Don’t stay
with people
who make
your world
grey.

But give them
a chance
and hear
what they
have to say.

Maybe
your colours
will rub off
onto
their easel,

and a streak
will change
their canvases
complexion
forever.

Freedom is like peeing when you’re pressed
Or blowing your nose
Like dancing reckless to good music
Or a floating balloon in strong wind

Freedom is like you and I
Laughing as we walk slowly
Hand in hand under the rain
With bare feet and without care

Freedom is like us
All of us
Letting go of opinions
And daring to do
What makes our hearts beat faster
Not du-dum, du-dum but
Free-dom, free-dom

It was cold
And it was quiet
And it was dark
But I was okay
Because when I closed my eyes
There was light
And there were trees
And there was music
And I stayed there instead

People are looking at your shoes

Heels, sandals, flats with a moose

Boots, converse, whatever you choose


People are looking at your shoes

If x is one and y is two

My shoe is me and your shoe is you

Laces, bows, straps or buckles

It could leave me wowed or staring with chuckles


People are looking at your shoes

Heels for status

Laces for class

Boots for the rugged

Buckles for sass

Shoes tell a story of the places we've tread

If we are hungry or if we're well fed

Shoes paint a picture of how we view life

One fun adventure or if we need a knife


People are looking at your shoes

But hey,

I say walk bare footed by the sea and be free, be free to be you

Because people are people and you are you

You're my rock even when you're crumbling.
When I'm stumbling and mumbling,
You pick me up,
Dust me off,
And lend me your voice for clarity.

It's a rarity for me to count costs without questioning,
Because I've got a head full of hostages, and
even when I let them out slowly
One at a time
To the firing line,
You help me blow out their candles.

You're crumbling,
But I got a shovel and a bucket to put you in.
I'll carry you til my hand hurts.
I'll carry you till my knuckles bleed.
I'll find that solid rock to place you on
And build you back up again.

See,
You don't get the luxury
Of melting away...
Not today
Not ever...
No way!

For you are my rock,
and I WILL build you back up again,
Because I love you,
And I promised you I would.
And that's a promise I plan on keeping
Even if it means the end of me,
Because I love you,
And that's what you mean to me.

Poetry is the devil on your shoulder
who shot the angel by your left foot
and crushed its body underneath a boulder

Poetry is a cold blade against hot skin
it screams for BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD
when all you want to do is surrender

Poetry isn't love
it's violence
it's the tourniquet,
the ******,
the flash,
the sleep,
and the cold silence

Poetry is the lust you can't escape from
when you couldn't keep your hands off
each other;
when you woke up alone in an empty bed
and a cold spot on the pillow right beside you

Poetry isn't cute or sweet or pretty
She's tattooed with black hair and a whip
and leaves you heart broken, cold, and begging for
one
more
sip

What is poetry?
Trust me, you don't want to know her
She'll leave you standing in a median begging for change
while your friends stare at you sideways
and talk about you behind closed doors.

I wish that ***** would leave me
I wish she'd never left me
Baby!  Please don't ever leave me again...