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We seek happiness like an unfulfilling dream
but there it is right in front of us.
Small precious moments in our everyday lives.
Moments which hold so little, but they are
acting like a counterweight to the so cold face of pain.
Pain which comes in waves.
You feel helpless, you can't fight it,
and you don't even know if you'll make it.
It plunks your entire world into one fine point
and when that wave goes away you feel
relief just for a moment.
Then it comes back to remind you.
Don't give in.
I guess I never noticed
The loneliness in her eyes
A burning blue fire
That burned her insides
Is there anything to save her?
Maybe,
But it's up to her to decide.
Does she want to live,
Or does she want to die?
Not suicidal. I promise. I just notice some things about other people. This poem is not about me.
In a certain state of mind
I'm thinking
it was due time
to
of my own mind
write words to define
all I have in mind
She was one in a million;
the moon filling up the night sky.
She'd lit up the whole world for his passing by.
He'll look up on those cold winter nights,
and her glow is amongst the most beautiful sights.
His moonlight maiden has a hold over his heart,
and with it, he feels they will never be apart.

He was one in a million;
just another star.
He lights up the night, but he's so very far.
Some evenings she finds her way without him,
because the light he offers her is so dim.
There are many more men among the skyline,
and if they’re hidden behind clouds, that's just fine;
because stars have no sway over the shine of the sun,
which will forever be her only one.
this long hour that she's
refusing to speak to me
we sit in the bedroom
opposite sides
the tv goes unheard in the corner
softly whispering nonsense to itself
like a madman
she is sitting with her perfumes and paints
looking distantly into the mirror
i study her face from across the room
grasping for words i dare not speak
trying for a thought that could resolve
remembering that sometimes its better to let anger alone
but from here she doesn't look angry
she plays with her hair
applies lip gloss
fiddles with things
waiting
i let loose with a softly spoken 'sorry'
she tells me she loves me
what did it all mean
why had there been such angry words
i look for the meanings but left puzzled
sometimes its better to let anger walk its own path
out of its dark woods
her sunshine returns in the coming hours
and we are once again
hand in hand
a glance away from a smile
a kiss away from each other
we make love in the afternoon sunlight
and drift into sleep entangled in each-others arms
lover sweet lover
 Feb 2016 Black Book Poetry
Holey
This where I lie
All because I tried
Which will be on my mind
Till the day you die
-
I await your fall
And get ready to crawl
Into your vengeful dreams
-
I sit here and wait
For the upcoming date
Tick tock
Tick tock
Tick tock.
And it never came.
Love is for the poor,
and money for the rich
but wisdom is reserved
for those who caught the itch
of curiosity for the fact that they exist.


Those sparse few who dare
to put their faith into people
but expect not to see the eyes of god
inside of another man’s cathedral.
Knowing well that these lies and laws
could never guide us past the flaws
of good and evil.


Only believe in the dreamer
who refuses the role of a follower
and shuns the idea of a leader.
Be not deceived by status or acclaim
because it only makes you a disciple
of a product and a name.


Hold in high regard the tired hikers
born to the depths of the deepest valleys
and yet they rise before the light of dawn
like a striker to set ablaze the malaise
of these pedestrian days
that mock our souls
with monotonous toil.


This life is but an eternal recurrence
therefore every morn we are born anew
and that potential is a shot at transference
into something more eminent than you.
Become the bridge my friend
because there is no future
in being an end.
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