Terrified of the terrain ahead of me
Marveled by this mysterious map
I take a quick peak out the window
And see a cactus poking its eyes at me
Tumbleweeds occasionally cross the street
Reminding my conscience to not fall asleep
I'm driven until the end of my road
But where my road goes, I do not know
The turning of my wheels is starting to give
The engine under my hood is too old to live
Broken,
Lost
A twisted brain,
An empty trunk
No one around to ask for advice
No directional reference from the map itself
Frustrated,
Nearly hopeless
You kick the hub cab of your wheel in anger
It falls off and you find a hidden note,
"Become ridden with hope."

1000 pieces of a puzzle
from 1000 different sets.
Hours of mutilating work
decoding an uncoded message
from a bottle that was broke
by a steel nosed pelican.
Senseless waves of awe
washed upon the shore
roaring with speechless sound
to destroy your ingenuity.
Brand new state of mind:
let the illusions run wild
through a forest of mystery.
Full of Trees of Creativity
that stimulate the leaves
that rustle with your ideas.
In lieu of staring at confusion
let confusion stare at you
and make sense to yourself.
Brand new state of mind:
let your intwined thoughts
rewind like a fishing reel.
See the puzzle for what it is;
not a contorted story,
but the story of your life.
Put them in perspective
and look in a kaleidoscope
to see the pieces of the puzzle
magnificently arranged together
to paint a splendid picture
engraved in your brain forever.

A mouth on his head
Another on his back
Twice as many things are said.

Some said to the face
The rest said to your back
Like your face is a disgrace.

What kind of friend is that?

The moon is staring me in the face
Shaded in grey, slowly fading away
Barely paving the way
               to the edge of the fray.
Whispers of intrigue control the iris
Repeated patterns within blue beauty
Triangles that sparkle like a diamond
               around a dense, black circle
That leads to the cortex of insight.
It looks like that of a galaxy
Filled with mystical images of life;
Where night is day and day is night.
Meteor showers litter the sky,
tears of joy fall to a puddle of pride
As earth collides with a great divide.
Right through the center;
               from the lithosphere to the core
Pain on the outside is ramified on the inside
And I’d be ****** if I said it isn’t a beautifully
               tragic picture
because life isn’t balanced if a good deed
               doesn’t contain a malice intent.
Temptation to touch the treasure without consent
is no where near the worth of self-control.
The dare to take a risk is self-imposed,
but the move to play it safe is the lightest of loads.
Would you rather re-paint the rainbow
               or find the *** of gold?
Walk a path through the park to feed the pigeons
and a serendipitous encounter with livid pigeons
               leaves your empathetic heart frigid.
While a deaf person speaks for the mute
               as the mute listen to laughter,
The blind guide those who are struggling
               to a gleaming green pasteur.
A mass murderer to the morality of humanity
Commonly senseless people skew
               the meaning of integrity,
The soul of the soulless has been released
to be met by the life of persistence.
Positivity’s existence is amplified by tragedy;
Sadly it takes sadness to appreciate
              what makes you happy.

I gave a red rose away
My love is peddled in that flower.
Stemming from the depths,
the depths of an aortic man
Blooms a beautiful weakness.
For it leaves him vulnerable
To a raging red river of tears
Flowing with every rose
He’s ever given away.
He could fill so many boquets
A florist would be floored.
He could put them on display
In an elegant display case
They still wouldn’t be worth a say.

Dumbfounded by an illusion
Asking himself ‘what am I doin?’
Trying to fill this void
With his acts of confusion
Only to find the one answer
The one he’s not looking for.
That all these love stories
He grew up listening to
Have left his ideas skewed.
That love can be found
In the heart of someone else,
Happiness can be tasted
On the buds of another tongue
Without using your mouth.

But little did he know
That none of it was true,
All this time he never knew.
Behind that shimmering smile
Is a mouth that is empty.
His ears never hear church bells,
And his eyes never see stars.
His hands never felt the sand,
His feet have never frolicked,
And his roses were never red.
Searching for happiness
Before he even had it himself
Led to the self-destruction
Of all the love he’s ever felt.

The stereotype of the female type/ packing more than you give yourself credit for/
Spineless, backstabbing ******* in backless dresses fronting to impress dogs who are/
Barking at ******* that are easy to prey on/ hoping to get a good **** to sniff/
While your tail is out there waggin/ makin’ their tongues turn stiff/
There are many who live in that dog eat dog world/ And boy it can get pretty rough out there/ catch that innuendo?
You see, effing around is simple and it works like this; you F what you see/
Sometimes you find what you think to be ‘the one’ only to be deceived/
Because you believed what you saw and didn’t take the time to dig deep/
Next thing you know, your heart has been sunk in the pool of tears you weep/
You resort to a resolution to that’s easy to keep/ rectify to the erectified/
Yes, maybe some of this is harsh/ but if you cant handle the truth/
You wont know the difference between what’s right and wrong to do/
There’s a difference between a princess and a queen/
A princess who’s prince-less will settle for the frog/
While a queen knows how to stand on her own two feet/
Royalty is respected and they stand tough even when they’re rejected/
It’s hard to see something beautiful be used by a tool who’ll/
Only add her to the collection of his tool box/ then look for a new one/
But the reality of realism is/ reality can be pretty unreal sometimes/
And Miss Congeniality secretly believes the fallacy/ she wasn’t born to shine/
Selling herself at a price her mom would hate to see/
Giving out discounts because she can’t even count on herself/
The worst part is, it’s all manipulating her moral health/
And it’s demeaning her demeanor, being treated like Miss Demeanor/
But she didn’t mean for/ her life to turn to this/
She made three-left turns/ only to find the fourth right doesn’t exist/
Maybe a forthright person is all it takes to set her straight/
Boost her confidence/ make her feel great/ and tell her it’s never too late/
To find a new place to start over/ and get your mind in a better state/
That’s why this poem is called Tulip Teaser/ your own two lips are teasing you/
Impeding you from being you/ misleading you through your own garden/
But you’re better than that/ and there’s more to your garden than you think/
Just stick to your roots and let yourself grow to be the beautiful flower everyone likes to see/