream we're a small dark spot
moving across the Sun's face
~

Like in one of them fantasy movies
The hero draws the sword of power
To emphasise it's pureness
They make it ring
For half an hour

You try to be concise
To scallop metaphor
Cut back on the floweriness
Let sweet simplicity pour

But you think
The point's unmade
Your thoughts lay unleavened
Just one more verse my friend
What was that?
Six
Or
Seven?