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The man who tries to prove a point
Is unsure of how sharp it is.
A man who wars with blunt arms,
Is confident in his own strength.

The man who bears armor brave,
Falls heavy into his own grave.
The man who comes naked
Is sure he will return unscathed.

But, not every warrior is the same;
And no war can be fought
In the shadow of divine aim.
who do you blame?
Let it be known~
        Beyond the mere musings of tool bearing monkeys
               Lies an ineffable essence which deflects archaic labeling.
                      
This is the direct experience of non-discriminatory equalization
        Of conceived notions.
               All which may be considered good and true
                       Vaporizes in the blinding eye of this clarity.

Language is the battleground of ignorance and illiteracy
        Of what begs not be named~
-
Among'st a non-judging expanse,
Creative clouds dance.

Through fields one might prance,
Find a tree and sit
Or take a different stance.

See it fully or just give a glance~

The clouds, they form in multiplicities,
Reflecting simplicity;
Expanding creative form explicitly.

What'll it be?
How'll it grow?

Beautiful sky of freedom's form,
Modify your figure and break the norm.
Show me what never dies and is forever born~!

And reveal to us in time what is on the inside,
Usually hidden when worn.

I saw this in the clouds today, when I was bored..
-
When they buried me in the dark, I was frightened.
I didn’t like the taste of earth.
And I was so thirsty.
Some people are no good with plants,
Even the hardiest shrubs
Wither and wilt in their careless hands.
You aren’t one of them.
When no-one else could see,
You took such good care of me.
Water, warmth and love.
These are my needs, but I had no voice
With which to ask; without you
I would have remained inert
A lost life, in the dirt.
See now, how I blossom?
Just a shoot, but I will astound them all
With my beauty, in time.
Thank you for caring for me,
Thank you for helping me to grow.
For my Agent of Fortune, Paul M Chafer.
It's not who you are or who you know,

What you wear or where you go.

It's not your friends or family,

Its words on a page,

In this community.

The words we use can settle scores

or open doors.

So hear a heartfelt plea from me,

Let's stop the wars and do poetry.
If you were broken, and i had the parts to fix you
i would work on you both night and day
but, i'm afraid the parts that i use would mix you
and take the best parts of you away
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