write
sometimes only for words
for language, for nature
for beautiful things
like sunset, sky
smiles, heartfel conversations
sitting with strangers
feeling the air..
touching these objects
knowing the feel
of being alive
true and bright
there's no meaning
people don't worth your attention
they don''t see
they don't care
don't be like a world
they are running
like a circle
it doesn't take them anywhere
this something---they are not aware of
in their own race
they cry every minute.
knowing the truth in their heart
living a life
to please the world..
don't be good or bad
you will be judged nevertheless
it doesn't matter
when you find a story
it'll be a treasure
this story will transform whoever will read
meaning--of a complete notion of wonderful idea's
and those words.
they will be imprinted in hearts
of feelings...
mind, of a thinking one
for years to come
it will reflect a true reflection
of your own story
living in senseless times of greed
and power!

Fairies inhabit our dreams
Were you there at the fall of the wall
The Russians moved in next door
They read the federalist papers
and admire our constitution
They believed that America was a land of freedom
Until they found that the public schools
Did not teach freedom to its own
reading lists consists of Harry Potter
or anything that a child finds pleasing
Capitalism can be a ruthless master
cogs in a wheel, unthinking of the individual

Where?
Where does misery end
and
happiness begin?
I'm now certain
the line does not reside
at the bottom of a bottle.
I've finished many
to find nothing but an empty vessel.
I've chain smoked my way
through a thousand packs
to find myself still wanting.
I've loved.
I've hated.
And still I have to ask
where?
Where is the line one crosses
into happiness?
Into peace.