Have you ever noticed our desire to create?
To produce, develop, and fabricate,
To compose, to invent, to design
To construct, develop and refine…

It might be a painting, a poem, a book,
Perhaps a new dish that you’ve chosen to cook.
It could be a carving, a fine piece of wood,
Or a report that you’ve worked on as hard as you could.

Maybe some music, the melody for a song,
Some fine catchy lyrics that’ll have folks singing along.
It might be treading the boards in a serious play
Or teasing a delicate shape out of clay.

It could be mechanical, delving in deep grease and grime
Fine-tuning machines until they’re running just fine
Perhaps you love knitting, or perhaps cutting hair
Designing new blueprints or new dresses to wear.

Maybe you could happily while away hours
Choosing and arranging freshly cut flowers.
You might love DIY or you just love to dance,
You’d have joined the ballet if you’d had the chance

Or you thrive in the garden, planting and mowing
Surveying all the wonderful things which are growing.
Perhaps you love to draw, to sketch, or to cover –
Pristine white canvases in swathes of rich colour.

Maybe jewellery is more your thing,
Fashioning a necklace, a bracelet, a ring,
You might program websites, you know html
And CSS, ruby, and java as well.

Or possibly you prefer a needle and thread
Or maybe a set of great tools instead.
You might be a planner who loves to organise
Picnics or outings or a Birthday surprise!

Your creativity will be manifest in all kinds of ways
It might not dazzle, astound or amaze
But it will bring you enjoyment, well-being and pleasure
A sense of contentment, a delight you can treasure.
To take the time, unleash your need to build
And reap the rewards of the joy it can yield.

She had galaxies
In her eyes
And her tears
Were falling stars.

If the hellhounds nip at my ankles--
(And they will)
Promise me you will put flowers at the foot
Of my coffin,
To cover the stubs
That they left.

If angels call for me--
(And they just might)
Hold my hand close to your heart,
But let my summer sunset voice
Fade away into the first night of a too-cold fall.

If the world tries to pull me underneath its cold, damp crust,
Then remember me as I was.

Remember me as spacey.
Remember me as guilty.
Remember me as filled with sorrow.

But most importantly
Remember the smile I smiled just for you.
Remember the laugh that bore your name.
Remember how my hand felt in yours,
And how bad it hurts to see it in his.

Remember my voice as it spoke your name, soft, sweet, and tasting like cool blueberries on a hot spring day.

And remember how I burned it to the ground
With hell hounds at my feet,
With angels at my throat.
Remember that I burned the bridge,
And spat blood into the ashes,
As this Earth swallowed me whole

And I was

Born.

First to die

Now to live

i thought i already knew how it felt
to cope with depression when you're in love
but it turns out that what i had before wasn't really love
or at least he didn't know how to love me like you do
because
this time
things are different

the slightest shift in my mood
and you can feel it in the air
and you are reaching for me
making sure that i am okay
and me
so used to being pushed away
and told i'll be okay
i don't know what to do
but fall for you, just a little harder

when i break down and you're there to lift me up
to stick the broken pieces back together
never complaining when you cut yourself on a jagged edge
i find myself at a loss for words
to tell you how much it means to have you patiently reassemble me
and so when words fail i reach into chords
simple progressions and notes
that twine together into something beautiful
all this in the hopes
that somehow i can show you
what you've come to mean to me