With patient hands, and caring heart,

a mother's love was shown

in the tender, stubborn saplings,

she loved enough to grow.

She listened to their tearful woes,

she kissed their hurts away;

She offered up the best advice

and tried to show the way.

She taught them well,

and scolded when they failed;

She laughed with them and played with them

and watched them blaze a trail.

She let them fall, she let them choose,

she watched them from the dark;

for a mother's greatest heartache

is watching them depart.

If not for the strength of mothers,

if not for their watchful eyes

the saplings would have shriveled,

curled up,

and died.

So here is to the mothers.

the ones that try their best;

know that we saplings love you,

to this we can attest.

Hopeful,
we cities are quiet
waiting for the news to come.
We sense the message
and the terrible waiting continues.
Alone,
we pray for release from
our cruel bondsman;
the mankind
that houses inside our stomachs,
disturbing the peace
with grief
and evil.
Waiting,
Waiting,
We listen as the walls crumble and fall
as they,
our protected,
will too one day.
We wait-
silent and hopeful
for peace
that comes with regret
at the cost of man's crown
and fur robe-
Weeping,
we cities know what awaits in the skies
and the seas
and the rivers,
in the very earth we are built upon-
in the hands of our youth-
guns
and rifles
and bombs-
words of venom and acid,
fearful loathing
and fretful tears
shed over the aging walls
that wearily stand tall in defense of a broken people's heart-
disgorging their rage onto a city
that can no longer hold their bursting anger
spilling out from our cracked barriers
and lashing like fire
helped along by a vengeful wind.
Our streets and markets bleed
for the young ones of the future,
hearing their pain
their terror whispered in unheeded prayers
screamed into dark alleyways
beaten from their lips as they deny themselves-
Oh children...
Our walls are too weak to hide you,
our guidance too frail and unheeded.
We cannot stand strong this time;
Forgive us,
forgive us as we fall to dust.

Hello,
This strange dream continues
leading me through
dim hallways
devoid of you
and empty carriages
that take me there-
to where you used to be;
a time where golden rays
of sunshine
embolden me
to newer heights,
till i never remember
that you were never here-
a mere memory betrayed,
a figment of my imagination,
you alight on my mind,
twittering a senseless tune,
random
things
to suppress what is really there-
the sum of crazy.

Late dusk falls
on statuesque trees
old and wise as the millennia they've stood through;
the slanting sunlight bursting through
the leafless branches
seems vibrant and ******;
garishly parading its natural glory
and vision to the lone pedestrian who walks there.
Looking longingly at the rim of transparent darkness
crowding just above the horizon,
he walks on-
the daylight is not for him-
nor the sweet colors of all the flowers
that stand to spring from the moistened earth
and grow to grey withering dust-
as all things must-
as he will never do.
Creeping,
the night slows the advance of life;
and he feels empty and alone-
the cloying air is not as sweet as it once was,
the dark earth beneath is too inviting,
too hungry,
and the songs of birds seem sad and prolonged now.
He walks on in abnormality-
his physical being an utter sham,
his soul long gone and devoured...
At last the sun dies, and the moon rises gloriously
shedding unnatural light,
and unnatural life,
on the man who once lived.

I tried to tell you that I was lost,
trapped in these drowning waves,
that dragged at my self esteem,
and brought down my courage-
sinking to the bottom
like a cast off piece of garbage
that no one remembered to pick up;
but the ocean captured my words,
bouncing them in refrain across the sparkling surface
that I  thought I might never see again.
I tried to reach above the water,
begging,
searching for a kind soul to aid me,
to save me from this dark despair
that threatened to claim me,
and keep me chained at the bottom of my soul.
But no hands came to pull me out,
to rescue me,
to put a warm blanket around me,
to give me hope when I had none.
I tried to shout,
to draw attention to my pain,
pleading with the eternal silence in the oceans
for my savior to find me;
but no one heard,
and my lonely gasps
against the despair filling my lungs
stopped.
Though I might drown in waters I poured myself,
I reject your help,
come too late-
I have waited too long to need you anymore;
I can swim;
I am strong.
You offer your hands to bear the easiest burdens now,
assured of your generous nature,
your seeming friendship;
But your hands are of no use to me,
for I became strong enough with out them-
to pull my own weight,
to staunch my own bleeding wounds;
to create a world where I didn't need to rely
on such frail limbs to catch me when I fell,
on such worthless promises of relief.
You think me cold,
but these waters are too,
still swirling around my ankles;
encroaching yet again.
Burning on my lips,
the thing I have pondered,
the one question I will never ask-
Where were you, friend,
when I needed you most?

This way and that
you pull me-
This way and that
you throw me-
Like my dark ocean tides
crashing into the shore
and leaving
for the continents untouched
except by these rough waves.
I tire of this,
these selfish games,
this human desire to own,
and control all that I am.
The ocean I am will grow darker and deeper,
Cradling mad ideas of revenge and destruction;
waiting until you sleep safe in your beds,
where you assume you are safe-
And I will strike-
I will howl my rage and horror
I will crash into you
I will break your frail attempts to wrap me into reason
I will drag you down into my wounded depths-
where you shall never escape.
you push and pull-
I will bide my time;
this cycle will bring you to me soon enough.
I will be what you never imagined;
I will be stronger,
hungrier,
I will make you yearn for me,
your unstable mistress-
holding your heart in my gripping tide
til I hold you forever at the bottom of my ire;
I will be your grave, sailor.

The wisdom of the world lies close,
in every ad and song;
Whispering  their coarse complaints
and their sweetly ****** sentiments,
that so hideously colored the very attitude
of the people once subjected
to its cheery caterwauling,
leering out from the nostalgic billboards.
The monstrous whining hum
of the spoiled cities
echoes loudly off the haunted bluffs
and peaks-
the abandoned parks
sit quietly,
simmering in discontent
and harboring flora
with a wicked unease;
seething with a desire,
a thirst for revenge,
that even in earth's creation
was never fully quenched;
The raging inferno dripping off the walls
in violent shades of fiery green and gold
strangles the life from this once bustling city-
creeping sneakily to reclaim
what humans thought to govern,
to control;
Turning the cities brown and vacant,
like the souls of the leaves scattered
on the naked cold ground.
Where once a city thrived,
and where Flora  takes her revenge;
purging the black polluted streets
with green oxygen and life;
Flora's revenge remains  
dedicated to this change-
In a city
of growing ruin.