Silent Echo was an inspiration,
A genius poet with a depth of thought I aspired to have.
Though while he was crude at times,
I never once found fault in his rhymes.
Best wishes to you friend,
And I hope soon I'll read your work once again.

The sun is setting,
On another windy day,

Cold and brittle,
Perfect for a *** roast!
We'd take to the grill,

But the weather had other plans.

Thankful for every passing cloud,

They reflect the sun so well.

Can there be a time,
Where we sit down in deep night,
To be honest and alone,
Saying everything we wish we could.

Can there come a day,
Where we just sit and talk,
So I can tell you how I love you,
And plan all the things we're going to do.

Power,
To,
The,
Six,
Word,
Poems.

The social personality test,
Labeled me a villain!

A vile twisted man with morals not,
A stinking marauder with a heart of rot,
A mindless ravager incapable of thought!

All because I said that I'd do things that no other would,
To ensure safety to those I wish to save,
So am I villain not?

Someday love,
We'll live down by the sea,
Together for all of eternity.

Someday love,
We'll be away from pestering eyes,
Making a life for you and I.

Someday love,
We'll grow old with our son and daughter,
Joyously watching as they grow.

Someday. . .

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.

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.

Human beings,
Akin closest to the creatures of the void,
As we consume.
Dictates of wrath falling from our hands,
Onto tablets of conversational truth.

I am conscious,
I think and do,
Still I consume too.

Leeching off the fuel writing gives me,
I run, an engine breaking through rocky walls,
Testing the boundaries of inspirational energy.
Aching with the feeling of being restrained,
Tortured by carrying,
Some few echoes of truth.

Some sunny day,
Things will be better.
Less tears to cry,
Less reasons to cry them.
If we can't go on forever,
I'd prefer us to live a happy life.
Happy people are in short supply,
But in high demand.
Some day,
Happy people will be common,
It'll be the sad people who saved themselves,
That'll be respected.

Somethings are just golden,
Even if gold doesn't stay,
Somethings don't fade away.

I am golden,
An idea that refuses to fade,
I am brave.

Somewhere in the evergreens,
Smoke stacks rise above the trees,
Peaking amongst the clouds,
As light rain sprinkles the grounds.
We lay softly asleep,
Far off from the wooded cove,
My arms around your resting form,
Breathing lightly,
To ensure you sleep well.

You look tasty in every shade,
So divine in reds,
So savory in blacks.

A sweet treat,
I love you,
In every little fantasy.

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.

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.

So many hotels and monuments,
Nobody looks anywhere but the statues in DC.
But as for me and you,
We look up.
To the stars,
Through the rain,
Far beyond.
I don't know a single soul,
That day dreams about seeing stars in DC.
Though, as for you and me,
We look up.
Beyond the veil of space,
Straight to the sparkling sky diamonds,
Flickering above this stone city.

Come said the woman,
To the statue who stood by the falls.
"Come great statue, come with me."
"For the falls are flooding and soon they will take you too."
The statue looked down upon the woman,
Then silently shook his head.
And though she pleaded for him to leave,
The statue remained, arms spread to embrace the flood.

She told me,
To think about leaving,
About grieving.

I didn't want to think,
But she needed it,
Although I knew my answer,
She needed it.

She cried,
Bawling on the phone that night,
All I could do was think,
Think about how it would be,
If it wasn't you and me.

It would be bad,
Something I didn't want,
This is the best for me,
Please stay babe.

Nothing is a scary,
As hanging on the brink,
When you can't tell if the rope is fraying.

A top theme of poems,
Is loneliness.
Are we as poets destined to be alone?
Or is there a chance for some of us to pull away,
I hope there is.
What if being accompanied now,
Means I'll sit by myself tomorrow,
Please don't let this leave.

I will stay with you,
Even when the times are hard,
We can make stone soup.

You like string music?
Wow, I do too,
In fact I used to play.

Do I miss playing?
Well of course I do,
I remorse everyday for my string wings,
And how they were taken from me.

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.

A new morning,
At the death of an old week.
Skeleton trees reach their bony arms,
Into the sea of rose gold clouds above.

Faint chimney smoke,
From a distant home.
A family who wakes,
And won't see the sky,
In the same way I do.

They will return to their beds,
In the soft clutch of tonight.
And won't stare out the window,
Into the twilight curl,
Of star branches weaved.

There's something to be said for superstition,

It never seems to let you down,

Now it's to the point,

I wont even pass my cat,

She did nothing wrong,

But her label is bad.

Yes you made it,
Congratulations!
How does it feel,
To be up on the big stage?

It's been a little while,
How are you?
Well if you don't have the time,
To talk you don't have to be rude.

Yes, you've made yourself very clear,
You don't need me at all.
But don't forget,
I'm the reason they saw you,
At all.

I learned to spar with my stray thoughts,
Every ounce of fear or anxiety,
Becomes a battle of wit.

Though that may not work for everyone,
Some just build lanterns,
A way to see through the night.

Others learn to silence their worries,
Utilizing weapons to wipe away their nightmares,
Burning holes where there once was doubt.

I'm sorry isn't enough,
But it's all I've got,
As much as that *****.
I care about you so much,
Never do I ever want to see you come to harm,
Or see you fade away.
I want to see us blossom and grow,
Rather than shrivel up and decay,
So if there's something I can do,
Please let me know,
Could we talk it out?

I have this feeling of dread,
That the thing I love is loosening,
That it is going to fade away,
And take may happiness with it.

But I might be paranoid,
And a little out of my mind,
So before I put it out here,
I just need to make sure it's not taurine talk.

Tea is a colorful drink,
It comes in many different shades.
White Tea,
Sweet and delicate, brewed from the fragrant flowers of the tea tree.
Black Tea,
Strong and simple, a firm hand to lift you up from bed.
Green Tea,
Earthy and natural, weather or not the leaves or fired or steamed.
The Tea from my Grandmother's ***,
Beautiful and delicate, imprinting upon you like fresh snow on the roads of Boston.

What if I'm wrong?
What if I'm on the wrong side?
What if they're right?
And they did nothing wrong?

Maybe I need more proof,
Maybe I need to let this go,
I want this to be a safe space,
I pray for a safe HP.

Is there a way we can have peace,
Where no one gets hurt anymore,
Is there a way we can have peace,
Without tearing apart HP?

When He was born,
He cried into the void of space,
Searching for the comforting voice of calm.

But only silence returns His call,
His tears echoing of the dark edges of the dark.

But He taught Himself to walk,
How to shape something with His own hands,
Then He made a world to answer back.

My love sent me to dig two graves,
One for her, one for me,
When our eternity has passed.
But instead I dug three.
One for her,
One for me,
One for my temptations,
That I’m tempted to take you see.
Even if I love her,
I still love the thrills.
So when I am old,
And life brings drafts and chills.
I will hold her close to me, to the grave,
But I will bring all the thrills,
They just don’t seem to leave me.

It seems you lie to yourself,
Building up a fake world to fall back on.
Though, even if you do,
You at least have some level of dignity.
For if you brought these people here,
Only to rile things up,
You're disgusting.

Sometimes, you disgust me.

If anything,
I am as much as a hunter of evil as you.
Although I am no kingmaker,
No kingdom taker.
Ask yourself,
Did you fix a problem?
Or replace it.

Because in the face of paradise,
You disgrace it.

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.

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.

Alone sits the tower's bell,
In the glow of lantern light.
Looking out at the town,
Silently gazing upon the night-fell streets.
Every day, the elders yearn to hear it ring again,
They want to hear the sound they know.
From their childhood, they remember,
What it was like to hear the bronze ring echo.
Yet, the children,
Don't have a chance to forget.

Every single sunny day,
There's a magic place,
A brown bench by the baseball fields.

Such a basic grace,
When the sun shines down,
You and I walk the way.

Right on down to our favorite seat,
Whether its summer, whether its spring,
I can hold you all the same.

Ancient empires echo here,
In deep space,
The sounds of far history,
Bleeds in near.

Energy traces from long ago,
Microwaves left from genesis,
Far in the star sea lies a trail to God,
Or an omen of future death.

I don't speak often,
When I do I don't speak up,
But that can change.

Two colors rule my mind,
A blue hue,
A red fool.

That doesn't me I'll fight,
It certainly doesn't mean I'll lay down to die.

They call the ship 'Burden,'
An indestructible vessel,
Rival to the monsters of the sea.
It's exactly what the people needed,
For you see,
In the depths lurked a beast.
Eighty tentacles, four trade ships tall and wide,
A hundred-thirty teeth when it's smile lied.
They called it, "Kraken."
It was nothing of the likes you've seen,
Emperor of the dark sea.

The Burden could hold fifteen hundred men,
Arming harpoons, cannons, muskets, wit.
The king ordered them to turn the seas red with gore,
Call forth the Kraken,
Strike it dead.
Then to the king,
They would drag back it's head.

So come high-noon,
The ship was in place,
Above the deepest of sea caves.
Letting forth crates of bait,
Staining the waters of the sea,
Until the sailors heard a rumble,
Shake the Burden's iron shell.

Up from the waters came long river's hell,
Tentacles like spires towering well beyond the sails.
But the crew held steady,
"Tighten the ropes, arm our cannons,"
Cried the captain,
"Then fire!"
The seas filled with blood,
The sky filled with gunpowder, fractured shells,
A shriek rang out from the deeps.
The cry of death,
From the Kraken itself.
Tentacles sinking away,
"The head!" Cried the captian,
So Lutenent Lucus dived after the creature.

Tied by a rope,
Pike in hand,
The creature's head,
He began to drag.
Though, glancing over his shoulder,
Through the murk he could see,
The form of a woman swimming away.
Some curse broken, he decided,
A soul freed from grim reality.

Peace.

Right on 490,
The raised turn to 490 east.
There’s a hill,
And on that hill sits a lone,
Lazy Boy recliner.
Two folding chairs,
A table,
Two men,
And one sign.
“F Trump”

Boys will be boys,
Guess that’s it.

Slipping soundlessly into sound,
Is the dancer,
Moving in motion so proud.
I regret the times I didn’t see,
The true amazement she could be.
Instead I saw her uncut form,
Raw emotions,
Which I responded to with stabbing thorns.
It wasn't enough that I returned to you,
Bearing a bouquet of apologies.
Because I loved to hold you,
You loved to be held by me,
I needed attention, I thrived on greed.
Now I hold nothing,
Because you left me.
Slipping soundlessly away,
Leaving forever,
Now I remember you as a fading tune.
God I love that song,
Oh, God, I loved you.
Why do I portray your voice,
As a flute,
Silver, portraying tunes.
Nothing more,
We weren't meant to be.
But sometimes I wonder, how do you portray me?

Back together?
How wonderful!
But I have just one question,
For the man in the picture.
When you swore not to return,
And cursed her as a *****,
Did you not mean it at all?
My friend, what happened to the dirt you talked?

W. and J. Grimm were geniuses,
Characterized not only by intelligence,
But the way they implemented it.

They understood the magic hidden within common tales,
Retracing the rich roots of Germany,
Improving the way a child learns with each word.

The healing process starts with the wound,
A broken bone,
A fractured piece of scaffolding.
There might be something in the way,
Distracting from the injury.
If you fall backwards,
Hit your head and land on your wrist,
The pain of your head is most prevalent.
So it gets iced,
Immediately it feels better.
But after icing it too many times,
It stops hurting the way it did,
You start to notice the pain in your wrist.
That doesn’t go away when you ice it,
Even if you try to ignore it, it’s in-ignorable.
Now that the smaller pain of your head is gone,
You start to notice why something still aches,
The real wound is a broken wrist.
So you get a brace,
You tell a doctor what’s wrong,
They give you something to make getting rid of the pain,
A little easier.
You wear the brace for a while,
Until you get used to hurting with the brace,
But you still don’t like it.
So instead of letting it happen,
You adjust the Velcro,
Making the brace tighter to help you better.
Until the doctor decides you don’t need it anymore,
You’ve healed.
But you’re still sore,
It’s going to ache at first.
When what you’ve missed because of it sinks in,
But people point out how you’re happier.
Then you realize,
It got better,
By taking away the injury,
You healed.

The heat is irritating,
So never argue under a blistering sun,
Though you shouldn’t wait until streets are iced over,
Rage will freeze into cold, logical things.
Tear water freezing in between,
In the kind of way that makes you miss the rain,
The steam rolling off an anguished face.
When there was heat and humidity,
But no rainbow,
A little too much of something broke the recipe.

I almost lost you twice this month,
Almost stuck a blade in my heart.

Tomorrow is March 15th,
A well-known time of bad luck.

I'll be looking over my shoulder every turn,
Be wear the ides of March.