I can belt out rhymes
Haphazard and quick
I can make up ditties
That tragically will stick
I can write a speech
That would move a nation
But I don't know what to say:
Evolution or creation?

Your presence lingers
On outstretched fingers
Like reverberating notes
Of opera singers

I've never been a masterpiece
In anybody's book
I've never been a photograph
That warranted second look
I've never been a muscle-man
Nor lifted decent weight
I've never been majestic
Can't walk with my back straight
I've never been the subject
Of dinner-table talk
I've never made girls giggle
And request me for a walk
I've never been the kind of guy
Whose words are taken seriously
I've never had the kind of face
That conceals me mysteriously
I've never been a monster
Nor a saint of any kind
I've never been invisible
But I'm often hard to find
I've never been a savior
One one who has been Saved
I've never been to parties
Where I've seen the strobes and raved
I've never reached beyond myself
And changed another's life
And I've never stopped and thought about
If she'll suffer as my wife

Follow my steps when I'm leading the way
If you linger too long they'll fade and decay
For as snow covers ground on the forest terrain
So shall my feet be washed out by the rain
If following closely then you shall receive
New things to ponder, more to believe
But if you aren't hasty and stay far behind
The places will soon disappear from your mind
And there you will stay, neither here nor there
Alone with the worry, apart from the care

Stephen King says to keep writing writing writing
Even through the days when I have nothing to say
The days when it's like fighting fighting fighting
And the plot like clouds on fingers slips away

I'm fresh out of material so I guess I'll copy me
Pull out that notebook paper and begin a parody
I'v got to start with something both satiric and so nice
Like a fresh-cut rose
That only grows
In the flowerbed of our hearts

Immature ramblings from an unsecured mind
Rolling on waves of emotion like a boat of some kind
I'm so simple to copy, yet an imitation of this crap
These rhymes are ****
And just won't quit
To disappoint the audience, all

She asks me to love her
Totally and unconditionally
To be hers and hers alone
Forever

I accept with a smile
But all the while
Doubt is gnawing at the back of my mind:
*She made love with another man...

It's a whirlwind in my skull
Mind flipping this way and that
STOP
Dizziness is good for the soul I think to myself
But then it starts up again
Mind tossing this way and that
It won't stop
It can't stop
It's a whirlwind in my skull...
**STOPSTOPSTOP

Do people really get kissed
like characters do in movies and books?
Pushed up against a wall
Hot breath and lust clenched fingers, or
In an airport in front of security
Teary eyes and tight hugs
Soft and slow and
Full of want and love.
Do they happen?
Or have I just been in
the wrong place my entire life?
And if these kisses do exist,
Why haven't I experienced
anything remotely close to that
Sweet perfection?
Why have all of my kisses been
so hasty and ugly and well,
completely ******?
And who are these guys,
That I have let kiss me,
Who do they think they are?
That they can kiss me like that,
And not even care?
All I get are senseless, strung out lips
looking for another score.
What I want,
Need actually,
Are kisses that make me forget
what i'm thinking
what day it is
what's going on around me,
Kisses that remind me of campfires
and old movies, and rainy summers
filled with lightning bugs and
long walks in sunflower fields.
I want to kiss someone and
feel like I'm back in my microscopic town
catching lady bugs, lying in tall grass
watching the setting sun and feeling a
warm breeze wash over my skin and
seeing it dance with the trees and birds.
I want someone to kiss me, and
make me feel free and whimsical,
Like walking among the sunflowers,
not knowing where they end,
not caring if they don't
because it's beautiful.
I want to be kissed
like the world is ending
like I am the most important thing
and if they don't kiss me
then nothing will ever matter again.
If it's out there,
and god do I hope it is,
I will look for it.
I will find it.
I will.

I discovered the reason why I deprive my mind of rest
It's so that the thoughts I never would think
On a normal, sleep-filled day
Will come to mind

Though it's pure torture to have my mind on until the young hours of morning
It's what I must do if I'm to dissect the structure
Of who I am and learn
Where I am going