I envy the dead sometimes,
   they needn't worry about honesty.
            They have seen everyone's souls.

i don't know
maybe my heart
doesn't belong
to me anymore
           .
maybe it just
never did
           .
maybe that's
the reason why
it sometimes
hurts so bad
           .
it is trying
to run away
           .
somewhere quiet
where it's not
all on its own
all the time

Drawing images using some words
Telling some stories that are unheard
Stealing the moment, freezing the time
Killing the beast that vultures the mind

Spilling blood, the pen is our knife
Collecting traces from this mysterious life
Connecting dots to create a line
Polishing stones to make it shine

Our words are riddles, a must to decode
Giving multiple key for them to unload
The meaning of some could make readers insane
If wrongly unlock it will conquer their brain

We are a shape-shifter just like the cloud
Painting angels and demons to enlighten the crowd
Hoping they’ll listen to our joy and our pain
Wishing they’ll get the lesson of our every rain



11/03/2015
Mysterious Aries

Be who you want to attract,
Before you start "searching" for the right person,
Be the right person,
Find yourself,
Be comfortable with who you are,
Find happiness within you,
If someone is the only basis of your joy,
I'm afraid,your joy might be a mirage.

It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane