I have never really been into poetry,
Nor have I been into theater.
I was never interested in animated films,
Or movies in general
And music was just a hobby for me

Then I met you...

And now it seems as if,
I have found myself remembering you, by just listening to music,
And spending many nights, sleepless and lorn.

I'm patiently waiting for the next blockbuster hit
To appear in cinemas, so that I may ask you
For a single day together, once again.

Now my ambition is to create a cartoon,
Similar to that of Ghibli's, because you had me by a thread,
On that day we watched Spirited together.

I became the stage manager of a production,
Worked hard so I could make you say
That you were proud of me, but more than that was
To simply make you something beautiful.

And now all I can do
Is write poetry,
Every time,
I think of you.

"if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or ******,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was." - Charles Bukowski

the moon and L
by
Jude Kyrie

*I am so alone this night.
I hold a conversation
with my old friend the moon.
I whisper to him.
I feet so incomplete.
How  can all these years pass by
and leave me such a partial being.

My supportive friend answered me
I am seldom complete
sometimes waxing sometimes waning.
Sometimes hardly a flicker of a smile
Sometimes a ghost of a sad mouth.
Remember my human friend
You don't have to be
complete or full to shine.

He always makes sense
I guess he is wiser than humans
after all how many
millions of years old is he.

Then he gave me
the answer I needed
he mused softly.
His voice so magical.
So philosophical
I love him in this mood.

But when you are
feeling full or whole.
That is the time to shine the brightest.
To light up the world in the power
of your reflected completeness.
That is when you
will have the power.
The power to effect
every person on earth.
And even  move the oceans

Oh enchanting stars
Speak to me of your stories
Tell me of the Bear's scars
And how he earned his glories
A family torn apart
By the love of the eldest sister and a bear
The father killing the bear causing them to depart
Enkindling her to turn herself into a bear and causing despair
Youngest, magic one, save your siblings
From your once beloved sister
Shoot your arrows in the sky and end the killings
Turn each one of them into stars spawning a blister
As any can see with an eye
The story is forever imprinted in the sky

If i write lots of stupid poetry about you ,
That's how you know i love you

Read the pages of ancient lore,
Where a creature lives in days of yore.
With violet, black, and silent wings
In the dark, a wretched thing.

Over bloodstained fields of dead men's flesh, 
Bringing forth the sting of death,
Silently soaring, with talons sharp
Quickly tearing the weak apart.

Who can stop it, strong and wise,
Seeing everything, with it's watchful eyes.
Never sastified, wanting more,
It's greed rotting it to the core.

Among the shadows it spends it's time
Plotting carefully within his mind
For the next time you come around,
 You'll try to scream, but won't make a sound.

He'll take what you have, to the very last straw,
Quickly and quietly as you watch in awe.
In the depths of your soul he deeply stares
You should be thankful if your life he spares 

He sees himself as full of power
Not knowing there will come an hour
At the time when no one else can hear
And the shadows he himself should fear.

For long ago, in days of yore, 
Within the pages of ancient lore
The dark became his haven, 
And he called himself The Raven

4/15/14

I like open skies with many stars
I like clear oceans and lonely bars
I love watching animals attack their prey
I like to sleep so long i skip the whole day.
I like the feeling of having nothing to do
Not being bored but not feeling blue
Just relaxing and enjoying the sound of nothing
I like to take my  time i dont like rushing
I like eating food that tastes real good
Even though itll **** me i love it still
I love to lay outside and watch the birds fly above me
I love to think that one day id find life itself lovely.