The words have been said,
Oh they have been said.
But theres so many questions still in my head.

I wonder, I wonder.
My mind trailing in circles like birds in the sky.
What if? What if? How can I trust?
And why?

Why, why why must I think so much?
For too much thinking makes me so out of touch.
Out of tune, like an old claironet, blaring and sounding in the off pitch sound of it.

So for now I'll write and compose.
Compose myself for who would ever know,
of the symphony of thoughts mixed up in my mind,
Waiting for that harmonized day where there'll be clarity I'll find.

Urbanization by Dakota Pizzi
Theres a house of Fallen Timber,
Not far from me or you,
That flourished once in the summer When the sky was Golden hues.
Its been trampled down by the people of hardened stone,
Who are cold to nature's many unknowns.
So they chop away and burn it down As gray clouds fill the sky,
And what's left of her majesty the forest,
Is nothing but my lonely sigh.

An Explanation


More lines written in my face than an old women.
More lyrical notes than an instrument of your choice,
I'm dancing inside to the sound of your voice .
Each word and phrase creatively counted,
Carefully picked up and placed,
Lights shining between each elegant phrase.

These words flowing from head to mouth,
Much harder than to paper.
Thoughts are lost in revisions and vapor.
I lose my heart and my voice,
With silly fears I've lost my choice.
Now I've come here with these words to say,
But all my metaphors got in the way.
So I'll say the words that will woo,
a small phrase that I can say,
I love you.

If everyone else was a drizzle,
you're a downpour.
If they were locked,
you were the open door.
As easy as a breeze,
blown by the sea,
are the feelings between you and me.
They, a small tune,
You a symphony.
A warm song that can keep me company.

As these summer months fade and are plundered,
By the lengths of fleeting time while I sit and wonder.
I hope we stay as we are,
With everyone else the sky and us the stars.

Winter's Song:
  Wind whipping through my hair,
White fluff swirling without care.
Icy flakes, descending snow
bustling people saying "lets go!".
  I  feel the freedom, all it brings.
The silence of snow, how nature sings!
And I will sing along,
For sure we all know this song.
The symphony of peace on white canvas
To which life choreographs all its dances.
And in that easy light of winter snow,
I sat by the candles, feeling their warm- amber glow.

Blanketed gray skies
rolling in,
Something bout the rain,
Raises goosebumps on my skin.
Yet were all inside under cover,
Cherishing the long nights,
Nights that cause me to write here and wonder.
As the wind whispers my heart does too,
Putting words to the paper,
Ink in hues of blue.
The quiet hum of the rain surrounds,
Dimmed lights,
Soothing sounds.

Clouded days,
Snow in sight .
Darkest night,
The moon's a light.
Quiet frost like crystal- glows,
Burning fire makes warmth flow.
As branches feel the weight,
we learn this winters fate.
Do we let our hearts freeze along?
or learn to sing winters song?
We can only sing together-
to make warm this cold wicked weather,
and I wish for this good to come true
And find warmth in others, in You.

Clean and white canvas anew.
Is it easier to leave it or create in hues?
Winters ice freezing many of them all,
and we hope their cold Hearts might come around next fall.

What We Are: by Dakota Pizzi

Have you ever wondered how the wind howls through the trees?
Or why the leaves tremble in the breeze?
Theres no use to wonder,
No rhyme or reason too.
It just makes sense like me and you.

And 'though the cold winds comin down,
The snow is burying us in.
I know the sun will shine again,
Just like it always did.

Its like asking why the sunshines as it comes over the hill,
Or why the earth moves slowly at its own will.
Theres no way to calculate,
Its just meant to be,
Thats why you belong with me.

We are the wind speaking through the trees,
We are the sun coming up to please,
Theres no reason to wonder why we are what we are, its the way its meant to be,
Yes, it's the way its meant to be.

I see the peeling paint upon the wall,
Along with bricks ready to fall.
The thunder is drawing near,
Whispered words are spoken with fear.
The rain is here with all it brings.
The smell? the sorrow of forgotten things.
Taste the tension in the air?
Bitter lonliness, lack of care.
Just like marble, cold and smooth,
I reach for a heart impossible to soothe.
Can you feel the sky falling down?
But if you'd never known, you wouldn't hear a sound.

So many questions in my head,
feel like I'm dangling from a thread.
Shadows fall all around
this new starry-eyed light I've found.

The world's warm.
The timings right.
Who's to say your smile's not what I'll need on these cold, cold nights?

I want this eternal Summer,
where we can stay longer,
And everything I need to hear,
Has already been said.

But I need the words,
To hear the sounds,
that will assure me to these feelings found.

Pages: by Dakota Pizzi

We are nothing more,
than words on lined paper .
Who are you,
A poem, a sonnet?
In pencil or permanent?
I find myself to be in script.
Looping ups and downs,
But persistent.
Like threading wires chained along the sky along the winding road,
Meant to be moving ment to keep going.
Meant to say what I say,
And be as permanent as ink,
But never looking back across my many pages.