Quiet tears are shed
noiselessly
for a pain that no one knows-
that no one can know-
that few will understand.
Who among them could bear my burden with sincerity,
with true compassion,
with sisterhood in suffering?
I tell no one,
else my resolve be tested;
I stuff it down,
lest my fears erupt into a river's coursing madness;
I keep it hidden,
else my heart would break
and never repair itself.
I know what I PROMISED,
I know what I DECIDED;
I made my choice,
and I accepted the consequences.
I knew my fate,
what I'd given up-
but did I really know what I would lose?
what I would long and ache for?
what companionship I would never achieve?
The envy I would feel for others fates,
for the things they possessed that money can't buy?
I have lost so much on my way through life,
I've shared burdens,
made mistakes,
experienced love of astounding beauty;
So, why now is my heart breaking over a fate I believed in long ago?
Why do the stirrings of gentle matriarchy bring a new meaning to time?
And why NOW does time seem to click,
and tick,
and count the seconds away?
Though I struggle to make sense of these phantom pains,
I will not destroy the world I created,
nor the happiness of others;
I am a spectator to my own debacle,
the appearing betrayal of my own mortality,
A willing slave to my uncompromising morality and compassion,
bound by my pledge of service to my blood.
'I am your Guardian Angel', I had said-
They are the new Gods of your life,
sworn to nuture and groom you for the heoric fate that awaits;
I will not be a Harbinger of Doom
set on wreaking destruction where none is needed;
I made my decision-
and I shall not permit it to be unmade,
even by my selfish hands.
To the winds I cast my troubles;
to the skies I throw my voice,
heedless of what god would dare answer;
to my heart,
I beg silence-
Be still.
I have made our choice.

Music

Like no other

alights upon my ears,

soft,

dainty,

and musical;

trumpeted like heralding angels

whispered like cherubims,

announcing your pleasure-

and mine-

at hearing you so happy;

trickling down

like deep, clear spring waters

bubbled up from underground reserves,

filtering through the muck and mud

of everyday life-

until its sinks beneath the loamy thoughts

of the surface I present.

I am unable to ignore this wonderful presence,

nor cover myself back up,

for it has laid bare my most hopeful intentions.

Ah,

what joy

like starlight

reflected on the still lake waters,

as the moon glimmers gently on the oars

and bow of the small boat on the surface,

with the entire heavens

as our companions,

you will put them all to shame;

I am envious of your carefree smile

and smooth white neck,

that glistens in the pale moonlight-

thrown back in beautiful abandon,

as rapturous as the ethereal and beautiful soul that sits beside me.

Ah,

your lips part in ecstatic joy,

making this moonlit scene more complete than before,

entrancing me and drawing my gaze

to the eyes that stop my heart

for moments at a time,

filling my soul with profound contentment;

I thought your smile was gorgeous,

and your eyes and lips exquisite-

but nothing,

not even the stars tonight,

could compare to your laughter.

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.

Quiet whispers

mark the morning

hushed, and rattling

like the leaves on the concrete outside;

eyes sleepily open

to mid morning sun

blinking

struggling

to see the new day.

Your arm sneaks over me

and you pull me close-

I won't be leaving the soft bed before you this morning.

your soft breath haunts the back of my neck

sending chills down my spine,

your loving lips caressing away

the strands of hair that have fallen over my face;

your fingertips brush-

so gently

so softly-

as if I were a doll that would break

and be lost forever

or a vision that would melt away

and disappear.

We laugh quietly-

this is our world

and no one can disturb our play

when we are so absorbed in each other-

our smiles making the shadows of night

cringe,

and melt into the corners-

ashamed to be there

in the presence of our golden light.

Here,

in your arms,

in our morning world,

there is nothing that can break my spirit,

nothing that I cannot feel glad for.

You

and I

we are happy,

we are free to love

and laugh

and live today-

and every day-

because happiness is here,

with you.

Barren empty sidewalks
gray and unforgiving,
winding on in never-ending concrete roads;
making un-melodic thumping sounds
as my feet rhythmically step-
dance-
and twirl-
Cold and lifeless buildings,
garter-ed in girders of steel and glass;
reflecting everyone's business-
every nosy little thought,
every scathing deadly glance;
Steep towers of frozen brokers,
daggering into other's precious dreams,
and optimism-
like the person you used to be,
like the hopes you used to have.
Saber teeth tigers leer down from high ledges,
ready to pounce and **** out my resolve-
while I flutter-
whirl-
and waver-
in existence;
teetering on the edge of perception,
of failure;
There is no color in these devoid cities,
no happiness held in these forlorn faces,
no smiles to stoke a burnt-out heart;
Just me-
dancing-
twirling-
leaping-
hoping -
trying-
to make you remember yourself.

I have no need to watch the time,
Or placate you for my Valentine,
Or yell out '****, that *** is fine!'
Because darling, you're already mine.
A better man I could never find
With manners, wit, and charm divine
A mischievous imp who laughs at time;
A man with the most wondrous mind.
My darling dear, I'll flatter you yet!
Until those ears hear and dont forget
That you're a shining gem, inset
In mem'ry- from the day we met.
For a thousand times, and a thousand more
You've rescued me from worries sore,
Held me gently as I scraped the floor-
Gave me love I couldn't ask you for;
Drained my sorrows and changed my hue,
Told me firmly there was more to do,
Til all the years ahead looked new
Because I get to spend them with you.
So my handsome gent
I hope you don't resent
This flattery, though true;
Because honey,
I know-
There's no one better than you.

Shadows dance in your eyes

dark and sorrowful

as they draw me in slowly-

down,

down-

into their dusk filled portents.

down

past the shed tears

and the broken hearts

through the terrible trials

you've faced all alone

and wrong turns

on well worn paths-

down;

to the small child within

hiding in the comfortable bedsheets

staring at me with fragility,

clutching its lingering dreams to her chest

like a comforting teddy bear,

lost long ago.

Once i knew this face,

these eyes;

every morning  i rubbed the sleep from them

and stared them down smilingly in the mirror.

Now they are a stranger's;

dark, hollow-

hopeless.

When did they change,

and become part of someone I could not recognize?

When did the hopeful child I felt to be

stop dreaming

and give up on her world around her?

How do i find myself now,

in the these mirror-eyes?

Balance is a thing most found
In those who've walked on solid ground;
Balance, yet, is often craved
By those who often misbehave.
So then a question,
Long in prose;
Is balance sought,
Or predisposed?
For every day, the average man,
Slaves and works,
All he can,
Just enough to earn to eat,
And derives no joy from
From his borrowed seats.
He carries on,
Through different days,
Capable and strong;
He endures the harshest words,
But doesn't think on it for long.
He does not have his limits set
No cause to think it's not over yet.
He lives in self assurity,
The master of his own,
Balanced on a mountain top
Lands rich with seeds he's sown.
And yet those of a different mind,
Are sorted out and left behind
Thought to be a pitied waste,
The bringer of a bitter taste
Their minds so fraught with error,
Just dealing with an added terror;
A confusing hand, dealt at birth,
A disadvantage on this blasted earth,
That those on solid mountain peaks
Do not know, and fear to speak.
And those below don't know what to do,
Wanting balance with naught a clue
Of what it is, or how to find
A stable corner of their mind.
Some have homes, in such messy states;
A place more burden than a home to share;
Some have jobs,
And some have none,
Struggling equals in disrepair.
For what is normal to the man on high,
Is but a dream to those that sigh
And look upwards, to briefly cry
"I'm not broken, I really try!"
But each, in their own worlds, apart
Though born into a different start,
Crave the power that balance brings-
No matter of insanities.
So why treat those who suffer with more
Burdens and troubles built up on thier shores
As if they are foolish to reach up for these things?
Should we not aid them,
Show them their wings?
Or are we afraid that they'll fly higher than we?
Ascend to a separate, sparkling peak?
Shame on our fears,
Shame on us all-
Using predisposed notions
To make other souls fall.
For balance is a thing that's sought,
Elusive, strange, and barely caught
And all are equal in this single thought:
Balance is hard won, not taught.

Cats
on the back of the couch,
live through the windows-
watching the happily fluttering birds
who seem unaware of the
hunting eyes
watching them;
listening through the ventilated screens,
waiting for the door to open-
to escape-
into the wide open outdoors;
To play and leap,
catch and hunt-
to be themselves
as they really are
inside;
a fierce tiger-
prowling the jungles,
proud and majestic,
blending as it hunts the deer...
a panther-
stalking the amazon,
listening to the waterfalls of rustling wings
and terrified heartbeats of small ones crouching in the brush...
a leopard-
running the edge of the savannah
eying the prey it so longingly watches…
A cat is a cat when the wild closes in,
When the wild inside
breaks free-
in my backyard.

When those with power seek to rule,
The world becomes unruly.
When those with voices don't speak up,
Then the battle's lost, quite truly.
When fervent passions inside our hearts
Are treated with contempt,
The world is cast in darkness,
And no one is exempt.
We listen to the nightly news,
All misery and despair;
We ignore the looming shadows,
Unaware we're already there.
And we tell ourselves
These are not our problems-
These are not our fears-
That none of this will haunt us
In the coming turbulent years.
How can we turn such a blind eye?
Does it matter if it's our burdens we shoulder?
Or is it true what they say-
That misery lies in the eyes of the beholder?
Why are we so timid?
Why are we so meek?
Why must we hide our hands behind our backs
And turn the other cheek?
I fear that now
A call to arms
Would simply be lackluster;
For most will keep on hiding,
And will not stir to muster.
Stuck in our phones,
Our heads in the clouds,
Hearing so much nothing
And talking too loud.
So, to all a challenge;
A new mobile game to beat;
Open your mouths,
Turn around,
Talk to someone next to you on their seat
Ask them how their day is,
And watch their eyes go wide;
Sure, suspicion will follow,
But somewhere deep inside
That person isn't just alone again,
You've made their dark world bright,
If by doing nothing more
Than reminding them of the light.
For if we do nothing,
If we sit here all day long,
Texting and stressing,
Wondering why everything's wrong,
Then we'll miss out on the world around us,
We'll become weak, not strong;
For when we finally look up,
Our very world might be gone.
There is no winner,
No trophy,
No champions ring;
Just the chance to make a difference
To another human being.

Oppressive silence
Brings me to my knees;
Embracing the hopeless despair
That accompanies the same quiet
That comes before calamity strikes-
Before the storm touches down over land;
Before all hell breaks loose.
This forbidden orchestra
Of bodiless volume,
Plucks invisible strings
of the Fates, intertwined
To tug at my faithless heart
As I survey the scorched earth below.
How hollow it all seems now;
These trumpets of victory
Sounding choked and strained
Cracking under the weight of their lies,
Bursting the brass
as they bugle out a call to rebel-
For who could call this bitter resolution a victory?
Who could name it clean,
Justified,
When all but the truly frightened
succumb to this heinous masterpiece
Why think to make a new tune,
It asks us;
Why make a new composition,
When the old one will suffice?
Rolling over and over again,
Into new hands with the same minds,
The cycle begins again;
Exchanging one facade for another,
As the musicians warm up,
Ready to play the music that we've always danced to;
Mere puppets to the Maestros
That conduct and direct
Our shattered hopes and dreams.
Shall we not contradict
The balance of power,
Or else leave it to sit in the hands of fools and tyrants?
Once composed,
It can still be unwritten,
Unlearned;
A performance piece we won't allow any longer,
A dying art that deserves the dust that we've crawled from.
We are not pawns in a chord that will not harmonize with us;
We are not weak, shallow things that crawl
beneath the feet of these giants;
We are music itself,
A ballad of shared ideals,
A melody of minds,
unsullied by the temptation of power,
Our discordant notes falling away as we remember our worth in this world.
Like a crescendo,
We can join,
We can rise to change the music,
Rippling and reverberating across this vast auditorium-
For the whole world is our stage,
Our audience;
And they are looking to us,
To be better than what we've known before.
I can hear the beginning notes,
Wavering at first,
Whistled on lips in back alleys
Whispered on the streets,
In our hearts-
Calling to us,
Pleading with us to change the outcome this time,
Asking us the only question that matters :
Will you stand to ovation?
Or will you fall to devotion?

When all the world's a stage,
theres hardly any glory left
for those with no tales to tell-
but for stories with warp and weft,
that, woven like fabric,
secretly entrance
as it circles us up
in its loquacious dance.
We delight in these stories,
these words that settle like sand,
changing our idea
of what it is to be human.
These ones with vision,
those that stand apart-
these ones that drive the tears from our eyes,
and take pieces of our hearts;
Those ones with simple sadness,
these ones that help us cope;
Those stories that inspire,
and give us new hope.
We are fueled by these fires;
Our own ideas and reckless wonder
of adventures, and epics,
and lands torn asunder;
by wizards and goblins,
and fantasy;
by presidents and poor men,
and history.
By teachers and wise men,
and the people who died
to make this world better;
to keep these stories alive.
We indulge in these things,
these marvelous, twisting verbs,
because, sometimes stories are more than just words-
they are the wind under our wings,
the pain of pride,
they are the secrets we keep
locked deep inside;
they are the catch in our throats
when we say goodbye;
they are the moments we fail,
and wonder why.
They are our companions,
a constant pounding in our chest;
aching to burst out
to join all the rest
of time and emotion-
breaking through-
because,
in the end-
we are all stories,
a fable-
born from truth.

Wild flowers bloom,
drenched in your smiling light,
happy to grow there
in your sheltering gaze;
Where the seasons are long
and carefree-
the cornfields are bright and yellow,
ripe with laughter,
With dappled shadows of merriment
streaking across the fields we explore together.
There is Indian Summer
in your eyes-
You see the clouds,
pearly white like fluffed cotton
and taste the breeze-
moist with the flavors of wild strawberries,
clover,
and honey;
I found this place in your heart
where I can join you,
and feel young enough for this world,
the one so big around us;
I'm here,
in your eyes;
In strawberry fields
that stretch across vast space and time,
reaching out to blanket my heart
in the sweet scent of lost reality;
drawing me into
your Indian Summer.

I have loved the stars too fondly
To be fearful of the night
So with the sun I rise,
Awakened to the light
And though I sleep at sundown,
My precious strength to keep,
The stars are winking overhead
And tempting me from sleep.
They call me, laughing;
A quiet game of silver beams
Creeping oer my pillow
And suffusing all my dreams
With galaxies and novas,
And every thing between-
A milky way of inspiration
Flowing like a stream.
Unto these orbs of softened light
I call and whisper back,
A hopeful conversation
To pierce the midnight black
To sway the stars,
And keep them here-
These eternal companions
That change throughout the year-
Each day they fall with sunset,
Careful to return,
To vanquish the cruel sunrise
That pries and sneaks and burns;
To bring again a dreamland,
Such wondrous things to see-
Please stars, don't leave!
Stay here with me!
We'll dance
We'll play
We'll run through hill and Dale!
We'll laugh
We'll sing
We'll chase the comets tail!
Please don't leave, sweet stars
I'm not ready to wake up-
I have so much more to learn
And this taste is not enough.
But the sun is rising outside these silver halls,
And sometimes I forget
That dreams are never permanent -
At night, that's all we get-
A brief respite of sondrous wonder
While reaching for the stars
Before we wake,
And remember who we are.
But I am not afraid,
Night will come when the day does end-
For I have loved the stars too long
To be fearful of such friends.

Hatred burns our cities down,
As ash and dust roll o'er the ground,
And in the distance, war horns sound
The call to stand and fight.

But hatred met with hate makes fear-
It's already been a frightful year
Why cant we just listen, ear to ear
And stop the cycle now?

But, they say, its too far gone-
What's wrong is right, what's right is wrong;
But how far is too far to drag along
Without corruption on all sides?

And in the wake of desperate cries,
Did we make sights worth our eyes?
Or did we leave things to be despised
When we paved the way for tears?

Are we proud to hold the line
When the devastation we left behind
Disturbs and hardens every mind
Casting shadows long and deep?

I cannot say that I agree
With this depraved humanity-
But acting without responsibility
Makes us all ashamed.

Yes, anger, hate, and bigotry
Make us all hurt and angry;
But none of these make us free-
For we are all the same.

Lingerie rustles
As hangers squeak and strain,
Sliding across the sturdy bars
That hold retail up,
Cradling profits,
Like a fistful of bills,
Illspent.
I yawn;
Exhausted by such a drearily normal moment;
A weary reminder
Of the long hours ahead of me,
And the demands of my
Ever-watchful overlords.
Still,
my mind wanders,
Thinking that perhaps sleep will come easily tonight,
Despite the wakeful rest I've found here
leaning on this
cool,
white
counter.
Perhaps it will be time to leave soon,
And reach
for the sunny skies I can see
taunting me from beyond the glass;
To leave behind this dusty,
dreaming
perspective,
And leap into adventures,
as of yet,
unknown.
I sigh,
Returned
to be merely an observer to my working hell,
An unwilling participant
To the necessary waste
of a perfect Spring day.

Simple or elegant
Rich or detailed
a tapestry-
a bauble-
a candle burning slowly down........
a market place can sell it;
a jeweler can craft it;
an artist can paint it;
but the eyes alone can't see it.
Shaping,
the eyes will mold it,
into reason,
into sense;
but beauty lies within-
not in the eyes of the beholden,
as the phrase goes.
To truly see what lies around us,
we must first see beauty in ourselves.

The wild side of living life
Is that nothing can be tamed;
Everything is changing,
Nothing stays the same.

But with new wind
comes inspiration,
And even though
There's consternation,

You can always count
On life to sway-
And throw each line
Of the rule book away.

I wrestled with Time today.

And I lost.

Another second,
another hour of my life blew away,
tossed on the winds of chance,
and the stirrings of change.

I lost,
because I could not stay-
lingering like old photographs
in a box in the attic,
gathering dust
on memoirs from the past
that I wanted to forget.
I wanted to erase,
to scrub clean,
the guilt,
and horror,
and pain I have gone through-
the hours crying in the dark,
curled up against the wall;
the moments of embarrassment and dismay
at having failed;
the terrible irony that makes up my waking existence,
my very being.
I wished for something different
wished for Time to stop.

I lost the battle today;
because I can't stop if I don't have you-
because all of Time
and all of Space doesn't matter
if I don't have you there beside me when the universe ends.
I lost because I want to lose this battle,
because I want to see where life will take us,
who we will become through Time's endless passions.

Will we grow old together,
as we imagine we might;
sitting on an old wooden porch,
laughing at the world?

Will we find the answers to the world's imponderable questions,
to ourselves?

Or will we discover that it all doesn't matter-
that the truth is drawing breath,
our hearts beating in tandem,
our hands touching for the last time
before we drift to sleep?

I lost the battle today;
and I don't regret it at all.

I lost
because I love you.

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?

It gets better;
That's what liars say;
So I guess that's what I am today.
Because I don't know what else to do
Than sit and hope right next to you
And watch the nightmares take their toll,
On the fragile, loving, gentle soul
That now before me loses sleep,
And cannot bring himself to weep.
I wonder at the things inside-
A broken heart, a damaged pride;
Swirling like a sea in storm,
Waiting in a shapeless form
Of misery; of rage, and hate,
Unable to communicate
These things that write themselves upon
The soul that's quickly almost gone.
In your grief, you don't deny
That grass is green,
And blue the sky
But you cannot seem to tell me why
Your heart still thinks it's all a lie,
That good can't still exist here now
That all is done, let's take a bow-
But yet, I still can't tell you how
Time heals all, if allowed.
I've been there in your shoes before,
Locked in shadows, behind closed doors;
I know this path you're walking down,
The one that changes joy to frowns-
This waiting pool where sorrows spin-
To catch you in their clutch again;
But I can't convince you that I'm sincere-
Uttering words, that you won't hear;
And I feel like I'm lost,
Like there's nothing to say-
So I tell you it's fine,
It will all be okay.

The key to words,
when written down,
is to view them
like a Lost and Found.
For, when faced with creativity,
one can be lost in eternity,
and the endless options
that thoughts present-
all the struggles
in the time that's spent.
One could hear a phrase-
uttered on a whim-
but for a creative mind,
it makes a cup flowing to the brim.
Ideas and conjurations
spring forward with ease,
like delicate whisperings
on a warm summer's breeze.
Bursting with inspiration,
so suddenly found,
makes each step a blessing
as it touches the ground.
Then how is it,
that once imparted,
it is so easy
to find those dear words departed?
A moments distraction,
and then they are helplessly gone;
as you frown and despair
over a writing gone wrong.
You scavenge the void
and the dark recesses
of a previous list
of brilliant successes,
only to find that,
though measurable indeed,
the words on that list
are not what you need.
So treasure wisely
your words today-
for a borrowed word
is tomorrow's play.

clean smells
like freshly laundered clothes
and crisp rose buds
assault my nose on days like this,
pungently reminding me
of the days when I knew you
and
our pure happiness,
the smiling secrets;
the tarnished reflection of our deceptions.
I felt something deep for you,
as cavernouse as an oceanic crevass,
a wide pit of affection
that breached both time and distance
and caused a wild throbbing in my heart
when I saw you;
now brushed away like cobwebs
in an empty room-
stuffed in a box to sit there until
the hatred fades,
the flames burn out-
until the sobs in my throat are silenced.
Days like this remind me of -
the way you smiled so crookedly
the dark brown of your eyes warmly comtemplating mine
     the lips I could draw from memory-
the things you were hiding from me,
                   the dark betrayal that waited in your head
        the wilting rose that grew in our garden-
the heart that I never should have placed in your hands.
I yearned for you,
I lived for you,
I hurt for you-
all for empty promises
and lies.
I paid penance for sins I never committed,
for falsehoods I never believed,
all in the name of our love.
Days like this hurt more than my eyes,
the grey rain falling down
over and over into my pitted and ***-holed memories
determined to make my healing chest
ache again,
as life exacts what I don't want to pay-
A tithe of lost love.

Spin, spin my little spider
The traveler of the night;
The moonlight lies awaiting
For you to spin it right;
Each night you've concentrated,
Each night you've spun and spun
But must undo what you did
each time that morning comes.
So, spin my little spider-
Spin a web for me;
That you may learn, with great care-
The trade of the family.

Twitterpated,
never sated,
forever fated-
It's all true.
Starry eyes,
tearful goodbyes,
loving sighs-
All for you.
And in the middle,
Pleasant dreams
Passion's screams
Strange and silly things-
A love as deep as the ocean blues.
So till tomorrow,
And thru the days
Your lips I'll crave,
Your name I'll praise-
Never a single day I'll rue-
For true love's pairing
Is no red herring,
And deeply caring-
I live for you.

For those who have no gift to see,
There is naught but cruel reality.
But for those with mind and heart in stock,
The hidden doors of life unlock,
And pour out treasures beyond compare-
Simple treats, like cold, clean air-
Or a sunset ripe with firey soul,
The stillness of water inside a plain bowl;
A flower sweet on Spring's hillside,
The thump in our veins that keeps us alive;
A roll of thunder, and mornings song-
These are the virtues to be claimed all along.
What can't be seen by hurried man
Are things more precious than they understand;
For man may rush and push and live by the hour,
But time is wasted when you dont smell the flowers.

To the tune of Camp Grenada, in the key of Sarcasm.

Hello darling!
Youre amazing!
You'll make Vegans
Give up grazing!
It's like I asked for
Another volley,
Not like I'm hoping you get hit by the trolley!

Innundated,
With your ego,
Who am I to
say oh God please no?!
For when they sees it,
They all wants it;
Thanks again for your **** pic and how you flaunt it!

Sorrow sits on rotted peaks
Her tune is so familiar;
Breaking out the ground beneath
Leaving me so bewildered.

Chasms gape, and pull me in,
This pain will eat me whole-
Sorrow laughs so quietly
As she picks apart my soul.

Til all I know is pulled away
Stripped of joy, asunder;
Sorrow sings a happy song
As all I love is plundered.

I cry in desperation,
A slave unto her whims,
Sorrow tugs a little more
To keep me trapped within.

But like the seasons change,
Sorrow's icy grip retreats
Howling as the new winds blow,
Admitting her defeat.

And as the cloud is lifted,
Like a fire choked,
Sorrow breaths her very last;
Bested by sweet hopes.

A bitter foe, now vanquished-
But not for eternity;
Someday soon, Sorrow will stand
Again to challenge me.

And I shall stand here, ready,
My sword of light, ablaze;
Singing at the darkness
For now, a new tune plays.

Once,
I thought I knew everything there was to know.
Once,
I hoped and dreamt without fear
of the unknown,
and the dangerous.
Once,
I was naive,
and gullible.
But we all grow up too fast,
don't we?
Years and painful moments
passed me by,
crippling
and maiming my good intentions,
my trust in humanity,
like a large mountain looming
over the graves of  the innocent.
Now you can see me
for what I truly am-
a child;
still clinging to the last thread of hope,
the last crumb of decency and promise-
a child,
too damaged to believe that any god exists,
or that anyone is coming to help.
People say that strength comes from surviving a fall-
that somehow,
the things that other people do,
with cruel and viscious intent,
are okay because they build character,
because they make you stronger.
I would have preferred that my wings were never clipped;
that I could have soared unimpeded
towards the greatness I was once sure I could achieve.
Oh, how I fell though-
crushed beneath the feet of people
who tread over me as if I did not matter-
as if I were to blame for daring to make a mistake.
Over and over,
I fall;
downtrodden,
belittled,
ashamed;
so many times with out fail,
so many times without mercy,
or hope.
I've seen my share of this earth
and all its inhabitants-
I have suffered at its hands,
and have lingered on its skin longer than I ever thought I might.
Yet,
I cannot stop myself from raising out of the dirt,
I cannot stay there and wallow in the mud.
A moment to cry,
and I am still not well enough to travel-
but there I am,
still trying,
still reaching for the stars,
crossing the universe
just to reach my potential.
This momentum is compulsion;
I cannot deny the world's cruelty
but I refuse to add to it,
to succumb to this named horror that plagues the weak and sorrowful.
I will not be a part in the machine;
I will be the wrench that sticks in its gears,
the anomaly in the calculation-
the virus in the code.
I will race to the distant fires of fortune-
hurting,
broken,
bleeding;
I may not be whole,
but I am worthy of a better future.

Mortal wounds that rack the mind,
Focused thru the lense of time,
And sit, aching, upon the soul
To leave a ripped and gaping hole,
Filled by weary, worn requests
To end these gruesome lifelong tests
For peace to reign
And pain to stop;
To open the cage
And break the lock.
But bartered visions bring no respite,
Birthing instead a desire for flight
A longing to run, far and fast;
A desperate escape from a darker past.
And into the future, swoon and fall
Carelessly, awaiting it all,
Finding only more pain yet;
Bringing more things up to forget-
Until the world is swallowed up;
By the memories that hurt and cut.
By pain that sinks and dulls the mind,
Until that pain can fade with time
And follow, then, a different design
Until the soul can say it's fine,
And look up with truest hope again-
Only then will pain find an end.

And as I stare about me now,
I realize I have stared too long
Into the jaws of hell, and how
Pain has made me ever strong
For suffer the weather, suffer the storm
And you're sure to find bright days
Pockets still, but light and warm,
Filled with dazzling, sunny rays.
Now pain is not my jailer,
And I, no more its slave;
Risen from my thorny failures
To put pain into its grave.

It takes us to wither,
to weather,
To finally rest.
Wonders appear,
as we worsen,
to better,
Our scores on this test.
And to wit,
It is always played out of turn,
A game of cards turned to chance;
As we wend our willed way
Through life and romance.
When weary, we wander
And yet ask nothing new-
Wiping our worried wrinkles with care-
Hoping,
for just a few
Quiet minutes,
for us to stem and stew
As we hug our trappings,
And wipe our wrappings away-
To unwind,
decompressing-
At the end of our day.
Weird,
That the turmoil and tremors that threaten on the hour;
The problems compounding
The alarum bells sounding
The lessons resounding -
The things that turn our world sour;
That without these wild warfronts,
These savage frontiers,
We'd never be better,
And reap nothing from these years.
A quick, quiet musing
I present then,
in humble contemplation;
If we do not learn from change,
How then,
do we improve our station?

The world is broken.
Not just cracked,
Like a chip out of a shot glass,
Like a scratch on a bathroom mirror-
It's shattered-
tearing itself apart,
Succumbing to chaos and greed
Like they were the only things we had to choose between.
The violence and anger that's erupting-
It's in schools
On the streets
In our churches
In our homes-
Consuming and replacing
The hope we might have had for peace
And a future;
For anything more than we ever wished we could be.
Who stole our dreams,
And made us think this is what we're destined to be?
Who forced these lies down our throats
Until we gave up and allowed our hearts to be stolen,
Our eyes to be blinded?
Or did we sell our souls as commodity,
Bargaining away what made us yearn to live;
Piecing out parcels of ourselves and our
World
For just one more minute of time
That we think we are owed?
Not to seem crazy,
But what if the answer lay in the depths of our souls,
Where we never look,
For fear that weve been wrong all along?
What if the answer was compassion,
and solidarity-
An irrational belief that the world can be healed,
Instead of brought to its knees?
And what if our anger could be used to progress,
By living for happiness,
By practicing kindness and love?
I know, I know-
It sounds-
  Outdated-
      Old news-
         Last year's hippie tripe;
But what if your refusal
Is because you already dont care?
What if not trying is what broke things in the first place,
And your apathy is the poison you feed yourself daily?
The world is sad,
and broken;
But then...
maybe we are too.

Wither, weary eyes
  Come seek me here at high noon
    Blind, in the sunlight.
------------------------------------------
   Silver light sings now
  Shadowing the night so deep;
Called, I answer.
-----------------------------------------
Down where mischief keeps
  Its uncertain ***** laughter
    I build my garden.
-----------------------------------------
     ***** and stick, the thorns
  Growing lovely now, the leaves
Rarer still, the rose.
-----------------------------------------
Icy crystals of frost
  Lacing the window like lattice
    Fading in the sun.
-----------------------------------------
   Whisper, quiet touch;
  Your skin, soft and supple;
My world, beside me.
-----------------------------------------
Wheezing, hacking hurt
  That torments me like the plague
    Springs sweet gift to me.

Grey and slate;
Stone-cold and steel;
My eyes tell you lies
When my smile's not real.
You pause, and you wonder
At the now empty hold
where once my joy  was;
But too late,
It's been sold-
To paupers and princes
Less able than I
To smother their fears
And stifle their cries;
To those more unable
To suffer the pain
Of lying to make people
Feel better again.
I smile and take care
Not to show you the truth
Because all it will bear
Is ripe, rotten fruit;
You muse, then forget-
Because what can you do?
Im sad today-
But I'm lying for you.

Needles stick and ***** my skin,
A sharp reminder of the world I'm in;
Where daggers point at trusting throats
and hope is sinking like a fisher's boat-
Where unkind eyes look aghast
To see that 'normal' is in the past,
And hatred speeds this world's demise-
All this seen by my tired eyes.
In the morn, I'd hoped to wake
To find a little joy to take,
But darkness, pain are all thats found
In this new world,
Born from poisoned ground.

The universe called him-
To be clothed in constellations,
Guarded in galaxies;
To where soft clouds of gilded light
Made their home-
The stars welcomed him,
And wrapped him in night.