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The spinning of the Earth is never interrupted
for anyone.  
Although, faces of men whisper of experience
between ideas that come undone.

Deep questions slide into all we know to be,
step right in.
Yet, we do not hesitate to look away,
when their hours begin.

Looking back at the summer of our lives,
were we supposed to hold hands?
Perhaps we never tried, or merely gave up
in the end.

Just another minute or two tries not too smile
when reading what’s been said.
We wait for justice, and then roll over
playing dead.

Settling in, we do not mention lessons
learned from each moment.
Is this not a step towards
what lies underneath our torment?

Are we running out of time and a foot behind,
because we do not care?
Do we only commit to that which comforts
our own air?

Sometimes I doubt if we closed our eyes for a second
we would see the entire picture,
perhaps because, we refuse to see ourselves
as we are,
Imperfect Creatures.
I’ve always had a fascination for sound.
Waves of notes or just jumbled noises
Listening closely to creaks, weeps and notes
Arranged in our everyday life’s own score
The minor quartet of simple
Pages flipping, doors closing
And wood creaking
Cascaded over by the major symphony
Of wind, stampedes of feet walking
And ocean waves crashing on shore

But, now I have a headache, making
Each pound, pow and note
Erupt inside
 Sep 2011 Alexandra Dakota
You know what I mean when I say that it's strange
To come down from heaven and walk through a range
And serve as a target for all of your pain
You should know what I mean by now

                                            You know what I mean when I say that it's true
                                             I haven't found anyone who's close to you
                                             But I couldn't start looking because I'm a fool
                                             You should know what I mean by now

You know what I mean when I say that I'm tired
Of all of the cheats and the ****** and the liars
Yet I'll sit and roast with them above the fires
You should know what I mean by now

                                              You know what I mean when I say that I'm done
                                              And your little mind games have lost all their fun
                                              And I'm through with sitting here, I'd rather run
                                              You should know what I mean by now

I lift my eyes
Up from the dirt where I am standing
Up from the hurt that I've been handed
To the river where I find myself again
To the hands that offer me a second chance
If you liked "Cheeks and Faces", try reading this one out loud as well.

Here's the link to the song that I wrote to this poem, after Edward suggested it.
hit it with grace and stroke it with fire
"you're burning up, baby"
position for hire!
Required: a touch, a voice, a peace
of mind for rent,
Contempt for the East.
The light that it brings meets no welcome here.
tell me a secret
lend me your ear
Standing at a crossroads
Options lying ahead
Laced with confusion
With love alive
With love dead
My position, unfamiliar
Yours, one I know well
Seeing from a new perspective
Another version of cupid's living hell
I can feel you slipping away
One day you will be gone
But the hope that you'll choose me
Is all that keeps me holding on
I'd grip your hand tighter,
Wouldn't let you walk away
If I thought I could make you happy
That we'd have a future past today
But the path you'd walk with me
Is uncertain and unknown
That's why you will choose her
And once again I'll be alone.
 Sep 2011 Alexandra Dakota
I'd like to be a jumpsuit
  so I could wrap myself around you
       in an endless hug.

do stars hang from you nimbly

dancing in breezes shook the

apple heavy bent boughs of

laughing gargantuan trees

                                            nite you are first me

                                            and secondly

                                            you are quivering with intense

                                            feverish quips of ladies

                                            so thick and exacting legs

                                            are completely tumbled open

                                            waxy perfect thighs

                                                                             (you are skinny limped

                                                                              skirts of light

                                                                              about the hair of forests

                                                                              you cavort with

                                                                              ***** sighs

                                                                              and you are so

                                                                              indescribably still

                                                                              even on balmy summer nights in the moment of an hour you are a park filled with me

and going about the beauty of your small adept

cheeks i do the terrifically kissing thing

and i love you

I did it...
I jumped
out of the box.
The box that had
held me safely inside
for so long.

...or so I thought.
Is it safe to be

Boxes seem to hold
so many things
like treasure troves.

But it's wrong
it's not true.
The box
in which I was held
held only me.

The bounty lies
is necessary
and diversity
is beautiful.

The mind
only grows
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