Seeds for birds, and seeds for me. 
Seeds that grow for me a tree.
Nature grows, and flows, is free;
As the way I share my seeds.

I was born on a belt
In the factory of man,
Rolled into a home,
Labeled and stamped.

My life was made honest
By ink on a page,
And my future controlled
By a system of wage.

My whole life thus far,
Two decades of lame,
Incompetent bureaucratic,
Institutional reign

Has seen us shuffled down
The educational lane,
Made unified products;
For unified gain.

What comes into our heads as day turns into night
And sky turns black as coal before the next morning’s light?
Idle fantasies of childhood? Scoring the game’s final run?
Imagining years down the line with a daughter or a son?

Like an ever spiraling maze with an ending unclear
Some stoke our pleasures, others bring unsettled fear
The one time when we truly are impossible to find
Since no one else can access the reaches of our mind

Or perhaps these are not thoughts we have while we sleep
But ambitions to guide our path and goals that we keep
Directions from one point to another, like GPS in a car
So we can reach the mountain’s summit, not just admire it from afar

No matter the topic or intensity, let these visions in your life
Whether they come in times of quiet peace, or heavy angst and strife
Obstacles will no doubt appear along the way
Translate the phrase carpe diem; go out and seize the day

Shock to my heart,
Torn all apart,
Still, I can't see,
A better place to be.

Won't somebody come
And save me from myself.
Won't somebody come,
I can't make it by myself.

Trapped by my fears
In my waisted years.
I've searched my soul to find
Some sense of peace of mind.

Won't somebody come
And save me from myself.
Won't sombedy come
I can't make it by myself.

All, all alone.
Never to feel at home.
Why do I feel this way?
Make it all go away...

search on,
for something I won't own
Search, I'm searching on
I'm searching on.

So, how have you been?
I know it's been awhile.
I couldn't bare to watch this creature feature -
The selling out for style.
What good is luminescence
If there is nothing to be seen?
I choose to light my words
With colors-
Blues, and reds, and greens
And shower it with glistening golden streams.
So, pardon me as I purge my disappointment.
Where does integrity go
When the walls are burning down?
The lanes are blocked with gratuitous frivolity as meaningless as the strands of fiber drifting in a beam of sunlight-
Particles of bodies that settle on the coffee table only to be wiped away by a tattered cloth.
I cry out for the setting of the sun,
That glowing orb which destroys the mysteries,
And robs the seeker of discovery.
I ask,
Are the shadows being driven into the crevices never to be seen again?
There would be no depth perception without them.
A phantom weight is here,
Then just as suddenly as it came,
has gone.
The color is washed away in all the brightness.
What is left is white,
and not much else to write,
But of the sadness of the ways
it takes the texture from the days.