Not all Hero's wears a cape,

a hero is the person who brought you into this world.

A hero is that person who stopped on the street to give what they could to that homeless man.

A hero is that person who wakes up each day and has to deal with depression anxiety or self worth.

A hero is that kid who is told he will never get anywhere in life and regardless to what he has be told he will stand high and he will reach his goal.

As a child we grow up thinking that you need a super power to be a super hero but in the end a hero come in what is under the frown.

I live in tangerine dreams
Tripping on acid
with Lucy and her diamonds in the sky

Shh, listen as the vinyl is ripped backwards
Warped demonic voices echo through our tranced souls
We have all done it

Studio 54,  New York City, 1971
Dancing half naked, sweat drenched men
Grinding upon every inch of their manhood
Lines of coke snorted off the mirror fueled by alcohol induced *** in the bathroom
We wanted to do it
But never had the *****

Never take this tangerine dream away from me
Let me eat the clouds, let it taste like cotton candy
Let it stick to my fingers , as I try to lick the sugar molecules off every one of my digits
I know everyone has done that

I hear Bowie in the background,
the spiders came from Mars
and ate my soul and it didn't hurt
Do you know The Man who sold the world?
I don't !!

..Her  bravery  was unsurpassed.
She  was  example  to  us  all.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

She held more secrets than seconds in a day,
mumbling pained confessions in hushed whispers
that bled out like stab wounds trailing paths
on white snow,
painting a china doll façade made of scarlet
as an eloquent attempt to mask the fragility
she aspired to hold

And that is just what she did,

She held,

onto hopes dangling from the edge of skyscrapers,
breath permanently stolen from her lungs
despite shaking hands itching to let go

storing memories made of dust within damaged pockets
even when the weight got so gruesome
she could no longer bear to walk
with a soul made entirely of gray matter,
training heartstrings to stretch
and cradle every delicate moment
she feared losing
before they could even take place


She is the girl who will collect your voicemails,
hoarding letters like seashells
resting along abandoned shorelines
due to the danger of losing the soft breaths
of the only one who was capable
of breaking all of her rules,
who whispered her name like
unfinished stanzas of a poem
she did not know how to write

Fear,
and fear alone-
of the potential that the ocean could swallow
the glass shards and kiss the remnants of her joy
goodnight
before she could even feel them
splashing against the same skin
she never felt at home in

i love you this morning
it's a come home safe morning
fog on the road
& no seatbelt kind of morning
the sun is over easy
& nothing's on fire
there's punctuation
where i don't want it
and extra love
in the glovebox of my car
been thinking about being honest
how these poems are all me
but they tell the story
how someone else
might believe it happened
within reasonable doubt
no copy & pasted love letters
no 'who ever says hello first gets my attention for the day'
try a little tenderness
in my ears and today
there are instruments
in the back of my head
i think you love me
because i'm sunburned
felt it in a 'come hell or high water' kinda way, that 'touched from far away' kinda way that 'if i touch this piano one more time one of us is going to break' kinda way
and i drove over 17 bridges yesterday and today i'll do it again
and i think nobody gets
what that means except maybe you
i just tell them i love the scenery
that somebody must've made
these trees blush just for me
you know how i love
to change the subject
i bet they'd love the view
i bet you would too
and all these metaphors
for other things are beside the point
this is a metaphor
for why i don't wear my seatbelt
a metaphor for why whiskey
knows me better than you
could ever try to
all the buildings seemed to sag yesterday and all the stars
are doing that cliche thing
where they talk
quiet jet noise
& some lumbering giant
made everything shake
not those hand metaphors
not another one of those
& keep the sea to yourself
i think it was a train
it's sound hugged the embankment
for a moment
and then trailed off into nowhere
and that's kind of like me
how there's a town called 'rescue'
close to my home &
it's no coincidence
that i've never been there

I
don't know the beast's name.
Yet I'm still waking up
in a cold sweat
feeling the spot on my back
where it's teeth sunk in.
Feeling it's breath
slither along my neck
and a paw at my waist.

I
see that smile
when beast shook my hand
how it twists into anger
as I push it off me
and it's paw clasps
around my neck.

I
feel it
trying to enter a door
far to small
to accompany it.
My screams being muffled
by it's paw over my mouth.

I
see it's mate asleep in the bed
next to me

I
am screaming for help
falling on literal deaf ears.
Then there's knick knacks being thrown
and the beast's mate is up
steam coming out it's nose.

I hear those words
"Sorry"
haphazardly thrown from it's mouth
as if scripted
like it knew they were going to
slither out and up my neck
just to stop at my lips
with a smirk.

I
see my phone dialing
sitting in my truck
and
I
don't remember it's name.

I was watching as the parade passed by
All the soldiers and the tanks
I figured that in some small way
I must go tell them "Thanks"

I worked my way throughout the crowd
To where the parade would end
And hopefully my small  "thanks"
Would get me a new friend

I watched as people finished
I got my words straight in my head
I walked up to a soldier
And this is what he said...

I am not a hero
Just a soldier, nothing more
I'm just doing my duty
As so many have before

I'm a soldier, not a hero
I am just the same as you
I'm just doing my duty
As I know that you would too

I shook his hand and said my "Thanks"
Then I moved away, unnerved
I had to tell him more...
Tell him that I'm glad he served

I turned and at that moment
I saw, a glint, a little sheen
Right above this mans left boot
Where his shin bone should have been

I went back on my mission
I had my words there in my head
He smiled, pulled his pant leg down
And this is what he said...

I am not a hero
Just a soldier, nothing more
I'm just doing my duty
As so many have before

I'm a soldier, not a hero
I am just the same as you
I'm just doing my duty
As I know that you would too

I shook his hand and smiled
Left him standing all alone
With a leg of polished metal
Where once before was bone

To me, he is a hero
And he will be 'till he's dead
I remember how he cut me off
And I remember what he said....

I am not a hero
Just a soldier, nothing more
I'm just doing my duty
As so many have before

I'm a soldier, not a hero
I am just the same as you
I'm just doing my duty
As I know that you would too

Courage is when fear
Has said its prayers
When you need some
Just call on Him upstairs
On your knees
You gain His grace
Oh there's nothing
You can't face
Courage is when fear
Has said its prayers

A light in the dark
A flame from a spark
In the most hopeless place
Even there is Your grace
Even when I was dead
You kept me fed
My sin had me captive
But You were still active
In changing my heart
It was always You from the start
You make me better
You wrote me a letter
Of instruction and love
Sent from above
Despite my thoughts of the day
You're the one that remains the same
Despite the desires within me
You remain my reality
I am so grateful for You
Make my heart brand new
Now within my soul is a fire
Burning brighter and brighter
Forgive me for my inconsistency
And help me be a better me

it nonsensical that i'm cynical
when love has always been  my pinnacle
i created a false dichotomy
between being loved and never being hurt
but that's just it, loving takes a lot of me
and it's covered me in years of blood and dirt
but that can't bury it's worth
i plunged my hands into the earth
expecting a dagger that laid dormant,
but the beauty that i found was stark, and storming
sharp, and thorny,
but with petals too, uncurling
not yet in full bloom, but soon
A  white rose will come under another moon
licked by drops of blood,
pricked from my fetid wounds.

My hopes flew quickly to bright flowers
strong and sweet
they gazed for hours
But now that strength has waned

My joy in flurried work
though first relieved in stress less space
soon borderlined on Shirk

This depressed state
is common now
when we mix our ink with paper
we sit in pools of swirling grey
and lose our whirlwind shaper

our hearts have fallen
through the rainbow air
and droop on dreary sills
our eyes are sick and only stare
at mirrors showing ills

Our psyches oh so wonderful
do quite forget their power
and don't remember
the angeled bower
on which they did alight

When winged insects
leave the sky
when butterflies do land
they do not ask their maker why
but trust this rest upon his hand

They eat and drink
they sleep and wait
They wait for Gentle eye to wink
And when they fly
don't wonder why
or call their leave too late