Love her like your ideal love
Like the dream of how she’ll love you
But an ideal is not an excuse for this
You must explain what love means to you

You
Decide to start and never stop
And years later
When the memories of life pile up around you
Like the books beside a crowded shelf
You learn to be content with where you are
As compared to where you could be
Because fame is not to be desired
No, fame is to be pitied
Because you didn’t start for fame
And you didn’t continue for fame
And if you did you are a fool for fame
Because you became what you became
Because you already were
You

The best verses are not torn from the heart
Or ripped from the head
But are pulled from your mouth, endlessly, like a piece of string
Flowing from between your lips
Until all that needs to be said and done
Is out there, in the world
And it exists

See the eye of a flying dragonfly, hovering as you back away
Dry your feet on the side of the bank and wait
As you look up past the trees to see, if the breeze was visible that day
Find a cloud in the sky that is not too high and then brush it all away

For whatever it is
You feel called to do
You choose what it is
But remember this
First consult your form of truth
And then do it for them
As do it for you

No matter what your battle is
What your sin or cost to be
I see, in this now
That it doesn't get easier for you, yourself
Until you
Let yourself, let it. Be.

So many poets attack with words,
With the intent to hit you on the first line.
Like a clunky sword or strand of steel,
Which couldn't so much as break through twine.

To which I would say,
That you must first name and know yourself,
Or at least your opponent,
Before you try and sway or slay them with a single line.

Such poetry would mean to me,
Little more than a stick,
In a sword fight with a gigantic tree.

Try not to aim for the heart immediately,
But approach the chest,
And hum your bladed words through the air most rhythmically.
Until an opening you do see for such an acute verse as me.

Deliver then a heavy blow,
A fatal strike.
Which will leave the readers lying in the streets,
Bleeding out of relief and not out of agony and disbelief.

If you're reading me
In this moment now
We are one and the same
Not just in eyes or in fixitie of mind
But by the air we breathe
With the dreams we dream
In mutuality of meaning
We are alive

Different isn't an alter to bow
Nor change a prayer
Or a party anything less than a high

No all of THIS, that is human, is only being

Our faith is living
And in living it out
A M P L I F I E D

I recommend you go higher, friend

No amount of organization
Or busyness
Or peace of mind
Can keep you from it

The realizations
Of these
Of this
Of time

Endless and dripping
Reaching from an eternity of ripples
Beneath lakeside pines

Just as no amount of distraction
Can keep you from within
From your own mind

No woman's hand will warm my own
And I need no other voice to tell me I can

I'll find no confort in the confusion of another person's soul
I have enough problems within my own

I feel no obligation to try and break this human mold
For this is simply how I am

I just wish that I could stop expecting others
To somehow create the value in me
Which would permit me to grow old without regrets

This most definitely it's a terrible venture in which to invest

I keep telling myself what I know to be true.
That I will not be here forever and ever.
And that one day I will be all which I endeavor to do.

You see, little old me never applied to me.
Because I am young and I am tall.

The world which I've yet to know stretches out before me.
And yet all I want to do is find the inner peace which sets me free.
The kind of peace which allows me to travel and return again without wanting to flee.

I have found such peace to a certain degree, but it's not enough.
My appetite is unsatisfied by this snack of life, and I doubt myself.
That I could possibly organize and properly depict the entirety of this thing called self.

Who am I kidding?

I'm just a man who keeps telling himself.
And that is the trick, to making the words in my stomach stick.
Like wild rice, are my thoughts to me.
But to find their way into the dish of life, will this not satisfy the appetite in me?

No. Because no hollow words from this hungry man will appease, the hunger for perfection in me.

Like rain
I fall, I rest and evaporate
Over and over again
One and the same
I am like rain

To the side
With mindful eyes, lax
Like the smile which always wide
Comes back

Sitting beneath the old mailbox by the railroad tracks

Trying so hard not to forget
The words inscribed
Which you promised me
In the letter that never came

In my weakness
He is strong
Far mightier than oak and stone

And though I do not understand myself
He does
And for some reason knows

About about all of the things I do to distract
Just to keep myself
From the sinfulness in these decaying bones

And so I wait for this feeling to pass
Though I know the truth
I am not, though I feel, alone

Because in that moment
When no human hand can steady you
Where then my friend, are you going to go?

As for me, I know that I will go back
To the one true God
Who existed long before this earth was home

I see your doppelganger here
I’m always most polite to her
Because I know
Because I see
Just who she it
Just who you were

Quietly justifying
The existence of the other
The lines of his jaw
The turn of her hair
But not in hand
For its beneath the surface
Of the conscious mind
That the search began
And there it will end
There it will end

How could people die, I'd ask
In the springtime of youth
Most ignorant, find

Now I know, why people die at last
When the aches and the pains
Persuade, the mind

For they pass
And pass
As all do in time

And the new want of me
Is mine
This time

Because now, there is no one
Who remembers my ask
Noone outlives the time

Say not
That I let my emotions seep
Like a sidewalk stream
Down a sewergrate
No
Instead let it be said
That whatever I felt
Evaporated clearly under the sun
To return to that cloudy head of mine
Up in the sky

If I up and died today
Would anyone know?
About the archives stored away?
About the words which I've locked away?
And if I died on such a day
Would anyone ever find a way
To link me back to those former days?
To hear the words I once did say?
If I were to die this present day
Would you find me here along your way?

They are dying for it, they are bleeding for it, they are begging for it. And yet it will not come.

Like pure water from a well of mud, I dig for those who cannot drink, and wait with those who thirst on their own.

I am disgusted by those who flaunt it. By those who pour their wasted water out and splash it down upon the stones.

So cold and careless. They care nothing for the crowded rooms, filled with those who stand alone.

I’d place this song between your ears
Your fingers in-between my own
I’d turn this world of our inside-out
And Upside-down
Just to find you a place that you'd call home

Catch me
Like a Firefly in a glass tomb
Like a candlelit flame in a dark room

I am narrative alive and well
Time reincarnate
And I give myself most humbly forward

Charred and broken at both ends
Until my own ashes turn lie and truth
I burn on every living tongue for you

If you give a man ... more stones to dig
He'll find
If you give a man ... more time
He may still not know, let alone who
If you take from him ... nothing when you go
Then the building of his own high wall, is no crime of yours
Ever, nor ever was

Still cups
Quiet unspokens
The hierarchy of all those who swim

What does it mean?

That you can take my silent ignorance as a token
That you are capable
And I am unwilling

No matter how many doors or windows or walls or structures may stand to fall, on the growing wasteland of this Earth.

It's refreshing to know that it all will end, and that with that end, there is no real difference between the unearthed and earthed.

There is only the idea of time beneath it all.

Holding onto you
And your thoughts
Is like water dripping
Through me and my hands

I'm Convinced
That after the last fence post ends
Just over the edge

That around the corner beyond the meadow
Is the end

And beyond that
Is rain

Endless and resting
Forever to be parted from the sky

Until the new life comes
And I am refreshed

It is then
And within

Would you explore with me?
Until our own end?

First, our bones and then our homes, with fences soon to follow.
Every stone built wall to turn back to the earth.
Like a grave left open every winter, burying itself within the snow.
No child is left to grow into youth when the world turns back into its own.
A collapse isn't always an inward thing.
Just as the inhabitants aren't always meant to inherent what their parents owned.
No life or existence is completely secure.

God
Please hold her
As only you can

Would you curl her up
In the palm of your hand?
And be with her
When I cannot?

Would you attend to her most every need
With efficiency
And make her well when she is not?

Because you know how she is
How she has these beautiful wandering dreams
And occasionally such restless thoughts

Would you speak to her now
With an voice unseen?
And reassure her that you are indeed the king
The creator of time and everything

Would you curl her up
And keep her more closely
Than ever she would've been to me?

Will you do this for me, my dear Lord?
Have you heard my prayerful repetitious plea?

If so I will stop until tomorrow
And finally try and get some sleep

Would you comfort her with immortal arms?
From a prayerful, tired version of me

In a world full of arrogance and immortal feeling
It's so easy to forget how very mortal we are

The desire to be a creator never burns out
Like the immortal flame that it is
It may waiver, it my wane in the blowing wind
But it never dies, completely becomes extinguished or unhinged  
Just so long as you keep it calm and still
And close to your true heart within

Because the essence of desire is the creation which will linger in a state of wonderment
Wishing only that the original thought could be
All which you could've hoped and dreamed
About and for*

Mesmerizing isn't it?
The flame unseen

By the time you get
What you so badly wanted
Within this world
Within this life

You probably won't want it anymore

That is a consequence of life
Of the long hallway
And the time that it takes
For you to commit
To walking through that distant door

Whatever it is

By the time you get to that fame or fortune

*You might not even want it anymore

No mountain range is worth the hike with you by side
Nor seat stays warm in conversive pace
Though it’s sad to see wasted such a pretty sunrise
Your particular light is not to my eyesight a pleasant taste