A flower so beautiful
Yet so brittle
A rare possibility.
Growing spontaneously
In a garden of engenuity
Where everything is
So complex..
Each new bloom
Is more diverse
Than next
The garden now seen..
From a place
Where everything
Is exaclty the same..
Where the rose
Is suspected
As just a flower
With the ability
Of love
No sense of devour
And as ignorant
As those
As the "ability"
To judge..
Love
As a meaningless..
Possibility
Than those who see..
Only a garden of snakes..
Will never dine
In the peasants inn
Of heritage and courage
Because he who sees
Only a flower
As a plant..
Is as ignorant as..
Those self dignified
To sign loans and
Grants..
What if the flower
Is more than we see
What if trapped inside
The mind of a person..
Not recognized
By society..
The flower is more
Than we can identify...
Just don't forget..
Your opinion..
Can brittlize..
The fragments of
What's left of it..
Because in the end...
Even love
Calls quits

so much of me is "if only"

When you are a poet
you don't place yourself on a pedestal
don't spit venomous hate
think fellow writers are dismal.

When you are a poet
you don't feel a superiority
fellow writers you gleefully berate
make yourself perversely witty.

When you are a poet
your heart is a little more wide
you don't fume and fret
readers are not on your side.

If you are a poet
you know better than to be arrogantly vain
don't carry ego's sinful weight
but let your art pour through your pen.

One, She grew up in a nice home.
He grew up on the street.
She ran playfully across her yard.
He ran to get away from the cops.
Two, the night of the school dance her heart got broken.
The night he picked up a gun, his soul was lost.
She swore herself off of men for as long as she lived.
He swore himself off of heartbreak for the moments he had left of his.
Three, Something happened and made him stop for just a moment.
Something made her remember what her mama told her.
"Don't be afraid."
She realized that's what it was.
He noticed that's what it was.
Four, a week before graduation.
She found herself looking at a painting one of her classmates had made and she dreamed about life in the picture.
He walked down the hallway and saw a girl looking at his painting.
Five, It's the day of graduation and she's nervous as hell.
He on the other hand knows he wants to go to art school.
She sits next to a boy waiting for her diploma.
The boy glances at her and notices she was the one who saw his painting in the hallway.
Six, the two had said hello.
Her hands were shaking
His voice stuttered.
But they were both exited to finally meet one another.
"Hello."

Growing tired of my tongue, I pulled it through my lips
Planted it in my garden right next to my red tulips
It blended in so well, and I wanted it to sprout
I was curious to see what kind of flower would pop out

I ran all out of water, and couldn't find a hose
My tongue was drying up next to every thriving rose
So I used my stomach bile to foam a waterfall
Hoping for success, but that didn't help at all

So I cut myself open, bleeding out my every drop
My tongue began to sprout, but then hit a sudden stop
I wondered what it needed, it said "I need to drink your fears"
So I gouged out both my eyes and fed my tongue all my tears

It grew so quickly at that time, and spread a million seeds
But all that grew out of those bulbs were ugly, horrid weeds