When asked about how to earn confidence and respect,
An old rail monopolist answered the following;

'When in interest and pursuit of respect,
A peaceful man must learn how to wield a sword.
Whether or not that may be figuratively or literally,
The quietest must teach themselves to yell the loudest.
Then once they are fit to chase away the thunder storms,
To slaughter the lightning and winds,
They have earned confidence and respect within.'

The rain comes swiftly,
To mourn the loss of another tonight.
Tears from Heaven,
Falling to Earth.
It pours down from the sky,
Drowning out the whimpers of the grieving few.
Was it really just yesterday,
You said you were far too young to die.
I think God agrees,
He keeps the gravediggers,
From laying you in the ground.
Rochester is a sanctum of sadness,
Even though few will ever feel the lose of you.

The rain fell,
Far from the sky.
Down upon the rocky shores,
And all through the night,
Weathered the rock to sand drop by drop.

Then in the morning the sand blazed bright,
For the man to see.
Down to the shore he went,
And dug up the sand then,
Went and made colored glass.

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!

Rainy days are about as good as any,
It's a little gray and dreary,
But I love the sound of trickling drops.

She does too,

I love the rain,
When I'm with you.

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.

These cold days,
Poetry is all I've got.
Where snow falls solemnly from looming clouds,
The only thing I surround myself with are words.
I miss the spring city,
Nothing could penetrate my armor of love.
For now that December has made it's descent, I am left in winter song,
Alas, for poetry, who's warm heart could melt the ice of sorrow.
Where will the fae dance tonight?
For reading poetry it makes my heart soar, and it makes my heart sore.
Snowflakes lace the winter grave of Autumn leaves,
And poetry, a silent goddess in the wind, has captured my tongue.
Where is the sun? In this winter's song,
For poems are the light in my dark.
Cold, the fingers that hold my pen,
Verse warms my soul.
Where am I? In this winter's song.

My blood is rebel red,
So if I bleed,
They can't keep me down.

I stay strong,
Running till I see the sun.
Back against a cliff,

This isn't the time to slip.

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.

Reflecting on the past is hard for me,
I don't really think I made it that far
I think I did pretty great with the task of being a better me,
But you miss the lust of years ago, don't say you don't.
Rather than being a boisterous beast.

You're only statistically better than you used to be.

Religion was genius,
A system built on brotherhood and loyalty.
Worship was a good idea,
But it was bad to put it in the hands on man.
The broken emotions of mortal ideals,
Took a good thing and destroyed it.

Man craves reassurance,
I am nothing different to that.
We assemble groups of people to agree with us,
That the light doesn't just go out.
As if life were a dying lightbulb,
On an old lamp.
The kind that sits on my grandparents coffee table,
My family doesn't worship a symbol or God,
Will the light go out on them?
I believe in the man named God,
But we do not often talk,
My prayers are crude and unrefined.
Is that enough,
To keep the light on,
For a little long?
I fear not,
We will weep,
Becoming brittle.
People mourning shatter into shards,
For them, death is too far,
For them,
Death is the final friend.

No one lives on the black sand shore,
Not a soul makes home there anymore.
For there is no peace,
In the land of coal dust.
Evil seeps even into the ocean,
Where 'Purity' once harbored.
What still stands,
Is the gastral rocks gutting through the banks,
Constructing spires to hide,
A skeleton ship parked in ruins of the beachside.
The old SS Purity,
Sent to save those on lonely shores,
From the devil and his kin.
Though now it's the Devil's flag, that hangs half mast,
On the poles of purity.
Don't come too close my boy,
They say it draws you in with soulless cries,

Once you're in the belly of the beast,
There's no hope of escape,
Don't repeat my old sailor's fate

Hardship = Resent
Resent = Dedication To Change
Dedication = Hard Work,
Hard Work = Change
Change = Prosperity
Prosperity = Abundance
Abundance = Entitlement
Entitlement = Laziness
Laziness = Procrastination
Procrastination = Back Tracking
Back Tracking = Hardship
Hardship = Reform
Reform = Hard Workers

Repeat Cycle Again

Poets coming into Rochester,
Welcome to the perfect poetic city!
We're dark in November,
Blinding in May.
Sleepy streets,
Winding roads.
Dinner at a diner,
Welcome to your second home, it's a winner's city for sure.

I often wonder,
Am I growing far too fast?
I think like a man,
But I, a child, could never be regarded as one,
Even though I seem to constantly be the smartest in the room.
Wait, are we racing to fast through this?
I know the time is ripe,
Though I didn't think I'd lose my childhood tonight.
Yet there is a chance I'm speculating on how to defend,
Something that's already gone,
Because I'm only a child away from you.

This time was too much,
We argued, argued,
We're both sick of it,
So we should take a break,
The next time I hear from her will be Sunday,
I didn't want to ***** things up,
We were angry,
I was scared,
We were low,
I was immature,
But I hope this is good for us,

Please don't leave for someone else,
When we're taking our breather,
I can't afford to lose you,

Please say,

Tty Sunday

We head for icebergs,
Faster than we know,
We cherish our unsinkability.

But we don't know what lies on the dark sea's lip,
Often sailing with confidence,
Yet, without a search light.

Sailors clubs are better than the rich ones,
We've got sails instead of super boats.
The gentlemen, (the ones we've got)
Don't drink fine wines but draft beers.

There's no sparkle of gold spoons or diamond bowls,
But still a Sailor's Club is better than a rich one.
Why? Because where else will I dance,
A Sailor's jig.

How come poetry has to be so clean?
I'm terrified to let out literature,
If I don't think it would be valued,
On the poetry scene.
Sometimes life isn't good green,
So how come I have to write like it is?

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.

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If I knew how,
I'd write music to go along with the words in my poems,
And I turn my poems into songs.

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"I'm glad you made it through."

Yeah I guess I am too.

Good things happen to bad people
Bad things happen to the good
Then I'm just happy that I'm both
Up in the eyes of you

Reject me,
Defect me,
Depress me.

There still is no world,
Where I will be anyone but me,
And certainly not a copy of you.

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"Try to spread your work across many different places, it's easy!"

Yeah right,
That's the last time,
That I listen to medium.

A poet is a song writer they just don't write songs with music.
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A soft snow scurries across the town,
Drowning out the bright lights.
A soft darkness descends,
And the day stretches in slivers,
From the clouds.

And I see none of it,
I'm too focused on you.

I wonder occasionally,
If I write too many of these.
But I remind myself that,
While other people love them.
I'm really writing these for me.

You can laugh all you want,
Taunt and point.
Just remember,
I didn't turn around on you when you broke my heart,
So don't turn on me now that I've broken yours.

That's kind of cruel,
Stone cold and unrelatable,
Though I think I know a guy,
Who will relate with you.
                                                                                  How uncouth! I love it!
                                                              Say, how about we go have a chat?
                                                                Hmm, I thought you were tough,
                              I guess you're too scared to back what you're saying.

I'm romantic,
Like the Romance Era.

Either the highest highs,
Or the deepest pains.

"You're not the first person to do it,
So don't get upset when I do it too."
You're right,
I'm not the first to do that,
But I'm the first to do it that way.
So if you want to do it too,
Don't blatantly copy me.

It just hit me,
Smack in the head,
I haven't been sad,
Since we met again.
I jump with joy,
I write with grace,
Like you put new life in my pen,
Even if it is to my depression's distaste.

LOST: SANITY, $50 REWARD

I post my missing posters,
But no one's found it yet.
I offered money, odd jobs, dog walks,
And nobody'***** me up!
Please somebody help me look!
I lost my baby darling lovely girl, I'm going insane missing her.

AI rap music,
Robot grooving,
Mechanical moving.

Rap battle a robot how many words can you say a minute?
It'll say exactly one more.

Scrapbook Poems,
More like Crapbook Poems!
And he laughed and laughed and laughed,                                                  
Matter of fact I wrote a whole book about them,                                        
While he was having his laugh.

Tonight,
Is cold,
And the moon,
It has a halo,
My father tells me that,
Because of the temperature of tonight,
Though I wonder what if the moon,
Is really just an angel too high up.

How many styles does this imitate or are imitating this?
A lot, it's shocking how many poems can go by the same tittle,
How many people can use the same gimmick,
Like how when someone finds something that works,
People tend follow like ants,
Whether we know it or not, I followed you you followed me now we're following in circles better make something new oops.
I guess to each their own originative similar but not quite kinda poem.

They "lost" you didn't they?
Misplaced you fairly far away I'm sure,
How it's always it's an accident or a situation blur,
When they cast you off in the fray.

I passed you and dapped you,
Then in the second we were,
I asked you,
Good thing I got to redo it,

Stuck Our Right Up

I can, I could, I will, I would.
I want, I wanted, I crave, I craved.
I wish, I wished, I ate, I am full.

I wanted to be known now I am,
I wished and craved sustenance, that's what I got.

Mmm, you're so sweet,
You care so much,
I love that.

You start my day off right,
I am honored by you,
More than the Black Night.

Liquor bottles,
Sony cups,
Thrown up.

What a party,
I didn't go I didn't want to see you like this,
But boy, I hope she can still fly.