Though this isn’t blood you see,
you are taking every inch of me,
disintegrating my loving being
and turning everything
I ever was into a colder thing.

You preside over my demise
as you present courtly lies,
trembling with greed
and hatred for the parts of me
that you despise.

But, I do not die, nor do I rise, and fly.
I merely dissipate in smoking shades,
growing intangible in increments.
Till no one can see anything
of the man I used to be.

To be lost adrift
in a life of pointlessness,
to sink not swim
giving in
to the darkness,

knowing
that no amount of growing
will guarantee
one ounce of eternity,

that all which was lost
cannot be recovered,
only shimmering
reflections in our
collective memory
connect us to the deceased.

Brother, friend,
sister, father, mother
all figures trend
toward hopeless ends.

We are subject to
and subjugated by
a fear and certainty
that all things die.

This why tears
leak from my eyes.

I don’t know how to hunt,
and I am less then adept at fishing.

I cannot fix mechanical stuff
but I’ve mastered the art of *******.

I got a gift for creating laughter.
I’m an awesome singer,
but a sub-par social actor.
I’m an ok artist,
and a masterful writer,
a decent observer,
of human behavior,
and an above average fighter.

So, if this is the end of the world
and you are looking for useful survivors,
I would not pick me first.
Even though, I can keep the mood lighter.

Hello embittered fighter,
nighttime neck biter
who inspired
more monstrous stories
then all these gory
modern allegories.

How do you do,
you shaggy dude,
who howls at the moon
racing with all that
ravishing wolf prowess
as you go prowling
for your next victim
or late night
kibble nibble.

Hey there my yummy mummy,
how does life hang around
that shriveled form
time has bound
as you try to bandage
your immortal wounds,
while stumbling
and bumbling
with incoherent moans.

Hey fish face
lets race
to the bottomless black lagoon
where dumb surfer dudes
go to party
but end up sleeping with
the fishes,

and to my friend Frankie
I thank thee,
for lately
I have lost that old
monster loving feeling,
but you got the spark
that I needed to bolt back to
that old monster movie,
matinee madness I missed.

Though the sun is shining
Around me it constantly rains
I wish I could walk on water
Just to float for a change
When the effort you strive to put in
Just get skewed and flayed
Do you give up
or just run from this race
a world frozen and so cold
we must icily face
fighting day in and day out
yet We still sink in this space
is this world a disgrace
since when did our moral compass
get so magnetically displaced
wish daily i could retrace
every missed step i ever took
yet that’s a wish I can’t make
so I have to be relentless
in this journey I take
give everything, every second
and just hope I don’t break
I can’t shout loud enough
because the air I breathe is just fake
it’s not giving me life
but an losing fight that i hate

When will I realis
This life is not fair
These souls would rather slit your throat
Than show that they care
This wicked truth within my mind
Is stripped slowly bare
Sometimes I wish I could rip my chest open
Give you my heart
So you can listen to what it shares
A mirage of broken dreams
It's like being caught in a whirlwind
A merry-go-round snare
It's my living nightmare
Choking on oxygen
Do I breathe, I don't dare

Slowly it draws every last breath
every step  that we take
moves us closer to death
this truth we have to face
no matter what the evidence
it's an open shut case
live with no regrets
because your life you cant retrace
in this life we have a stake
live life to the fullest
no matter the odds or mistakes.

Run like there's no tomorrow
Cry only to alliviate sorrow
Live like our time is borrowed
lets not cower
take this life by the neck
imprint you are not a coward
the hurt makes us stronger
punch with everything you made of
even sorrow we devour
churn it in our soul
then spit out flowers
let your flamed courage bring forth the rain
let it decend
It's a metoer shower
let this winged words take you higher
soar above the chaos
i bet life will seem brighter
we are all born as fighters
its for us not give up
in this world
with all the power

Don’t put me down,
when I ‘m not around,
don’t inflate my ego
when I’m playing the clown.

Please just be real
while we are here,
just tell the truth.
I need it to be clear.

Don’t want any flowery words,
if every line is a lying verse.
Please don’t paint this life with
colors that are unable to mix and hit
the marks they are trying to make.

I may write fiction and poetry,
but despite my grand artistry
I just want someone
who wants to be real with me,
someone who is lovingly honest.

Drop my body in the briar
because I’m ready to bleed.
Take my flesh to the fryer
because I’m ready to feed
all those souls in need
of poetic nourishment,
and sweet artistic fulfillment.

I’m done with impediments,
done with settling for all of those
dangerously dry and ***** bits,
when I bring the best poetics.

So, cut me, bleed me,
shake me till I give
all that makes me live,
dripping drops of brilliance,
so you can be blinded
by my radiance.

My ego overflows,
and its still trying to grow
stretching out my clothes
like I’m the incredible hulk,
the big green brute who knows
that all that muscle, hustle, and flow,

well, it doesn’t do much
without the right get up and go.

I am actually pretty tired,
dull and uninspired
so I sired this verse
to shake me from
the curse of having
nothing to say.

I just wrote a poem
that was nothing but play.
Why not?
It meets my quota for
one poem a day.

So, I drop the mich
and saunter away
satisfied with this word play.
Leaving this world stage
shocked to silenced awe.

I long for freedom,
but maybe a little attachment
an attraction of passion,
gentle and arousing,
a fire needing dousing,
that burns with urgency,

a relentless urge to see
someone I desire greatly,
someone who fascinates
with the art she creates,
and thoughtful debates
that help me generate
great ideas.

I long for another’s eyes
to flash with surprise,
because she was
attracted to my minds
and kind heart,
but beneath the sheets
she sees muscles that please,
a shape configured
by hard work
and delivered
for her personal pleasure.

I long to know and be known
to reveal and be shown
with a partner of equal quality
who sees the value in me.

Passion, and love
interspersed with creativity
and compassion
is my fantasy.

She is a black haired freckled faced
memory that I would have waited
many lifetimes to share a love with.

She is a tender ghost that has grown
into an adult I’ve never really known,
and even though I to have gotten old
a part of my heart still holds
onto the dream of loving her.

She no longer knows me,
and that is a tragedy
that makes me weep
grievously.

We are no longer children
who can believe in fairy tale dreams.
Neverland can not make us
immortal youths,
only death makes us
eternally young.
So, we never can
get back to that
old loving feeling again.

Looking at a blank screen
With a blank stare
And an even blanker mind

Where are the words that
Used to tumble *****-nilly
From a churning creativity
ljm

It is the shaker and breaker of worlds,
the painful maker of new rules.

It is the clouds that paint your irises
as you dream of past mistakes.
It is the memory that takes
all the breathes you tried to save.

It is an ocean of saltwater tears,
that paints the picture clear
of what you could have,
should have,
and all the other haves
that cut you in halve
and then again
repeating until
you cannot mend,
and you must accept
said sad punishment.

Sometimes it is fair,
sometime opposite
and crueler than
suffocation.

Other times it is a gift,
the great shift
of being complicit
forcing your eyes open
and making you change it,
so you can be better.

Playing the guitar makes you look appealing.
Playing football makes you look tough.
Playing the piano makes you look talented.
I wish someone would have warned me that writing poetry
makes you look depressed.