The battle over poetry
The soldiers fight
their words, their weapons.
The historic battlegrounds dedicated in honorable memorials,
studied in English classrooms everywhere.
The meek soldiers follow in the footsteps of the noble commanders that have paved the battlegrounds for them.

The quiet soldiers want to fight,
the drafted,
given the gift of perfect aim but can never choose the right target.

I join the fight,
The fight to express thoughts and beliefs
Your words, silver bullets, sink deep into my skin.
They do not reach my heart, however.
They sink deep into parts of me that will not **** me,
but will leave me screaming in pain.
The pain of your words cut deep.
I struggle to fight back,
my pain, my motivation to keep up the fight.

The drafted are invisible
The fight continues,
the soldiers longing to be commemorated for the pain they endured in the fight.
We are the drafted,
the unnoticed.
Our pens, our weapons
and this battle is far from over

Reckless and wild
Hopeful and carefree
The roads of the midwest await

Inconvenience strikes-
Sealed already is their fate.

On the run
90 goes the T-bird
leaving behind it their future
entangled in the thick clouds of dust.

Over the grand canyon they go
The T-bird flies
Their energy and passion,
their fuel.
Limitless possibilities await
for Thelma and Louise

The journey continues

I never knew love like this
every day your cheek I kiss
you make me want to live
endless hugs for you I give
I am forever grateful for you
I love you and you love me too
you're the sweetest thing
in this house, you are the king
each moment without you
is a moment I miss
you deserve the world
and a permanent state of bliss.

there is a revolution brewing
the women fill the streets
their light piercing the stormy skies

the revolution is coming
the pink poster boards litter her bedroom floor
fighting for our rights
with the passion of those from the 20's and 60's

the pink poster board held high
our light piercing the charcoal clouds
the sun is coming out,
the four year forecast of constant rain and sleet
will be cut short,
thrown down the memory hole.
the revolution is here.

My body is sinking,
swallowed by the sea.
My dreams are shrinking,
my lungs struggling to breathe.

My blood is turning blue,
My nose, inhaling water.
My soul, ready to experience something new.
I knew this outcome, why did I even bother.

I  struggle to hold my breath
My skin has turned pale
I am ready for what’s coming next.
I see the light, with one final inhale.

I am listening for the name to be called of our next President.
I am listening for the ring of the Liberty Bell to sound again.
I am listening for happiness to be discussed on the sidewalks of my town.
I am listening for my name to be called on graduation day.
I am listening for my name to be called on commencement day.
I am listening for the buzz of the city outside of my apartment in Boston.
I am listening for a pleasant change to be reverberated throughout society.
I am listening for a rebirth of happiness to excite the nation.
I am listening for the happiness inside me to awaken.
I am listening for that voice inside my head that encourages me.
I am listening for the sound of true love that speaks from the heart.
I am listening for the words, "Will you marry me?"
I am listening for the cries of a baby.
I am listening for the endless, "I love you's."
I am listening for the cries of a second child.
I am listening for the gentle small talk of dog walkers in my suburban neighborhood.
I am listening for the rush of busy work that floods my office.
I am listening for endless presentations I must listen to in order to pay my bills.
I am listening for the excitement in my friends' voices when they tell me they're engaged.
I am listening for the cries of my friends' babies.
I am listening for my children's names to be called on their graduation day.
I am listening for the sermons at my parents' funerals.
I am listening for this cycle to repeat itself throughout time.
I am listening for the afternoon breeze tickling the tree branches as I sit beside my husband in rocking chairs in our later years.
I am listening for that voice in my head to tell me that I did it, that I lived an amazing life.
Finally, I am listening for the sound of God's voice to say one word, "Welcome".