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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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?

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
;)

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.

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.

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.