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.

My CD player starts
spinning,
songs singing,
eyes seeing.
In that moment I recede from
reality and into the page.

Elevated to new heights;
a symmetrical splash
into a new world.
A solid shore serenated
by a storm of new music.

No two beats the same—
Each with its own aura that
sings of fallen life
worth a memory
as it disappeared in smoke
to weave a story like a river.

They all glisten with
unparalleled perfection
as their story is penned
during a 45 minute decent,
freefalling to their own rhythm.

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

Your beauty is contagious
and I’m allergic to it.
Your presence makes my eyes water
and heart race faster.
Almost as fast as
the wind racing
in the eye of a hurricane.
My throat swells up
to a point where
I can barely speak.
My head starts spinning
clockwise and counterclockwise.
Simultaneously.
I’m barely aware
of my surroundings.
The sound of your voice
splits the tiny hairs
of my earlobe.
Accented with a sexiness
I could listen to
all day long,
intently and uninterrupted.
Even after I wipe the water
from the bottom lids
of my eyes
I still find your beauty
difficult to look at for too long.
Like it can only be taken
in small dosages,
otherwise the effect is too strong.
Allergies are unpleasant
to deal with,
but the reaction I draw
from your contagion
is worth the side effects.

This court found me…

Guilty

of remaining reticent
to express my desire for her
on the counts of:

Past experiences,

Fear of what
vulnerability
would lead to,

Lack of confidence

and,

An inability to
pick up signals.

I was sentenced to life in solitude.

I am an ocean of bottled emotions
Trapped, lost, floating.
I am surrounded by
      wants and needs
Stress and change.
I just sit there
My mind -- the ocean
Is thinking
Who
Am
I?

It's not illegal to sprinkle lemon juice
in a healing wound, but it's not recommended.

The clatter of silverware rattles the piercings
of a tattooed barista battling a vexatious morning.

Iced caramel lattes, incarcerated by
serrated coffee beans, sleep alone at night.

A half-empty cup of 2% screams at a
of glass skim milk for acting obnoxiously drunk.

One squirrel scorns another for
stealing its spiked acorns last fall.

A lonely poem twists and turns
through disappointing images of life.

At the end of the road there's a mirror
reflecting an absent feeling of satisfaction.

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.

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

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."

Night #1
Around the dinner table crickets directed a noiseless choir
It's all full of emotion
But I don't know how to
Define a face full of
earthquake expressions
When the stars play guitar
with three broken strings
it sounds like musical genius,
and the grass is waving to it.

"Dude, the moon's coming out now,"
I hear from the crowd.
The autumn brown leaf outside the window
turns green in amazement
And then it swallows the sky whole.

Night #2
I don't even feel my drunkness, I just feel the
highness and euphoria.
I wonder who sees Orion with me tonight.
The triple XXXs behind the drummer and
ringing tambourines scream with
guitar picks and microphones
and I think I know this euphoria is more
powerful than the whisky in my right hand.
I'm the king of upside down guitars that read
"DEATHBOT," and the "B" is backwards
and I don't give a ****.

Night #3
Arnold Palmer and coconut juice
A pair of glasses and a sight that's obtuse
I don't need to see straight
like a wave in the ocean that capsizes at night
And I roll up a joint that is beyond precise.

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 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.

Clouds flat as pancakes line the sky
hovering over rivers and lakes,
roaming across prairies and bluffs
Seasoned with a bitter sweetness.

Some trees less lively than others,
Some blaze with a unique aura.
Wild reeds and wild weeds ride the wind--
Brown and rusted like train track bolts.

Signs for a woodshop boutique lead
down a road prancing deer wander.
Sun rays hint shades of light through cracks
Revealing a scene to be seen.

The red, the orange, the yellow-green.
Brown, sleeping stalks of corn in rows
And the scare crow standing tall in
The middle, still in nights silence.

Lifeless leaves falling to the ground
Leave colored murals on footpaths
Soon to be covered with sheets of
Snow as nature prepares to sleep.

Standing on a rusted
sidewalk plate, contemplating.
Let me bleed
like a slaughtered sunflower.

Let me walk away
from this wilted bar stool.
Death waits for the weary,
Knock kneed.
I trample through rotten hops.

Scotch on the rocks,
aged like the
half-lit bar sign
with three Xs
and a poisoned skull.

Chasing fear, exhausted.
Legless horsepower, monstrous.
Grinding my fingers on Grainbelts
before the crack of fall.
Stained oak pillars,
star mangled manors

Let me bleed.

Setting up a studio
vaulted ceilings with
scented linguistics
Glued to a group
Glass Stains on grained wood
tell me to ground my soul,
let go and propel waves
in the mountains
Glue the wind to trees
by any means necessary.

Anything is cool if it
interrupts the mind
of so called intellects
reacting with concrete questions
It's just as easy to
tug heart strings
with well crafted narrative
as it is to spread hate
with carefully constructed conspiracy
Word is bond
only broken by
water over blown bridges.

Keep strings tied to wounded rocks
Don't skip
Rippled vision
round squares and indecision
A sight to see
Don't quit
when there's always now
Find how
and walk the plank.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

When Friday buried Thursday
at the cemetery
I was eating eggs and
bacon in my bathrobe.
The other days wore black
attire to the burial
and brought white geraniums.
I stood in silence for three minutes
after I finished my breakfast
then wrote a note for the weekend:

“My time will come,
don’t wait for me,”

and left.

Staying afloat on a low note
a lost man crosses crippled bridges
carrying a turtle’s shell and flour
Singing off pitch, making leaves shrivel
Off abound, forbidden from sight,
glass air pierces his stale soul.

Wonder yonder he thinks to fire
of foreseen history pocketed in a square
while passing a brown polar bear
He hears nothing but bats communicating
when he saunters the woods at night
In the middle of his sleep      
his big toe squeaks and the bed shrieks
and the frigid air nips his shriveled lips.

He once made friends with
a single blade of grass in the desert
               but it died the day after they met
In the grand scheme of irony
he doesn’t see the reason for pancakes
They make his taste buds scream for quiet.

Whether or not he sees straight
is an entirely different question
If he comes to a fork in the road
he tends to keep walking forward
As if he thinks there’s not much difference
between right and wrong in present tense.

There’s too much for him to understand
in an overwhelming world; an abandoned creature
under starlight in a red sky reverie
he seeks rhythm from deflated composition
but fears that tapping his foot
will crumble his hypnagogic melody.

Winding roads and one-way traffic
Heading to a poetry reading,
rounding every turn
like a metaphor
emerges from a idea.
Passing  headlights
squinted eyelids,
Ditchweed on the roadsides
lay flat and brown
on icelandic mudbeds.
Driving through a bare, tree-lit tunnel,
a library smiles off in the distance.
                            ---
Standing behind a podium
ready to send my words off
to sneak into a listener's mind
like a Trojan Horse,
let them deploy an army of sword-less warriors
ready for action.
A perpendicular sequence of events
reveal new paths on an old map.
On the road again,
back home,
the sunrise in my rearview mirror
reaches my imagination.

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.

An Old Oaken Bucket full of *****
Swindling me from a spindle of rope,
Sloshing with every cup I fill
to the brim, topped with a savory foam.

I dip into the treasure on most
weekend nights with a blurry sight,
the least bit of fright, and a cup
that screams “Let’s have some fun, alright?”

I carry that cup with a sense of pride
every trip I make to fill it with *****.
Too many round trips have lead to
a massive amount of mistakes made.

Being out too late, because nothing
good ever happens after midnight,
Locking lips with random women
and not re-calling any of them.

Convoluted conversations about
the string theory or religion, trying
to sound smart while I slur my words,
I successfully fail to make sense.

I’ve learned the circle of life revolves
around learning, so, how can I learn if
I never make mistakes and play it safe?
Safe to say, I’ll never make that mistake.

Today I watched a log near the shore
wait for the Mississippi's current to
push it past the lone rock in its way.
Two and a half hours later it
caught the current, and gained
enough momentum to float ahead.

The log was forced from its comfort zone,
but wanted the change,
and embraced its own currency.
It got stuck along the way
(probably more than once)
but trusted the process
like flowers trust honeybees.

Today
the log is as much a part of me
as I
       am a part of it
Ready to ride the wave
Ready to converse with the current
Ready
Ready.

Moving forward, I'll think about
that log from time to time
when I'm stuck in captivity,
holding on to hope that I can
find a current to carry me away.

She has the face as innocent as a dog begging for food
Her eyes beam rays that gleam like high beams from a spotlight
Look at her smile and its like gazing into a cave of sunrays
But don’t be fooled, for if you look deep inside
Her happiness is absent with a lack of passion to find it.
Its easy to hide in a game of hide and seek
No effort is involved like it’s the end of the week.
Broken and shattered, her happiness has been tattered
Thrown out the window… like it never even mattered
Fear is seeking her relentlessly to invade her mind
She knows it so she keeps evading, to avoid its infestation
Each new place she decides to hide
Leads to a closer encounter of what she’s avoiding
Like a dead plant, she is becoming watered down
Fear is now a sponge that wants to soak her up
It is feigning for fresh food from some fresh blood.
Little does she know, fear is like a ghost;
It’s only real if you choose to believe it.

Finally, after a good game of hide and seek, fear found her
Curled and crouched, clenching her fists in a dark corner…
But clenched fists are useless in a fight against something that only exists in your mind
Without hesitance, fear went through with his crime--scared her to death without wasting time… literally.
She spent so much time living in fear that fear would catch her, and it did. Ironic?
She lived a life based on something her mind created
Something that exists only if you let it
Something that makes you look back on life and regret it
And I guarantee if fear let her live she would reminisce on everything she missed and think, “everything I missed has brought me to this.”

She avoided anything and everything outside her comfort zone
Instead of facing her fears, she ran from them
Rather than choosing the road that is less traveled
The road with twists and turns, leaps and bounds, change and adventure
She chose a road with a pre-determined destination
The road that is bland and boring, straight forward and sturdy, mundane and motionless
Instead of living a life full of excitement and joy
She lived a life with no life, frightened of a decoy
Instead of facing fear face to face, she lived with a face full of fear
Disguised by a smile, so happy is the way she would appear.

I guess you could say the point I’m trying to make is….
Fear is a creation of the mind,
Fear only exists if you let it
So why live life scared of something that doesn’t exist?
And if you have a fear, face it, don’t run away from it.
Because there’s nothing to run from, especially if there’s nothing really there.
Fear is the façade to a life full of fantastic surprises
Letting that façade stand in your way would be quite unwise
Take a leap of faith, step past your fears, and see what your life is really comprised of.

Rumbling thunder clashes
with ambient lightning
The cigarette smoke
gets in an argument about
who owns the sky tonight.

"Don't **** with me
I'll give you cancer!"
"Yeah? Well I'll light
your world up and
strike you to the ground,"
The storm replies.

And that was the
end of the argument.
The smoke conceded
and its soaked cigarette ****
followed the clouded stream
down the storm drain.

The last piece of straw
from the horses mouth
said its final words
The sky's batteries died
and there was no real winner.

No, not even Mother Nature
could hammer justice
into the broken gavel
She just sat and
chewed her fingernails
as the stars waved

goodbye to the Earth.

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.

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.

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 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.

The cold sun beats
on gold pinstripe pants.
Between the same fingers
that grip a pen
a physical form of smoke;
cancerous, like divisive rhetoric
dictating dialogue between
red and blue threads; white
in the middle turned
a depressed gray.

Stand, stare at
a  stale banner;
salute 50 blank stars,
the right choice
follows like a thief
with forlorn hands for feet.
Dead in the water,
Freedom drowning, shouting
in a salty blue tune.

The sun watches from
its godly golden throne.
Out, uttering among  
waves of stars,
speaking with nothing to say.
Freedom sinks to the
depths of Hell
as if but smoke
trying to make waves.

Concrete beneath seats
of listeners
Chalk artists
creating frames for the
next rainfall

Wash away
sun burnt big toes
beads of sweat
on sunglasses
Spoken word next to
handrails

The river below
huffs the wind
Spits it
to the current
of artistry
waving back from shore

Cancel the 12:50
replace the interruption
with impromptu colors
of the rainbow
Let children wander
under bridges
and pop balloons
filled with water
Color paint

Let the world
around us drink
water of guitar strings
and gaze at
ambient light
with star-struck eyes

Let the world
revolve around
lightning bolt revolt
Protect sacred
performing stages
Say yes to
Art-spired revolution

Before earth leaves me
someday under the sun
the moon will explode
My humble abode no more

And no bullet will outrun
No gun won
One last cry for life
But I'm done
I'm done

Rebellious in nature, I made friends
with crumbled leaves
on the last day of fall
Before my nose froze
and I dipped my toes in
a dry lake to catch my tears

My nature is dead, gone
Beating a dead dog
Looking for a reason to
pick up the phone
and call for a break
But there isn't one

Spare me the grief
for your own handkerchief
I don't need your tears
I have my own
Saved in a moldy jar
when I need the change.

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.