Only God and fools take lives.
we may never know the reasons why,
To be brothers and sisters we must try.

Its Sunday afternoon
You wanted ice cream
But it's to hot to float
In the summers sun

You cried,  I felt  bad
And made you a slushie
You gave me a dollar
With some numbers
It made me smile
Knowing that a stranger
Would call you that night.

The hopeful of being understood
Is always wanted
Even for a glimpse, from a voice
Never before heard

Sunday evening is over
You want to be left alone
But, there is no one to let know
Instead now you think
Just because someone else has your taste
Doesn't mean they want your spoon.

Its sunday afternoon
You wanted ice cream
But it's to hot to float
In the summers sun

You cried,  I felt  bad
And made you a slushie
You gave me a dollar
With some numbers
It made me smile
Knowing that a stranger
Would call you that night.

Poetry isn't in stone
It is free range wording
The poets choice of lyrical freedom

Poetry doesn't need structure
No grammatical judgement either
Simply because poetry, being the poets thoughts, should be original and never reproduced.

Styles of poetry
Put into classes
Lyrical freedom in cages of judgmental stereotypes.

No not me,
I'll keep to my words
Keep your Haiku, Narrative,  Sonnets for the "poets" who need Authentication.

I'm not that of a poetical *****
I am more of a lyrical lover
Wanting to share his thoughts
To the severely damaged, or as some would say "the open mind."

Grammar Nazis live in schools
But need not overturn freedom, expression and views from our minds.
Unlike "Nazis" true poets do not honor the dress code nor speak in a statement to sound as if we are mass produced robots.

True poets are artistic rebels in the Nazis mind.
To the poet we are freely expressing our true feelings in a way we feel explains our actions loud enough to be heard, yet soft enough to never offend the true hearted.

Her heart strays
Alone for so long
Crying for love
In desperate puddles
Of unheard tears

Her shields are up
Protection against hate filled word predators
Humanity is un-heard of
When greed fills our thoughts
Saying pleasantries
Until her victims guard goes down.
Then-
Pounce for the ****
For another un-pronounced victory
Not caring for the amount of damage left behind.

Violence doesn't only show on skin
It also shows on bruised hearts
Ugliness doesn't only  lie in our brain
But, contaminates our bloods stream.
Carrying its infection through our entire body

Now-
No one can hear, no one can see
As her heart screams for love
In a hardened world
She calls her soul.

It's not about what you've done.
It's about what you're doing.

Father- look to the sun for the  answers my boy.
Son-why would I ask for answers from something I can only follow.
Father -because it is big and strong and can pave your road.
Son- my road is paved, paved of uncertainties and challenges which I openly accept.
Father- why would you not take the road we all chose for generations? Why must you disobey?
Son- I've seen all the damage caused by being followers, your once clean roads are now my bumpy travels. The abuse and misuse of generations have made a once easy choice almost unbearable. I chose to make my own mistakes,  on my chosen path, to learn and teach my generation and our future it is o.k. to think and live for "you". I will never condone a life in the sunshines shadow.