You will not tame this sea
either by humility or rapture.
But you can laugh
in its face.

Laughter
was invented by those
who live briefly
as a burst of laughter.

The eternal sea
will never learn to laugh.

There was an old man from kent
whos leg was exctremily bent
he climed up a pole
then fell down a hole
instead of coming he went.

This city rustles under moonlight
as my eyes lie restless under lids,
and you lips form soundless words
while you dream of things I long to know

I have lost myself amongst the streets
in coffee shops and clouds of smoke

Your eyes no longer hold my gaze,
and your fingers do not linger
When you touch my hand
my face
my collarbone
my neck

How did I get here?
Where do I go?

My mind is black.

My eyes scour the streets for pieces of myself,
But I have gone.
I have hidden in the shops
I have hidden in the streets
I have hidden under beds, blankets, and blackness.

I barely feel the cold damp air as I fly along the street
Searching for something, anything that will make me feel again.

You do not know how much I long to touch you,
To tell you I am here
But you can't see me because I'm buried
Under layers of numbness and skin and clothes
I have hidden in myself
So deep
I fear I will drown
In the great abyss of blackness that occupies my mind.

I awoke with sunlight on my face,
and my eyes upon your sleeping form
I wait for you to wake, and hope your eyes will search for mine
but you've grown distant in my darkness...

Where have I been?
Why did I go?

Why am I crying in secret under covers while you sleep?
Why can't I tell you that I love you?

That you are everything I need
To save me from myself...

We fly past cities I cannot pronounce.
The mountains leave me breathless,
and I wonder

How is it to lose your breath
Among the clouds and snow
And fade away alone, into blackness?

We have been where many wish to go
We have loved in places where many wish to love
We have lost our minds,
Only to find them packed, tightly into suitcases
Between the folds of our shirts.

Though I feel as if I've lost it all
between the cracks in the cobblestone,
and corners of the narrow streets,
in hotels where I toss and turn
where your are lost within your sleep

Please save me I am fading
Please save me I am drowning
Drowning in you,
Drowning in me,
Drowning in everything I thought I know
Of life
Of love
Of darkness

Then it stops, you speak
I hear
Your arm is at my shoulders and your smile meets your eyes

And I, am no longer lost.

The funny thing about life
                                              Is how we all have different perceptions and opinions
                                                        ­                                                                 ­                      On the same topics

But ha,
Nowadays we've all got to be nonconformists
Rebellion is tricky thing to master
To go against society is pretty much impossible
When the rest of society goes against itself
So those who rebel against the normal
Are so numerous that rebellion has become normal
conformity so to speak,
Has been lost in the eyes of adolescence
And blinded by the ideas
That being yourself
Is mainstream
But be different
But that's too average
light in the prism of teenage life
Is bent to show illusions and be deceptive
To tell us its accepted to be a unaccepted
Lets head back to the time where preppy cheerleaders and brain-dead football jocks
Ruled the hallways
And il-pubescent  band geeks were shoved into lockers
Like in the movies
Where only real society is existent

We love to chase the wind through streaks of blinding bliss,
Tagging the glorious ideals of love, peace, friendship, even
The meaning of life, to weeping willows and pensive pebbles.

We admire the monochrome sky in all its barren blue or pregnant purple;
Hues of burple and plue are dismissed as being tedious, or just confused.
Fear not, photoshop will rectify this pigmented aberration.

We giggle at clouds that resemble kitchen utensils or mystical creatures;
“Hey look a teddy bear in a spacesuit with a flowerpot on his head wielding the Sword of Gryffindor!”
We declare sagely, with the acumen of a legendary bird watcher.

We resurrect grass angels by launching into horizontal jumping-jacks, and,
Just as a disclaimer, no flower was harmed in the process. Not that it matters,
As long as we did not soil our Lacoste and Burberry.

We spin a mixtape out of the torrential downpour, our tracks pitting
The pitter of regularity against the patter of inconstancy, synchronizing
The symphony of splashes to an undercurrent of nostalgia.

We kiss against the bark of an elm, and if a tree is not available in the vicinity,
We throw ourselves down a nearby hill, tumbling into a ball of moist romance,
Panting, as we bask in the studio lighting of the approving sun.

Every still is captured by a Lomo,
Every scene arrested in sepia motion,
Every moment ravished by the chichi Bohemian in us.

Oh Hippy Hippypotamus
can't ride a bike
can't catch a bus
but unlike you or I or us
he wont complain
or make a fuss
he never swears or dares to ***
cause he's well bred
this Hippy Hippypotamus

Expectations of others still holding me at gunpoint.
Everyone and their mothers, I know I'll disapoint.
Not everyone can win if this internal battle continues.
But everyone could win if we stop the abuse.

The abuse of others, the society around,
Could become productive if we listened through the sound.
Listened to the people but not the words they say,
Because everyone communicates in their personal way.

If we listened to ourselves and followed what we feel,
Maybe everyone in this world could go home to a meal.
Maybe someday we will love and the fighting will cease,
and maybe someday we will be people of peace.

For now Im alone and considered slightly mad,
For straying from the norm apparently Ive gone bad.
Someday we will all stray from the norm.
We will all become "mad" rather than conform.

When that day comes the norm is gone for good.
People will be free and I will be understood.
With just a free spirit you can help to release,
A whole new world for the people of peace.

****** all the boys
in the army

win
war is over

still a lesbian