A hammer is useless
without a hand full of nails
except for some kind of ******

speaking of which
isn’t your ego overdue
for its crucification
to absolve you
of all your flagrant
self inflected sins

and not to bash on your intellect
because I know
there isn’t much of it left
as almost all of it
has been spent
on the overindulgence
of your self gratification  

you can pound it out
night after night
pretending that you love
everything there is about Jesus
with your hands
clasped in prayers
while making fists full of hate
believing you got a key
to the golden gates

while all you do
with your hammer
is **** any idea
that doesn’t align with your own
your heart is beating
for the only love you know
and that is your love for hate

believe what you want to believe
but even with  a hand full of nails
all you can do is ****** yourself
as some kind of idiot martyr

We once burned witches...

No.

We burned people who were accused
of being witches or practicing witchcraft...

never proven but still burned....

burned alive...

wether or not they were witches
will remain unknown
and why should it
have mattered if they were,
what excuse was that to have
behaved so maliciously hateful and cruel

I will tell you this though
if I had been a witch
or knew any kind of witchcraft
the first thing i would have done

is work out a fire proof charm
perfected an unburnable spell
an I can walk through the fire
and feel a hell of a lot better
after doing so spell
a my blood and bones
burn hotter than the sun spell
a you better get that
little matchstick outta my face spell
before I show you how to burn
THE REAL MONSTERS here spell

the monsters with the lust
to watch flesh turn
to cinder and ash monsters
the monsters who feared
the unordinary who showed
any kind of extraordinary monsters
the monsters of the masses
with crosses that burned
like torches monsters
the monsters who screamed ******
in the name of....

monsters

the monsters who could not see
their own reflection
for the hideous creatures
they were monsters

the same monsters that still live today
on this side of the looking glasses
under our thin skinned social structure

still burning witches

subtly now

with words of disdain
full of pernicious intentions
towards the lost and the lonely

with the cold staring eyes of indifference
and hearts without an once of compassion
towards the homeless and hungry

with the revulsion and abhorrence
towards those who love
the ones they love

the witches being any unordinary
that show any kind of extraordinary
still being feared for their difference
still being hated
reduced to nothing but
pill size suicides
red ribboned wrists
rope neck ties
for feeling too much
pushing too far
flying too high
dancing in cinder to ash
being burned
burned for being alive

She lives in his heartbeat
nourishing his blood
feeding it
keeping it warm
comforting it
walking through its halls
and chambers
telling it fables
only the stars
of the night sky know
in a language only the roots
of eternities flowers understand
keeping it safe
in the hours of sleep
holding it close and tight
through its moment of dreams
snuggling deep in its blanket
after a long
and well earned yawn
she closes her eyes and sleeps
then he walks through her heartbeat
and tends to her dreams
and nourishes her blood
bringing with him fairy tales
of warmth and comfort
anxious to yawn
and rest in her chambers
snuggled deep in her blankets
ready to dream of her
dreaming of him
dreaming of her
walking hand in hand
through the fields of forever
tending the flowers
found in the palms of eternity

Love...

if we are lucky...

is and will be
the only real reason we are here
and we will find
at the end of our lives
that it is not some judge mental deity
with a check list
of the names we prayed to
and the things we prayed for

but only love to greet us
and accept us for who we were
with all our human faults
and forgive us for
the way we ignored love
in order to allow ourselves
to be so cruel to one another

that to a miserable extent
we completely misunderstood love
what it meant
how to use love
how to share love
how to receive love

that too many of us
could not recognize
when someone loved us
or when we loved someone

that if someone
didn’t want to **** us
or we didn’t want
to **** someone
it wasn’t love that we felt
that we couldn’t
just love each other
to love each other
and nothing else

that we didn’t realize
how much easier
and beautiful life
would have been
if we had done so

that we couldn’t tell the difference
between emotional grace
and physical desires

or worse

when we knew the difference
but just didn’t care
and used love as an excuse
to get what we wanted

some of us will have been lucky
and knowing and not knowing
will have got love right
at some point
for some time in our lives

and we got to spend part of our lives
loving someone so intensely
that ******* them
was more than a physical act
that we got to breath and dance
while sleeping in someone else’s heart
and they breathed and danced
while sleeping in ours

that we knew and experienced love
for all the beauty it had to offer
in the short time we were alive
that we treated love well
and meet and lived with it
without needing to wait till our ends
to have death introduce us

so that in the end
we will just smile
as we know we are
just meeting an old friend

it is in the language
of the stars
and the secrets
of the leafs
it is the smile
and laughter of children

it is a tear blooming
into an ocean
it is the lost sands
stranded on the shores
that time has forgotten
it is the infinte sorry
only eternity can hold

it is a blanket of forgiveness
warming the beds of sin
it is the lips
and the color
of a first kiss
it is the serenity
of a dying breath

it is the birth and life
and beauty of love
it is loves lust
and desires prayers

it is yesterday's tomorrow
and todays yesterdary
it is the here
and the now

it is the air in our lungs
and the song of our hearts
it is the blood and marrow
of our souls

poetry is in everything
and everything is poetry

poetry holds onto
what death takes away
so we will know
that no matter how long we live

life

is always
too short

so always remember
do not squander this gift away
this may be
your once in a lifetime life
this could be the only
heaven you walk through
the only hell you suffer in


poetry does not lie

so in no circumstance


ever


lie to poetry

poets however will lie
almost always
except for the ones who don't  
they always tell the truth
the devil cheats at dice
and every other game he plays
and even angels can decive
be careful in who you belive

always be kind
hug daily and often
love who you love
no matter the odds
or situation
or how ridiculous
or improbable
or illogical it may seem

break the rules
when you must
trust your gut
and belive in your heart

it may not work out in your favor
it may break you
and if it does
it will feel terribly unbearable
but you will get through it

eventually

it will not always seem fair
it will not always feel good
but in the end

love

is what will make it
look beautiful
when you take
your last look back
at the life
that no matter how long it was
will have been too short

I am so tired
that I can’t sleep
I am so exhausted
that my eyes
wont stay closed

I am ridiculously sure
that I am not human
not to say
I know the mothership is coming
I don’t know that

Truthfully
I don’t know much of anything

I am a child
in an aging mans body
which
I am pretty sure
has a lesbian living
underneath its skin

which probably doesn’t make sense
to you when you hear me say it
but nothing inside my head
makes sense to me
so why should you
have the luxury to understand
anything I might say

but it is to say
I will never be a manly man
or see or understand
that way of thinking

that macho drink and ****
as much and as many
people as you can in life

dont get me wrong

I love everything there is to
love about women
which is just everything
their great

well...

most of them at least
or maybe just some of them
I mean that they are no different
in the way we are all the same
we are all
just people
some are great
and a treasure to have in our lives

and others...

not so much

and I have done more
than my fair share
of drinking

A lot more...
enough to never have
to drink again
but I probably will anyway
not so much now though

and, well... yea...
I've liked
the ******* parts too

most of the time

its just that I like

the love

part of *******
more than the
bim-bam-boom ahhhhhhh
I’m sooooo sorry part
that never but sometimes
and almost  always
happens part of *******

that awkward moment when
oh **** my ****
throw up on you moment
it always gets nervous
around pretty girls moment
that I don’t know what to say moment

that...

d’oh!... moment

but I do know
I’m not suppose to say
thank you...
moment

even though once you’ve gone
I will get down on my hands
and my knees
and thank every name
of every god I have ever heard of
for that painfully beautifully
awkward moment
I was lucky enough to spend with you

I guess I’m just a little too quite
a little too shy
a little too nice, maybe

a lot too sensitive

emotionally speaking

in that sense that everything hurts
and everything is beautiful
and the world is ****
but still there must be something
here worth living for

someone who will cringe
and roll there eyes
every time I write
and read another garbage poem to

someone who will love me regardless
no matter how bad things get
no matter how broken my heart is
no matter how horrible
I may look when I die

someone who I will love
as much as I loved
to hate everything about life

Oh, I hates it soooooo much

someone who made
every miserable moment here
worth  the madness of it all