Incarceration of the Imagination
Innocence is instantly lost
Angels and Demons are difficult to shrug off, so
when the rain falls, dance in it
because even too much sunshine can get you burned.
When roaming lands unexplored
Shout at the top of your lungs from the bottom of the valley,
and an eerie echo will emanate .

Don't be too guarded
You never know what you might protect yourself from.
Innocence is the key to Freedom. Set yourself free.

Inside the mind of a man mad with enthusiasm
resides the eagerness to express it.
Lend a helping hand
Don't follow footsteps, make your own path
During the day blue skies disguise what lies beyond the atmosphere,
but at night the stars reveal what's hidden to the human eye.
Endless opportunity. The desire to discover. Dumbfounded by the unknown.

Love like there's never enough to go around
Sing while others are watching
Show the world your lack of shame.
Understand that
                              you can't always be a hero, sometimes you have to be human first.

A perfect imperfection is the best complexion.
Reflections are molded by self-perception.
Don't ever be fooled by self-deception.
Three lefts don't make a right
But one truth can uncover 1000 lies so,
Be careful what you decide to hide.
You won't have it easy if you try too hard.
Focus on forward because
going back was never meant to be.
Frame your memories.
Envision keeping your dreams in vision
Drawing from mistakes when you need revision
Making the most of every opportunity your mission.

Soar to new heights,
but don't over-step boundaries
You don't want to end up the victim of a guilty conviction so,
ignite your innocence.
Let it burn and spread like wildfire.
Bring new life to forlorn forests',
Sing a song yet to be sung
Walk to the beat of your own drum.

The good don't die young, they die happy.
Happiness is absent without innocence.
Hold on to it.
Breathe in and let it go.
There's no time to be timid,
Resist the urge to second guess
because there's a first time for everything.
Your destiny is not a destination, it's a journey.
Travel with innocence, and you will never lose your way.

I was walking to work today
when a train got in my way.
It seemed like it was half an hour long,
Staring at car after car while caution lights flash red.
On and on and on it goes to a destination I do not know
Rumbling and rattling bed frames and window cills.

For five minutes the commotion in town is forced to slow down,
Slow down and observe the surrounding scenery
Some with low patience scream and shout while anxiously waiting
Some with a place to be call to say "I'll be late from this"
While the patient ones will sit and wait in wonder

Sometimes the train is a pain and drives the locals insane.
It doesn't stop to ask how we're doing or what's going on in our lives
It just passes through our town, uses what it needs, then leaves
                                   just like that.
Like a traveling business man, here on a two day business trip,
who hits up the local bars late at night to find a one hit quit chick.
But we dont know where that train is from
or what it's been through
or the stories it has to tell.
So who are we to get angry at it and belittle it?
What makes it right to hate on what we don't understand?
These trains all carry something we could use
            been somewhere we haven't
            seen something we've never seen
You may not realize it now,
by it you will find out later.
Each train has a unique story to tell of all it's travels
                    but hardly has time to tell them.
Graffiti covered boxcars are all we have to tell of where they've been.
So when I was stopped by that train today
I didnt see it as a nuisance, nor call it any names.
I just pondered in envy as it passed, wondering about it's untold stories, and let it continue on it's way.

Ripples of smoke drift across the water on this starry night
My life was lost in a coffin on the night I was pronounced dead
But what I saw wasn't what I had imagined in my head
Roaming across a ruthless prairie rampaging through the ruins
And I begin to wonder, how man lives are pressed beneath this soil?
Think about it, there are Angels all around us, wherever we walk
And what if they aren't looking down at us, but up instead
Through the soil that separates their soul from humanity
Giving us the lift we need keeping us from sinking in

The air around here isn't the same without you to breathe it with me
Like im the only one being harmed by this field of radiation
While everyone else around me is going through their routines
Uninhibited by the fact a boy is wandering the field in misery
Sometimes it takes a while to adapt to this empty feeling
But it usually comes at a price that doesn't make much sense
I go over that night in my head like you go over a budget
But instead of losing money, I lose a piece of my sanity
Because there's part of my that won't erase the picture
And I lose the need to sharpen my pencil when that happens
And the motive to keep pensively pressing the paper

You may not know it, but you're the reason I keep crying
Because tears are the catalyst of my crippled company
Yes, it's crippled, but there are still two feet to stand on
Which means there is reason to keep myself moving forward
It's like when your heart started beating, mine lost its life
I don't find that fair
It's as though I'm walking with a noose around my neck
I still think about you in the depths of my dreams
But they give me this perception trying to deceive me
Leaving me with misguided directions that mislead me

It was ****** she wrote on the night she up and left me
It must've hurt her when she found the folded note
Like she could feel the pen weave with every written sentence
Don't lie to me, I know that's how it made you feel
I wrote it knowing it would throw you back on your heels
What I didn't know was it would be the last note you ever read
Now I'm sitting here wishing you were here with me
But I lost you to the world that was more deserving than me
When you were MY world, and I would roam your fields freely
Getting lost on purpose, strictly so you would come find me.

If you have the expectation
you can avoid the unexpected
in life, then you will never
end up making a left turn
unbeknownst that it is right.

For it is the simple sense of you,
and the vulnerability, and the
admirable quirkiness within it.
The unquestionable understanding
of self stands atop the world.

And with wandering eyes, which
are unlike any star or moon,
and a bold heart that beats
beneath your chilled skin, you
hope to find a deserving warmth.

So you take this world by storm
and create waves that rush
and break even the smallest pebble.
A world that was not ready
for such a breathtaking force.

And this world was stunned,
ill-prepared to embrace this gift.
You threw the world off course.
Now caught in a strange situation,
he wonders what's next in store.

This world has been overcome
by a force it can't avoid.
But this force is something special
the world can't seem to deny,
so it's attempting to tempt it.

This world has been overrun
by a light that gives the blind sight,
something beauty can hardly describe,
something that is overpowering,
something that this world can't shake.

Your sight has livened this world
and made it greener in all corners.
And now whenever your bright eyes
set sight upon it's bountiful land
it is overcome by a storm of feelings.

But what this world is yet to know
is if this force is receptive.
Because this world wants to show
how it feels towards something
that is so unearthly beautiful

Inside and out.

I thought I saw you
when I was out walking through
the street yesterday

But its been so long
I cant hardly remember
the look of your face.

It was a blessing,
but also quite frightening,
knowing you're not here.

Sometimes I wake up
in the middle of the night
drenched in my own tears

Then I remember
my brain is just tricking me
and it isn't real.

I wish it was,
because I miss the days of old
when they had appeal.

Walking on the clouds
with your toes in the sand
you wave down at us.

I dont see you, though
Eyes neglect to see your hand
and all you have touched.

Several years have passed
since I last saw what it means
to live with reason

And that reason was
to fight until the last dawn
of the spring season.

You widdled a square
you were unfairly given
into a circle.

Well, in other words,
you shaped the lives of many
who were out of shape.

So on this great day
Ill raise a tall golden glass
to the cloudy skies

Cause you never know
if you'll see the sun again
before your demise.

I thought I saw you
when I was out walking through
the streets yesterday.

But it wasn't you,
because seven years ago
is far from today.

I’m losing my mind in this cold world,
for I lost all my blow in the snow,
so I went to Jupiter to meet with Jesus.
He told me I should go and find Zeus,
I told him that I already found him.
The look of befuddlement on his face
blended in with His beard.
I took a break to ring around the rosy,
half an hour later I had a **** nosebleed.

Everything out in space is chaotic
Where curiosity doesn’t constitute
craziness… Wait, does it?
I don’t know, my mind is racing against time.
Just as smoke dissipates out of fire,
You can’t put the pieces of Pandora’s
box back together.

Chaos and disorder came only after
the Big Bang.
But, what happens to all of us when
we stop expanding?
This everlasting expansion turns to a
controlled compression,
and we will no longer be in control
of ourselves.

We will no longer ponder the fate of
what is unknown,
but fear the fate of what we do know.
We will no longer seek to discover
what is hidden,
but settle with everything we do know
and become complacent.

While I do know I do not know
everything there is to know,
I will not float through space
without landing upon a star.

We all love to hate the things that hurt us
To draw the line that divides the two
Is like walking an invisible fence
In the ocean where the waves rage and rush
And we hate to love what cares for us
Because we're scared to get wounds that won't mend
When it's fear that will hurt us in the end
And puncture us with an elephant tusk
But what if we don't teach love or preach hate
Instead, exemplify how to balance
the two between two beams of blended light
where they compliment and don't complicate,
Perfectly mixed in a golden chalice
Where a single sip can change someones life.

One time i spent three weeks worrying about one hour of my life.
That's 503 hours at the expense of one, and 504 hours i can't have back.

I woke from sleep and looked outside today
to see that spring has sprung from infancy,
grass still wearing some snow like a toupee
and squirrels that are all but finicky.
I try to process all this imagery,
but my emotions are over my head,
so I sit in bed and smile wistfully.
I could be forthright with what should be said
and risk that it is misinterpreted,
or I could keep it in and let it go
and watch the opportunity lie dead.
Each spring a rose must bloom to be full grown
and blossom for everybody to see,
it's time I show the world who I can be.

I want to fly
I want to fly like a kite in the sky
where the sun shines bright
and the moon comes out at night.
I want feel the brisk air breeze
past the tips of my wings as I glide
over a forest full of autumn leaf.
Or an ice cap with the slightest layer
of snow that swirls like a hurricane
with the wind that blows.
Even a barren desert where the dunes
resemble a ripple the emanates
from stepping into a puddle.

I want to fly
Like a lone dandelion seed that
drifts like that of the oceans and seas,
any direction it may so please.
Or an angel above the clouds
where everything shines, simply
because the view is beautiful.
Because beauty is in the eye
of the beholder, who can create
a scene of anything to be seen.

I want to fly
Because flying is what freedom
feels like, and there is no better feeling
than that of feeling free.
Where the rarity of life can never be
overlooked, and you can understand
just what it means to live
And the only obstacle you could face
is the one most people allow
to break their wings, yourself.

I want to fly
Because I want to see everything
that this world has to offer, and
there is nothing to obstruct my vision.
Like peeking into a kaleidoscope,
except everything that you see
is a colorful, new opportunity
To make this world a better place
as it revolves around the sun annually
and ages ever so slightly.

I want to fly
Because these days everyone walks and
I would say that over time it has
become rather mundane.

Eight months ago we parted ways
Like a ship parts the water
When slicing through the sea.

Now when I close my eyes at night
I dream some wavering dreams.
Sometimes it feels we're inseparable

The way the ripples of your fingertips
Would embrace the warmth of my hand
And my problems would magically wash.

Or how I could be so timid and nervous
Your presence would impede my expressions
And I'd struggle to snap out of it.

Maybe it was the beautiful blue in your eyes
That would wave when I looked at you
And sometimes I'd forget to wave back.

Or even just simply hanging out with you
Knowing the hours that would follow
Will be filled with nothing but conversation.

And how my odd sense of humor
Somehow seemed to make you laugh
and smile, quite an overjoying sight.

Sometimes I can't stand the thought of you
When I close my eyes at night
Because you left me to look like a fool.

False promise given to a hopeful heart
Built walls greater than those of China
That aren't the easiest to move past.

It all seemed like an elaborate plan
That was constructed by a con-artist
And being truthful happened to be the con.

You duped a vulnerable soul
Who ventured outside his body
Because of this risky. . . decision.

I learned a caring sense of compassion
Is an unrealistic trait to look for
In someone who is kniving and selfish.

Because to walk away from someone,
with what seemed like little to no regret,
who walked into your life
and made any sort of an impact
is as heartless as Kanye West.

He was making old people.

Angry old people walking around in spite.

The train sits on the bridge, the bridge wonders.

It’s like a simple gust of wind.

It will rest on dead trains.

A stone retaining wall supporting a builder of empires.

The ghosts turn in their graves.

The air ever so slightly biting your cheeks.

A beautiful thing passes; it will never look the same.

A mirror shatters.

I once saw a man with golden hair
and a golden goatee.
His jacket was red
and his shoes were white as snow.

He possesses the knowledge of Stephen Hawking
and the strength of Hercules.
He raises a family of broken glass
a family that can only be broken once.

The wind never sleeps, so walk with the breeze.
The sun always blazing with brightness
bestowing a glorified light
upon the face of dark man weeping like a willow.
Tired bags below his eyes
reflect the soul of a stormy night.

Every morning he wakes and ages just a bit.
So subtle, yet it all adds up
to being warded in a hospital bed;
staring at a ceiling that sees only shadows
cast by the light of the Righteous Man above.

The shadows overcast the glory of the deeds done
and follow the man like the footsteps of
of a thief wearing iron boots
that make the ground crumble behind him.

Mundane perils of sitting at the kitchen table
with a newspaper in hand trying to read between the lines.
Walking to the beat of a humdrum drum.

Instead of asking politely “pretty please”
he utters with a long face “pity please”
like a toddler who can’t quite say pretty correctly.

Casting a shadow as far as the eye can see
A ship set sail long ago never to return from sea
leaving an empty dock along the beach
with a lone seat that sits at the very end.

Footsteps in the sand wash away with the waves
erasing a path once cast over by a shadow.
This man has a dark past lost in his memory
from traumatic confabulation
of what he wishes really happened.

Shadows of sin have followed this man everywhere he goes.
Sitting on the dock watching a deathly sunset,
he imagines a ship sailing across the horizon
casting a shadow along the suns reflection.
He awakes in a hospital bed staring at the ceiling,
drowning in his own shadows of sin.

Voices from the past spoken by ghosts are
booked with stories, stories till gone untold.
Tombstone whisperers with breathless lisps
Caress your mind with misty mystery
Beginning stories "once upon a time"
and ending them with the two words "The End."

We find ourselves wishing to hear stories
told by the living before they die but,
Only after they die do we listen
because everything they wanted to say
can now only be said with one word, dead.

I am sure, it might be midnight somewhere
Sun long gone to where I'll never know
Moons sing songs while rivers flow
Gashing and sifting between rocks
Crashing with utter silence
Everything breaks apart
Leaving scars in the heart
That can only be healed by being apart
We are together only at the start
But in the end the storm is going to tear us apart
Soon the storm will pass and I will love again
Looking toward the horizon
I took a deep, long breath
And dove into the water
Sinking slowly, deep into the blue
Elephant, which means the dream was about to come true
And then something amazing happened
Something I could have never imagined.
Pains me to think of the money I will never see.
Awash in the blue, I am losing my mind
Mind of a squirrel going nuts
Scampered down the street, needing more food
But he couldn't find any so he went home and got high
Lost his thoughts and began to cry.

The spiked shoes
smile.
Smile up the streaming,
dark alley.
A hoodrat lingers
stacking cheese
tweaking off his own
product.
He's short.
His whiskers are burning
with trouble.
At this point
his best interest
lies in hiding,
but the only
place he can find
is a dumpster.
But, maybe his head
needs to lie
where it belongs.
He's up to no good
and he's no good
to look up to.
He's short.

I'm so confused
by what you want.

Wanting this or,
wanting that.

Perhaps I should guess
what you want.

I say all you want
is this to want that.

As I lay on my bed
My favorite pen in my hand
Trying to convince myself
To write something creative
But my brain can't function
And just think on command

I blink, and blink, and blink
Staring at the paper blankly
Feeling like I've been hoodwinked
By a silhouette in a hood
All you see is two blaring eyes
As one half of them winks

Mind racing in slow motion
Thinking you can think something
But the ink isn't working
Brainwaves are failing to flow
To the tips of your fingers
Sparking the touch of talent

Trying to tap the wires
That trigger inner feelings
And fuel the fire to write
Stick a knife in a socket
You still wouldn't get the shock
To ignite your light to write

All you want to do is write
Begging and pleading your pen
To scribble with all it's might
You want to feel productive
And conceive a worthy product
Yet you can't seem to produce

It's the worst feeling ever
Because you just want to write.

My lungs are filled with air
Burdening the breath
that lives in me everyday

Growing weary and weak
Waiting around for
you to take my breath away

And fill my lungs with love.

I am a puddle in the ocean
Blended in a blue dream
With wandering waves
That capsize in captivity
Condescending from freedom

I am a puddle in the ocean
Struggling to stay calm
In this vicious storm
As the wind is whirling
Whipping my family around

I am a puddle in the ocean
Lost in space like a star
Wishing I could shine
Like the ferocious flame
Of the sun's searing rays

I am a puddle in the ocean
Drowning in earths tears
Shed from the sorrow
Of all the pain in the world
That never washed ashore

I am a puddle in the ocean
Fighting to stay afloat
Holding on to a rope
With a grip that's groping
But safety is far from sight

I am a puddle in the ocean
Tired of being tortured
By tricks of the truth
Seeking to expose them
With a splash of sunshine

I am a puddle in the ocean
Looking to ride a wave
One that will carry me
Far away from the storm
To be soaked up by the sun

I've grown weary of looking
Trying to find the one
The right one
for me...
for now.

It has become such a burden
Cause all the right ones
Have left me,
left me...
forever.

I know I want to find someone
Who is worth the wait
No, not right
not left...
straight.

The one who'll make the wait
Seem as if I
Never had to
wait...
at all.

The best poetry
Can paint a vivid picture
Without a paintbrush.

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/

Finally after a long winter
And the wavering weather
The weary wait is over
Walking through green grass
Moisture tickles the tips of my toes
As I take a deep breathe of air
Through the nostrils of my nose
A bird is perched upon a light pole
But its chirps seem rather frightful
They don’t sound very delightful
In the middle of conversation
I stop, I stutter, and I stammer
I’m enamored by that image
Spring is here and finally sprung
But the bird’s happiness is hung
Its like I could relate to the bird
I have been waiting patiently
For an answer important to me
While this bright and beautiful bird
Has been up there perched and enduring
Of this hypocritical weather
Waiting for a summer that wont come
As have I been long enduring
During this silent conversation
One day I feel its going one way
The next its going another
These feeling are becoming mundane
As I also wait for something
Something that probably wont come.

I thought it would be easy to defeat the grieving…
At least . . that’s what I was believing
But its not! My mind deceived my thought
And I caught myself in a lie
Its hard to keep your head up when there’s so much weighing it down
Its hard to speak out when you cant seem to make a sound
Its hard to feel loved when it seems no one’s around
I feel like a tree without leaves
And its hard to see a bright future when there’s nothing for the sun to give light to
How can I walk this path when it seems no one will guide me?
I just need a confession session to do some confiding
Cause emotions are eternal if you let them build inside you
They’re only there to remind you the hard times you’ve been tried through

Grieving is not a fun feeling because it’s a feeling that’s dealing with hurt
And its hard to convert hurt to happiness when you wear it on the sleeve of your shirt
It’s an Armageddon that takes an arm to get in, in order to compete
It’s cut me up and tapped me out, some stiches are in need
Its rattled my  heart, I shed some tears, my strength is seemingly week
On the brink of defeat, I’ve been knocked off my feet
My face is embedded in mud
But as the rain goes away it showers grace upon my face
To show a sign of hope
But, it doesn’t seem close: as a matter of fact it seems remote
I’ll need to emulate some energy to evoke
All though the one thing that IS close is my hearts will to devote
The time to reach the remote and get my life in control

If you think you’ve hit rock bottom then you’ve got a problem
See, the problem with that is things can always get worse
And that’s when you become vulnerable
You don’t prepare for the worst and you let up the fight, letting grief take over your might
The next thing you know, another misfortune strikes
And you’re left like a deer in the headlights… blinded by fright
Hopelessness waits at the gate for you to claim your stake
At what kind of life you’re assigned to
Grief can feel bleak, but don’t let it confine you
It’s your life to live, don’t look what’s behind you
If you get knocked down, don’t look up, get up and look around you
Looking up will blind you from what’s right beside you
Like you’ve been hit by an uppercut and left unprotected in the upper gut
Free for grief to strike twice, leaving you under the bus
But you gotta fight back, tell its lips to pucker up and strike back with a sucker punch

Cause a life without trials is like a being in court with no judge
There would be no words to write a sentence to
If tribulations were to never be faced
You’d be constantly stuck in a complacent place
Where there’s noting to live for except an eternal case to stare at space
Courage would cease to exist, and strength would be but muttered gibberish
So, whenever your head feels weighed down, exercise your persistence
When you can’t seem to speak out let your actions become precedent
And if you feel no one’s around you, look inside you to find what defines you
Because what defines you is needed for your survival
DON’T let grief and defeat be what define you.
Cause I can tell from experience, putting up a fight is vital
I take pride in my weakness, cause without them, I wouldn’t know my strengths

What is life but a bunch of irony/ Ever noticed that, or had desire to see/
We live to die, yet die to live/ Grasping to life asking Him to forgive/
It doesn’t really come to mind/ that in the sudden blink of an eye/
Your life could be on the line/ clinging to hope, pleading to survive/
Thinking that you’re immune/ to a disease that anyone is prone to/
Funny though, how irony is everywhere/ you just gotta look for it/
Like how religion seeks peace/ but peace seems non-existent/
We denigrate discrimination/ but racism continues to disseminate/
What is race but a color/ when color is a creation of the mind/
What does color have to do with anything/ when we’re all the same on the inside/
More things are said to our back/ Cause we can’t seem to face our problems/
Instead of saying it to their face/ we steal their self-esteem and rob them/
It’s like the truth’s become a knife/ trying to stab at thin air/
What does that even solve/ besides the fact that air can’t be stabbed/
It’s pointless to say something/ if it doesn’t help solve the problem/
And then the problem with that is/ the problem is left unsolved/
Irony people, it really is everywhere/ you just gotta look for it/
With hopes for the economies growth/ the government sets us up with debt/
That’s like drinking while pregnant/ and not expecting a birth defect/
Or how people always look for love/ when it isn’t something simply found/
Why would you search for something/ that can only be felt, not found/
Its like looking for the gust of wind/ that knocked you to the ground/
And trying to punch it in the face/ by yelling really, really loud/
God gave us two hands to work with/ yet we expect things to be handed to us/
He gave us a brain to think with/ only to act before we think/
He gave us two legs to walk with/ but we expect people to guide us/
He gave us two eyes to see with/ but we are still blind to what is beside us/
He gave us a mouth to speak with/ only to speak with words that degrade/
We look for happiness in ourselves/ by taking it away from others/
What used to be considered ugly/ is what we now call beautiful/
Sticks and bones with skin that’s tone/ a body unrealistically curvy/
Eight packs wit luscious locks/ muscles that have muscles is considered worthy/
Having a bad *** attitude and no respect/ that’s how you get a girl today/
But, yesterday, if you lacked respect/ girls would simply say “no way”/
We take simple things for granted/ that others would treasure royally/
Like, take our water for an example/ you can find some everywhere here on hand/
But there are people over in Africa/ who can only drink water from their hands/
Because running water only exists/ to those who have the upper hand/
Really though, isn’t it ironic how we live to die/ it’s an interesting concept/
We begin our lives in a womb/ and we spend an eternity in a tomb/
We avoid taking risks/ because risk to many spells death/
But living life without risk/ will result in a death with nothing to give/
People live to be remembered/ but your death will be forgotten/
Ohhh, the irony of irony/ how something so simple can keep life interesting/
I mean, if irony didn’t exist/ change would be but a mysterious mist/
You can see that it is there/ but there’s nothing you can do except let it sit/
So let irony become an incentive/ show some grit and man up to it/
You only have one life to live/ so why not make it ironic and die for it/

I remember one time, way back when I was ten years old
I was watching my friend do his homework
His mom trying to balance cooking and helping him out
Racing between the oven and his side
And I recall sitting there and staring at his paper
Excitement and intrigue was filling my mind
Envying his prestige, just a few grades ahead of me
I couldn’t wait to do homework like that

A fistful of years fleetingly flew by
With my fists closed, I would wait at bus stop after bus stop
Until I was at the same one as him
But I wanted to grow up so badly and be like he was
Instead I lived ahead of the present
Waiting at the wrong bus stop for a bus that would never show
One filled with experience and insight
Now I just have a blank paper in front of me that’s white.

They buried you high in the sky
Just a few miles outside town
I look up, yet can't see your eyes
Believing you were in the clouds
When the whole time it was a lie
You're just six feet beneath the ground

A tranquil silence presides as night arrives and the moon begins to shine
Wolves stand upon rocks in their thick grey locks and howl at twelve o’ clock
An immutable drip from the precipitation slips and splashes upon a surface
as does a tear that gracefully falls from the face with a purpose.
Leaves occasionally rustle amongst themselves and the grass giggles
The margins of my brain begin to echo eerily to the rhythm of nothing,
like an acappella that is performed by a tone deaf woodpecker with no beak.
Stargazer’s eyes become mystified as they stare at the sleeping sky
watching the sea of stars twinkle to the beat of dead space.
Crickets crick a hook like they are stuck on one being used as fishing bait
A streaming river in the distance whistles a soothing, harmonious lull,
and the biting wind whispers mellifluously just like a flute
As closed eyes listen to an orchestra perform like that of a church,
and midnight is when the service begins.

I wish I could spit out the things I bit my tongue about
but its hard to spit the stuff out that will get me in the penthouse.
When I first met you, I didn’t envision fights,
but now that I know you, it’s the only reason I fight.
Finding love is like finding a diamond in the rough.
Even if the diamond is found, doesn’t mean the diamond isn’t rough.
The edges will be tough, and they need to be smoothed,
but once they are buffed the diamonds beauty shines through.
I know its hard to fathom, because love is an intense feeling,
but once you’ve struck it, love gives life immense meaning.
Like the day you learned to ride a bike,
and all you want to do is ride it day and night.
The day you find love, your heart takes off and roams the world in flight.
Going into this I thought long relationships were only found in movie scripts.
A few months into it I began to think  “when do things get intimate?”
like it was the only thing I wanted from the relationship.
It took a while, but then I started to learn
I need to broaden my vision, there are more important things to yearn.
There is trust and honesty, communication and honor,
and for those who don’t know, being in love requires a bit of labor.
You don’t get paid and there’s no minimum wage,
because the things you do for love might be out of your range.
That just means you have to stretch and get through the pain
You see, what you receive should be treasured
because I believe love is as pure as a swans feather.

When you think of a drug addict, what do you see?
Someone who’s messed up, depressed, or on the street.
Sadly, there are quite a few of those freaks
They need their daily dosage or their days incomplete.
But what if I told you users aren’t the real drug addict?
It’s the government…. They’re the real drug addicts

But wait isn’t that a little dramatic?
That cant be true! Show me some facts, I demand it!

Alright, alright…. Hold on… if you demand it, here’s some facts then
In 2011 the war on drugs cost 23 billion dollars
But, that’s just the federal budget, you just wait, the states can replicate.
Over 30 billion dollars were put on their plate
That’s 53 billion total, 1716 of every second of every day… isn’t that insane!?

Well yeah, you could say that’s insane, but I’m still not impressed, can you step up your game?

Of course I can do that! I have much more to say!

Okay then, I’m all ears, amaze my brain!

From 1987 to 1995, the corrections budget increased 30% because more and more people were being thrown in the pent
Meanwhile, spending on higher education was on the decent--- 18% to be correct

Ah, that makes sense, but what I don’t get, is how that’s relevant?

Just a sec, I have more to vent
In 2010 21% of those in the pent were in for a drug related offense
And what percent of people do you think had a malicious intent?

Well… I guess you could say slim to none

Right! While educations lacking the proper funds to teach kids what they need to know

Okay, okay, I get what you’re saying now, but I still don’t get why you think the government is the drug addict?
I mean, don’t users spend more on drugs than the government does?
Drugs are expensive, and they take an abundance of money from a users pocket.

Yes, that’s true, they spend more spend more money than the government does
There are 20 million plus who reported using drugs in 2011, they spent around 70 billion dollars to support their love
That’s 3500 dollars spent per user
Meanwhile, just over 7 million people are employed by the gov
You know what that means? Our gov spends 7300 dollars per person employed for the war on drugs.

Wow… I never thought of it like that, those are quite the facts
You know what, that actually makes me mad
Obviously it makes our government a mockery, a living joke of a democracy
I can see why you say the government is a drug addict now
They’re addicted to a war that’s bringing us down
They can’t go a day without spending money on it
And look how successful it has been… pretty prominent their habit is chronic
I even recently heard that more people die from drugs they’re prescribed than drugs that are despised

Yes! I almost forgot that! It’s actually 10 times more people! Isn’t that unbelievable!?

Now, we’re not trying to say we should end the war on drugs
But don’t you think its time the government rethinks their strategy?
Because its obvious the one they have now is a tragedy.

Drawing images in my head
That stub my pinky toe
In a race that will never end
Nor will I ever win
Thoughts are constantly passing by
I can barely keep up
But on rare occasions I do
It’s quite difficult though
I often need to medicate
Just to get my head straight
It’s moiling to complete a thought
And develop a plot
They slip my mind in a short time
Like having one’s a crime
When I expound an idea
I’m in a zone alone
And there’s nothing that distracts me
When they slip my fingers
As though my pen is like popcorn
My brain brews a storm
And I feel I’m the one to scorn
Needless to say, my thoughts
Are bipolar like north and south
And slip through crevices
But the thing that matters the most
My sanity stays sane
And my thoughts never become vein.

There lies a single dugout hole
In the middle of a vast field
Encompassed by a three-sided rock fence.
The hole is not big by any means,
No more than three feet in diameter.
However, it is notably deep
Deeper than any hole ever dug.

Once a week a strange man would walk
A dirt trail that leads straight to the hole.
He carried nothing but a shovel
And a head on his shoulders.
For as long as I could remember
This man climbed into the hole with his shovel
And the ensuing hours would lull on by
With every ***** full of dirt that turned to dust.

On occasion I would find myself watching.
Just staring out my window on my couch
Excogitating as to why he has been doing this.
Nobody owned the land he excavated
So he was never stopped or questioned.
Sometimes I tried to conjure the courage
To go out and question him
But I’d grown up believing the field was wraithlike.
There are a myriad of stories and myths.
Some said he was searching for something
Some said he was burying corpses
And scattering their limbs as he dug.
Some people even said he isn’t human
And he was just seeking a way home.

Biting my tongue, I couldn’t take it anymore
Without even a first thought
I decided to get up and trot to his hole.
I trotted to his hole and found his soul striking.
His weary appearance sent my eyes
Spinning senselessly like a slot machine.
Any man who spends his life digging
Doesn’t have the most particularly pleasing look,
But this man looked a bit older, lean, and forlorn.
His hands colorlessly cracked like paint on a wood pillar.
Skin so white, it was like he was cloaked in calluses.
Like I could pinch his epidermis
And it would feel like the iron of a furnace.
I took a quick glance at the entirety of his face,
His face looked ridden with defeat.
Then my eyes made way to his
I gazed into them and sensed confusion.
I saw a maze and a meandering man.
Trying not to make my look of shock evident
I finally asked him if he’d come out.
He kindly obliged and climbed on out.

“Just a single, simple question is what I have.”
“Go ahead and ask, I won’t be mad.”
“What are you doing digging this hole?”
“It’s simple, I’m enshrouding my emotions.”

Several weeks pass; I have not seen this man.
I’ve been contorting my brain in knots
Trying to comprehend his answer.
I just wanted to see him again to ask why.
Finally I decided to make one more trip out there
And followed the single dirt path to the hole
Only to find the hole had been filled, and a sign.
It simply read: “Don’t bury your emotions
They’ll eventually cave in on you.”

I can't look at you
'Cause your beautiful beauty
Tantalizes me.

Guns today run the way we walk the street
Creating a quandary amongst The Den
Tragedy strikes and laws ought be condemned
Twenty-six innocent dead off their feet
A pool of tears puddle from the weep.
The hands of a ****** is where it stemmed
Creating anguish amidst our friends
Hearts of the victims appear to be beat.

A dispute out of view for umpteen years
Is now at our doorsteps like entry mats
Guns wearing make-up are costing a price
Beautifying what is really a rat
Quite frankly the picture is not quite clear
Guns without make-up can justly suffice.

Four wood legs below me reinforce my rear
The suns rays sear off of this white haze called snow
A glum graveyard of brown surrounds my whole home
Two filthy cigarette butts are staring me in the eye
Like a cats eyes luminating in the middle of the night
And I’m wondering why I wonder these thoughts.
****, its hard to caress all the thoughts I possess.
Broken from bewilderment by a lone gray hare
I scared it and it scattered up the short, steep hill.

*Walks inside because the frost is nippin’ his nose

I just need something new to twist up my life,
But every time something comes even close
Imagination defeats reality and all hope is lost.
Trying to find even the slightest bit of hope
Is like picking hope out of a crowd of pick-it signs
Nearly impossible, but the sign is still out there.
Suddenly reminded of the graveyard of brown outside
I recall glancing at a row of three green pine trees
And realize, they keep life all year round
Even when times have grown cold
And fellow friends have lost life.
Knowing they will survive
They strive to keep hope.