I like music?
Writing is good too.
But music is the best,
I like listening to the records,
As they spin.
Art is nice too,
I like to paint.

You ran a blitzkrieg on my heart,
Invading like the Mongol's carte,
Menu of skulls and bones.

After your attack,
You settled down,
Sweeping up the bruise and blood.

Then you just left,
What? I thought you wanted this nation?
I guess not.

Her skin is wrapped in Henna,
Beautiful brown ink,
Sketches cover her thighs.

Little golden vines wrap around her fingers,
Intertwined with the bare white of mine,
She's a work of art, such a beautiful painting,
I trace each line of the brush.

If they let me,
I will lead,
I will carry this torch,
Through the storm and flood.

For if not for poetry,
I would be one with none,
This art is a language,
We must carry on.

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.

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 stubbed my toe,
On the wall this morning when,
I woke up, again.

Mental mettle,
Mettle mentally.
You just don't understand,
The way I speak.
So if you're yelling incoherently,
I'm just going to repeat the same thing,
I said before backwards.
So please use restraint my friend,
Or show some restraint to me.

I just wanted you to know,
You're not alone,
And I couldn't say it to your face,
Because I was scared.

You're not the first person out of you and me,
To try and dive (die),
And make it to a better side.

As we grow,
We mature.
Our ideas change,
So does our nature.
I don't want to instigate,
As much as I want to love now.
I used to want to rule an empire,
But now I'll settle for common things.
Settle down with my queen,
I'll last forever, if she lets me.

As we grow,
We lose touch.
Of each little thing we know,
Everything we loved so much.
I no longer feel aggression,
The same way I feel peace.
I may be tired,
But I'm just tuckered out,
I've learned to sleep.

Art is born in a poets hand,
Though, like the fragile flower it is,
Art always crumbles to dust.

It drags the poet with it too,
For deep in their heart it grows its roots.
So when it fades, wrapping tight around their sickly heart,
The beating stops and they drop.

Before I was born,
God looked down at my unfinished fate,
And he declared,
"We shall make him a poet, but he will learn to be,
And not be gifted with."

Well God gifted me,
And sent me down to earth,
In the fall, a season marked by death!
How ironic I was born,
In the month of earth's last breath.

As a young child I played happily,
As the angels of dilemma watched over me,
And every so often sent a tragedy.
That I'd have to foster and live with,
Until I returned to God my poetic gift.

Whence comes daylight,
Comes night far after.

There is no place,
Polished to the pristine.

Even the places you love,
Harbor the unclean.

You're scared of the dark,
Don't worry, I am too.
But you can have my nightlight,
If you can sleep sound with it.

The world eludes you,
You wonder why it carries you with a crooked hand.
And you wish it would just put you down,
But if you want to know the sky,
I can lift you up straight and strong.

You're terrified of yourself,
Each night darker and darker.
But I'll hold you tight,
And make sure you don't slip down.
Because if you lay in the ground,
You'll never see the stars.

Last night my poem hit 10,000 degrees,
Does that mean I burned myself a place in HP?
Or am I still on the path of becoming,
Hoping to get a lucky stroke and blow up?
Almost everything I post gets a reaction now,
I'm a name people know,
But does that make me somebody though?
What if I'm an actor,
Just playing his part,
I'll disappear when the director yells, 'Scene!'
If my art is recognized,
I've accomplished something real,
While living a dream.
But I am author enough,
That I could have a career in this?
Or will I start this journey,
But hear them yell, 'Dismissed!'

No soul paid witness,
To the burst of light,
At the beginning of time.

No soul saw the magic,
As it grew, forming the light,
Forming the dark.

No soul heard the heavenly spirits call,
From the risers of the stars,
Down to earth to raise the first dawn.

So all we have is faith,
A lone tie to what we failed to see.

Windy winter day,
You walk alone in the white and gray.

I walk four paces far from you,
A ghost in the snow's fair ballet.

A bitter breeze blows from the west,
Interrupted by my wispy form.

Graces your rosy cheek,
And you turn to where the winds came from.

Squinting through the blinding snow,
You stare right at me.

And for a moment I think you know,
That I am here, a winter's ghost.

Aliquid sicut flumen,
Quasi aliquid rosa.
Res potest esse sicut pulchritudo,
Mais tu es belle.

It's been a minute,
Time has been short,
And hard to come by.

But don't think I'm giving up,
On all the work you gave me,
And all the dreams we're making.

Did I bite off more than I could chew,
Running through this life with you?
No, it was the perfect taste,
A sample of the wines of youth.
Yet I sorrow in it's beauty,
For as I drink I become more thirsty.
Till all I wish to taste,
Is that flavor that is you.
So I apologize if I am hasty,
But I am addicted and craving,
Your drink is far too tasty.

Quis sum ego?
Vir, poeta, amator.
Aut ego iustus amissa sum?
Ego feci nomina illa usque.

They'll hurt you darling,
But only if you let them.
They'll burn you down,
But only because you're beautiful.
They'll mock your song,
But only for the fact they've never known their own sound.
In time darling, they will love you as well.

'Ciao'
'Salve!'
'Un caffe con latte per favore.'
'Un cornetto?'
'No, un caffe con latte.'
'Ah, un gelato!'
'No! Un caffe con latte!'
'Latte con zuchero?'
'Why you idiot! I'm asking for a coffee!'
'Scusa?'
'...'

I know it's so scary,
But you can find safety here.
Lay soft in sleep,
I will guard the bed.
Make a sword out of my pen,
So I can slash at the night terrors.
I'll be a warrior in the dark,
If it means you can live in the light.

You're my fault,
The product of my imagination,
Everything in life I wanted,
Everyone I wanted to live in stagnation,
I'd rather live in my anger,
Then let it live in me,
And if the meds aren't in my head,
It's all the broken images of what I wanted life to be.

I tire this new morning,
I slept not a wink tonight.

For there is a lonely woman,
Who sings out in woesome plight.

Her voice creeps to my window,
And haunts my slumb'ring ear,
And I am shot awake in fear.

Listening for the lonesome cry,
Of the Lady of the Night.

I think I fall in love too easily,
Maybe that's why people keep leaving me.
I have a whole box of herbal tea,
That I bought after she left me by our favorite tree.

They tell me,
The other girls are much better,
For making love and such.
They tell me,
You should get some curves,
A pretty girl with a neat wardrobe.

I say slander to that,
I say take that back,
I'm not in it for love making,
I'm in it for life making,
Her body is an art,
Nobody appreciates,
But she's my favorite painting,
I stare into her eyes,
Wonder where she got that beauty.

Show business isn't as glorious as you'd think,
There's not much glory that comes form this stage,
Yet us actors trade all the lovely pieces of our life,
For a split second of grace and beauty.

Don't mention the back stage,
No to an actor at least,
I'm afraid nothing good happens there,
At least for us, it's just heartbreak and longing.

I owe almost everything to rap music (Flower Boy, Wolf, Yonkers.)
I
f
I
t
W
a
s
n
t For Tyler and all the things he says I would've never wrote again.

We kissed in the dark of winter,
In the cold of the snow.
I swore to you in it's falling,
My heart fit well in yours.
But now that spring begins to shine through,
I'll renew my promise to you.

If you'll take the time,
I have several lengthy thoughts,
So many I need to get out,
I'd pay you to listen to me talk.
Not therapy,
There's no doctor that could understand,
The level of this.
When the dark crawls through the corners of the night,
I find my eyes making their own light,
Because I know what I need to write.
But will it be valued,
If nobody takes the time to read it?
I doubt you'll pay attention to them,
So I'll keep my long thoughts in my head,
Because there's not enough ink to ink them all down.

My mind is a reflecting pool
Shattered memories floating through
I reach out to grasp them
But they lunge away
I chase after
They disappear
They disappeared
I’m sorry to my past self
I’ve wronged you
I’m sorry to my past friends
I’ll never be the same man you know
But you weren’t returning anyways
I’m sorry to myself
I’ll never be the same man you know
I write
I write more
I write more again
I wrote
I’ve written
Stop this noise
Leave me in silence
I was never scared of silence
I was scared of losing sound

Gaze on me now,
I'm not well known,
With my pen taps and frown.

Well the truth is,
I'm real well known,
This just ain't my town.

Your beautiful wave washed over me,
When I was a lonely shore off the sea.

Wrapping its elegance over my sands,
The way we hold each others' lonely hands.

Replaced the dust with dazzling sea glasses,
Brought back the sparkle to my heart's masses.

Oh Liana,
Your name spills from my mouth,
Like classical music in an empty auditorium.
For the room must be empty,
Because if you were here with me you'd notice my affection,
Right?

Never mind, now I know,
You could never be you for you,
You wouldn't even be you for me.
It's not my fault,
But if it isn't, why does it hurt so bad?
You were the one thing I wanted,
You were my one and only dream.
I put you in front of my needs,
I ignored the water rising to my eyes.
I ignored the feeling of my heart dying inside,
Just for you, Liana.
I did everything for you,
You did nothing for me.
I don't blame you,
I know why you couldn't.
But darling please,
When I say I love you could you at least respond to me?

I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.
Wind whispering through my skeleton,
They tell lies to the young sprouts of the forests.
Convince them that not only is life a foolish game,
It's a foolish game they're losing.
An old soul, I stood tall watching poets come,
Then I began to wilt as I watched poets go.
The eyes that once admired my growth,
Turned to fingerprints and memory.
My bark is riddled with stories,
All the lovers that made a promise on my skin,
Leaving the now grim scars of foreshadowing.
I am a dead tree,
Hallowed branches waving in solemnity.

Heartbreak is an ugly thing,
A ripped up feeling of pain.
In true heartbreak,
There is no beauty,
So if you find some it was but simple distaste.
Heartbreak is a burning fire,
A bullet hole in the chest of your love,
Left by your lover, with blood on their glove.

The night is born prematurely,
Becoming one in blistering winds,
The dark crawls,

And the snow falls.

The gallant wings of beauty,
Besieged by winter's bellows,
Left to death as the crow calls,

And the snow falls.

The lonesome oaks tremble,
Bare in the white of creeping cold,
Creaking as they are raked by squalls,

And the snow falls.

They call me Mr. Rose,
Bearer of lost love,
Mourner of memories.

There used to be a Mrs. Rose,
But she faded to nothing but a stray few,
Memories for me to weep over.

They call me Mr. Rose,
Because of this flower I pin on my suit,
More for the stab of the thorn than anything.

The sun descends on the horizon,
Flaming all the way to its death,
A far ways out in the ocean.

I shed a tear watching it fall,
Though, not for that great ball of fire,
Come tomorrow it will rise again.

The tears I shed are for you,
For my arms which will be empty tonight,
Always wishing you were here.

A poem,
Is a little story,
You write on little paper.
Sometimes it rhymes,
Sometimes it doesn't.

A poem,
Is a song,
That the singer was too hurt to sing aloud.
Sometimes it's mortal and sad,
Sometimes it's the irony of walking out of a flood thirsty.

A poem,
Is a prayer,
One that the author begs you to hear.
Sometimes it will save your soul,
Sometimes it will save another's.

A poem,
Is a gift,
So you should treat it as one.
Sometimes you will receive one,
Sometimes you won't.

A poem,
Is a curse,
So be warry if you steal one.
Sometimes it will come back to bite you,
Sometimes it will just leave you fearing the possibility it would.

A poem,
Is a poet,
And those who are poets, are poetry.
Sometimes they strive for fame,
Sometimes they leave their work in random places under random names.

A poem,
Is a call in the night,
That echoes into the ears of those who are hurting.
Sometimes it heals them,
Sometimes it guides them to healing.

A poem,
Is optional,
But those who read them won't regret.
Sometimes we can't bear to read poems,
Sometimes we can only bear to read poems.

A poem each day,
Thirty a month.
Then if a chapter of poems has, 30, 28, 31,
Soon you'll read a chapter a month.
And if a book,
Is twelve chapters dear.
Soon you'll be reading a book,
Each and every year.

Being admired,
And being loved,
Are two different things.

If you asked young me,
I'd scrap any ounce of love,
Just to be admired.

I was Alexander the great,
Rolling through Greece conquering.
I was Romeo Montague,
Killed myself over love.
I was Commander Washington,
Blazing through the brits for liberty.
I was me,
Though I left me wondering who I'd be next.

Before you left,
I was a paradise,
A magical land of prosper and beauty.
When you left,
The rains stopped coming,
All the magic dried up to sandstone.
Then you came back,
With a river running wide,
Eroding the armored stone of my heart.

I poked a bear,
Because he was sleeping in a tar pit.
The bear woke and cried and yelled,
"Why would you dare wake my slumber!"
I responded to the bear,
"For you were sinking in a pit of dark."
And the bear cried some more,
Then dragged himself from his sticky smelly bed,
Just so he could throw tar at my home.
Then he walked right backed, kicked rocks at me,
And laid back in his pit again.

Pay attention,
Listen up.
This a PSA from reality,
And here's what reality has to say.

"Do not light a fire,
If you don't want the smoke,
Do not play with knives,
If you don't want a cut.
Don't waste your time drinking,
If you want to have a life to comfort you,
When you grow up."

There you have it kids,
Don't play with problems,
If you don't want one in your face.

Is it true,
That a man who yearns,
Becomes a man who earns?

I yearn for you,
More than anything else,
For your sweet tender lips,
Softy milky skin.

But I already earned your love,
So can I earn something for you?
I want you to feel safe,
And stop feeling sorry.