The boxes
which keep my blood clean
are stacked as tall as I,
a monument
in the spare room
to past battles.
Too many words,
too many thoughts
******* in the
hand-to-hand combat
with mortality.

No more.

What life I have
will not be defined
by an indeterminate end.

I live to write poems;
I will no longer die in them.

I need to be led, say what's to be said, show me how to be as the answer I cant see.

Teach me how to learn, show me to discern or how can I expect to be the true reflection that I see.

i wish i were an artist,
wish i could paint the way i’m feeling
as a beautiful sunrise
or an unimaginable storm.
i wish i knew how to illustrate without using words...
words are not reliable.

you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.

If I could
pinpoint the
exact moment
your breath
touched mine
washed me over
in ocean waves
sea creatures glowing
in delightful recognition
as the seedlings
of connection
shimmied into our being
and, dancing within me
in its own lifeforce
your mind a living,
breathing animal
your heart, purring
and whirring its sacred forces
into my molecular structures
your soul throbbing
in mitochondric pulsing
(oh what
a delicious vibration
of ribosomes)
Between us, we hold
the true treasures
close, in frothy
                       tenderness
a purity of the expanse
of our universe,
swathed in prismatic color
colors that shift,
these fresh hues
for which there are no name
they are lucid and fine-woven
as silk histories
yet deep as earthcore
your eyes, voice
are forever burned
into my own
every day scriptures
that rock my shattered parts
into wholeness
and,
like ancient magic,
I conjure forth
the holy gospel
rising from our bones
every second of
every minute
as our deepest fires
our most secret filth
our murky corners
our darkest hours
we weave into light
brilliant and lustrous
multi-layered in the richest
folds of the earth
and as you place me
upon the shores
of your garland-graced
                              throne
Now I'm alive in a new
kind of light
and
all I can do
is love
        and love
and love

We are the children of madmen
     with voices
    louder than bombs
We are the dreamers of tomorrow
  with a love more
    blinding than hate
We are brother and sister of lunacy
   with kindness in our blood
     instead of prejudice
And we are here to make fear tremble
And we are here to end corruption
And we are here to protect
  the rights of all from those
    who seek to take equality away
From the poor and the hunger
  and the homeless and the lost
    and the innocent and the abused
     and our brothers and sisters
      and mothers and fathers of
        all colors and nations
         and of every orientation
We are here for the our
  endangered earth
    and oceans and seas
     and rivers and streams
      and mountains and soil
       and the dying close to extinction
        and for science and reason
We are here to pursue the right
  to the freedoms of happiness
   and creative expression
     and intellectual conversation
      and to love and be loved
       by any and all brave enough
        to have a gentle heart
         with an unfaltering beat
           and courageous pulse
Against the Ignorance of presidential pigs
  and politicians of swine
   and the whorish hogs of war
    and those that feed at the trough
     of profit from the death of innocence
And we are here today to take back
  our tomorrows and our lives
   and our bodies and our hearts
    and our will and our power
And we will roar with our voices
   with the light of love
    and words of kindness
      louder than your bombs