I dreamt about you last night,
While I lay in bed,
It was pure delight.
(I think I made you up inside my head)
Your beautiful eyes
Turned my cheeks bright red,
They could tell no lies.
(I think I made you up inside my head)
There are just so many things
That you left unsaid,
And so many unattached strings.
(I think I made you up inside my head)
I dreamt of you last night,
While I lay in bed,
And everything was right.
(I think I made you up inside my head)

The sun's gone down
And the searchlights are off,
Cause I've found that
There's more to see in the dark.
So I'm siting at the bar,
Watching him take his shots.
I'm searching for love
But I've never been so far off.
I wish I knew his name,
But I don't have the courage to ask.
Maybe I'll find what I'm looking for
At the bottom of this glass.

I don't want roses
To celebrate,
Nor when you've done something wrong.
I don't want roses
As a token of love,
I'd rather a song.
I don't want roses,
They cost way too much.
I don't want roses
Because they create such a fuss.
I don't want roses,
They come with thorns.
I don't want roses,
They don't say enough.
I don't want roses,
I'd rather have weeds.
I don't want roses
My dear,
Your love is all I need.

She was a girl bogged down
Stuck in a mire
When she climbed she fell
She couldn't get any higher
But when she falls she lands
Like a bird on a wire
Cause she's got something within her
Within her there's fire
So she cut her ties
She's never coming back
She's riding her train
To the end of its track
Where she knows no one
Not a Jill or a Jack
And no one
Knows what she lacks
But with no destination
She's stuck wandering
No visible future
She's stuck pondering
About the potential
She's busy squandering
So without any answers
She's stuck wondering

It's funny how we met right after my heart shattered 
It's like you knew me all along
And now you're here to save me
But I kept pushing you out
But why do you still keep coming back?

See, they say shattered mirrors yell out "bad omen!"
And I had stared till I no longer recognise my reflection
But you reminded me of sleepless nights and how the crows never called a name
Your heart does not sound like a broken glass to me

It rhymed with my beating heart
Though broken, it's still pumping
Notions of stigma streaming in that fervent river vein
The truth hits me when I stared long enough
I can never give what you've given me
But why do you keep coming back?

Your veins were rivers that would take us away
As these paper boats fall apart
I still see parts of myself in shards of you
We could share the same breath underwater
*So please, let me fix you.

Left black and blue,
Coloring outside the lines,
Her skin's what she bleeds through
And her  eyes are  the tiny windows
You can see through.
She wanders the streets,
Searching for someone
Who eye's she meets.
Searching for someone,
Someone sweet.
Plagued by violence,
She lived her life
Trapped in silence,
Til, coated in bruises,
She began her defiance.
Beaten and broken
She's left her past
And pain unspoken,
Til, coated in bruises,
Her rebellion was awoken.

.
     ...is a fragile little thing,
     that most tend to overlook.
     Small word with a **** big meaning.
     Some may uphold it; some may
     conveniently have it mistook...

Trust...
     ...is in the grasp of the unknown
     stranger,
     that helps you up when you've fallen
     down.

Trust...
     ...is the pact between you and the cab
     driver,
     as he takes you to where you want to
     be, across town.

Trust...
     ...the bough on which your swing does
     sit.
     Pray that it doesn't break as you enjoy
     its joyous ride.

Trust...
     ...your cook, hoping in your food he
     doesn't spit...
     Especially when you've provided
     feedback that scuffed his pride.

Trust...
     ...lays exposed when the keys to your
     house you surrender,
     to your neighbour who'd keep an eye
     while you're away on a retreat.

Trust...
     ...exists latent in the open palm of your
     caregiver...
     As a child you'd take his hand so he'd
     ferry you safely across the street.

Trust...
     ...is the unspoken oath that I had thought
     we both held sacred...
     When I spilled the contents, my heart
     couldn't bear much longer.

Trust...
     ...meant nothing when you took it all for
     granted,
     when you weakened and succumbed...
     ...and then shared with another...

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...

once a collage
hung on a wide white wall  
with monochrome photos of  
all creatures great and small  

Dali juxtaposed with Doris Day,
LBJ atop JFK, and Joe DiMaggio,
grinning Frankenstein and frowning
Frank Sinatra, not far below

Hemingway, Groucho Marx, Marlon Brando  
occupying three of four corners, the bottom right
a curious cat, in stretched repose

dead center, a cracked crucifix
and four Beatles all, Paul the biggest
with the cross crowning his frame    

a Corvette,
and Stalin in his tomb  
were also given ample room,
on this black and white piece of art  
as were *******, with cap,
Jimi Hendrix with axe  

another three score
and a couple more, completed
this cacophony of sight, but absent
were J. Bieber, Beyonce, any of the Simpsons
of Fox fame, revealing the artist of this gray masterpiece  
was blissfully blind to cyber sacrilege,
Steve Job’s toys, and the lost soul
of Lindsey Lohan

The phone line dripped apologies
While I sat silently
All 3,000 miles north of me
Isolation froze solid on this moment

He had a heart attack they tell me
The room gift wrapped around me
Ripped open
Exposing a flaky rib cage

My arms wanted to stretch back home
Grab his heart
And palpitate his benevolence
Rewinding muscle memory

I have been told too many lies in hospitals
Watched a plethora of lives fall victim
Heard too many **** machines scream
Longing for the lost all too often

So I reprogrammed a code
For my Heart to beat overtime
To satiate the hearts
That no longer exist

Ugly bird, you see,
I'm too perceptive for these games,
you Seek.
I can tell in your eyes, within my demons' dream,
That you are many things to many people,
A wish, a woman, a genie, a lover, a slave,
And nothing ever to be possessed or,
To have value, nay,
only fleeting, like the wind, void of essence,
and so I made a decision, long ago,
To let your wind swirl around mine,
Coming and going like nature doth please,
Uncaringly gazing into a cruel,
Empty world.
Fault nothing of yourself,
Just my eyes that are seeing,
My mind that is thinking,
And my heart that has long since,
Stopped beating.