Twisted
and broken
Dancing
And limping
Your perfect puppet on strings,
Bowing
And
Bending
In time to your madness;
A tiny porcelain ballerina
Spinning on a pedestal,
As you orchestrate our final symphony.
My sweet,
Scary
Maestro of monsters,
My Conductor of Chaos
And pain,
I adore you-
My darlin,
My puddin.
Bleeding
and hopeful
Here I am,
Still,
By your side;
Your fondest hit
Your favorite toy to squeeze
(the life out of)
Your prisoner in love;
(Your good girl)
Begging for just a little more.
Heave me over the side
Again
Drown me in your molten insanity,
Push me under-
Just.
One.
More.
Time.
To feel the thrills,
The chills,
The danger;
The happiness
Of liberating manic laughter-
To feel the helpless despair
As I perform in your circus.
Here I am,
To beg a bullet
For these lips,
That praise your deeds,
And pray for release,
For a mutual destruction,
A final comedy written in blood.
I guess...
the joke is on me after all...
Right, Mr. J?

They say that lightning strikes are one in a million.

Then how is it that every time

you hold my hand

or stare into my blushing face,

that a jolt,

of pure electricity

runs through our shared connection,

bound in tiny intricacies in our veins,

restless in our hearts,

our minds?

I would love to believe that,

that lightning only strikes at impossible odds-

but I can't,

not while I am touching you;

my own heart is a live wire and jumping into my throat

with the raw voltage

coursing through me-

terrifying,

exhilarating,

breathtaking-

and belies the science I know

will disagree with me.

It can never know

the passion of traveling at love's breakneck speed

believing in someone else,

trusting them to catch you when you burn up

or to push you up when you can't remember the light.

It could never know the terrible loss of energy

when the one you love hurts,

speared by insensitive sparks.

It could never know

life in all its tiny fractured facets,

believing that one answer is all that is needed-

that lightning is impossible to contain.

I laugh at the sheer ludicrousness though-

Me?

A human lightning strike?

ABSURD.

But you take my hand again,

promising so many good moments ahead,

so many beautiful ideas

and dreams together,

and my heart leaps-

flying and flipping in ecstasy-

and I know-

Lightning strikes are one in a million,

and I was lucky enough to be struck by yours.

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.

Caught in daydreams
That smolder and burn;
Your lips, they haunt me
And make me yearn
For your sultry eyes,
That tempt and tease,
Sending shivers down my spine-
Pulling me closer,
As nerves push away-
Like the ocean,
I find you divine.
Kay, you said to call you-
O mysterious muse
that captures my eye
To know you and hold you-
The real and the bold you-
My wishes exhaled
On a sigh.

Wave
after wave
Of chilly fresh air
Washes over me,
Slathering me
Smothering me
In your intoxicating natural perfume,
Wafting in from the door you just waltzed through.
Confident,
Assured,
You silently entice me;
Quietly luring me into the spider's web
To devour me mercilessly ,
A wiling sacrifice to the hedonist gods.
Wrapped in your firm embrace,
I melt,
Overcome with the sensations of ecstasy and elation,
As your warm fingers wind through my hair,
Pulling -
tugging-
Bending me to the passions of the moment,
Where I exhale my simple reality,
And sink deeper into the fantasy that you lend me;
A dark and sumptuous world
Full
Of bare skin glistening in moonlight-
Writhing,
And shining
In our our titanic efforts to go to new places,
To attain new highs.
Melding-
We drink in the sultry air
As if it were the wine of the heavens,
Each breath,
a prayer to a distant god
Each sigh,
an escaping gasp of praise to the distant stars,
Bestowing their blessing upon our arching forms.
A place of exquisite torture
Where we waver in wanton abandon,
Unaware of
And without care for
the fleeting worlds around us.
We exist,
In bliss,
In utter ecstatic pleasure,
Making monuments meant to be remembered
And worshipped;
And as our sweet comedown lays us prone,
Gasping
Struggling to make sense of the sensual chaos
That just ensued
With blank minds that threaten to shut down all together
My fingers hold yours,
Locked in
And intertwined with a strong link-
Like a life raft
To carry me over
these waves of bliss.

Sparkling gusts of silver wind
drive howling through the vale,
the skies are grey and somber
and the air grows foul and stale.
The barren trees stretch overhead,
guarding dark and light
against the winter nightmares,
and the dangers of the night.
The people huddle closely,
stoking fires to keep them warm,
as the snowflakes fall in silence
for a coming winter storm.
Thier frozen hands, thier tired eyes
remember ice and snow,
instead of grass and sunshine
when all things start to grow;
the laughing steps of children,
the hills that called and bade,
the dancing windy flowers
in a thousand different shades.
There in the long cold shadows,
a solemn vow is made-
that green grass will soon awaken,
and offer boughy shade.
For winter's time is ending,
the sounds of life, more than words;
when the piping call of feathers
in the branches high were heard.
Listen now, sad people;
all is not so dark-
the summer's breath's returning,
in the humble voice of larks.
So do not fear the weeks ahead,
the long, capricious cold-
for we are made a promise,
from days long dead and old.
Ice will give way to water,
and water will give us Spring;
Soon, it will be naught but mem'ries
as we celebrate new things.
So, cheer your hearts, my sisters-
soon dark will become light-
Our hearts will ease, our peace be real,
we will be alright.

Twisted corpses
Of loves long gone
Call from across the room
As I stare
And stare
Until my heart breaks in two
Unable to glance away;
Unable to meet your gaze.
You're such a shapeless shell
Of days since past,
Having lost your substance to time
And belittled feelings
As I stand
Motionless,
Petrified.
I am but a pair of eyes now,
a shattered soul-
Still hoping,
Still wondering
If all I ever loved was a lie,
A cruel farce you'd never admit.
I cannot bear your cutting words,
Your effervescent laughter,
As you live a life renewed;
As I linger,
Wistful,
In your wake.
I'm bleeding inside,
These wounds too fresh to cauterize,
Your vision too much to bear
In the aftermath of our destruction,
The clanging bells of calamity
Still ringing in my shellshocked ears-
I struggle to find meaning
In the caustic remnants
you left me to puzzle over;
The scattered pieces of reasoning
That will never add up to a whole picture,
A sane answer.
Scorched and hollowed,
I can't bear this sight any longer,
As my heart smolders with hatred
And thoughts of revenge,
Consuming me
As though I were tied to the stake
That you deserve to burn on instead.
Come now,
Let's end this-
This dance of charades,
This play of puppets and toys-
I'm not your plaything anymore,
And I deserve the happiness
That you sought to steal for yourself.
Come now,
Let's accept it,
These sad monuments that you've erected
From upon your mighty throne,
The confusion you bestowed
When you left me all alone.
After all,
Fate had no say in this,
No approval to grant,
To this end-
You and I both know
You only have yourself to blame.

Sometimes
You make me want to scream
(You make me late for everything)
Out loud
(Too proud)
Like a beast howling with rage and uncultivated fear
(Just the same **** arguments year after year)
You make me ashamed to want attention
(You argue with anything I mention)
That isnt fought for or coerced
(Plans made with you are cursed)
And I just want to make you see
(All the things that you do to me)
That things could be different
(You never take things as they're meant)
Better or worse
(You cut me down first)
And I could still be here in a couple of years
(You dont understand the depth of my tears)
Or maybe not
(You forget what you forgot?)
And I love you
(There's nothing more true)
But loving you hurts
(And sometimes you're just a ****)

The season is changing
And so am I;
The soft touch of Spring
Has left the sky
And the harsh light of Summer
Streams in reply
While the clouds drift away
With an audible sigh.
The vines are a'creeping
Up and around
While green grass is growing
To cover the ground,
And the leaves are so breathy-
just whispering sound,
As the wind floats on through them,
Casting shadows around
Over hill, cross the field,
I can hear the call
Of the cold giving way
As the plants grow tall
And as I age too
I look and feel small
Like a walkway of mem'ries
Photos on the wall,
Telling my story
Wending it's way round
I feel rooted,
Attached to the ground.
What was is not what is,
And life is no game;
Life goes on,
But am I the same?
Or just like the seasons,
Do I flex and I flux?
Will I answer my questions,
Or do I question too much?
Existing outside of this existentialist ruse,
I sit and I ponder,
I think and I muse.
The wind answers nothing,
Nature's secrets to keep,
As I sit and I struggle
With a feeling lodged deep
Of confusion and progress
And confliction eternal
Between Summer and winter
Autumnal and vernal.
The flowers that bloom
Near my feet seem to nod,
No heaven to answer to,
No devil, no God;
No one to tell them
What they must be,
No decision to make,
Thus, blissfully free.
Bobbing and swaying
They bend in the breeze
A humble display of might
Born through ease,
A pillar of strength
Upon bended knees.
So too shall I be
For my confusion is gone;
I shall bend with my troubles
yet be as strong
As the mountain I climb,
As the rock I sit on.
I shall fly in the sky,
Yet remember to land;
I will open my mind
And keep my plans.
I am not just one person
My whole life through,
I will be many more
So:
I'm Me!
Nice to meet you!

You call my name

heedless of what the call will mean,

how I will see it through my eyes

how it will save a soul

that has broken and been sold

more times

and to more things

than it can count itself.

You cannot know the impact,

the ripple you will cause

in my deserted pond,

in my drying eyes-

but the innocence cannot lie,

and you are pure.

I doubt,

and I plague myself with worries-

Am I good enough?

What have I to gain?

To lose?

But you quell my racing questions

with a simple touch of redeeming beauty,

a quiet confidence in my ravaged self esteem

that defies logic,

assured that I am the one for you.

You listen to my complaints,

my excuses:

Changing was never easy,

and I never was good at trying,

but you smile,

knowing I will come down to earth soon enough.

I know I've been a devil,

and so do you-

a creature of spouting fountains of selfish vulgarity,

reaching and grasping for all that I could call mine-

refusing to be owned,

or settle for less.

You never cared about the past,

only about the present,

telling me to live one day at a time,

to live for the moment and wait until tomorrow.

But I cannot ignore the aching in my heart,

to be the woman you deserve,

the woman you need.

You call my name again,

melting the ice in my heart,

stoking the fire of determined devotion

that lay dormant for too long before you;

I cannot refuse your siren song,

your elixir of immortality-

it tugs and pulls at parts of me I thought had died,

in ways too profound and mysterious to explain.

I am yours,

for all time,

in all places, my wholesome angel.

Redeemed,

I know my place in the world,

here- at your side.

This morning is bleak and dreary,
The lake is frozen and cold;
The prince is making me weary
Of all of the stories he's told.
I've seen all his quests for vengeance,
I've counted his spoils of war,
I've relayed all of his messages,
And now I'm quite terribly bored.
He's crude, he's foul,
He never says thank you or please;
He never stays quiet, he always yells,
And his britches smell of old cheese.
I cannot bear to be near
A man so lacking in refinement;
He's got not an ounce of respect,
And should be in solitary confinement.
He's repulsive, repugnent,
A blight on the land;
Why, the very birds won't eat
From his murderous hands.
Oh! If only I could escape
This horrid, ***** man!
If only I could save myself...
Oh wait! I can!
So, I think I'll go find a dragon,
And strike up a bargain for gold;
Because princes are tasty with ketchup-
Or, at least, so I'm told.
;)

Bursting out of me,
like waves,
crahing against a distant shore,
my voice cascades wildly;
trilling and thrilling,
as it enraptures
and captures
the emotion of the tale yet to come.
Warbling,
and wavering,
the story unfolds-
a love concrete,
a life complete,
while time doth fleet,
and flitter away.
My passionate notes startle
the birds nearby,
silencing thier meager attempts
at music.
I am no virtuoso,
no child prodigy;
but the raw power
of my heart unrestrained
will put feathered tails
to the north
at the sound of my soul unleashed.
I sing;
not a question
or doubt
in my mind-
there is no audience to impress,
no friends to shame me into awkward silence.
I sing,
because I must release the fluttering creation
caged inside my soul;
unaltered,
it must emerge to outshine the stars,
to chase away the shadows that linger
in a waking mind.
I might offend with my noise,
my off notes,
and slaughtered choruses,
my silly screeching
that grates upon the ears;
but I am merely a vessel
containing these words and emotions,
unfortunately unequipped to perform justice
to these thoughts trapped within.
I sing
to empty myself
of these creative burdens,
these ideas that have a life of thier own
straining and pushing
to escape the walls that hold them here inside.
I sing-
because I can.

Anger take me somewhere new,
Somewhere I've never been;
It could be to apologize
Or to lose another friend.
'Cause you sure as hell ain't one to me,
You're nothing but a pain;
Anger, hit the road, you ***-
May we never meet again.
For Anger makes a fool of me,
Makes me see red in a whole new hue;
Robs me of my logic-mind,
Makes me say what isnt true.
I can't always lock you up,
And stuff you out of sight;
But I can choose
When it's time for you
To be released into the fight.
For you are not my master,
And you are not my friend;
You may burst into flames one day,
But I'll just put you out again.

Steeped in frigid air,
The winter breeze thrills me.
This sweeping force of change
Has left the landscape unrecognizable,
And barren,
Devoid of people
And as still as the breath of dawn.
This dreamland of snow and ice,
As far as the eye can see,
Tempts me;
I long to abandon dignity,
Control,
And launch myself into a giant snow drift,
Or create heaven on a wind-blown sidewalk
Staring breathless at the starry sky above-
Or possibly assault some poor passerby
With a snowball to the parka.
I just want to soak in the glory of the quiet streets,
The glimmering clouds,
Hanging,
So still in the night sky,
To skip down the streets as though I wasn't freezing my **** off.
I want to pretend I'm a dragon,
Glowering at the pathetic humans
With their bundled ignorance,
And their pitiful resistance to cold.
I want to dance,
And leap,
And play forever,
Ignoring the idea that I'm supposed to be doing something important right now.
It is a wondrous feeling,
To live in the moment,
To revel in the small magic of recaptured youth-
But tearfully,
I turn away from the window;
The vibrancy of youth is wasted on me
In these bleak and stress-filled hours,
Slaving away like the pitied adult that I am.
I can no more abandon my learned responsibility
Than I can turn back time to my long forgotten childhood;
Like the winter outside,
I am frozen-
Stuck like a tongue on a flagpole
To this monotonous drudgery;
Day in,
Day out.
But today,
I think ill share a secret with myself;
I still have that awestruck child within me,
And I don't need permission to let it out
To scamper across the blank hills of snow,
Laughing and shrieking in chilly delight.
I won't be an adult today;
I will let the snow take me,
And like the snowman I used to build when I was small,
Mold me into a new shape,
From a forgotten age.

Melancholy,
I stay behind these guarded windows
Staring out at all the commercials
And noisy car horns
And people
That covet and pervert
with their greedy, grasping eyes-
That revel in their desire and need
to possess everything new
And exciting.
They slowly peel away their humanity
Like expired bananas,
Left on the table too long,
Exposing the rotten fruits of their labors
That haunts them in their dreams.
I have no need of phones,
Or appliances,
Or whatever they're selling
At sales where everyone is
Shopping
   Pushing
     Stepping
        Shoving
           Grasping
              Stealing-
Where everyone is lying to themselves.
I'm not a crazed housewife,
Or a greedy collector,
Or a corporate sales exec;
I'm just a quiet observer,
Hiding from the spiraled descent of mankind.
I'm just thankful that these events,
That these sad, depraved people
are can't touch me in my quiet corner of heaven.
They are unimportant,
And in their chaotic rush
for power and possession,
They've forgotten the reason we draw close around the fire,
Why we share food and drink and memories;
Why we celebrate the sacred bonds of friendship
And family.
They've forgotten the smell of cider,
Boiling on the stove,
The taste of roast turkey,
watched and checked with patience absolute,
The comfy armchairs next to the window
That looks out on the freshly fallen snow.
They can't remember the warmth of a house
On a  bitter cold night,
filled with laughter and love,
Where stories and tales spring from lips to ear,
Recounting the years long past.
They can't stand still to cherish the beauty in the simple moments,
The richness of the holidays,
when the only thing you want to possess
Is a wide smile,
And a special hand to hold.
Yes indeed,
I look out my window at this day,
a day so dark it deserves is nickname,
And I pity then-
The sad souls that have forgotten
why this holiday is called
Thanksgiving.

These scars
on my arm
remind me
that I am not the person I was before.
Ropy and twisted,
they are scraped across my skin
in memory of all the pains I suffered-
heartache,
betrayal,
torture,
abuse.
They will never leave me,
a permanent discovery of self
that should never be forgotten.
I used to wish I could make them go away,
ashamed of my tainted appearance,
ashamed of my frailty exposed in public.
But, now,
they are like a map to me-
crossroads etched across my skin
in purpling reds and browns;
a timeline that reminds me of how far I have come,
and what I have gone through to get here.
Sometimes, I look at them
and can see where I need to go next-
for each scar has its own story,
and its own lesson.
So, if you see me
on the streets,
arms bared and waving in the wind-
just know that these scars are mine,
my journey,
my burden to bear;
be happy for me-
not sad for the person you think I am-
I know where I've been,
and I know where i'm going.

The wisdom of the ages

falls deaf on silent ears,

when those of 'better' knowledge

lack in better years.

The words they speak are naught but verse,

a pretty, failing void;

They barter time and trade despair,

and on ignorance are sold.

They traipse about with jaunty stride-

merrily nonchalant-

flinging thoughtless wording

like an idiot savant.

To all those who have viewed them,

they are deemed to be unfit;

For who would suffer morons

when they have but half a wit?

In truth, they are our future,

but 'tis a future that I'd fear;

Too many of this generation

talk and will not hear.

They crave with desperation

a life too dark and harrowed,

for live lived in deprivation

'tis a point of view too narrowed.

They do not seek a power inside,

instead, they seek a chalice;

in which all the world's a stage-

but 'tis a poison breeding malice.

Oh- I weep!

for the years that lie ahead-

my brain rebels in horror,

my heart bleeds, raw and red;

The youth are turning old enough,

the future is uncertain;

and all because the high schools

treat education like a curtain.

"Behind this doors, labeled number one,

we have a distant future,

where minding manners, and respect

will make you kind and nurtured;

where all the pathways open up,

and you've made a great success;

...Or pick door number two,

and make life, now, a mess."

Of course our ****-sure young ones

will pick the latter door-

for partying, and breaking rules,

surely, there couldn't be more?

So to all the world, I say Nay!!

This is not the way for things to transpire!

What happened to change, and progress??

What happened to stoking the fire??

I won't support a mindless flock,

I will not suffer fools;

But most of all, I will not suffer

no education in our schools.

A rose that only knows sunlight
Can never understand rain;
A heart that's only known gladness
Can never understand pain.
Eyes that have never seen darkness
Cannot comprehend hope;
Passions that have never felt torment
Are fires that can not be stoked.
But wisdom that hearkens to anger
Will someday turn its cheek;
A bold king of cruelty
Will someday join the meek.
Though the good and the bad
Writhe in confliction
Inside us all
Is a whole conviction.
Two parts to a whole,
Two sides in the glass,
The push and the pull,
The future and past.
We stumble about
Our hearts divided in twain
Eking out answers
In our fight to remain.
We ask ourselves
Whatis wrong?
What is right?
Too scared of the dark
To embrace the light.
We cannot be happy
Without having been sad
We cannot have good
Without the bad.

The moody greys;
The rain that stings;
A thousand random,
Happy things,
That makes me want
To leap and play;
To take in the splendor
Of this cold, wet day,
And revel in it's quiet gloom-
To watch it weave
On it's dampened loom-
For daylight does not at all compare
With this misty, freshened,
Dripping air.
Though all and sundry
Are brought down low
By the gift the heavens
So kindly bestow,
I feel instead Nature's kiss
In this, the weather
I always miss.
So while others may think to complain,
And shake their fists at the falling rain,
The soothing wind doth caress my cheek;
And so, inspired,
I thought to speak-
Of the drought of sun,
And it's absent rays;
And this,
The perfect, rainy day.
But an exaltation,
a prayer to none:
I do not wish this day be done;
Rather I would plead,
Sincere,
To leave this solemn weather here.

Would that I,
a lowly grunt
could make more than
the average runt
just out of school,
degree in hand;
While I survive
on meager plans.
Equality is a grand concept
full of flaws
and many steps
that most among us
will never see-
for man is not known
for his humanity.
We strive to be better,
but what do we gain?
A fistful of debt,
and a mountain of pain?
And what do we learn,
except that life isn't fair?
Playing cards with a bad hand
and a dare?
That bleeding hearts and open minds
will make us quite impaired
and are considered bad qualities
that make us unprepared
for the lambast that life is,
for the spears of betrayal-
for the knowledge that everyone
as some point is a failure?
We enter these halls
as creatures of learning,
yet exit these doors
suspicious, discerning-
our youthful optimism
shattered and dashed
by ancient old teachers
with an impressive moustache.
So, what is the point
of institutional leeching?
Is this how we want
our teachers teaching?
Do we condone the lack of equippable smarts,
instead replaced with limited starts?
Or perhaps yet, there is another solution-
Quit hampering learning with political pollution?
Maybe thats an option-
maybe it's not;
but I'm a student;
that's all I've got.

Of all the wicked forms of man
We're in the worst, uncaring hands;
For I've never seen so many fools
Fail together as they lose their cool.
The universe itself is blowing smoke
As the whole world stumbles, chokes
On the gas we're huffing
The lies, the bluffing
The wind bags breathing hot air-
The misery, day in day out-
All enough to make me shout-
So what?? Like I even care!
Can we just pick a mode that works,
Or let the end come nigh?
I'm tired, I'm done,
This is really not fun
And it makes me want to cry.
So when you ******* are done pretending
That this messed up world is ending
If you could turn the light switch on
And then, very helpfully,
Get the **** gone.

Chin up darling
Though the day feels so bland
I know that it's hard
Like youre stuck in quicksand
But soon the quagmire
Will ease and release
Soon I'll be home
For you to cuddle and tease
Until then, just know this:
I'll be missing you too-
So please dont be down
Or give in to the blues.

You wanted words?
Well here you go!
So watch what you're spreading,
Take care what you sow-
Because some of us aren't willing
To take a knee in your crap;
Some of us have worked hard
To be where we're at.
And I hope you get behind that-
Change your ways, make it right;
Because I won't be here the next time
To listen to your tripe.
After all,
I don't know you,
But you tried slander on for size;
Buried my morning
Under a mountain of lies.
I've had enough!
And I think it's high time
To make a decision,
to make up your mind-
About what kind of person
You d rather be-
The kind who grows up?
Or the ******* I see?
I wish you the worst,
There was no reason for this!
Unless, by a miracle,
There's something I missed-
Like a problem you had,
That you've said nothing about-
Some stupid concerns
That you can't even spit out?
Really,
It's not my problem.
I really don't care,
What you do with that black soul
And head full of air.
All I know is I'm ANGRY!
All I feel is DESPAIR.
And if you're going to hell,
Well,
I won't see you there.

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.

You see me-
struggling beneath these crushing thoughts,
wriggling out from underneath the weight
of confusion
and regret.
You can practically hear
the sounds of my heart breaking;
splintering into tiny pieces,
shredding into strips of damaged trust
and broken beams of innocence-
but you can't do a thing.
You know that you can never repair the damage
or ever make things right;
You know you suppress your guilt
and hide it among sweet roses,
that you let grow in hopes to make amends.
So you must sit back,
and watch,
as the people around you crumble
like buildings,
hollowed out,
and ready to fall at your feet-
scheduled to be demolished.
I am waiting for the day
when your pride will evaporate,
and your strength will dwindle-
and your eyes will reflect a deep sadness
that no well or lake could dare imitate-
maybe then you will say you are sorry;
maybe then I will be whole again.
Til then,
I will struggle as you watch-
laboring to bring my heart to understanding,
and my mind to compassion,
waking up in the middle of the night
screaming-
lost in these floundering dreams.

Heaven's cup that overflows
Trickling light into yonder black
Traveling the universe
Until the seasons brought you back
To me,
Mine eyes to see
The warm and glowing sight;
The stars are all a'shine this Eve
Your visage, burning bright.
My eyes could ne'er tear away,
Though other bodies dance;
Captivated, I am paused-
Intrigued, I am entranced.
For Ive counted all the stars above,
All friends, I hold them dear;
But the silver light that doth delight
Only comes when you appear.
O Tiny little dipper,
Tipping streams that pour-
The heavens look so full tonight,
But I am counted yours.

Watching out my window,
a thought flies through my head-
about the little hummingbird
flapping overhead.
As it zips,
and it zaps,
and its little wings flap
so hard to keep going,
to suckle on sap,
it seems to me
that this little thing,
so tiny and frail
doesn't mind the sting
of tough days and tough nights
as it valianty fights,
as it works and it toils
just to get by;
working for hours
to have enough to still fly.
I think and I think
on the merits of this notion;
So deeply moved,
I am stirred to emotion.
I shake myself, rising
as I abandon my rest-
Move over world;
I have limits to test.

This urge consumes me-

made necessary by circumstance

and misfortune,

made real by the real fear that follows me

down all of the streets,

around the corners I hide behind.

It is not a thing I desire,

not a thing I want to experience,

or face in a dark alley-way;

yet it is always there,

the travelers road-

waiting, listening

for signs of weakness.

It is the touch of madness in my mind,

the dark pits beneath my sleepless eyes-

the deep loathed wisdom in my bleeding heart

that speaks to me in the depths of night,

waking me from my already tainted sleep.

What it says are things I already know of-

no surprises or lies are contained inside its insidious whispering.

Sometimes,

I fall ill and devoid of courage,

and the travelers road appears,

with seemingly all the answers,

the only option.

Sometimes,

I resist,

straining against my own scared irrationality,

succeeding-

but just barely.

This is not the way I would have picked to go,

nor the scenery that I wished to see;

a tornado would have made a prettier mess

than the life I have laid to waste.

In the end,

there is no escaping my fate,

no fixing the past;

but perhaps I can linger longer this time,

and erase this traveler's mark.

Call it Quicksilver-
something I hold to,
leave and return to,
lose in dark leaves;
never quite keeping,
thoughts flit, and are fleeting,
covered with sheaves.
Sleep, and its missing,
ne'er to return;
Hold! Feel its kissing,
overtake with its burn-
late to my tongue,
but one part of the sum,
sifted like rays in the afternoon sun.
Call it Quicksilver-
that thing dreamt at mid-day;
call for it, longing-
but its gone;
slipped away.

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.

Bubble, bubble
Floating by
Passing through
On the breath of a sigh
Bubble, bubble
I wonder why
You are so fragile
Yet climb so high
As if you are
Not an ounce afraid
Of the terrible price
That must be paid
Like Icarus
Too close to the sun
You know youll fall
As you come undone
But still you float,
Enchanting and free
Colorful and dainty,
Inspiring me
To soar to greater heights,
Come what may
To seek out new journeys
New trails and pathways
With no fear of the fall
That must inevitably come
Like you, darling bubbles,
I shall reach for the sun.
So please dearest dancers,
Show me the way,
I am ready to fly,
Today is my day.

The rising moon sheds light

on a similar soul

tarnished and pitted as much

as the hovering rock above it,

rising from the dust that shines in the warm midnight air

that pervades with a vibrant sense of life and learning.

This soul can become smooth,

refined by the furnaces that it has sat in for so long,

waiting for a touch to shape it

to fix the crooked, mishapen bits-

A thought ingintes,

burning away cobwebs and shadows

raging like wildfire through a conciousness

that sat like an empty house

ready for demolition,

returned by the burst of fire and passion

of an extinguished life rekindled.

Underneath the starlight,

hope and flames intertwine

in a glorious reckoning

of past, present and future-

Wings flap as hard as they can,

destined to lift the sagging esteem

and broken promises

off the ground into the beauteous glory of the waiting beyond.

A secret smile plays;

no one can see this-

a fireworks show meant only for me,

a flustered game of chance until now,

when I found myself

and remembered the truth-

I can be the phoenix of my own ruins.

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.

Wildflowers and dreams

grow equally

in fields and souls

waving and dancing in pairs

as the breeze swiftly blows through.

Maiden blossoms

kiss the bees lovingly

and give up their secrets,

one by one,

to the golden sun,

as I dance wildly across the dappled shadows.

You cannot catch me-

I defy you,

you mere mortal man-

I am not some trophy to win,

nor a doorstep to stoop on,

and I will never let you have me.

Yearning,

I will wait for the storms to pass

and the sheets of rain to lift,

revealing my prince-

drenched,

shivering,

cold with anticipation-

He may be rough and unrefined

he may be beaten and broken down

But I will know him when I see him-

for he will shine as bright as the flowers in my meadows

and will have a smile as refreshing

as a cool lake on a summer's day.

I will heal his cuts and bruises,

for they are nothing compared to the fact

that all you'd have me fix

is dinner.

I will bear with his temper and his bad manners

because yours are much, much worse.

I will love him as I could never love you-

you capricious fellow-

you would never stay happy

you would never say 'I love you'.

To you,

I am mere hunting spoils-

just another trapping of finery to collect.

I am ordinary to you-

But then,

that's because your beauty is only skin deep.

Cruel intentions,
laid bare on the table,
dim the sparkle of the champagne,
and the happy smiles slide off,
to fall forgotten
underneath the plates;
your foolish words sneak;
crawling like a snake,
over the rich desserts
laden with sickly sweet toppings,
around the silver spoons-
despising its own marred reflection
and spitting cruel poison onto the very fork I eat from.
Your insensitive words cut me to ribbons,
that you stuff in your pocket
to comfort your dry handkerchief,
where no regret exists for your callousness
or your betrayal;
and the pocket-watch
tick
tick
ticks away-
breaking the silence
after your cast-iron declaration;
You sit so coolly, relaxed;
when the walls that supported this house
are falling down around us-
the banisters and chandeliers frozen solid
by a wave of my cold-hearted fury.
When my pained voice cracks
the glacier above your head,
will you still smile and laugh
as you meet your doom?
Will cool water calm your throbbing ego,
poured so effortlessly by my hand
on to that perfect smile?
The water will fly,
and smother that sour sting
of your pride undisturbed,
Sweeping you off your feet,
and down the river,
where the refuse naturally goes.
You are not the only one who knows how to fight-
and yet,
you find relief in arrogance,
in a momentary victory,
believing you have already won-
But I see the truth of your stupidity-
for, only a  fool wages a war
that no one wins.

Wear on thine self
The mantle of Lover;
The guardian of Grace and good humour;
The protector of Peace and Prosperity.
Gird yourself with the armour of Amor,
Your helmet of Harmony shining proudly in the dawning light of morn;
And with gentle spirit,
Lift Compassion, your shield
And together wisely wield that sure sword called Understanding
To defend these shared dreams undivided,
And to promise in their pursuits,
To remember and revel in their shared
sacrifices,
To express their elated elocution of their expected eternity,
To selflessly strive to see the comfortable creation of their world free of worry
To count precious beyond compare
The pairing of two private hearts
Under the blessings of Chance and Choice.
Harken to these words,
That they might guide these two the same:
Fight with fearless ferocity
And protect thy good name.
Dance with undaunted delight,
Sleep with softened sighs;
Laugh with sunny smile,
See with open eyes.
For all the titles here
Shall ne'er compare
To keeping good company
With love to spare.

In the morning, alarm clocks ring,
Covers rustle, small birds sing;
But when I wake, I've slept too long-
And wake to find you already gone.
I pat the pillows sadly, wishing you were here,
Then arise more steadily with mounting fervent cheer;
For tonight you shall return to me-
Tonight, you will be near;
And I await your presence
My love, my precious dear.

Horrid actions
Taken;
Lives lived for lives
Forsaken;
Hapless people living
Broken;
Caved in throats
With words unspoken.
Hurting era of
Lost desire;
Hateful speakers,
Smoldering fires;
Storms that threaten,
Not just the weather;
People that won't work together.
Hate and anger
Running free-
Sickening,
and twisting me.
In this world
That speaks of doom,
Living, trapped, inside our rooms;
Every day, the news gone bad-
Needling us,
To make us mad;
A thousand things,
Innundating;
The disaster
In which we are participating.
I cant unsee
Or deny
These things, events
That make me cry-
But I wont give in,
And thusly lie;
That its all ok,
Everything is fine.

Made strong,
and sturdy,
I am built for suffering;
Created to bear the burderns
of those who cannot lift the weight from thier own shoulders.
I cannot abandon a fellow man to the cold
hard
ground,
one that would swallow him up
and eat him for lunch;
Even though I have tried to forget,
to turn my head away
from the misery of the world I see around me
and selfishly focus on myself,
I remember their faces-
pale and pink
awash with tears
and pleading eyes
and broken dreams;
those faces that hide sorrow
like an empty dinner plate
in a cob-webbed kitchen.
I give up
and let go
forgive slights
and keep secrets;
I am no ones puppet,
and no ones master,
not a saint,
but not a healer,
not a sinner,
but not a believer.
I exist
to take the hit
feel the pain
work through pressure
and walk through fire-
to steal away frowns from sorry faces
that never deserved them.
I give pep talks
and poems,
I greet strangers
on grey days,
in new ways
on buses going nowhere fast.
I'm not perfect by any means,
and I won't laud accomplishments
that aren't achieveable by anyone ordinary
because I find it too terrible that
My opinion is not shared these days;
because
we are all so busy watching tvs and idiots,
quoting gods and people we don't emulate
or care about,
serving cold dishes of slander
while not tipping the waitress who just brought you your beer.
Courtesy and kindliness are things of the past;
like shaking hands,
opening doors,
saying nice things,
or pausing to help someone cross the **** street.
SO,
here I am
a product of an era I never lived in,
a mirage existing in a world I can't abandon,
but that would easily decide to abandon me,
trying to inspire callous people to open their eyes,
their ears,
and their hearts
to see that sonderous ephiphanies still await.
I'm still trying,
and I always will;
Because I was made to suffer for fools.

thick like steel

these chains wrap in long miles of memories

around my screaming subconscious,

the sharp thorny barbs

of confusion and reflection

spearing my confidence and self esteem

til they bleed out over the cold floor-

leaving me empty inside.

I wish I trusted myself enough to stem to flow,

to stop the bleeding happiness

as it leaks out with all the other things-

but I wouldn't even know how,

that I will just sit here and watch as it floods the carpet

as my memories envelop me

replaying over and over in my head

clacking and clicking into place

like the wind on an old rickety fence-

the one that stands between me and madness.

I scrabble at the walls that cage me in,

determined to leave this wretched hell,

the one I created for myself,

so very long ago-

I WILL see the light again,

I WILL know the kiss of the sun again-

its only a matter of time til someone notices my torment

and comes to save me from myself.

I wish I could remember the times that were beautiful

the days that made me sway

like new saplings

in the capricious breezes of joy,

the moments that sang out with melodies

and harmonies

soothing the sad soul beneath;

but pain is all I can remember right now

and pain is all I reap-

and the only bright spark on the horizon

is the fluttering wings of hope-

the hope that you will save me,

because I can't save myself.

There is a heart inside

this twisted beast's body

scarred

broken

and worn with ugly words

and memories-

but still here.

pitchforks and swords bar my path

lanterns light my shadow

long into the lonely night,

and the branding burns of unkind words

and fearful screams

sear tortuously into the still beating life

of this misshapen thing.

You stare,

and do not understand

how I could exist,

how I dare to draw breath

and upset your narrow-minded view of the world.

I am an abomination-

a freak-

and the mere glimpse of me

is enough to make you fear change.

you hunt me in your dreams,

and **** me in your nightmares,

determined to make this life of mine finish

before it has a chance to begin.

And still...

This heart beats,

hoping a bitter hope,

that someone,

someday,

will see through this exterior

to see the gentle soul beneath,

to love the human inside the beast.

A feeble chance still exists

to escape this cursed life

and become the man I always was.

Stand down,

you simple creature-

you judge before you know,

and care not to know the truth.

look in the mirror-

Bare your fangs

and muss your mane-

look deep in those dark eyes

full of fear

and self-loathing-

and recognize;

the beast is you.

These things escape me,
The woes and ways of happiness;
I am lost to their charms,
To the agonies of bliss.
Through the years
I learned not to take
The hand of one
Whose heart would break
Before my own
And, in the process, lost
A gainful measure of the total cost.
For what is made better by a fight unresolved?
What is discovered by a puzzle not solved?
These thing and more
I have paid dearly to know;
Perhaps it is time for my knowledge to grow
And expand, not external
But deep down below
To find myself -
Am I the person I know?
What kind of flower can bloom just in the shade?
Is this love dead,
Or am I digging it's grave?
And do I feel shame,
For the time I have spared?
Does it feel wasted,
All these years that I shared?
Too many quandary's,
Too much I dont understand -
Too many tears,
As I let go of your hand.
Time breaks all things to dust,
Bogs things down with layers of rust;
This love was ours,
But now the veil is thinning;
This is the end,
And the beginning.

The days are long and arduous,
the drawn out afternoons
smoldering slowly in the expansive heat,
as the sweet taste of breathy breezes
sweep laboriously across the sky,
sinking deeply into the rich brown earth.
The sweat-soaked fields
sway wearily in the extravagant heat;
the golden grains glinting in the graceful rays
of the warm, mellow sunlight.
The trring-trring of bicycles ring all around,
the flashing metal brilliant in the noon day light.
Rivers sparkle,
teeming with life so overjoyed
at the return of better days,
better ways.
Dawn gives way to dusk,
the precious light fading at the corners now,
wiping the clouds down
with deep plums,
and dark blues,
until only night is left.
The star wink and shimmer,
casting silvery light onto solemn rooftops,
shrouding and holding their slumbering contents
in a Mid-summer's night dream.
As the season draws to its close-
its fading glory resplendent
in all the wonders of such a comforting season,
the world breaths in-
quietly content
to put the day
to rest.

The sun arises
to dawn on new troubles,
tribulations,
and tribble-sized problems-
things that will start small
and multiply-
into invasive thoughts,
pervading senses of doom and despair,
becoming conquering masters
of deceit,
illusion,
and trickery.
From outside my bleak and tiny window,
the rays of betraying star-fire reach-
creeping over parked cars,
dazzling my eyes
in an ill attempt to gain my favor,
as it entangles the world in its ancient hands.
Redefining what it is to be alive,
each and every morning,
it persistently climbs with self centered surety,
to lord over my aching head
as I cling to the skin of this tiny world,
bound to it by responsibilities and duties
of the most mundane necessity.
What will this day bring?
Shall all the nusisances of adult life be avenged?
Or am I doomed
to continue plodding on in grunting,
laborious,
displeasure;
to pen my utter dismay
at having to work before the sun is up?

A forgotten shoe
lies abandoned on the floor,
your cracking heart too painful
to lean down and pick it up.
Her abandoned toys are just memories now,
trinkets,
lost to time;
the whispers of the little one-
once here,
now gone-
haunt,
and echo strangely-
mingling with the broken spirits
of the loved ones she left behind.
What hope there was
now takes a different form-
sadnesss turns to grief,
and grief to helpless anger.
Hands shake
with guilt and rage,
locked together in the fingers of other sufferers,
hearts swelling in solitary pain,
yet shared by all.
What is lost now
is still just around the corner,
though far from reach-
little footsteps still ring in the hallways,
peals of laughter bouncing off the now bleak walls,
where peeling paint remembers crayon scribbles
and unicorn doodles.
Wild manes still flash in the summer sun,
rippling like a mirage just out of sight,
but the windows reflect only cold light inside these empty rooms.
You've tried appealing to your silver lining attitude,
the one you wished you had,
attempting to comfrt yourself,
even when a smile is impossible.
Breath, steady;
your mantra continues in a voiceless chant,
hoping you don't forget to pull it together,
or else the heartache may riddle holes through your mask,
baring for all the world to see
how broken
and crumpled you are on the inside.
Smile-
she wouldn't approve of stern faces,
or somber stares at the floor;
Laugh-
she wouldn't want to see you cry,
those 'funny little dew-drops' won't bring her back.
Be strong,
as she was in her final days-
stronger than you ever thought a child of six could be.
Believe in life,
for her sake,
for Rebecca.

Twas a time
When once I knew
The scale and shape of things.
I knew what lay before me;
I knew my goals and dreams.
But now all is laid to ruin,
A change I could not predict;
So I'll make my bed tonight,
In standards derelict,
But think not on its squalor,
And instead be glad to be;
For I am but a story,
And there is more to see.
So
Shall I write a woeful ballad,
And mourn my frightful luck?
Shall I be so morose,
And into sorrow tuck
Myself and all my wishful thinking,
A hollow husk, once whole;
Shall I give in and linger on,
As time doth take its toll?
A more miserable thing
I could not express,
A fate most easily averted;
For happiness follows misery
And misery can be converted
Into iron will, and understanding,
Into change, where I emerge anew-
We are the only things we can command;
So why bottle up and stay blue?
Is it not better,
That once fallen down
To pick ourselves up
And stand on solid ground?
I will not be a burden,
But neither let my burdens bog me down;
Why should I give less power to a smile than a frown?
Nay, my story shall be one
Of determined resurrection -
Like the Phoenix I shall be soar-
Just in a different direction.
And thus learn in the process
Of being laid low
That I can fly,
That I can grow,
That limits are something that must be tested,
Not to be shelved, sheltered, and rested.
And in the end,
This tale is mine to tell-
Of making a heaven,
Having gone through hell.

Rippling laughter

floats in my ears,

your silly smile and happy eyes

dancing in my minds eye,

echoed from my throat like bells

across a courtyard.

You lean in and kiss my lips mid-laugh,

closing them with passion and tempting ideas,

lacing your fingers in mine

as I try to wind them through your hair.

You whisper,

I love you;

your work-worn hands squeezing mine-

once,

twice

needing the tender reply from my delicate fingers

to show you that I love you too,

the words that mean the most to us

captured in a split second

of simple grazing touch.

You hold me close,

as I look into the deep fathoms

of the eyes that stoke my soul's fire,

the passionate spheres that first entranced me.

The world travels by,

time slowed to a crawl-

eyelashes blinking,

hearts racing,

hands holding-

It's just you and I here now,

all the other souls around us

mean nothing for this moment;

Hold me close,

and feel the promise

beating out in waves from my chest-

Hold me,

and feel my heart beat for you,

my love.

Art is my escape
The place I dare to dream,
Depositing frustrations
That make me want to scream;
Tying up the loose ends
Of mental threads about to snap
Seeking peaceful solitude
From a world that's full of crap.
Sometimes, pen and paper
Are the only things I trust,
When all around me shatters,
And turns to empty dust.
Here among the soft lights
Of lamp, and desk, and ink
I give into emotion
So I do not have to think.

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.

wringing hands

I worry

not knowing if the future comes too soon

if the past is too far away,

never certain of the outcome

never safe in my complacency.

I cannot leap without looking for answers,

cannot speak without contemplating the side effects

of a speech with too many pauses

cannot think without running through the paces

of over-reacting-

but can I live a life undecided

when I cannot even decide who I am?

I am one who is not finished,

still learning

still yearning;

I am one who knows the world,

but lives in it anyway,

blindly ignoring and accepting in tandem

the way people are,

they way the city doesn't breathe easy,

they way that no one is the same

and yet exactly alike.

I am one who creates

and destroys

sometimes in the same breath of exhaled air;

I am one who regrets

but moves forward,

who lives,

but never forgets.

I am one who is fearful of her own fate

while not believing that nothing is up for debate,

nothing is ever truly decided.

I am a organized wreck,

a beautiful mess-

I am me;

and I am fearful

that I like it that way.