Organic has touch,
Metal outlasts.
Organic has sound,
Metal just echoes.
Organic has cushion,
For emotions within.
Metal stays strong,
Can take the toughest hits.

Organic has taste,
Depending what it ate.
Metal vibrates,
To try to imitate.
Organic has colors,
Metal has paint.
Organic forgets,
Metal just waits.

Organic fades,
Metal floats in gray.
Organic needs air,
To sustain health.
But Metal stays,
Right near our chests.
Organic craves,
As Metal engraves.

Organic understands,
Metal just learns.
Organic has a name,
Metal has a brand.
But for some reason,
Found more in our hands.
Keep organic close,
And to metal stand.

Words do not echo.
Words do not cry.
Words do not,
Identify.

Scrambled and stirred,
Frozen and baked.
Pulled when needed,
Eaten to be fed.

Pieced together,
Black or white,
Laugh or fight,
Wrong or right.

A sound is bound by key,
A picture by color pigments,
Emotions chemically,
But words contain,
Everything,
And absolutely,
Nothing.

The same word
Can be
Completely
Different,
Depending who, what, how
When it was read
Or written.

What if every word,
Was positive in meaning?
Harmless,
Could not
Destroy feelings.

Words have no senses.
Words have no bounds.
No touch, sight, taste, or smell.
Words have no sound.

Words have no sound.
Unless read aloud.

Am I just a wheel?
Consuming meals?
A speck in blue sea?
Bound by what I see?
Life amongst trees?
Breathing means free?

Am I my beliefs?
The truth I seek?
Flag of a country?
Defined by currency?
A liability?
Part of society?

Am I what you see?
The way you judge me?
The values you pick?
First impressions stick?
Norm defined by you?
Do I dare to be rude?

No...

I am who I choose.
I fill my own shoes.
I win when I lose.
I create my own views.
I see black beyond blue.
I pick me over you.

Who are we?
I am me.
Who are we?
Depends on you.

She sits alone in the darkness
With nothing but a candle
The flame sways and dances
And she sways along with him

She gives him a gentle blow
He flickers, annoyed
She flickers back, sorry
But not that sorry

She holds out her hand
She tests it, weary
Bobbing up and down
How close can she come?

He burns her, hurts her
But he doesn’t mean it
It’s just his nature
Her fault for coming close

Boldly she touches him
She passes through
He’s bright, but empty
She nods, understanding

A breeze rolls in
It strikes the flame
He recoils back
Beaten to the ground

A moment of panic
A moment of darkness
Then he winks at her
She winks back, through tears

Am I really a poet,
If all I ever write about,
Is you?

She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.

It was my dream but
It wasn't mine to take
So I didn't know what
To do but stay awake
Waiting for it to go away

but it didn´t
it didn´t

If I closed my eyes I
Would draw up your shape
Holding on to hope that
Only a dream can make
Waiting for the trance to break

but it didn´t
it didn´t

I am falling asleep
I´m dreaming about you
You were never mine to keep
You always knew

But I didn´t
I didn´t

So don't let night set
Don't sing me a lullaby
Don't make me forget
That we said goodbye

Cause I didn´t
I didn´t

He was an oak in a vast forest.
A sapling stunted by a storm.
Twisted, but not broken.
He stretched his branches far into the heavens.
Bursts of leaves filling places in the canopy others couldn't.
Reaching for the light.

But there was poison in the groundwater.
His roots withered at the base and it couldn't bear the rest.
He tumbled down to join anew.
The vibrant violets; a gorgeous hue.