Oh us silly girls,
Always dancing around.
Oh us silly girls,
Wearing our crowns.
Oh us silly girls,
Writing love poems.
Oh us silly girls,
Wanting to grow up.
Oh us silly girls,
Living through dreams.
Oh us silly girls,
Hemming the seams.
Oh us silly girls,
Falling in love.
Oh us girls,
How we need our love.

I dare you to fall in love.
I dare you to dare me too.
I dare you to hug me.
And I will keep you.
I dare you to say it.
I dare you to make it true.
I dare you to kiss me.
Especially, when I'm blue.
I dare you to look into my eyes.
I dare you to see right through.
I dare you to make love to me.
Because baby, I'm in love with you.

Scatter your thoughts like a broken mirror.
Bad luck you say? Toss me a beer.
Stumble and grumble, dance and stray.
Tell everyone what you want to say.
Regroup your actions and ease your mind.
I'll take back what was once mine.
A utopia of peace. A sliver of violence.
I can now take this lingering silence.
It took me less time than I concluded.
But only a couple days were excluded.
Thank you kind sir, even if it lasts only a short trot.
You have helped me the most, believe it or not.
Hidden well, secrecy is reason.
I'm over this act of what I thought was treason.

Last chance to claim your youth. Tis the end of words. Action requires dignity. A selfless act of determining the young. And its driver. Prepare to be nominated the unity of its forbidding vegetable. Prepare for war. Can you see the likely hood of life? Can hear the chants shouting your name? Only to retire in rightful shame? Shake up your chances, make a bet with the devil. Show him whose boss. If not? harmonize with the consequences of your deceiving cower. Your unintentional quivering flinch. Who is to tell you what's forsaken? Or what is to come? Arrive in bravery. Retreat with poise. Fight with mayhem, for that is how we, the youth, battle.

Here I stand.
On a chunk of land.
Pickle in hand.
Not much to say.
But words that sway.
In a way that seems.. fitting.
Not a rap,
Nor a wrap,
Or an old tree with sticky sap.
On a train,
Not a plane.
Here I stand,
On a chunk of land.
Pickle in hand.
This seems to be familiar.
On a mat,
That was torn by a cat,
In the corner the cat sat.
Did I say train?
I meant plane.
Here I stand,
On a chunk of land,
Pickle in hand.
Eating Swedish Fish,
Only to make a wish,
A wish for a tasty dish.
And for you? Another round.
So I poke myself with a pin,
So I would win;
A chance to take a nice car for spin.
Why you ask?
It's almost a task.
Here I stand,
On a chunk of land,
Pickle in hand.
This is my life.
I say **** strife.
I say cut if with a knife.
I need not worries.
This is my call?
I say we all fall.
Here I stand,
On a chunk of land,
Pickle in Hand.

I thrive in others uncertainty.
I cower in the light of he.
I tremble to make no mistake.
I blame those who do it for their own sake.
I take pride in what I do.
I blossom to show that I can bloom.
I burden those for the right route.
I revel in sincere doubt.
I create passion and fuel fire.
I water it down to show no mire.
I keep secrets, so I keep friends.
I tell them to the ones who matter, in the end.
I tend to sit on a shelf.
So I can show everyone my true self.

I didn't choose to be anything but me.
I didn't force myself to be.
I didn't decide to live.
I didn't have a say on what color crib.
I didn't pay for my first pair of shoes.
I didn't know how to refuse.
I didn't realize what life was about.
I didn't mean to fill my mind with doubt.
Although, I am not a saint.
I don't have one complaint.

What's left in this world?
Some peace but only a piece.
Much violence but only few.
Some in the middle stranded.
It's time to choose.
For good or for bad?
Or for better or for worse?
What you decide now,
Will for ever stay with you.
Choose wisely for you can-
only get more wise.
I can see it now,
Deep in your eyes.
Please remove your facade.
For you are far more beautiful,
Than your guise.
Please take care with the decision you make,
Because good is to give,  not to take.
What's left in this world?

Say goodbye to beauty.
For it is unseen.
Say goodbye to love.
For it is unheard.
Say goodbye to honesty.
For it is hiding.
Say goodbye to fortune.
For it is no gift.
Say goodbye to life.
For it will pass you by before you know it.

A golden platter.
Only to serve the finest.
Delivered with such poise.
The taste? Delectable.
Dances on your taste buds.
To what ever dance, you dance.
The Salsa, perhaps?
Maybe accompanied with a side of chips.
The best dance that has ever pranced upon your tongue.
Addicting like heroine.
You keep eating.
For you can not get enough-
of whatever loligags upon this golden dish.
And then.. nothing.
The plate licked clean.
The dancers tired and left.
Leaving you craving more.
There's more in the back.
But then there wouldn't be enough to go around.
Because everyone wants to feast from a golden dish.

Writing right is right write?
Or should I always write right?
Only to right the write that I wrote.
That writes for our rights to wright.
Right? Because writing writes about rights.
Will wright our rights to write.
Right.

Time ticks.
Even though we already rush life.
On double time.
We need to stop and enjoy this.
A pause, if you will?
It may seem like a burden,
But in time you will realize,
That its not time.
Its not enjoyment either.
Its standards...
Of government.
Of people.
Of places.
Of jobs.
Of love.
Of houses.
Of children.
Of money.
Of life.
Of everything...
Invisible guidelines.
Tracks in which we must run.
I would almost rather be homeless.
Although, on the other hand, I know that I am lucky.
I have so much.
But shouldn't it belong to someone who deserves it?
Who is worthy of life.
Who may like guidelines, but is just a little off track?
Oh how I would love to run free,
In a field, with trees, and animals.
And maybe someday this cookie cutter life..
Will change its shape.
For I see life as a gift...
Not a job.

A toast.
To you.
For you have broken the only thing-
I had going for myself.
My heart.
I should have known from the start,
That, that...
Was too good to be true.
If only I knew.
A warning label perhaps?
Or maybe it was a mishap?
But my soul?
Misshapen and grotesque.
Was this only a test?
A test of vengeance and love.
A push and a shove.
A heart shattered into puzzle pieces.
Please spare me the preaches.
But don't worry, you fuel me.
You drive my creativity.
You put a twist on my character.
No need to care about my stature.
You are spoken of in my writing.
That may be the only good thing.
But you should not be proud.
Because over me? There's a cloud.
It has been there awhile.
Its time to say see ya crocodile.

Its in the deepest hours of the night
When my mind wanders.
It tells me things to say.
But yet I still ponder.
I have yet to let my words flow.
I sometimes become afraid,
To let people know.
To show them the real me.
Dreams are an obsession of mine.
They make me really see.
What thoughts affected my day.
And who is important to me.
Oh what I would pay-
To see my dreams clear as Dasani.

This is a very hard poem.
But it's pretty easy to read.
Like I have always said before,
I tend to write very messy.

This is going to take effort,
This is a very hard poem.
I hope I can complete this task.
All I need is a little hope.

Only two more stanzas to go.
I feel the end getting closer.
This is a very hard poem.
But my words are getting looser.

This is all I really needed.
Patience with a touch of spirit.
This didn't take long to write but,
This is a very hard poem.

It hurts like a butter knife,
carving into my soul, my being.
It aches as though all of the worlds pain-
is on my shoulders.
It stings as though toxic waste-
has been poured into mine eyes.
It shivers as though little spider-
crawls up my spine.
It chokes me,
No need for the Heimlich maneuver.
It serenades me,
With a song of agony.
It whispers to my ears,
only words of spite.
Creativity is a must,
If you tend to dance in the dust.

And here.
I have nothing to say.
Words of advice?
Or only play?
Listen to your heart.
Hear the beat.
Feel the rhythm.
No taking a seat.
A round of applause.
For your little show.
You are nothing,
Like you said so.
I have faith.
But very little.
I have given up.
Only as much as I was able.
You are absent.
Can't you hear?
It's so loud.
And so very clear.
WAKE UP, I SAY.
You little philistine.
Show yourself.
Cut the morphine!
Snap to reality.
You over-sized coward!
Sway what your mother gave you.
Before you get martyred.
Not by me.
But by your own self.
You have to help me.
Because I can't help you by myself.

Life is like a button up shirt.
Sometimes it can get off track,
But although it may take time, it can be fixed.
Sometimes you can miss a button entirely.
But even I can figure that one.
Sometimes you can lose a button.
But with a tiny needle and thread, no sweat.
Sometimes you may not be able to find your button,
But I'm sure someones got an extra laying around.
I know I do.
So hey, I'm here for you. :)

THis is the best time to do it..
under the influence...
I shall do nothing but sit
if only if only
you were frreee.
i would have you for my own
even if you loved me
hold me tight
and hold me well
you do it better,
than anyone else will.
this here is nothing but words
words of wisdom
and of truth
and of my kingdom
dont say anthing for this is it
my one and only jibberish
i have come and i have gone
maybe i shouldnt have
**** happens.
i miss my other half
i am i **** and not at all
you see me sleeping in the hall
you say nothing to me
but soon hopefully you will see.
i write words
all day.
i say words
and i play
you can kiss me on the cheek
but im miserable
and beat.
crazy incentive and
ambidextrous lesson
create a passion for you and me
i will love you
you hold my key
this is nothing and everything in a scrambled lullaby of missing emotions.
i need you and some of me
in this sweet melody

I am naked.
Not of clothes-
But of clout.
I am a tangled mess-
Of imperfection and doubt.
I am naked.
Not of creativity-
But of a constant.
I have thoughts,
Of mystery and enchantment.
I am naked.
Not of promiscuity.
But of courage.
I have fears,
Of passion and image.
I am naked.
Not of faith.
But of reason.
I have questions,
Of love and religion.
I am naked.

And I may or may not have been joking about the cloths part.

I know there are people dying to be in my shoes.
But I find them quite hard to walk in.
These heels ain't no cruise.

People fall in front of me hoping to be caught.
But then they find out I'm not strong enough.
And I am not who they thought.

Although I do not want to be rude.
I feel there may be no other way to get the point across.
So I am afraid I might have to be  a little lewd.

I am in a phase where I am looking for an accomplice.
Like a friend, not a lover.
And you can't accomplish this.

So stop wasting your time for good riddance.
I am not as cool as you think I am.
And for once...I need some silence.

She paces back and forth to strut her stuff.
And all the jockeys come running.
They all want to ride this beautiful horse.
But she wants nothing to do with them.
Some stay with her for a little while.
Her persistent fussing does the trick.
She is fastidious and will not settle.
A soon as another jockey leaves?
Five more arrive in hopes to get a ride.
She has only had one jockey to stay for some time.
And to farce, she will not abide.
She is going to wait for the jockey-
That see's more than just a pretty ride.

In my world.
There would be no bad thoughts.
Nothing would be illegal.
There would be a switch to change the rain-
from water to sweets.
The rivers would be clear.
Nothing to worry about.
Everyone is friends including the animals.
Food is a given.
But the chain? Not there.
Suffering would be unseen.
Laughter would be plentiful.
And to solve divorce. Everyone would be a puzzle piece.
Only unique to fit their soul mate.
Never a cloud in the sky.
But some precipitation is a must.
Everyone would be healthy.
In the center would lay a fountain of youth.
Trees would be infinite,
For they are my favorite.
School would be a week long.
Money would grow on trees.
Families were never broken.
Neither are bones.
Wrinkles would be absent.
And beauty would have no definition.
But... that's in my world.
And reality *****. :)

So I run down this block,
Writers block.
And I see many things.
Nothing constructive.
I can't hear what it sings.
So I walk down this block,
Writers block.
There is a man carrying a sack,
I wonder what he has?
Possibly a snack?
So I trudge down this block,
Writers block.
With the thought of food in my brain.
I am so hungry,
In my stomach, a small pain.
So I linger down this block.
Writers block.
Food for thought.
My bellies full.
But still, I fought.
So I crawl down this block,
Writers block.
Trying to move past this.
Slowly but surely.
I feel almost amiss.
So I lay on this block,
Writers block.
Finally to the end.
I am exhausted.
Good bye my dear friend.

The stars are above.

The earth is below.

The rain is a present.

The sun is a show.



The moon is a treasure.

The dirt is engaging.

The water is plenty.

The air is stimulating .



The wind is strong.

The living is a circus.

The dead is six deep.

And yet the gravity refutes us.

Who are you?

You are human.

Yes you are.

You may tend to forget,

but you drive a nice car.

Who are you?

Do you even know?

You get everything handed to you.

Like you deserve it.

Do you?

Who are you?

I may not know.

But I do know one thing,

You deserve nothing at all.

Who are you?

What have you done?

You may seem like a nice person.

But not compared to some.

Who are you?

What made you, you?

But you dont really care.

You are sheltered in your own wealth.

With none to share.

This is nothing new to you.

Who are you?

There are people that are suffering.

They are dying to have what you have.

But you? you take advantage.

Who are you?

I would really like to know.

What is life to you? Simply just a gift?

Do you see the beauty and pain?

Doubt it. You see nothing.

Because all you are is vain.                              

Tell me who you are.

Right now you are in the shadow.

When you learn to enjoy life.

Let me know.

I have created a monster.



A monster of defeat.



One that tends to think.



But never speak.







I have created a monster.



A monster of emotion.



One that loves always.



And shows all her devotion.







I have created a monster.



A monster of spite.



One who does wrong.



But always thought right.







I have created a monster.



A monster of itself.



One who knows everyone.



But my own self.

Oh poor little elephant in the room.

No one knows him.

He cries repent.

But I still will not let him go.

I won't speak of him.

Not a word.

He hangs from my ear lobes.

Sits in my eyes.

Slouches my shoulders.

And sometimes makes me cry.

He is big...

But invisible to the eye.

He wants to leave,

I want him to.

But this chain is ample.

And clamped to me tight.

Where is the key?

Not in sight.

I know its here somewhere.

Or maybe hours away.

Poor little elephant in the room.

He needs to be free.

He needs to be with his momma.

Which unfortunately is me.

I have created this elephant.

This elephant of distrust.

Its no ones fault but my own.

But this I feel is unjust.