We spoke about our lips
Where they've been , who they've kissed
If only a wish could ****** this mess
But
  A heart eating man
Ripped innocence from my chest

You suggested that I start anew
I stay silent
    And gaze at you
You told me there'd be waiting line
  But the only start has fallen eye

And still I dream of stepping back into yesterday
Where time flowed so freely golden with serenity
We would sit in pine scented grove and sip lemonade
Our talk tranquil as sun dappled creek murmuring in quiet wood
Never arguing or complaining but flooded with blissful reverie
A time bygone and peaceful, learning to know each other again
Listening to the background symphony of cicadas and katydids
Poignantly nostalgic with yearnings of bygone days
Watching velvety dusk deepen into shades of whispering night
Relishing each breeze laden with moss and murmuring pine
Anticipating the dawn awakened by drowsy robins and wood thrush
Skies east to west stained with strawberry hues and dreams renewed
And still I shall dream on

**~Hilda~

she writes of the falling days
- knows them well, one can tell

simple things like string
and wrappings
autumn and swallows -
hollow places she has seen
in boxes and photographs

and so it is -  the falling days
the number of birds at my feeder are fewer
no more humming, no painted buntings
-only my homies come now, my vato birds, my mijas

the cardinal, both red and green
the nuthatch and chickadee, the titmouse-
all three
the wrens and finches, too-

and the blues still like to bathe
in the pyrex baking dish sun warmed
on a sunny day-serenaded by the mocking
one hopping from grub to worm below

- my usual feathered friends
not caring about the weather-fair or foul
and in the pale blue, a gull still laughs
at the folly of it all-

leaving goes slowly-
a spiraling, a gust of wind-
days slowly graying
shorter, lightly fading
- friends, they go

the falling days, change and leavings
leave me - well, you know...

i see the simple things
that soothe, like string
and wrappings, swallows -

- autumn, you know?

r ~ 10/6/14

A wretched demon invaded my soul,
wanted his **** and feeling quite bold
Flying above and stalking his prey,
darkening the skies with his wings of grey

Beckoning calls and thunderstorms roars,
getting much closer,  looking for more.
His site is unholy, that unwieldy beast,
A fire breathing dragon ready to feast.

My sword at the ready with shield in hand,
Hell was coming fast, not by a chance.
He came for blood, but missed a mile.
Next time around, I just looked and smiled.

Two mores passes by feet did he miss
my sword struck him swiftly with
fifteen hits
He crashed in the trees, feeling beset
The dragon went down with my sword in his chest.

I respected the beast for his hard valiant fight.
Standing up tall, I felt like a knight.
His attack was for not, I do not know why.
He wanted his **** but he is the one that died

I'm laying,
On the bathroom floor,
Wondering where you went.

I missed you,
But you came back to hurt me,
And I started to wonder,
If I was worth it.

I'm laying here,
On the bathroom floor,
Pounding about your thoughts.
Do you think of her?

Did you forget us,
And move in,
By falling in love,
With the first blonde?

I'm laying here,
On the bathroom floor,
Hoping you still remember me,
Remember I exist.

I need to stay Hugh,
Prove to the world I'm strong,
Tell them I'm okay,
I'm perfectly fine on my own.

But if all that was true,
Why would I,
Be lying on the bathroom floor,
Crying over you?

I just want to inspire,
I remember coming here last year,
And **** did I admire,
The kids who got up,
And had the guts to speak,
Because I thought my voice was weak,
I just needed to find my time,
And it's so cliché but my time is now
And I'm going to own it
It's just like Carter said on the first day
"We're a little bit of this and a little bit of that"
Well I'm a little bit brave
And a little bit scared
But I am one hundred percent trying to reach you
Scream out if you are afraid
You will never know what you are made of
Till you at least try
There a unspoken afraid poets
Dreamers
Believers
Go getters
Waiting for a sign
Look no further
Your sign is right here, right now
I don't want to just reach the afraid
I want to praise the brave
The Spoken brave poets
The never silent
The achieving
The do-ers
My goal is to inspire
Because **** I want to admire
your spoken words
your written words
Your words Just Waiting to be written
You poets
Will be poets
It your time,
so stop waiting,
Own it

Natten fyldes med de tommeste ord,
ingenting betyder noget når dine fingre
ikke længere rører min hvide hud,
og din mørke ånde
ikke længere kærtegner min nakke
og får mine læber til at gispe
efter mere

intet er vigtigere i natten end kærlighed
og lige nu føler jeg mig tom
som vinen på bordet
og udbrændt
som skoderne i askebæreret
og smadret
som mine drømme om du og jeg.

What's a writer with no idea,
No inspiration
No imagination
With hopes gone and banished
But only hardwork to bare
And love to feel

Ink runs through me
Keeping me alive
Muse resides in my soul
And the pen bleeds
Sketching my emotions
Memoirs on paper
Can’t ever be expunged

Dear friend,
You are not supported by many
but I support you.
Yes, it is difficult to stand on a chair with three legs.
But don't look for a fourth one by breaking your own.
Modification for acceptance is suicide.
Don't **** your identity.
Soon they'll have a rebirth
and find themselves.
And then your chair will be more stable.
Because you stayed yourself, they will praise you.

I existed because I dream. and well, I dream no more.