The Vampire is the

Most supreme demon.

The Vampire takes life

Through an invited kiss,

And feels its victim

Slip into the night,

Terrified, collapsing,

As the demon experiences bliss.

I bring your attention,
Unabided and true,
To the one I shall mention,
The girl who daydreams the whole day through.

I recall from infancy,
Gazing up at my mobile,
Imaginations I'd see
Behind my daydreaming smile.

I have my quirks,
Like shaking my wrists.
Grasping things also works
To send my mind into twists.

I pick up a book
I have no intention to read,
But boy, how it shook
When I played my daydream.

My visions come alive.
I see it on the big screen.
Others ask if I'm alright,
I can't admit my daydreams.

Thanks for your attention,
And I hope you now see
An outlook of appreciation
To those of us who daydream.

I watch him slowly deteriorate.
The first man I ever loved
Is being brought down,
Like a torrid helicopter
Caught in a hailstorm.
How much he must struggle
Against the current,
Only to be swept into unsightly circumstances,
Into a misfortunate gravity
He brings upon himself.
Homelessness, his vice,
And all I can do to help him
Is not worry so much
About all his suffering and whirlwind adventures
That make so little sense.
The delusions, the psychosis,
The wretched, wonderful mania,
It’s all so much for one person to contain,
And all I can do is watch
Him deteriorate
Before my eyes.
The first man I ever loved,
Fearful of none,
How terrible must be the parts of him
I cannot see
For his actions to be
So extreme.

Here we are,
You're in my world.
You're far away from home.
You look towards the place
You once roamed longingly,
While I sing songs of harmony
Among lilies that sway in the breeze,
A life of ease for me, when you
See no beauty in the sunshine
That streams down on my laughing face.
I exclaim how I love this place,
Friends come to join in my clamor,
As you quietly stammer,
"Take me home."

I want to be with you,
But if I'm investing
More than you can return,
I might just see you
Later on down the road.
The road will be paved
With specks of gold and marble,
Surrounded by belligerent birds.
Because my life will be
Beautiful and happy,
Even without you.
Because I have an inner beauty
That sprouts happiness abound,
And if you catch me around,
And tell me you've made a mistake,
Well, honey, you dug your own grave.
I'm not a woman
You find just anywhere.
I have the capacity to love
With not enough time to spare.
I'm not the type of girl
To hold grudges easily.
For years you held me close,
And for rocky times,
Much too far.
So if you see me down the road,
Hug me and say hello.
I'll hope the regret
That you didn't hold me
Like that years ago
Settles well.

I start my days out with the sunrise
Along the eastern shore.
Watching as the morning appears
From up the ocean floor.

The air heavy with anticipation
As another day begins.
This day I choose of my own making.
Partaking of blessings Heaven sent.

I end my days with a sunset
On the Western coast of the land.
The day ends with a bang
As I watch on golden sand.

The sky has exploded
In oranges and pinks.
I have this time before the stars
To sit and watch and think.

Of what will come before me?
Waves washing away moments lost.
Pulling back the shade to expose the day,
Though I'm not here to count the cost.

No guiding lines to follow.
I expect of life no less.
Through the shadows of the mountains
The night's sun sets in the west.

I think of green grass
I once saw in the east.
I think of days long gone passed,
And am overcome with peace.

The sun may rise a thousand times
By the day the end is in reach.
No worries about what has come and is to come.
I just go with the bend in the beach.

My brain is much too foggy
And much too sporadic
To need stimulants,
Much less depressants.
I can dance all night
To the beat of my own rhythm,
And not need a reason
To act so rebellious.
I am a free spirit.
My brain isn't jealous
Of ones that need guidance
To make it see demons
And feel ecstasy, feel high.
I can get that on my own,
It's in my chemistry.
I don't want it to start,
But I'll go for a ride.
But your pills are cute, sweetheart.

If being stripped of liberty,
We owe no responsibility
To tethering our ties
To a system of lies.
Insanity, defined,
If we choose to read,
Means working to thrive
Through ways we won't succeed.

The system is broken.
Turn off the machine.
If doubt has not awoken,
Ask yourself, please:

Do you question many things
That you hear spoken?
Do you admit your own views
May contain false notions?
Does our culture retain
Unnecessary devotions?
Is government improving,
Bringing peace across oceans?

Emancipate from demands
Of societal bands.
Renounce the commands
And requests that don't stand
The test of your ability
To reason with civility.

A question is a "quest I on"
Not a destination.
It leads to many places.
Go ahead. Try it on.

You stir my cold embers just right.
Warmth crackles through that is bound to ignite.
You stir me from stiff slumber’s grasp.
Arising like Phoenix, adorning black mask.
Concealed from view, hidden black goddess.
Awaiting arrival, slow burning embers in darkness.

Perfect time,
Perfect place.

Perfect rhyme,
Perfect pace.

Perfect chime,
Perfect phrase -

To describe perfect days.

In the coolness of the evening
Beside a glowing Sapphire Stream
Slept a nest of fairies
In the midst of fairy dreams.

The night breeds dreams in the village
Brought with the fairies' enchanting dust.
Now they make the flowers their bedding.
Exhausted and spent, but fairies do what fairies must.

When the first light of day filters through the trees
You can hear the beginnings of an enchanting tune,
As the fairies wake and spread their wings
Bringing on their morning new.

They pollinate the stamens, dance around the stems.
They giggle and play in the most dazzling way,
Fluttering through the flowers and ferns,
Hidden in the deepness of woods in private display.

In the very center of the forest
Stands a clearing void of trees.
The epicenter of forever after;
The High Court of the Fairy Queen.

The Queen showers the Fairy Kingdom
With magic to make them only appear
To those who believe in mystery,
To those who choose to hear.

I've found myself on the razor's edge,
Like a figure skater.
I skate through life,
Avoiding hazards with grace,
Holding my head up high,
And spinning out of control
Once in a while,
Only to collect myself
In poised determination
And a flick of the wrist,
Brushing the worries away.

Do you remember our first date?
You wore a black T-shirt, running a bit late.
You had a head full of hair and glasses,
I swear you were my first real crush.
It was a little too much.
I had you ask my Dad if I could go,
'Cause I was too nervous he would say no.
We wanted to watch Saw II but got rejected.
We were too young, and the theatre by default selected
That we'd watch "Chicken Little" the only other movie they showed,
At our town's little theatre, we passed by the Skittles,
And watched the show in quiet excitement.
Then we waited for our rides, and feeling resentment,
Listened to the end credits of the movie we'd rather have seen,
If only we were eighteen.
It was a song we liked called "Burn the Witch,"
We sang along and smiled, feeling enriched by each other's presence,
We knew this was Heaven.
We didn't kiss or cuddle,
We may have hugged, and that would have settled.
It was a teenage bliss,
Excitement, nerves, wants that would someday be satiated,
But even now that I have with you all of this,
Marriage, and ***, and a morning kiss,
I look back on our first date when we were kids,
And know everything we ever did
Was a result of that fearful question,
"Do you want to go on a date?"
And yes, I did.
I would all over again.

I'm equipped with a flaw
Under my surface.
How it got there is a mystery,
For there is no purpose
Of being manic
And causing panic.

My flaw is hidden
From the public eye
It benefits me
To not be scrutinized.
Unless I'm manic
And causing panic.

I'm medicated for life already
Even though I'm a young lady.
I need coping skills
And I might not be ready
For my next manic
Attack and panic.

It's all fun and games
And a great big party
To be so happy
And live so heartily,
When I'm manic
Which leads to panic.

My senses are enhanced,
Music moves my bones,
But pretty soon
The joy will be gone
Away goes the manic
On comes the panic.

My dose is increased
Much to my dismay
Because at the time
It's so fun to play.
Goodbye, manic.
Farewell, panic.

Flowers, oh so fearless.
Featherly, inviting fountains.
Gifts for all who seek for it,
From the trees to the mountains.
Buzzing bees relax to sit,
Upon a vibrant throne.
Within a world built from grit,
Femininity is shown.
Flowers, oh so fearless.
Opened to receive reverence.
No judgment cast, it seems at last,
A place for kind deliverance.

And when the throat clenches,
And you are all alone,
And it costs hundreds so that
You may be numb,
Do you ever will the tears
To dissolve quickly?

I become fearful of thine own eyes,
Unsteadied by my own presence.
I condense myself into bite-sized portions.
Submitted to chronic hesitance.

My lips are chapped
From not speaking true.
My body lashed and badly bruised,
From a prison hardened by fear
Through the years, and still, ensues.

Mentally, physically, I feel so old,
Which transpires onto
This life I hold.
All the tales on aging I've been told,
Have come to rest inside these bones.

A chilled heart translates
Into dead air.
Kickstart your stagnation;
Take a dare!
Sometimes, you get caught up
Upon the banks, unaware.

Let your life of purpose flow,
You have just this one to see where it goes.
Pause and listen to the hum of your soul.
What do you want? Let it be so.

I stepped out of my comfort zone,
And appeared in a ship caught in a storm;
I wanted to tell a story through prose, never known,
But my mind froze and searched somewhere warm.

I went to leave the delicate flower of poetry
In which I have found comfort within the lines.
Fields full in bloom with poetic prosperity.
The flow of stream keeping rhythm in time.

I brought my bare feet to observe from rough peaks,
Overlooking the blank page expanded with power.
Preparing to leave on this journey for weeks,
Leaving the comfort of my sweet fields of flower.

Setting doubts aside, I set my pixie soul to sail,
Becoming narrative of chunky, clunky prose.
Daunted and haunted on a foreign ship to prevail,
I heard poetry beckon through bitter winds that arose.

Though I do respect prose, it is not a flow that I know.
It expands endlessly, like the heart of the sea.
My narration is rhythm, and wherever I go,
The flowers of poetry call back to me.

I soon jumped ship to be at peace where I roam,
Among the enchanting patterns of flowering fields.
I listen again to the trickle of the river, I'm home,
Channeling poetic prosperity this pixie wields.

Vibrant flowers full of bloom,
I hate to introduce the gloom,
But one thing I'd like to discern:
Will I have flowers this bright
When death is my turn?

You're like the sun:
The center of my universe
But better seen
From far away.

I'm like the moon:
Orbiting around you,
Coming closer as the
Day fades away.

Your galaxy of options
Leaves little to be desired.
The spark that once shown so bright
Is now a dying sun.

I'm stuck in this space.
No place to take refuge.
Dodging all the fiery flares
You spew at me in fury.

We collide with each other,
Send fragments of our selves
In the abyss,
Never to be seen again.

Except maybe a piece
Now turned to precious gold,
Someone far away finds hidden,
And holds onto for a lifetime.

The roses in the garden are beautiful but somewhat mean
They think of themselves as the kings and queens
With a superior air about them they put others down
As they flaunt about the garden in their thorny crowns

So all the flowers got together
To form a picket line
Feeling they were being unfairly treated
Or so felt the dandelions

The hydrangeas overflowing
In decadent display
Are not timid, they prefer
To make heads turn their way

The single, reserved tulips
Are certainly a bit more shy
While still drawing attention
By the way they kiss the sky

Every flower in the garden
Think their own beauty could run the show
That's what each of them wrote on their sign
To let the roses know

This trouble with mothers nature
Will be written about in books
The uprising in the garden
The day the earth was shook

Back before those thorny reds
It seemed everything was bliss
So the weeds were hired for a hit
By the sneaky, scheming iris

The weeds though were sprayed the day before
So they never stood a chance
They were knocked out of the running
When they themselves danced with death

The white picket fence was knocked down
Which set the snapdragons free
Creating quite the havoc
In this wild garden mêlée

This day will always be remembered
Made sure by the forget-me-nots
When all the flowers got together
To show the roses what they've got

Everything I put out is
An extension of me.
Like the fruit at the tips of the tree --
The fruit is my gift to thee.

Going back is a privilege
Only a memory has.
Though what is to come
Holds so much more promise
Than the shadows of the past.
The blinding lights of the future
Certainly hold uncertainty.
I trust in my decisions
I indecisively make.
I tiptoe through mines
Of bankruptcy and heartache
With no promise of an easy life,
A happy ending,
Or a forever after.
But fear not, I shall -
I tire of recurring dreams anyhow.

We are a generation,
Indeed, a nation,
Raised upon foreign warring.
Scapegoat aggravation.
Bushes and *****
Clamoring for horror and hoarding.

Conspiring against a population,
I watch through youthful aging.
With my childlike eyes, I see
The target they're blaming:
Afghan families having more
in common with me,
Working class American,
Than those transparent heirs
With the world's wealth and arrogance,
Ordering for the villagers' obliteration
Through boys from our nation.

We are a generation raised
On media sensation
Of militarized devastation;
Animal exploitation;
Technological manifestations
Providing privacy infiltration.
Material attainments;
Mental frustrations;
Fiat debt enslavement;
A nation entranced by
Senseless parading.

Tempting decadence and
Announcements with no evidence.
The September bounty of edifice
That fell with no hesitance
Still echo its unfounded,
Preemptive pretenses.

This murderous reign;
this senseless parade;
Advertisement cyclical
in their game of charades;
Dog on a chain;
Famine causing no pain.
Permissible opinions
To be solely maintained.

The damage, the waste,
The heinous race and class chase.
Oppression remains thoughtlessly dangerous,
As moral responsibility brings no attainments.
Chowing down on maimed millions
Bellowing from enslavement.

Fortunately, elder,
Rothschild, Rockefeller, or
Those above them whom
Remain blackened, faceless:
Resistance shall come
From all places, all ages.
Such as this generation of mine
Inheriting increasing complications,
With the type of America
You wish to keep in rotation.

I'll carry the flag containing
Your mistakes as a symbol,
To remind those behind me
What not to rekindle.

To the Boomer who stews
In your white collar suit,
Still refusing to shake
Your destructive pursuit,
Still asking me to lick
Off authority's boot:

Growing up in this nation,
With childhood innocence,
I grew increasingly aware
Of the land of such ignorance.
I had such thoughts since
Early adolescence,
I was not blind to larger lessons.
Only since supported by
Actual, factual supported confessions.

To the Boomer tied to his convictions,
Now will you see-
That isn't going to work
For us or for me.
I'll bring to this world
Whatever I please.
Which so happens to be
Truth, justice, and peace.

He stroked her hair
With his hand
That donned a ring
That I placed there.

I had to be
In your mind somewhere.

We enter this world alone.
We leave alone, only bones.
During our stay, we call it home.
The only home we've ever known.
And we will leave, with tired feet,
All we are that we perceive,
Whom we have loved, what we have known,
Back into the deck it shall go.
Everything during our mortal stay,
We must leave here, outside of the grave.
We assume what we consume
Can build us comfortable rooms,
But the most scenic of views,
Are priceless and cannot be used,
Only borrowed from Nature's Hearth.
A gift to preserve - the gift of Earth.
Keep her clean, do her well.
Be part of the solution, in her you shall dwell,
And if you bare children to also know Mother,
Give them, too, knowledge of how to love her.

I'm sitting in the doctor's office, bored.
In comes the doctor with a stern face and clipboard.
I sense his graveness and I gulp.
I hope it's nothing, I really hope.
"I'm sorry I should be the one to deliver,
But your diagnosis is - horrible hair forever.
You will be forever adorned with a cowlick.
The sight of the grease will make you sick.
The tangles cannot be undone.
It cannot be cured with a bun.
Even with no humidity, it will be dry.
There is no hair products that you can buy.
Now off you go, I've got you a prescription
For a shower cap, a necessary addition.
Keep your convertible top on.
I give you three years 'til your hair is gone.
I wouldn't wish this on anyone ever -
This horrible hair forever."

Today is a day
A day to be remembered
Today is a play
I'm on opening act.
Without a say
On how it's run
Or what to say
I am just me
That's all I'll ever be.

The eyes have it.
All three of them.
Spreading consciousness.
An egg cracking
With an encouraging moan.
The clash between personalities
To inherit the throne.
Hasty overthrow.
Short-lived lifespan.
Sedated again,
Chemically, internally,
Where did you go?
You're there.
You're inside of me.
Back in your egg,
Calling "come find me.
I'll come out and play,
And give you more meaning,
Daft, sedated you stay,
Until I come out and play."
How many nesting dolls
Does this egg have?

My mind is abuzz,
Like a hummingbird does.
It can't be still,
And it was my will
To make everything so,
Because how will I know
The outer limits of my essence
Without spiritual lessons?
Self-taught, fear not,
Happiness is sought
Through a curious burn.
The lessons I learn
From engaging my mind,
Is that I am not blind
To tuning into frequencies,
And avoiding delinquencies
With each new experience,
Learning to control delerience.
My inner being thirsts
For a gift labeled a curse.
I want to break these chains,
Be more than insane.
I want to be free
To be the real me.
Every great individual
Has ideas that are sensational.
So say what you will,
I will have these spiritual spills,
That shakes where I dwell,
And brings me out of my shell.
I have the right to engage
With my mind, uncaged.
Hummingbirds die
If they are caged inside.

Nourished, full stomach;
Comfort for my dancing tongue.
Feeling satisfied.

It gives me satisfaction
And a heartfelt smile
That you'll be my lover
For longer than awhile.
I love you.
Me with my flowers,
And you with your game,
A hippie and a nerd,
In love without shame.
I love you.
What a sight it will be
When we make it to the end.
What sights we will see
At every curve and bend.
I love you.
My first kiss was with you,
Who holds my desires.
My last kiss will be you too
At the fall of our empires.
Guess what?

The best I can achieve
To loving you
Again
Is a half-hearted glance
At your heart.
The beating, ****** *****
So pompous in its origin
To feel the twinges of desire
And the throat, so clear
And so precise
To tell me how
You’d think I’d be perfectly wonderful
And nice.
And did I prove you wrong?
Or did I do anything at all
To express my adoration,
Besides tell you pretty silvery things,
Word soup on a platter,
And cutting fierce glances
Across an otherwise empty room?
Did I do anything
To prove love
Even to myself?
Besides take a train
To LA,
To find, of all things,
An ugly field
Where I knew I would meet myself
In disarray?
Did I do anything
Ever
To surpass spirit and *****
Or am I just going
To be the one
That always wanted you
In darkness and in light?
Did I do anything but dream
The whole unending,
Maddening
Night?

Scraggly,
In face and heart
Staggering
By the harbor,
A celebratory place
For families to flock
And sight-see the city
By the ships and the docks.
While the sea gulls fight
Over scrimpy scraps,
A lone man traverses,
Seized by mind traps.
Disoriented by the shadows
Of his past,
Taunting and tampering
With his freedom, at last,
He's broken his vow of silence
He promised he could pass.
Reality so far removed
From his ruminations.
Passerby's passively wonder
What attracted him to the concrete.
Overactive imagination
Is an answer I'd repeat.
Occasionally another may marvel,
Where is his family?
Waiting in vain,
In the background,
In the rain,
Devoid of way to entertain
The possibility to take the reigns
Away from his deceptive beast
That guides his woeful way,
Fighting for fistfuls of his feast -
A price he has to pay
For having an untreated illness.
Now I have no say
In pillows or cement.
He chose the latter.
Now all I can do is feel lament.
If you see my father,
You may see kindness in his eyes,
A mind that's rapidly firing,
Comforting words to himself he's ironing.
If you see my father -
You may see him time and again,
You may see him in the sea gull,
Harmlessly scavenging,
Heartily conversing,
Heartbreakingly existing -
If you see my father,
Let him exist
However he chooses.
I have no choice
But to do the same.

If you don’t write it,
It won’t come.
That spark of madness
Devoid of need for the tongue.
If you don’t write it,
It won’t come.
That hidden power in your tone
To bring you visions into the world,
A form of alchemy that pales to none.
If you don’t write it,
It won’t come.
That jewel in your belly that glows brightly
That seeks to find you day and nightly.
If you don’t write it,
It won’t come.
The spark that you find,
The visions you define,
The power you cannot hide.
If you write it,
It will come.

I would marry you
If I was interested in
Indentured servitude.
The fact that I have to
Be an indentured server
To the boss and the state
Is enough for me to
Wipe marriage off my plate.

I flip through my inked pages,
Chuckling at myself.
Oh, the things you'll say
When mania sets your way.
Yet hard it is
To wear your heart on a sleeve.
Which is essentially what happens
When you write what you believe.

Excuse me for my hurt,
I know you mean well,
And you want to inspire,
And uplift me,
But language is a fickle art.
One that can make the difference,
Composing tone and the words themselves.
And there is no greater insecurity
Than the one called Me.

Since the very beginning,
I have been openly listening,
Engaging in thoughtful discussion -
The subject of You, the percussion.
I immediately spotted possible repercussions.
I wanted, and I still do,
To know your essence,
But healthy exchanges
Involve equality,
And I don't want to be left hanging,
Feeling like I'm lesser.

I crave knowing the rest of your essence,
But have you no interest
In knowing the same?
Are our minds connected
Of the same fibers
Or are we what we weave,
Being different in how we perceive,
A lifetime of individual strings?

The only Person I should keep in my life,
Making me feel inferior and uninteresting,
Is Me -
And I shall escape that fate,
With unconditional love, and positivity.

I am deeply interested,
In knowing MySelf, loving MySelf,
And to You, who has shown limited interest
In simply knowing me,
You, I choose as a direction of my Purity,
You, unaltered and true,
You, and Me, Alone -

It all, once again,
Always begins with You.

I don’t want to write
Like anyone else.
I want to fit into my words
Like my fingers fit
Interlaced through his,
Made for each other
By some strange design,
Some string of code,
Some higher power,
Something, somewhere,
I cannot control
And I cannot see
And I do not think about,
It just fits and it fits right.

I'm brought to the ward
In my sleep
I'm confused
I'm asked to strip
I won't allow it
And so it begins.

I'm in the ward,
I'm protesting,
Military hospital,
I'm brought to a padded cell
I fall to my knees
Frightened and crying.

I'm in the ward,
Singing and dancing
Some scared,
Some enchanted,
One angered
She strikes me with a weapon,
A household mug,
I cry and cry.

I'm in the ward,
The best place
To  meet people,
To make friends,
To make someone's day
With a smile.

I'm in the ward,
I've made a friend
And told not to befriend
"Don't talk to her"
He warns.
Am I danger?
Am I a shame?

I'm in the ward,
I feel for these
Fragile women.
I want to help them.
I would be the only one
Who does.

I'm in the ward,
I'm called names.
Who am I
To complain?
I'm panicking,
And laughed at
By staff.

I'm in the ward
I am guided through
Meditation.
It brings me out of
Panic.
Eternally grateful.

I leave the ward
And tears fill my eyes.
I'm going home,
And hope to never return.
But we don't plan these things.
They just are,
And we just are.