Too keep one honest,
As much as one can face,
A poet uses irony
To offset this.

The words told me
What I really think of me.
There is no place to hide
In a Hello world
I can't say I'm fantastic,
Only an utterance of many
Things I could borrow from
Silence.

At the forefront I can read the poetry
I write, and face my true mirror, the inner works of me
Cascaded by bold words.
Hypothesis me, words equally
Distributed
And the work is an unfinished verse,
And sometimes I can't face myself,
The words escape me.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

never trust a poet's words
they sound sweet at first
but you'll notice the emotion in their words
it all sounds too...
fake
"i love you like the sea loves the shore"
becomes too scripted
you hear the small tinge of love actually left in their voice
hoping
hoping it could mean something
but it doesn't
it never does
it's just the way they say it
one day, after they have left
you will find their poems, and they will be the exact words that they had said to you
once long ago

I wonder,
If I were born to walk the moon,
Would you shoot for me?

pull up your bootstraps
wipe off your chins
our mouths may bleed
but these hearts
are iron armored
lets keep them out
just like we practiced

Keeper of the better places,
Take my soul,
Into the skies unfamiliar
Gazing at earthen seekers,

Why is not where I am,
Where is why I look,
What is where you are,
When is but a sun's tear.

All I am in hopes and expectations,
Unsalted under heat,
From whenst I came
Is home to my spirit.

Star,
A new home for the weary
I plant myself in many skies,
The dream I became,
Seeking a new sun....

Hope.

There is a story to tell.
I met a person.
There is much to tell.
Choked up emotions.

The person listens.
Reads my stories too.
Not only the intro,
but the whole thing through.

Tells me I am great,
when I know the truth.
This has to be fate.
Because it soothes.

Positive and,
Appreciates.
Hard work, effort.
Invigorates.

The person fills,
me with words.
When I am lost,
and I am slurred.

Hair so curly,
Maybe straight.
Not sure, did
not speculate.

Eyes brown,
maybe blue.
Come to think of it,
it is you.

I write what I see,
Because I am blind.
I write what I hear,
But I am deaf.
I write what I feel,
But paralyzed.
I write what I smell,
In my burnt nose.
I write what I taste,
The only sense left,
And thank the day,
Because it can be worse.