You always waste time,
But what you can't see is this:
Time is wasting you.

Waves of the ocean
Waves of the brain
Waves of the air rush
Over wires in the rain.

If I had lived in
Medieval times, I'd be one
Who carried a sword.

The weight was too much:
I despaired until I saw
I was meant to fail.
For when I try carrying,
I cannot lift as You can.

Step into my journal
My life before your eyes
Come step into my world, dear
It's sure to be a surprise

What you thought about me
Disappeared without a sound
I liked to hide behind my walls
Whenever you came 'round

I'm not perfect, not even holy
I've got scars that I love to hide
If you come and look closely, you'll see
That I have more than just one side.

...Welcome.

The sun rises hot
Shining into my small space
I wish I had drapes.

Did I know my love was small
Even though I felt it was large?
My love was selfish, though
I thought it would recharge.

What is love, anyway?
What is it when it is wrong?
Is it still love when it's misplaced
And you're not singing the same song?

Will I rediscover love
Just like I'm discovering me?
Will it give me hope for the future
Or just be discouraging?

Horace Mann in my history class
Lived from 1796 to 1859

He was born three hundred years before me
And lived to be sixty-three

What if I died in 2059?
I don't want to die that soon.

I won't even get to see the year 2100!
I've never thought of that before.

I'd have to live to one-hundred and four
And that is highly improbable.

So maybe I'll live to 2076
That's if I get to be eighty

But even then...what if it comes
What if I'm dying, and I have regrets?

What if I'm eighty years old
And I'm lying there thinking

And wishing I had witnessed to those kids in highschool
Wishing I'd taken advantage of having grown up overseas

What if I'm lying there wishing
That I had more time

Wishing I didn't have to go
Feeling like I'm not ready yet?

I don't want that to happen!!
I don't want to die with regrets!!

No!! I still have 63 years
Until I'm eighty, that's enough, isn't it?

But.....that's only assuming
That I'll die of old age

What if I got cancer
Or what if there was a school shooting

Or what if another country set off nukes
Or what if I was on a plane and the plane crashed

What if I died before I got married?
What if I died before I got my love life straightened out?

What if I died without forgiving people
What if I died without forgiving myself?

What if I died without telling my parents
How much I appreciated and loved them?

What if I died without ever finishing a story?
I'd never be a famous (but dead) author.

What if no one remembered me,
Or missed me, or thought of things I'd done?

What if I never did anything worthy of remembrance?
What if it took me before I was ready?

What if
             I died
                      *tomorrow?

I want to scream


I want to melt


I want to *****


I want to breathe


I want to survive


I want to sleep


I want to dream


I want to be more than I have been the past few days


I want to eat right and sleep right and exercise


I want to start being able to think enough to write things that rhyme


I want to stop saying "I want" all the time


I'm sad.

I will go to bed....
I will go to bed when I find the key to existence
I will go to bed when I hear the voice of God
I will go to bed when I find my sanity
I will go to bed when my iPod dies.

How much time is it
And when will it come to pass
When’ll I have enough
Of courage, to stand and speak,
And of love, to stay and care.

Cut on my finger
Right under the knuckle, red,
Blood from somewhere deep;
Startled me when I saw it--
From whence did you come?

They've turned my life to boredom
By whitewashing all walls green;
I will not let them in my bedroom
Where they'll mess with my dreams.

Whoever I am
Whatever makes up the me
It's a mystery
That only One knows for sure
Someday, I will know myself.

Then she really looked
And it was like she'd never
Seen his eyes before.

Why do I do this
To myself? Every time
I see you, I feel
Depressed. Why do I do things
That tear me up? Leave me 'lone.

Because I'm scared, and, I guess
I have a lot of shame
And fear of shame
Which is sometimes worse
Because the only thing you can do about it
Is somehow stop being afraid
And how in the world do you stop being afraid?
Especially of something like shame
Shame is a fear
A fear of rejection
A fear of making mistakes
A fear of your true, self-centered soul being bared to mankind
You're afraid to be opened wide
Before the audience
All who watch you
You believe that if they ever saw the person you are on the inside
When you're alone
At your worst
When you're a failure at best
And outcaste at worst
Because they would!
They would scorn your soul!
No! No! Nothing but perfection can stand here!
You are horrible and we cannot tolerate anything but crystal
Pure and undefiled
Never messing up
Never admitting defeat
That's what you fear
You're afraid that they would denounce you
But you can't see
Well, why should you
That you are not alone
This masquerade invited everyone
And sadly, everyone came
There's truth waiting in the shadows
If you know to call its name
Wait for the calling!
Where we all rip off our masks
Proud as we are human
Prone to make mistakes.
You have to let go of fearing
That you won't measure up
'Cause hey, join the club, we've got t-shirts
That say, “Cover me with His love”.
Shame is your slavemaster, you know it
You are bound by its fear and its hate
So break your bonds of imperfection
Live your life before it is too late.

Whyever can nobody spell anymore?
It's starting to cause me concern:
For as long as I wait,
                                   as far as I go,
It's the one thing that no one has learned.


How can it be that the grammar
Of the world is on sharp decline?
The words that they say,
                                          the sentences short
Grind sensitive ears and mind.


I know that I slip into lapses, too
Where I no longer care for perfection;
I say "runned" and use "i"
                                           where a capital would stand
Though no one's around for correction.

Can I hold on long enough
To see the end come true?
Or will I fall before I know
How it is ‘tween me and you?

Why am I hungry
While I sit and eat my food?
And why am I cold
Bundled up by the heater?
Why do I tell him,
Aware that I'm not alone,
"I think I'm lonely."?
Am I supposed to fall
When now I've grown wings?
Or am I to crawl
When my legs can walk again?
I thought I could see
With eyes opened to the light,
But darkness returns.
Is it just me, or is this
The empty, chilled night
Where loneliness is granted
As effort's reward?
When will the new flowers bloom
Where I planted them?
Will I stand alone again,
Like I did before
When I fell back on nothing,
Lost in confusion?
Or will this dark be broken
To bring me dawn, eyes open?

The wind blows on the prairie
The wind blows on the moor
The wind blows in the ferry
None compare to your speech before.

"Are windows open?"
Said he, "I'm cold."
"Only the windows,"
Said I, "of your soul."

The wind blows outside;
It sounds like the ocean waves
On a grey morning.

Wordless mumblings of air
Windy mutters, wisps to spare
Wringing sighs of gasping lives
Wrested from whisp'ring peace.

He was a grey wisp
Of thought, and of feelings deep,
That I couldn't catch.

If my physical wellbeing is any kind of indicator
I'd say that I'm wibbly-wobbly, piney-whiney.

With almost exactly the same number
Of followers and haikus,
I wonder if I'll reach 1000 hearts,
60 followers, and 250 poems at the same time.

You were a whispered word
I wished I'd never heard.

What can I say
That has not been said?
What words do I have
But those in my head?

How could I phrase
When words can’t be found?
How could I know
Miscomprehension profound?

What do I wait for?
Where do I go?
Who do I search for?
How should I know?

So do what you do,
Just say what you mean;
There’re words you owe me
Somewhere I’ve never seen.

Never simply wait;
When the time comes, it will too;
For now, you must work.

Don't write poems of
Those you don't want to think of
It just makes it worse.

If love was a feeling
It would be everywhere
The sun and trees and grass and bees
There would always be love in the air.

If love was convenient
Then it would be easy to love
Easy to love, easy to leave
Life would never get rough

If love was just effortless
Then it would not mean much
You wouldn't try hard, it wouldn't be part
Of the life-changing motion of love.

If love wasn't worthwhile
Hatred would be much more common
Rewards of kindness would be lost behind us
And no one would care if you loved them.

If love wasn't painful
Then it could never grow you
You couldn't be cut to get out of your rut
And nothing would ever caution you.

If love wasn't so wonderful
It would be something else
Like apathy or ignorance, distrust or pride,
Love wouldn't be worth it.

I am too tired
To say something worthwhile
So let me not speak.

I wanted to sing
So badly, but it only
Opened my closed wounds.

You write to share your feelings
So others will see them too
I write because I poem
And rhythm and rhyme, too.

Tired and weary,
Torn and worn;
Wrung with wights,
Thick with thorns.

It's longing that's here
Deep inside me lies a hurt
That yearns to be healed.

Not quite sure what’s happening
But now I see more clearly
Can’t tell where things are going
Are we there?  Nearly.

Sometimes fires burn my hands
Sometimes the smoke burns my eyes
Whenever I fall in the red sands
I look up to the open skies

Tired of crawling for the end
I’m standing straight and tall
When the wounds are on the mend
We’ll find we’ve been strong through it all

How far will this winding path go?
How long will the battle push?
All I remember is, I don’t know,
But still we lead the rush.

Not quite sure how close we’ll get
Not quite sure how far we’ve come
But if we continue we will find yet
He gave us the strength to run.

You dream of living:
Broken is your favorite word;
Yet whole and too young,
You have never grown so strong,
And then fallen far
Far enough to face your fear,
To dash all your hopes,
Taste mockery of defeat
And feel death's cold sting.
You wondered why you were cold;
You were just so young
Too young to feel a thing.

The world is so big,
never thought it could hold so much
So many places to go,
but I never find my way home

Maybe I'm too picky-choosy
thinking nothing's good enough
Maybe I'm too prideful
or foolish to know that

Your love is my home
Your hands hold my reality
Your peace is my resting place,
                  nothing could replace
The home I have in You.

Even though I was lost
so caught up in my own world
You held my hand
and I knew it was always Your plan.

Your love is my home
Your hands hold my reality
Your peace is my resting place,
                       nothing could replace
The home I have in You.

I'm slowly realizing
slowly figuring out
That all my days of hiding
You were what life was about.

I'm taking responsibility
for the life You've called to own
For the only way I can make it
is to acknowledge Your love is home.

Lord, I want my life to show
What it's like when You have control
And I want others to know
That I'm wholly and completely Yours.

Sometimes it's not when you're perfect
That you feel like yourself, it's true;
It's when you're embarrassingly imperfect
That you know that you're definitely you.

Did you speak from sadness
Or fear, or anger, or hopelessness
And was that why you spoke the way you did?
Surely it wasn't true, but
I can't tell if you believed what you said
All the same, though, I can't get your words out of my head.

вooĸѕ are мagιcal тнιngѕ, тнey are
тнoυgн тнeιr power ιѕ нιdden ғroм мoѕт
тнe тrυтн тнey conтaιn and тнe ѕecreтѕ тнey ѕнare
are мore ιмporтanт тнan тнey вoaѕт.

тнey are тнe нιѕтory oғ тoмorrow
yoυr мιnd тнey ѕнall eмploy
and мore тнan ever, тнey eхplaιn тнe ѕorrow
тнaт ѕo oғтen coмeѕ wιтн joy.

вooĸѕ are мιѕтreaтed and υndeѕerved
тнey aren'т υnderѕтood вy мoѕт
вυт тнe тrυтн тнey convey and тнeιr ѕecreтѕ oвѕerved
are мore ѕpecιal тнan тнey вoaѕт.