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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 ****)

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.

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.

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?

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.