fear not to lose sight
of the stronghold
on that hill crested green,
how are we ever supposed
to know what the
hell to do

i have succumbed
nothing but to
the clink of ice in glass

or the violets in
the whistling wind

or the sprinkle of salt
on an open wound

Stained glass bellowing
of passionate sublime hues
Stroke of sun's reprise

the anatomy of a body
deserves naught to be scrutinized
the symmetry of the mind
surpasses far beyond
than that of a quivering yonder*
no need to caress the air
which buffers from
the breathing *****
no need to pluck
strands of singing beads
from the temple
*of a human mind

living softly amidst wrought stories
the implications complications
and sighted abbreviations
halved gazes shared by millions
remember we are all
withering demands of annihilated proof
do not hide your tears
or drown those nightly sorrows
streaming to wash away those chapters
shattered shards
scattered pills
those mirrors glued to our faces
those years yearn for concrete foundation
just imagine everything is alright
bleed at the fingertips of keyboards
scratch in what is inside us all
no one is the same so remain
no one waits by the fall
individuality stemmed by
the pieces in our soul
a glance taken to chance
heightened similarity
fruits of simplicity
bittersweet sour and steaming
it's taste is different for all
scattered shards and annihilated relativity
there is that piece
taken to higher places
palaces abandonment orphanage
and apartments
it will help carry on that strait
welled deep too steep
we must all understand to sleep
and breathe a finer grain
so we may all keep what
is there to keep
carry on, my friend
carry on

a lone bird
peeking through the
tall grass
it can’t see more
than a few feet
just the thick green
and beetles
a creeping a panic
a cagey feeling
can’t catch it’s breath
the bird tries to
flee to the skies
cawing desperately
and the sunlight
doesn’t exactly touch
the ground and
is this what
life
is

to decipher what we are
encrypted transcriptions
in morrow's restriction
tangible redundancy
that is what we are
we run to eat
and eat to keep
this impeccable brilliance
the vision gone wary
horizons too narrow to rise
intelligence naught for
what is missed
skyscrapers and holy rollers
roaming our cliffs today
as we devour electricity
to generate more
stupidity
a never ending finish
I wish to seize
our incredible neglect seethes
in our oceans and trees
try to decipher what we are
we are all drifting apart
we are nothing
but tangible redundancy

maybe it's just me
but if feels like
everyone around me
wants to keep their feet
set firmly on the ground,
no, my friends
my heart will not content to be
so still, without the heat
of a wandering legacy
maybe it's my importance complexion
an arrogance to prove
that I am not like the rest
or to say I have done it
with strife and memories upon hill
yet I refuse to think true
that I cannot touch the stars
which have shone with brilliance
what can I say to myself
if I never tried,
it's my bountiful ignorance
which I have yet to cure
from my mind

a woven fabric
stitched neglect from margins
the float of syllables
cascading like ripples
of rustic leaves,
or pawing of flakes
of dazzling snow
blanketing like endeavors
held onto without reason
~gnashing of teeth
glossy reflections
tearing down, so dwell
its okay to buffer
and expose the fill
the echo of thought
converge hindsight
today, the snow will
glisten
the leaves will
listen
remember to keep
those things
sacred

the noise murmurs
like an opera singer
throat spiraling into
symphonies piercingly raw and loud
captured by her grief
this opera singer strums
the strings of her vocal chords
into the ferocious howl of the wind
encased from the glance of heavens
as the tears weep from her opaque eyes
far away, her fingers may never scrape
the last little bit of what belonged to her
she screams and wails
beating her pale knuckles
into the dimples of her shrunken *******
they once were elements of life and beauty
of fertility sprung forth within the intimacy of dawn
yet the years have droned on
and have shaven the marble clarity
of her beautiful, beautiful skin

now, now this opera singer
she forever sits idle from the lime light
and watch sorrowfully as the whiteness
eradicate from her very existence
the marvelous glaciers which rose
with guild and pride
****** from the spoils of greed
her skin was once a city of ice towers
so sublime in its own untouched beauty

now, now she crumbles under her own weight
her shriveling curves of earthly beauty
her exposed sheets of molten dribbles
of melted starry light
the glimmering pebbles of her youth
now eroded into writhed swarms
cracking into a million shattered pieces
like chipped pieces of priceless china
or glossy surfaces of ancient porcelain
never to carry the fruits of tomorrow

the opera singer dutifully lays on her back
the stage have surfaced and drowned her skin
and as she sinks under the wretched toxins
her eyes will forever remain open
underneath the surface of extinction
and it swarms into her lungs
and scathe the dutiful orchestra
of her beautiful, beautiful voice
the remnants of her purity
bubbles upwards,
floating, far away,
as she dies, slowly
and echoes
fading,
melting,
dying
away.

dusk settling upon moth eaten vine groves
descending black-dotted wings
powdered of grey white
solitude spoken within
every downstroke

tin fences, rusted into skeletons
turbulence trembling its stakes,
peeling the lovely yellow paint
where butterflies once nested
scrawny black cat
like smoldering black night
carrying two yellow moons
and hairs of silver light

a plain, forgotten location
where lovely sights once roamed
rosy red cheeks,
perfume of lavender melodies
afternoon mint tea
and lemon poppy cookies,
laughter bouncing in the mountain's ribcages

but the settlement has lost
of its melodies and sublime treatment
gone quiet but for the flutter
of moths eating away
the shelved books bleeding of neglect,

yet on an ordinary morning stroll
a young lady,
a lady with voices
singing soulfully in her chest
and daggers in her head
scars like crescent sugars in her eyes
stumbled upon the settlement

the lame, stone cottage
she knocked on the withered blue door
and found the hinges swing open
of it's own accord,
she stepped timidly
without a second thought
of where to go

stepping lightly through dust
and strewn rubble,
she lit a flame and drank the puddle
of beautiful rain water
collected in the porcelain bowl

the moths fluttered,
slight shadows like speckled dove eggs
she stroked the cat
and fed the young master with syllables
admiring the wild flowers,
tulips and lavenders,
daisies and roses
bloom outside the window

caressing each marvelous spine
of dusted books,
revealing the beaming beauty
hidden so well deep within,
pouring over the pages
glorious in the high mount of knowledge

she learned, learned how to tend
the overgrown garden which once stood
learned how cats breath
learned the tragedies of neglect
learned the balance of life and death,
the passage of time
the vessel of humanity
burdened with
wonder

she tended her garden
plucking tender sweet grapes
kiwis and even
sweet potatoes,
naming the black cat
that of the last waning light
before night befalls over the world,
the breath before when
time ceases to ache
and shadows are thrown
silent and beautiful,
speaking with the aching golden sunlight,

she washed the white stones
and made the path,
re-patched the teared curtains
cleaned the bile in the door hinges,
sweeping the filth from the floors
thatched the roof

she became a lovely, lone girl
with the black cat by the name
of things forgotten
remembered once again
like happiness and joy,
love and nourishment
knowledge and intelligence
a calming quiet like calm foggy mornings
rather than that of ineligible silence

she became a queen,
a lovely lady
of her own home
she refurnished from the rubble
and became a companion
of the tulips of the garden
and sweetness from
the purest water
streaming not too
far from home

feel the weight
of its fibers give
under each touch,

the slick sound of canvas
and wood creaking
under each human thought

gaze upon the mark making,
the presence of emotional ailment
of a joy and grief

watch, soak up the arc of the hand
of the eyes whizzing past
bright and intense

the colors overlap,
the hues sing in harmony
or clash in discord

the spoils of ego
have created the vile
and the grasps of men's malevolence
will raise the hairs on the fallen arm
the snaking graze bringing diaphragms to a chill
and the eye of lost men reflecting to the churning sky
brimming with echos of lost contraptions in time
the pockets of dream viewers upon heart's decline
and the whisper of one final, sweet bliss
the clamor of doubt sunk like wounded icicles
the gleam of one's bone under lampshade glow
and the lingering touch of medallion thrones
the greed of man washes over ashore
upon the silhouetted fingers of children tomorrow
and the affection of what's promised will wander
soon to the forages of tabooed swelling yonder
simmering in the ashes broken into fragments
eroded into sands of time to slip through palms
and as the day spin on its axis
twisting men's gaze to crunch into manifesting feats
to brink a think that they must all abide
to the fists of iron and crunch of another bone
how they dare treat another soul
in such fruitless fashion
and ambition lacking in direction
their virtues of moral must stand on a compass
without it, they cease to be
pinned to a brick
because their heads are too thick
and don't for a second think
that they are able to keep
the walls fortified, for it too will sink
and they shall fall to their knees
if they refuse to listen
and keep their shiny egos
shaved to a comfortable narrow

the usurper once cried
"you do not sit with me now"
to the detriments
which scoured
like pouring rain.
"I am found"
he says

Prologue
a cavern grinning with flashes of teeth
to smile with those white things,
my love, my heart cannot help but seep
into the soft, soft soil it burrows down
and stretches its roots so that petals
and floral pigments radiate with heat
my love, I was brought to my knees
and the skies a turmoil of gray,
when you told me I couldn't be
yours to keep that day,
and so the days wore by
and my hands rummaged with
paradox melodies,
cracked with paint and sores
wondering at how I possible can
feel alone

Prologue
the reminiscent of your laughter
crooked gently in the stern of your chin
and the corners of your eyes
kissing the ends of your cheeks,
the fly of words a blushing fury
of the most beautiful syllables,
softly pecking at the strings
which stitched the folds of my heart
when I thought it would tear me apart,
to always exist along your side,
but to never have your hands folded around mine

Present**
the echo of the past still travels steadfast
and the petals which have bloomed in contrast
have drunk the glory while it last,
yet, my love, the sun is sinking fast
and the cold winter is creeping to steal
what was mine stolen by the flickering fireside,
connections burrowed deeper and the seed
grown into a magnificent willow in breathtaking strife
the jargon infused of salt, ridden from the shore
feels like a home where the prints from the sand
won't be blown away,
at night the waves play a silent game
with the tug of the moon and the succulent
kisses trickling in the gorgeous fray,
now by your side there is no where else
I would rather be,
kindling the fire to keep the permafrost
from creeping into your sheets
my friend, my dear, dear friend
heed my advice and believe,
scream at the sky with vigor and pulsing life
share the love you carry
from the mountainous caverns of your chest
and brighten the galaxy in everyone's night sky
like how you have done the same
for me
and soon, very soon, my dear friend,
as tragic as time endures unforeseen,
we would have to our part ways
so as long as we can,
lets hold our hands like how it used to be,
just like how it is now,
like how it is now

what makes us bleed, cry, yearn for the sky
is what makes us human

bring on the sunrise,
the delicate furies
the dusty pollen drifting
in the riveting fray,
the scope of mountains
the shower of rain drops
felt trickling down
the top of our heads
picking up all the confusion
and dark scribbles which surround
our thoughts with threads
so take me to the beginning
and we can watch our lives
unravel together,
through the entanglements
and shivering lonesome nights
watch the threads slowly untangle
and wonder, my friend
where the end would take us

Title (optional)
could it really be that simple
to wake up one spring morning
with streaming golden sunlight
through a window pane

or to open our eyes
to a shower of cascading snowflakes
twinkling with delicacies
authentic like temperamental daises
the waft of lavender laughter
sweeping through the crack of a door

can we really decide one day
at a five o'clock traffic jam
or a forty five minute tram
even while listening to the pound of our hearts
as we jog along a stand of trees
or the comfort of one's warmth
have our breaths' taken away
at the sight of the mahogany sunlit
settling time of treacherous days

could it really be that easy
to decide what we would want to be
to entitle our own rightful marrow
and to know that even
as the second ticks on now
that there is that optional

and for one's life to be like a poem
there does not always have to be a title
there is no one else more qualified to give it
but by the heart of the individual

so give it second
or a day
or a lifetime
there doesn't have to be a label
one can have one
only if one wants to

it is not bad
nor is it good
it is what it truly is
wrought by simplicity and virtue
people do have chances
and people are not
categorized into laminated labels
we all think to be true
like the glossy illustrations
of pop magazines
contaminated by the idea
that people are
or aren't

people are, in fact
whoever
they want to be
and they can write their own poem
how ever they wish
help to ease
into modern hostility

just wait for their fingers
to reach for the pen
and to touch the precious ink
they have all been waiting
to see what they have
always known to be

to build a palace
to greet the ghosts
which stalk the moonlit halls
to fill the vases
with fragrance of roses
to unlock the bolts
which secluded a greeting, hello,
to spread the curtains open
as golden light spills
through the cavernous space
to allow the breeze pooled from the shore
strike conversation with the window panes
to strike the hearth with a bellowing fire
to fill the kitchen with warmth and chatter
to restore the hardwood floors to its past
chocolate-brown luster
to adorn the walls with paintings which sing and feel
to fill a room with books, books, and books
to sip on sweetness and joy
while overlooking a glittering lake
to feel the grass
cushion bare feet
to fall asleep without an ache in the chest

to build a palace

To carry a big heart
To open more
To feel more
To give more

To believe
To sacrifice
To dream

To be exposed
To teeter
To be shaken

a field of long grass
rolling and folding,
like scoops of butter
as the descending sun
kissed the swaying stalks
into golden wheat,
and the sweet summer breath
sighed with relief,
the sky a glowing sea
and clouds of dust
puff underneath my feet
as the dirt path
meanders aimlessly
through the fields,
here, in this small
corner of the world,
is carved out for
a breath
to simply
be

I want to go someplace new,*
somewhere I can purely admire.
pack my bags and go,
*Someplace beautiful, where I can meet beautiful people.

a strong fixation
in a starry oblivion
the wishes plummeted
to a shower of meteors
take an eye lash
a lucky penny
whisper to no one
but to the wind itself
no one knows who's listening
yet we all clutch our hearts
our desires and fears
our hopes and dreams
into the palm of our fists
and wonder if this small
token of appreciation
can grant the wishes
we all hope
in true passion
and helpless
wonder

It's my utmost fear
for someone to say*
*that it is too late

my love
there is no reason
to store a pocket knife
I know the demons
come pounding
I'll come and light a torch
you know well
where to find me

Tall sky scrapers with pale blue
And white exteriors
Catching the sun’s rays
With an array of glittering reflections
Like the scales of a fish
Shimmering with iridescent vigor
Low-ceiling bridges
Hubbub of human activity
Busy, commuting, engaged
In conversations as they
Zig zagged
Through the broken pavement
Dappled with sunlight