I do not just listen--
I analyze,
because the story might have
a real different ending


I do not just glance--
I observe,
for the view might be different
on the other side


It is not wrong to be careful
on what you should believe in

there are no dreams here
they are but fragments of thought
dismissed and abandoned to the wilderness
of our imaginations
to intersect or collide
perhaps hundreds or thousands at a time
to create some kind of patchwork mosaic of
tossed millisecond ideas and flashes of imagery
that have nowhere to go
these are not dreams
a vast wasteland of connected disconnected energy
of the mind

last night we walked together
and discovered our shared love of art
and ghosts
while the world slept
while I slept
I later met you in a book store
where we paged through Vangogh prints
and discussed the peculiarities of  'The Smoking Skull'
I awoke to a beautiful Sun and for a few joyous seconds…thought to
call you

there are no dreams here

The best lesson we learn
Is when our ship upsizes but God saves us.

I see it in
         shades of
liquid coal
  slaking
    my aching
           thirst in
black ocean shoal
      onyx crystals
             washed up
            in tides
       of barely
    peeking,
night-lava eyes
     silently spoken
                   and through
     the waters of deep
my soul is
    waking up from
          eons of sleep
              weaving garlands
             of darkest green,
            seaweed tips
that I tenderly keep
       strewn, in chlorophyll strips  
                      across the stardust glow
                                       of my naked skin
                                     as I liquid float,
                       spirit whirring within
                              eyes bright
                in illuminated
          moonstone glow
picking up signals
of halted flow
This is needed here,
in this darkest of dark
waters abundant
with tight, broken sparks
shards of the living
and fragments of souls
                  a luminosity of darkness
                  making us whole
      And pulsing next to me
   in beauty's surprise
phosphorescent creatures,
     a feast for the eyes
           loving, gently brushing
                my outstretched fingers-
                     bioluminescence divine
                         on my body lingers
                   from jellies to squid
                to jet -hued sharks
    knifing through layers          
     of dark on dark
         within the
lush waters' quiet force
a dance in faded flicker
conjures the source
                 within the depth
                         of the depths
                            of my endlessly
                            wet
          in my darkest of dark
between blood and sweat
penetrating the mysteries
   that quake through
          this heart
         filling it up
  as it tears it apart
         smashing it
    to smithereens
   creating sutures
   of ironic healing
until through the cracks
both wide and slight
        shoots up
the flare
of my own
    inner
          light

baby you've got an ego
way too big
baby you've got an ego
no one can dig

over the years it's
weight did accrue
now's the time for a
look at its value

why not trim
your ego's mass
cause you know baby
it's so crass

do you hear what I'm saying
about being too smug
adopting the right tude
will be your debug

yeah baby
vain ain't hot
yeah baby
vain ain't hot
why don't you try
modesty's trot

baby you've got an ego
way too big
baby you've got an ego
**no one can dig

You were a Poet the moment that you were born
Your talent came about when you woke up from your yond
Perfection came from Heaven upon
Your words were everything to think of
You wrote your ideas down
After that, your poetry took off, and was being read bound
I am your inspiration being the sound
You were given understanding and motivation
Yet hatters said you will never be a Poet
But you were confident and proved the hatters wrong
You were a Poet and you made your writing strong
Because the talent was all within, you continued to write until when
You have become the Poet you thought you would never ever reach
Yet you have encouraged other inspiring Poets in knowledge as a lesson to teach
Your Poetry talent was established as a Heavenly gift
It was always a Poet’s wish
Expression in your own right
You wrote in how you felt to release the tension of being uptight
It seemed at the time it was a plight
Yet even through the midnight oil, your writing did shed some light
Now say it loud and strong, “I am a Poet and I have showed it
Your talent has been exposed to the outside world
You have captivated other Poet’s and readers in making their hearts swirl
Only a Poet can see, a tomorrow, but it’s illustrating everyday until the end of time.

Apologies are sweet
but those which bear changes are sweeter

I bite my lip and
twist the corners of
my shirt over and
over again
tap my feet and
run my hands through
my curtain of hair  

My chest contracts
and I feel so
suppressed and
awakened as if
just at this moment
I crawled out of my
rock and caught a
glimpse of the daylight

I'm trying so hard
to keep the crazy
different and expanding
thoughts together because
I know they're brilliant
but they have yet to be
spoken aloud or told

but it's difficult when
you're surrounded by
demanding flawed
people who are good
people but who will never be
able to see the true
hidden wonders of the
world

like how it isn't such
a simple place to run
or live in or make up
but a place filled with
hidden treasures and
different people of a kind
who will one day come
out and unite all our
extraordinary ideas

and I swear to myself
that I will live to contribute
to that day and it will
all have been worth it
in the end because
some sacrifices exist
towards the end of time
for the greater universe
that will be brought into
existence built upon
our soulful bones and
willful shoulders and
extraordinary ideas.