Falling in love with you
Simply doesn’t make sense
There's no logic to it
There's no brilliant explanation
That makes everyone suddenly understand
Falling in love with you
Is a playful game
Toss you around and laugh
When your hair gets messed up
Whoever smiles more is the winner
And the prize is only more jokes
Falling in love with you
Is something not everyone will notice
Something you can point to
But you cannot actually see
Something that’s not concrete
But not abstract
Falling in love with you
Is a little frightening
It is a scary process for sure
But I asked for it
What I have discovered about myself
Is I've never asked for something
That I wasn’t at least just a little bit afraid of
Falling in love with you
Is an easy task but hard work
I cannot help but do it
But in the midst of the ease
It is taking a lot more energy
Than I had ever planned
And I do not mind
You are the match that lights my fire
You are the calm in the storm
You are the hope in my seemingly distraught life
And I do not plan on letting you go
I will tie you around my wrist like a precious balloon
I will handcuff you to me like a criminal
I will hold you like you are the only warm thing in a snow storm
I am falling in love with you
And I do not mind
Not one bit

I love the way you exist,

Because you're so **** good at it.

You were addicted to cigarettes
And you talked about how bad it was
How addictions were bad for you,

But soon, I became addicted to you
And you were right,

Addictions are bad for you.
They just end up hurting you

A.K.

how do you go about it
when you write a poem
scribble on a piece of sheet
then think about a name?

or do you just tap the keys
seek a clue to start
your way to save the trees
yet find a vent to heart.

do you sit tightly stiff
intent on the screen
or shuffle in the strong belief
they would pour the way you mean.

how do you find the time
or do you have enough
to betwixt work catch a rhyme
grab the thoughts by scruff.

do you write all alone
without a soul around
in a place quiet to the bone
but for your clicking sound.

or you have but little choice
to be by yourself in a room
yet bud a poem from the noise
grow it to full bloom.

my mind ponders the questions above
but the least I can do is to brood
how you pen a poem of love
that makes me feel so good.

to the honey-
  (buzz)
here to there
   rose!
dandelion
   humming-
                       swaying
    relaying
pollen.

The Daisy
                 stands
awaiting her visit.
    All
her petals unfolded,
worlds
          sweetest scents,
   the bee
visits.

free will is the sovereign and divine right of the individual
our prayers are the roar of celebration
the thunderstorm of ******
blustery creations made of words and sound
stories falling like leaves off of the story tree
straw shelter attic cloud-hood
burst forth into the choice of pack your bags or reshuffle
recreating self again in the likeness of our new cosmic idealism
subtle sensual realities
short term echoes echoes
echoes the waterfall of imagination