.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

Have you ever imagined the horrors of being driven in a sleek Land Cruiser that is the definition of 'noire'? When the car doors are locked, so is your mind and your eyes are as tinted ad the windows.
I gaze out at the beggars stretching their sun-dried palms to me asking for a minute portion of the price of my fountain pen. The stretch of desperate beggars go on for nearly ninety kilometres. I can see it in their shiny, burnt eyes that they pray for 'Goodluck.' I do not speak only of financial beggars but also of beggars of national progress. This includes me hidden behind the tinted windows.

There is life in the blood.
And so the reason why we cut,
Is so all the bad and sad bits of life
Can just flow out of us.

Please excuse me,
Something is not right.
I look alive,
But believe me when I tell you
A part of me has died.
A piece of a puzzle lost long ago
Underneath miles of rubble
In a destroyed world
Since then I've been searching
For the last piece of my soul
Only to find I made a bigger hole.
Now I'm falling
Deep into this hole I made.
Still looking for the puzzle piece
That is burning at the center of the earth.

Are you okay?

Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay.
Nevermind.

I’ve written words since I found out that those graphite sticks
could form them and wrote my name
on the top of a kleenex box
when I was four.
I’ve written words since I learned that each one
held a meaning I could hear in my head.
I’ve written words since I realized that writing
releases them from my mind,
so that I can hear myself think.
I’ve written words because numbers run away from me,
just out of grasp, teasing me with
their teamwork and rigid cooperation
and parenthetical expressions.
I’ve written words never read by anyone,
words which embarrass with their frankness
words which I’ve burned thinking they would die.
I’ve written words which I longed to share
because they fit together better than numbers
and made my skin crawl with their
deliciousness.

In this day my heart is breaking, so many are suffering.
The middle class is dwindling, people are hurting emotionally.
So many marriages are failing , the rich sending all the good jobs oversea.
But there is still Hope, take your eyes off of people now.
For there is only one Savior, he died on the cross 2000 years ago.
If you really want to overcome your sufferings you need to focus.
Not on people , they shall let you down most have their own agenda.
But Christ can save you, heal you, love you and deliver you too.
He shall not let you go into this drain ready to collapse on the floor.
For he shall build you up through strengthening you daily.
There are some wealthy that keep good jobs here in the USA.

it used to be because I had family problems
and I had witnessed so much lack of love
between my parents

it used to be because I was so stressed in school
i had mental breakdowns in front of my desk
because I couldn't answer #2

it used to be because I felt nobody understand me
everybody else was happy and good
and i didn't want to ruin the mood

it used to be because I replaced tears with heavy breathing
and clenching fists
"take a deep breath! take a deep breath!" they yell
but i just couldn't hear

it used to be because I thought I didn't deserve happiness
i was *****, i am in the wrong
and i couldn't be happy for anybody else

it used to be because of a lot of things, but i've already learn. it used to be because of so many things. so many things used to bother my sleep and my mind. there used to be so many demons on my shoulders. there used to be nothing else but pain. and i wish i was exaggerating but it's real and it's mine and i can't control it. but i already learned to be happy

so please please tell me this is temporary i don't want to revisit the darkness again please somebody tell me this drowning feeling and shifting moods are nothing i dont want this i dont want to live in fear of everything i dont want to push other people away i dont want my nightmares to eat me in the morning and my dreams to haunt me in my sleep

i've already been there. so please don't give me another reason to relive it

My mother is the type to tell me "oh, so you want to be alone? Fine. Ill be alone with you."
She gives me my space. And yet she doesnt leave me alone. I will never look back and wonder why she wasnt there. Everywhere i turn i feel her presence.. everywhere.
She wont pressure me to talk. And yet her silence will make me tell it all.
I feel as if my mom is special. And no one could ever replace her.
I would hate to disappoint her or bury her in my problems.
"I will not leave you, i will only built columns, to protect you from your hollow."
This has been proved to me and followed.
I have many challenges to overcome. All piled up so high.. i am climbing a mountain i am all ready on top of. A pile i say so reaching so high.. Its hard to miss.
Many problems created in my own head that she will destroy with the strongest love known to man. Its funny how all she has to do is hold me close and lend a hand.
Her galaxy sunflower eyes make me feel reassurance.
Her galaxy sunflower eyes have seen much more then possibly imagined. She shares with me her stories and wonders, and walls shes had climbed over.
Her long dark hair defines her strong and willing power. Strength shes carried all this years.  
I am not glass. I do not brake. I am not broken. I know this. She makes me believe it. I am not broken. yet she fixes me with every tight hug pressuring all of my broken pieces into one full heart.
Her Glowing skin shines in the sun and in the darkest room. She will make a statement without saying a word.
Her glance will make the strong tremble and the weak fierce. She is the perfect example of the most imperfect person. And to me? That. Is perfect.