As dawn broke we warmed
the cuckoo started love songs
Almost romantic

They say the stars rarely come out in New York
But have you been over it, while sitting in an airplane?
New Yawks a galaxy
A galactic city named atrocity
Urging people to find themselves, and learn about themselves
Narcissistic like astrology  

New York rushes me
And brushes me
OFF
New York is so inspiring
But yet
My thoughts are stuck in traffic
And trust me
We have writers on every block

*** holes
That mock

The tapping of your shoe
As you try and try to hush a crowd
Just so that you could get through

We got news anchors talking about how somebody got shot
and sometimes you feel your spirit beggining to rot
Because you can't stop
Imagining bullets
Shooting In every angle
Just dipping into your wakefullness like lullabies
Once in the heart
Twice in the eyes

And three in each ear
It's like **** what you think, feel, see and hear

But It's next year and your still here
In the city where the sound of an ambulance
Can be your alarm
and with a stranger you'll sit arm to arm

So come camp out in Brooklyn under the bridge because your heart will know exactly where those lost ideas now live

Come take the subway and study the map
It'll let you know where to go to get all your inspiration back

And if all fails head to the flea market somewhere sorta creepy downtown
And get yourself a muse
She'll show you around.

The stars look down,
upon the irradiated land
this old car
sunbeams recycled through copper veins
painting the concrete fields orange and blue.

We find our patch of earth.
You grab my hand,
Threading your fingers deep

Our bodies clouds
Floating upon the sinking calm
of late summer.

For the first time
In several months
I have felt an emotion
That isn't resent
For another human being.
I am thinking of one of
My truest friends.
One of my main confidants
In all of life's turmoils.
And this emotion is sad.
I am sad because she truly
Believes that her path is set,
That this is the only way.
She is self loathing and she is sad.
She is brave above all else
But she is also a coward.
I wish more then anything
For her safety
In these approaching times.
They will not be easy
For anyone.

Beauty should
Never be measured
By skin
Hair, make-up, money
Nor fame.

For we
Are meant to be more
Than simple
Mannequins designed by
Paid keepers.

Beauty is
Enchanting dreams that
Dance upon
The surface of your
Living soul.

The glimmer
In wide eyes watching
Boats sway
To silent melodies beneath
The sky.

Beauty was
Never meant to be used
Against ambitious
Children trapped inside our
Broken hearts.

We were
Meant to love the bodies
We have
Been given; like a small child
Holding flowers.

-ARI