Let me provoke you.

Let me stir you.

Let me make,

           That chair you are sitting in,

Not as comfortable,

               As it was a second ago.

Move with your words.

Write your heart.

Get mad once in a while.

Feel love once in a while.

Witness beauty once in a while.

Feel disgusted once in a while.

                    Let Me provoke you.

Let me stir you.

             I want to make you cringe!

I want to make you move!

              Write!

                      Write!

Write like Shakespeare,

      But curse like Dangerfield.

Provoke Me!

                               I want to feel your grit,

   your emotion,

          your constant devotion.

Write.

The Shadows dance about me;

Taunting me;

Consuming me.

They torment my every breath.

They contort and conform with my every move.

Following me everywhere I go,

haunting my troubled soul—

                        Except at Noon.



The Shadows dance about me,

and I do not know where to go,

nor where to hide.

so time I’ll just bide,

until it comes time to die,

and the Shadows will follow me,

no more,

no longer,

the Shadows dance about me.

I’m Standing,

Proud.

Let these,

Words,

Fall on you.

My lips,

Are strong.

Let them,

Smother you.

This Hate,

Decays.

Let my love,

Devour you.

Spoil you.

Let these arms,

Consume you.

Embrace you.

Gently,

Carry you.

I just want to hear those words,
            roll off your tongue,
     push through your lips,
and plant their roots in my heart.
I just want your hand,
          to be tucked away in mine,
       while the world keeps spinning,
                  around us.
I just want your lips,
     to make contact with mine.
I just want,
I just want to,
I just want to know,
that You
                    Love Me.

I lie here on this beach
     starring up at the clouds above me
while an infinite volume of sound
surrounds me.
I cannot help but think
    that my life should’ve ended more peacefully
but we can’t always receive every wish
we plea for.
Yet,
    2 years ago
       I wouldn’t have thought this
is where I’d be:
     dying slowly
        on the forsaken beaches of Normandy.

The ramp drops
    splashing the sea water high above us,
and already
       four lives are lost.
Captain Morrell moves to the front of the landing craft
    and yells:
HIT THE BEACH!
        only moments before he is incinerated
by an artillery shell.
    that lovin’ 88!

I close my eyes and rush forward,
    screaming as I do,
praying the bullets won’t become lodged
       in my skull
as they **** by we few from 3rd platoon
who survived the landing.

Congregating behind these steel tank traps
         almost a dozen men seek the shelter
from cover that is almost non-existent.
But the German mortar rounds neglect our cover
     and begin showering our position with
                     molten, lead shrapnel
and **** both men and boys.
    so many boys.

The deutsch machine guns spray our position
        with their hypothermic needles
and as more men are landing on this deadly shoreline
     the water turns red from the blood
     of the youthful dead.

Another explosion
    sends the sand showering on top of us again
and my only response
       is to fire my drenched rifle
carelessly at the large, fortified seawall
    that stands between
us and victory.

Sergeant Feretti runs to our position
    and screams at us,
telling us to advance;
ordering us to leave these skinny steel bars of safety
      and the overwhelming comfort they provide us
and take the fight to the ***,
whom so ardently oppose us this day.

I’m frozen from the fear
      surging through my veins
as I stare at all the dead boys from New York,
Wisconsin,
                Michigan,
Florida,
        and Texas,
lying face first
    in the French sand.
I’m convinced that I crouch here alone
    on a beach in France;
God left this place long before the first ramp dropped.

Finally, after what felt like hours,
I muster the strength
    to begin sprinting towards
the German line,
    and it seems as if every **** gun is now focused on me;
setting their sight picture on my center mass.

With only twenty five meters between myself and the first seawall,
        I have hope that I’ll survive this cruel crusade,
but all that hope dissipates
      as four bullets pass through my right lung;
             stopping me in my tracks
like the cold channel water behind me
     as it is repelled by the European land mass
that will consume my body soon.
I slowly fall forward
    landing on my left shoulder,
my hands clutching my wounds.

It’s fascinating in a sense;
      this slow collapse of my lungs,
and how I can feel every single second that my soul has left on this Earth.
Suddenly,
    death becomes more real
than the gunpowder and smoke that is still stinging my nostrils.

I lie here on this beach
     starring up at the clouds above me
while an infinite volume of sound
surrounds me.
I cannot help but think
    that my life should’ve ended more peacefully
but we can’t always receive every wish
we plea for.

Reminiscent of

Times lost, when I would stay up

And write until my

Heart had nothing left to write;

When my soul could rest in peace.

Distorted words, and

The common misconception

Of glamorous fiends,

Help to destroy the sanity

Of hopelessly subtle, old kings.

-

Dastardly provoked

To implore, or deceive, the

Faint of heart—cowards—

To commit themselves to war;

To attempt courage for once.

-

Yet, not one of them

Is capable of such strength.

In today’s battle,

One man here, is simply just

Another broken, dead boy.

-

Scream “Hallelujah!”

They do, but it comes as a

Whisper. They whisper,

Because they are afraid of

Their own voices; the noise scares them.

-

Circumstance may have

That those faint of heart—cowards—

Cannot see their chance;

This inexhaustible resource.

They know not their own power.

-

Brother: Please humor

The condemned souls in this town,

For they are no more

A concern for the Killers,

And Invaders moving through here.

-

The rippling muscles

Of defeat swarm this dead town,

And those who stood by

Were consumed by the vultures,

And the wolves who haunt the woods.

-

Those who could not stand

And confront the oppressors,

Because their voice was

Inaudible and weak, were

Burned at the stake, like Bruno.

-

               Yet, these plebes, could not look Him in the eyes because their guilt weighed their chins down.

-

Wickedly the cruel,

Conquering enemy will

Capture the souls of

The less fortunate who hide

In their own puny shadows.

-

Yet, even when the

Strong make their stand, and fight

Those wicked demons,

Their victory is in vain,

Because the cities still burn.

There I sit,
On my beautiful Nel,
The big girl that always lights my world.
A Russian Don by blood,
But she’s a Texas cutter to me.
Here we sit,
Watching this wonderful West Texas sunset.
She grazes on some prairie grass;
I chew on a cat-tail.
I wish we could have ridden,
With Jesse and Bill,
And become legends,
Here in these hills.
The canyons would echo our youthful cries,
Of excitement and joy,
While we just ride, run, Live.
Maybe in those days,
Nel could have run in the pastures,
of an old Texas myth,
and I could have wrassled some cows,
to earn the spurs of my grand-father’s,
father.
If we were on the trail,
Drivin’ some Angus and Belgian Blues,
Up north to Kansas City,
And maybe one night,
The boys and I could sit around the fire,
And stare up at the stars,
Wondering which stellar painting,
Looked most like our horse.
I want the times,
When Grand-dad and Nana Ma,
Would sit on their porch,
And gently swing another night away,
Like they had done,
For the last 50 years.
Nel would be my company;
My loyal bride;
While I rode south towards San-Anton’.
And we would meet up with,
Travis and Bowie,
To fight Santa Anna,
As he rushed the ol’ palisade,
Of the mission where I would die.
The Bexar province would weep for we few,
Who stood for the ideals of a noble, new nation.
Yet,
All ideals eventually come and go.

Well, me and Nel,
We ain’t never seen a cattle drive.
We ain’t ever been outside this here pasture.
So our dreams remain dreams,
And our hope remains void.
My Cowboy Dreams,
And her beautiful mane,
Grow faint and grey,
Every Single Day.

Render Your Salutes,
And say your prayers.
The night will come and go.

Follow me from this misery,
to the land of immortality.
Where you will shine,
like the brightest of stars,
and I will be,
your shadowing moon.

Take a glimpse of the Earth,
As we slowly fade into,
The Universe.

My hand will guide you,
while my love confides in you.
Together we will see,
the sunrise on Mercury,
or spend our days,
wandering the Milky Way.

I will take charge,
of controlling the march,
of this absently ambling asteroid.
And you will be,
the courageous Queen,
of this cleverly considerate comet.

Hold my hand,
and maybe we can see,
this awesome galaxy,
from where Pluto and Neptune,
watch the constellations congregate.

I want to be your shadowing moon,
if you will be my shining star.

Take me down to the bank,

Where the Guadelupe flows calmly through the red dirt

         that I love so dearly.

The trees cast their shadows on the river’s surface,

                 and I pretend to explore the Nile

                 as the waters carry me from West to East.

When I crawl out onto the bank,

                               and stare up at the clouds floating on high,

                               I think of how lucky I am to live under this brave Lone Star.

Texas is a land I love more than I can express with words.

It’s my home,

   my first kiss,

        my first fight,

              where I learned to play catch,

                   and how I caught my first fish.

It’s my fairy tale,

        my childhood dreams,

                   where I learned that you have to work for what you want,

                                 to say “Yes Sir,” and “Yes Ma’am,”

                                                  And to love God with all my heart.

Nothing beats a Texas girl,

     and mine is the fairest of them all,

            in this land where our kids will grow up,

                  and our family will dig its roots deep.

                        Though life will run its course,

                              I know this land is where I plan to love her ‘til we rest in peace.

I may grow old

        and stop wearing my boots

                   when I feel my time coming to a close

Yet,

When it’s all said and done,

I’ll remember a life lived to its fullest

and that my first Love was Texas;

                                                       a special place I wish to never leave.

Why are my,
eyes,
        Always,
In the sky?
    The Clouds, they
move,
    in such a,
        Calming,
plume.
        The Birds,
Sing,
   to such a joyous,
    tune.


Such as I travel the Clouds with my eyes

You’re the only thing on

                            my love-Struck mind.

I was writing you a letter

a letter with my confession

My confession

of unruly decision

but then my hand froze

and my body trembled

and my neck

twisted

           Left,

                       Right,

           Left,

                       Right,

           Left,

                       Right,

****.



My body collapsed to the floor

like the Titanic capsized

in that frozen ocean;

like the Lusitania was drowned

by the torpedo’s bite.



There I lie

staring into nothing

because nothing stares at me.

and there I let my mind creep

into the vast expanse of death

where the demons claw away

but I can only speak when I bleed.



Mutilated I hang

waiting for the moment

when I am pulled from this hellish nightmare;

the moment when I take refuge

in the sweat-soaked bed sheets

that surround me.



Yet,

That moment never comes.

I continue to hang,

speaking when I bleed.

The tree holds me,

while I reap the consequences,

of my foolish escape.

I’m the kind of guy who tries to fly on broken wings.

I’m that sort of guy who is so stubborn,

           that I’ll keep trying to breathe,

       even when the oxygen is gone.

It’s not about comfort,

         and it is definitely not about luxury.

It’s about trying your hardest,

                 and persevering through the pain,

                             even when the pain seems overwhelming.

I was once impressionable,

     but now I’m just a skeptic,

            who’s out to fight the critics

            and prove that I’m not dead yet.

Yet, maybe I’m just an idealist;

                   a naive warrior

          for causes I never really understood.

But that won’t stop me—

       I’ll strive for victory,

      though I know victory is uncertain.

I’ll fight for sanity,

      since it seems sanity is uncertain as well.

I’m not a tamed beast to be trapped inside a cage,

Nor am I a hopeless soul

         treading water to stay afloat.

I am strong.

     I am steady.

And occasionally,

           I am lovely.

I solidify all that is true.

I Am Prestige: The Warrior Deep Within You.