Thank Heaven! the crisis—
  The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
  Is over at last—
And the fever called “Living”
  Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know,
  I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
  As I lie at full length—
But no matter!—I feel
  I am better at length.

And I rest so composedly,
  Now in my bed,
That any beholder
  Might fancy me dead—
Might start at beholding me
  Thinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,
  The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
  With that horrible throbbing
At heart:—ah, that horrible,
  Horrible throbbing!

The sickness—the nausea—
  The pitiless pain—
Have ceased, with the fever
  That maddened my brain—
With the fever called “Living”
  That burned in my brain.

And oh! of all tortures
  That torture the worst
Has abated—the terrible
  Torture of thirst,
For the naphthaline river
  Of Passion accurst:—
I have drank of a water
  That quenches all thirst:—

Of a water that flows,
  With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
  Feet under ground—
From a cavern not very far
  Down under ground.

And ah! let it never
  Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
  And narrow my bed—
For man never slept
  In a different bed;
And, to sleep, you must slumber
  In just such a bed.

My tantalized spirit
  Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
  Regretting its roses—
Its old agitations
  Of myrtles and roses:

For now, while so quietly
  Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
  About it, of pansies—
A rosemary odor,
  Commingled with pansies—
With rue and the beautiful
  Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,
  Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
  And the beauty of Annie—
Drowned in a bath
  Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,
  She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
  To sleep on her breast—
Deeply to sleep
  From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,
  She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
  To keep me from harm—
To the queen of the angels
  To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly,
  Now in my bed
(Knowing her love)
  That you fancy me dead—
And I rest so contentedly,
  Now in my bed,
(With her love at my breast)
  That you fancy me dead—
That you shudder to look at me.
  Thinking me dead.

But my heart it is brighter
  Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
  For it sparkles with Annie—
It glows with the light
  Of the love of my Annie—
With the thought of the light
  Of the eyes of my Annie.

When he runs his hands together
It sounds like sandpaper
Waiting to shape raw wood
They're rough because life isn't always easy
But hard work makes it worth it

Because cost and value don't measure success
If he had nothing to own, he wouldn't be worth any less

On Saturdays, we watched the History Channel and ate donuts with forks
Sometimes my grandfather would tell me his tales

I learned about cooking
Always season it well and prepare a bit more
Because there's no telling who'll show up at your door

I learned about fire
Like life, it's relentless, but you always fight back

I learned about chivalry
It may be asleep, but it'll never die
Because opening doors, compliments, and hand-written notes can keep love alive

And I owe me to him
I am a man because he led my way
He brought me out of darkness
Without ever knowing he was the light

We built model airplanes from Balsa wood
And classic cars from plastic;
Our dreams are simply disassembled pieces
There's no rules or instruction
We can build whatever we want

I finally achieved the woman so many ****** nights and ****** poems were wasted on. I thought this would bring utopia. The hardships have left a taste of malignity in my mouth. I don't want to be in "heaven" any longer.

1119

Paradise is that old mansion
Many owned before—
Occupied by each an instant
Then reversed the Door—
Bliss is frugal of her Leases
Adam taught her Thrift
Bankrupt once through his excesses—

A stray homeless dog wanders this crumbling city.
It's heart held back by fear of failure.
Sniffing for survival, hungry and filthy.
Exiled by the pack, forever branded a traitor.

His bark echoes in these empty streets
the sound oblivious to unwilling ears.
All these shadows waiting for sin's release
living their life with cogless gears.

Resolution, broken.
Hope lost, unspoken.
I've let all of you down.
trying to keep my ego's crown.

I'm sorry.

Old sepia photos, nostalgia recalls.
Did I have to be sacrificed after all?
Life is now colors of orange and black.
Still, I wish to bring the rainbow back.

My own fragile little universe,
protecting it with loneliness.
Icy waterfalls in reverse,
preventing friendly caress.

Come and break it down for me.

These cold walls, high into endless sky.
A precise strike it's all it's gonna take.
Under desolation's weight, walls will break.
So we can finally see each other, eye to eye.

Finding solace in your caring arms,
hunger for hope in soulless eyes
feeling parched for penitence.
regret, my only sentence.

I only wanted to be a hero.

Teach me to care again,
my emotions have been wasted,
my smile is only painted,
my stone heart, my only gain.

Make me human again,
sweep me with your sympathy,
my demons, with your love, slain.
our purpose, realigned, in symmetry.

Come and break down with me

A river of pain will flow,
drowning in torrential tears,
as we review our existing fears,
safe from the scorn of our peers.

Let the despair wash through,
clearing the path in front of us,
let's walk this road, together,
A crossroad, to places ubiquitous.

----------------------------------- -
It's never too late to start being
that which we always could be.