If poetry is art, then what form should it take?
Is ignoring things like layout the cause of my mistake.

You see to me a poem should be heard before its seen
Its an audio based art form, using sound to express its theme

So when I write my poems, and lay them on the page
I do so as if they're spoken by an actor on a stage.

Now I see some other poets, who lay it out so pretty
But when I try and read it, its disjointed and bitty

So again I ask my question, if your poems meant to rhyme
should you really break your verses in the middle of a line?

See I don't only write poetry, I like to read it too
so when a layout trips me up, I want to say to you

Why do that your reader, why get them on that train
only to pull the cord and get them off and on again

A poem is a journey, I should sit back and take a ride
not trip and stumble frequently over messages you hide.

So next time you write a poem, with more focus on the look
Go down to library and get a calli-graphy book.

I did not cause this wall
around you to be built
yet I must throw myself,
upon its sword up to the hilt?

Just what do you achieve
by letting no one in
is it fair to make the innocent pay
for someone elses sin?

Have you possibly considered
that dwelling in the past
does more to sustain misery
by making those moments last?

I cannot help but think
you would be better served
by letting people in, to show
you just what you deserved

And would it not be better
to risk losing dreams you've known
than to sit there safe behind your wall
protected but alone

I write tidy little poems
uncomplicated rhymes
to paint for you a picture
contained within its lines

I have no time for flowery words
or eloquent pretense
I write poems people talk about
over the garden fence

I don't try to be too clever
or try to be too flash
Because making out your better
just leads you to a clash

Like "who the hell does he think he is
speaking down like that to me
Some others may like what he says
but his words are not for me"

And thats not what I'm all about
I write to share a thought,
a feeling, an emotion,
hell I even write 'bout sport.

I write so people know
that in their thoughts they're not alone
to arrest those night time monsters
that in our minds have grown

A trouble shared is a trouble halved
or so they used to say
but in our disconnected lives
we don't communicate that way

So instead of just sitting there
haplessly afloat
Do yourself a favour
and read the stuff I wrote

Some of it is happy
and some of it is sad
and some of it may just be like
experiences you've had

And once you find that piece
read it, take it home
and sleep a little better now
knowing you are not alone.

As the morning sun arises,
creeping slowly ever higher,
it transforms the glass like waters,
to a true river of fire.

And as the glass is shattered,
by the eastbound fishing fleet,
the good folk of Richibucto,
turn over in their sleep.

But as the day progresses,
this small town comes alive.
People go about their business
like bees around a hive.

And as the day draws to a close
with ice-creams in our hands
we stroll along the boardwark
or walk along the sands

So if you like the quiet life
tranquility not fuss
next time you need a place to go
come drop anchor with us.

What happens to me when I die?
in perpetual darkness do I lie?

Or do I get to try once more,
equipped with lessons learned before?

with hopes that this time I will be,
a better man for all to see.

A kinder man with bigger heart,
than went before this second start.

More patient that I was in before,
no longer tired, no longer sore.

With slate wiped clean reborn anew,
no memories of me or you.

If that is all that dying holds,
I will not fear this coming cold.

Nor chills that wake me in the night,
as 'gainst this ill I lose my fight.

Once born again I long to see,
if I can be a better me.

If you look for me 'mongst the headstones
I wont be hard to find
A simple cross will mark my spot
for those I left behind.

The simple cross is carved upon
and ancient piece of Oak
along with a simple message
that contains these words I spoke

"Shed not for me a single tear,
feel no sorrow for me,
for I shared my life with many trials,
now finally I'm free.

and do not mourn my passing,
from this world to beyond,
for as long as you remember me,
I will ne'er be truly gone."

Lipstick and Chanel,
is all she left behind
and scratches on my back
I hope my girlfriend doesnt find

I didn't stand a chance
she knew exactly what she wanted
and now I know prey feels
how it feels to be hunted

Everything she said was right
she played me like a toy
coming on all flustered, scared
innocent and coy

By the time I knew it was too late
she had me in her spell
and now that I have been released
I'm left alone in hell

You have no idea the torment
the guilt and shame I feel
it was like something in a movie
it just seemed so unreal

Its like I stood there watching
like some kind of sick ******
as she gave herself right to him
and he gave himself to her

But now the movies over
cast and cameras spent
and all I can remember
is that colour and that scent

Lipstick and Chanel,
bright red and oh so sweet
only time will tell now
the future that I'll meet.