Someday summer comes again,
Someday the sun does away with cold winds.
Winter doesn't last forever,
Winter will leave us soon.
I know we're at it's end,
I can see the light linger longer.
Winter will come to a close,
Winter snows have ceased their blow.
Someday the warm rays will melt the ice,
Someday stars will glow in a warm evening again.

I'm (not) stupid,
I am (not) a fool,
I'm (not) only useful to you,
I'll never (not) be useful to anyone.

I'm a somber soul,
My baby is sick at home.
I'm too far to walk,
I'm too young to drive.
Oh it's such a pity,
Lonely with the little lows of life.
My baby is sick at home,
But I've just gotta pocket,
All my strife to sickness.

As the sun goes down,
I find I'm staring with a frown.

I would be smiling wide,
If not for my lonesome,
All the tears the rain cried.

Though I guess it's just another human thing,
It's the lonely nights that make the moon spin round.

It's a beautiful ***,
But wouldn't it benefit from some green?
I reckon you better start prepping that soil,
Because we're going to plant a tea tree!
Imagine how wonderful that would be,
Blossoming white flowers, a warm cup and bees.

Oh, imagine a garden full of bumble bees!
Buzzing about the perfect petals,
Pouring pollen into the breeze.
If only we had a garden,
We could sit and lunch,
Pastry, cheese, and the sweet drink from our tree!
Darling, while your out buying seed,
Would you grab a few more pots?

I fancy a spot of travel,
Gotta get around this green globe.
I've seen so many wonderful beautiful things,
The ruins of Rome, the remnants of Greece.
Though these are real swell,
Nothing compares just as well,
As the places I go when it's only you and me.

Well I'm sure,
These rainy days won't stay forever.
There's not a chance,
Clouds are big enough to hold that much.
So that is how I know,
The sun will come out and melt this snow!

Oh darling,
I'm not at home,
If I'm not with you.
You're my polished floors,
My grand oak door.
The sweet luxury of my bed,
At the end of a long day of longing.
Warmth of my fireplace,
In the evening when not a worldly soul wakes.
When it comes to love,
I'm real picky,
I won't have it if it's not you.

I had a dream,
That all love was true,
That was the reason I found you.

It was on the frozen ocean,
I was in a white suit,
You were in a black dress.

We kissed patiently,
As the orchestra played it's lovely tune,
My mind began to stir,
Fading from the thought of you.

Joy is a little thing,
A warm luxury in the chill of winter's winds,
One sparkling treasure in the face of somber spring rains.
Happiness is a man,
Roaming the midnight city streets,
Tossing gold glitter all over the way as he skips along.
Pleasure, a soft blanket on your bed,
A perfectly placed pillow to rest your head,
A pencil that never runs out of pencil lead.
Everything is diamond when relief rears its head,
Assuring as the autumn breeze,
Pushing around stray sticks and leaves.

I'm gonna get me a record player,
So I can throw on jazz vinyls,
Classical symphonies, modernistic musics, raptastic tracks-ish.

So I can hear those low notes blow,
Those high notes reach, whistle, then pop,
So I can listen to all 'em tunes,
That got me thinking about you non-stop.

I was working,
Right on down at the sandwich shop.
When a dainty little lady landed at my counter,
With a twirl, a smile, and a sparkle too,
She parted her lips to let a beautiful sound through.
'Hey-ya sandwich man,
You're lookin' rather tasty,
And I'm one hungry girl.
Boy your sweet smile is gonna make me stay for awhile,
Mind if I get a taste babe?
Just a little sample of your loving,
Because a boy like you makes a girl go crazy!
Believe me baby, I didn't come for a sandwich fool,
I came to see if a could get a soda pop,
With a small side of you.'
Woo-ooo she made me drool!
A slender thing with bouncy curls,
You better believe she sent me for a whirl,
With her flicking lashes and skirt twirl!
I never thought I'd thank my old boss,
For taking me up to his old shop.
But with a skip and a hop,
I thanked cranky ol' pops.
Then I got going,
Cause she needed a strong hand,
To make sure hers don't drop.

She wants to read my personals,
The ones I don't ever post.
All the dusty notebooks,
All the hard years and burning memories.
You can read them bb,
But only if you are ready,
To learn history hurts.

A little boy plays by the river,
Slips on wet rock by the stream,
He scrapes his knee.

He cries from the pain,
But his buddies laugh it away.
And he becomes a man,
Because grow men don't cry, right?

I walked in the evening,
Throughout the widow's woods.
Following the rabbling brooks,
Down to the lonesome cliff spire.
On the edge I spied a man,
A ruffled suit, head in his hands.
Slowly, I approached him,
And sat by his sorrow.
'For what are you here sir,
For why have you come to shed tears over the edge,
Straight to the rocky jaws of the gorge's floor?'
He raised his head from it's rest,
Turned it to look at I.
'My friend I have come for death,
His sweet relief and eternal rest.'
Widened did my eyes,
'But friend, it is not your time,
I see a pool of youth still in this eye which you gaze with.'
He sighed, looked back to the edge,
'Your eyes lie to you my friend,
My years of youth are gone,
But before I go take this letter,
I want not my last thoughts to go o'er these falls.'
So I did, then once it laid safe in my hands, I left,
And so did the man,
But left not to his home,
But to the end.

Where I am,
Snow and sun battle,
A gray war in the sky and lands.

There are three false springs,
Before winter is truly slain.
Hope rises from the rocky Earth,
Only to be drowned in the icy rain.
Once again claiming the soul of young spring,
So the elder winter may rise again.

Faith is a torch I must carry,
I won't let the beliefs it taught us fade away.
Brotherhood, loyalty, bravery,
I pray so we don't meet the day,
God is replaced with a robot.

If the world won't make space for you,
You've just gotta carve it yourself.

After all, if no one built themselves a house,
None of us would have a roof over our heads.

In my left ear,
Mozart on two times speed,
In my right,
The full Bible read in Chinese.
The strange writers in my mind,
Will take inspiration from anything.
So here is a sentiment in Chinese

If we're being honest,
Not every day is a good one,
You can't make 'em all good,
Otherwise none would be good enough.

Sometimes you just can't fix a broken day,
You just have to take a deep breath and go to bed,
You've got all of tomorrow left.

I posted a sign at the door,
Hand carved and lettered.
It's addressed to you,
"Keep out, you're not welcome here no more."

You yelled,
You pointed fingers,
You slap boxed a computer screen.

You broke things that aren't yours,
You challenged Truth,
Now you're a memory,
Yet another 404.

Spring is coming,
I can smell it in the air.
The warm kiss of sunny days,
The sent of the Earth waking again.
Winter snows fall from their glinting glory,
Shrinking as they drown in the muds.
The puddles claim the sidewalk stones,
Now in their reflection, I know my face again.
My soul aches as the breezes pass by me,
Carrying the sweet scents of flower blooms.
If only I could grow wings,
I would follow them to their shining prize.
Spring, is coming.

Who invited the instigators?
I didn't,
Did you?
They don't work,
They don't write,
Unless it's a comment made out of spite.
Social medias were built to throw around blame,
If you like spreading rumors, may I suggest Facebook?
Wherever you do it,
Don't do it here,
You're one poem,
Can't be a line attacking people you've never met.
I'm sick of all the strays,
If you come here, come for art,
Come to write.

I just found out,
Hp lost a good one today.
Their account is a 404,
Page not found.
It was all good work,
Until it was all gone.

When I was young,
I believed they were 'Morning Doves.'
That they would fly down in the night,
To rest on my lawn.

Now that I'm older,
I know they're called 'Mourning Doves.'
That they were named after their haunting song,
Of all Earth's sorrows and plight.

I walk through the garden,
In the light of day,
Rays of pink dawn,
Jumping through the fray.

Strolling long through the roses,
Bushes aligned in a beautiful bouquet.
I ran my hand through their blossoms,
Yet it came back with blood.

Snagged on the same beauty,
I was there to adore.
Dripping to the rocks,
Laying ugly on the floor.

We're two different people,
But in similar ways.

We both like chewing gum,
A pack in our pocket at all times.
But mine's watermelon,
Yours is nicotine.

I can make a career out of this,
Right?
I can do this for a living,
So many people do.
I'm paranoid,
But I think it's reasonable.
I've done this for so long,
Who will I even be,
Without it?

How do I beat writers block?
How do I scale a wall,
Google won't give me answers at all.

How do I fix a broken star?
How do I mend a shattered dream,
Is the answer hidden in the stream?

Preacher please,
Would you open your doors for me?
I have sinned yes,
But is sin is common in my profession's play.
The night is awfully cold,
If only you'd give me a moment,
To warm my hands by the hearth.
Certainly one of God's high and mighty,
Would let a poor man thaw his fingers.
I miss their mobility,
I can barely hold my own hands,
Much less a pen.

The moon is 238,900 miles away,
I didn't even know that,
I guess you really do learn something new every day.
But if she loves me to the moon and back,
I love her all the way out to Kepler-438b,
640 light-years from today,
Guess you learned something new too, aye!

The difference between the 'Big Men,'
And I is I'm willing to be comedic relief,
Because I know we really need it.

I starve myself of sustenance,
I work better hungry.
I refuse any drink,
Thirst is what drives me.
Without my drive,
I have no purpose.
Without purpose,
I am just as good as any stray stone.

I stay hungry,
I achieve,
But if I stop to eat,
I satisfy,
Then my work halts,
At a point of content.
I'm no where near as good as I could be,
So I'll keep pushing.

I get a little afraid,
When it comes to public appearances,
Whatever the matter, I'm not any kind of people's man.

It's difficult to talk to pretty girls,
I just don't think I'm worth their time,
But I do my darndest with you.

To be a poet,
Is to constantly battle your greatest enemy,
Yourself.
If your mind is not your greatest adversary,
You'll never feel freedom in what you write,
Because if you didn't battle for the thought,
You didn't win it's right.

I'm a rap addict,
I breathe beats,
I crave rhyme,
I like when the track,
Tastes like lemon lime,
How many kinds of music,
Keep making you come back?
Not enough,
Shout out to hip-hop,
Call out to rap.

Lost was I,
In the dark streets,
Of this winding city.
Looking over my shoulder,
Searching for landmarks,
Any building I knew.
I was approached by a man,
And I raised my defenses,
But his light demeanor calmed my anxiety.
He spoke to me,
A melodic tune in his voice,
'They call me happiness,
I see you're lost in the dark,
Come with me and let me show you,
Everything you're missing.'

I'll pen a hundred poems,
But it doesn't matter,
If you don't read 'em.

You're my best critique,
I need you in and around my art,
Please keep reading?

I write music in the record store,
I'll use their piano to pen the tune.
They won't find me,
I'm good at hiding,
So someday my record will be sold there.

We kiss in the record store,
To the sound of men making music.
They won't find us,
We're good at quiet love,
So someday we'll kiss to the men playing my record.

Often I'll wake in my slumber,
To a melody seeping through the window.
It's sung by the stars,
They beckon me from my soft bed,
To the chill of night.
I listen, for if I were not to dance to their music,
Their art would be at a waste.

I write despairingly,
My dismantled body staring at me,
Boy I should've read the instructions,
Before assembling this shed.

I don't think I'll have an appetite for tomorrow babe,
You just make me hungrier than lunch.

When you kiss me I sip on your divine wine,
When you hug me I burn up in fires of my desires.

So I just have a wee little hunch,
I'll be more interested in your menu, than picking at my food.

Can you hold my hand so I don't fall?
Even though happiness pays me,
Like she owes me debt,
Sadness still comes a'knocking,
Looking for little bills and floor pennies.
Because I didn't put money,
In his street jam cup.
Though he'd just buy bottles of melancholy with it.