If I could choose my fate,
I would give my eyebrows, my nose
my teeth away--
just to know that somehow
I was able to say
that others who need
who are so openly lost
and afraid
would have a life of joy
and hope and the gift
of knowing
that when they prayed
God stepped in
and sent an angel--
(maybe me?)
to help in anyway
I could
so that those less fortunate
could live and be free...

To be a man, is to be made not of
Glass or plastic, fragile or manufacturered
Like these young boys plucking
Away at keyboards day to day, acquiring
Vanishing trophies; a man is made of
Steel and stained wood, screws and twine
Make up his joints and bark is his skin.

To be a man is not smell of lysol or
Carpets, but if sawdust and oil, leather and
Soil, for a man is shelter.
When boys pitch canvas tents
In sand, a man plants logs on sturdy
Ground in which his family can reside, his back
The roof under which it is dry and safe.

To be a man is not to bake your mind with flashes
Of light and thunderous noise, but
To create, to be dynamic and soulful, imbuing
Himself into his creation;
To be man is to help and be helpful, to share and
Collect wisdom from others, to better
Everyone.

One day a Man will be honoured to take you
Home, to care for you until the
End of his days.
One day, that man will be me.

You big bonehead.

There'll come days when you'll have nothing to write
and trust me even that nothing will be enough
you'll try to embrace the hollow of deficiency
but choke in the dark fumes of attempting to put up a fight
against the void whilst you search for your efficiency
you will scratch your mind for just a word but in vain
shake you will the trees and nothing will fall,it will pain
no single leaf will, not even a dry little twig
you'll wander all over the gardens of creativity
but find no soft alluviums,not a single spot to dig
it will feel an unfair election that fate is going to rig
yet your petition will yield no fruit, not an apple,nor a fig
your fingers will itch worse than infestation by a jigger
with the enema of motivation present but meagre
you'll miss the days whence it rained rhymes
oh! how much you'll long for those flooding times
like a pauper loitering the streets hopelessly thirsty for dimes
and the bells of your emotions will ring melancholic chimes
as you remember that sweet piece that got many hailing your prowess
and like a snail, return will your abilities in
an unbearable wait, call it a steady progress
you will be an active volcano whose vent's blocked from within
forced to abide by the nonentity blank of where to begin
unlike the usual floret and bombastic sweet nothings
you'll draw the fly speck in ink of unclear etchings
to give definition to the infinity of your nullity
and the insubstantiality of the ink sprayed
will be tattered clothes that patch your mental ******
you won't be satiated, but you'll survive the monsters of obsession that hide
in the furthest corners of your psychomotor, deep inside
and you'll appreciate the philosophy, sometimes obstacle's the path
for the scratch and naught from your struggle'll bear worth
so never take shelter under the sunless tree of the writers block
the wave of emotions poets command can break any stumbling block

I wish someone had
told me to stay away
from poetry
I wish I had
known it's an addiction
that won't let me rest
I wish someone had
showed me another way
to get burdens off my chest
besides dumping the shards
sealed in bags of vocabulary,
I wish I hadn't fallen
too deep in love
to find solace in words
for this sums up how much
my addiction rewards

It’s okay to say no. It’s okay to say no to someone you love. It’s okay to say no to a friend. It’s okay to say no to a parent or child. It’s okay to say no to a job or relationship.

It’s okay to say no to ****** advances. And it’s okay to say no to a person who’s romantically interested in you. Even if it hurts someone’s feelings, even if you disappoint people, even if you’re judged and ostracized — it’s okay to say no to anything and anyone that causes you pain or makes you uncomfortable. You’re allowed to put yourself first. You’re allowed to set limits and boundaries.

And you deserve to make your happiness and well being a priority. You don’t ever have to settle for something or someone that doesn’t feel right. And you definitely don’t have to compromise yourself for the sake of making other people happy. YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, AND IF THAT MEANS SAYING NO, IT'S MORE THAN OKAY.**

A quote by – Daniell Koepke

My heart rushed to fields ,
Frolicking around the plants,
Smelling the fresh dew ,
Twirling till I abruptly fall.
Looking up at cirrus clouds.
Plentiful batch of white cotton candy.
No amount of clouds remind me of you.
Where you are , is what you call home.
Where I am , is what I call lost.

´

You  came to me
as a vision
as a mirage
as soft shadows
landing low

Warmly loving
the hot bouncy
paws
and their
delicate dance
across Dali's

Tangible
soundless motions
obssesive mushy
desserted sands
of time's

Kaleidoscopic
fractal falling

Swirling
back into
the theatre of dreams

Tuning a
migrating
midnight to
those silent, evanescent
melodies
yearning
craving
to be played
once more
and adored on longplays

Spiraling and spinning
in my memory
like a skilled
reindeer wafting
wet air through fresh
nostrils, a defiant elegance
fluttering around as colourful
wings move the magnificent
leap of a sinew lyinx
to tremble
among spring greenery

Got to develop gentle moves.
Silent. Soundless. Elegant.

.
The swelling brooks, so clear toned,
Rolling rounds over musical stones,

That unveil the rushed veins of May,
Race in wide cool stills, freshnesses,

Of the moistened soils overturning
And the chimes in the belled leaves,

Before they shout from buds keyed,
To syncopate in sun by bopping bees

Who buzz with jazzy pillowing waft,
Of daisy downs, in mid air to reeds,

Lips newly sprouted, banding green,
Groove myriad symphonies of colour

And the roots of trees tempo tapping,
Into waters plucked, earthy sounding,

All voice in joys with woodland birds,
Do trumpet, O what new life to come.