Their greasy hair sticking to their faces,
Hanging their heads down in sadness.
I dream to help those homeless people,
And to see their faces lit up in gladness.

I dream to change the lives of many people,
By explaining to them we are all human,
And we should help the ones in need.
When they ask, "Who can help?" I will reply, "You can."

My dream is to become a doctor,
Feeling trusted, watched, depended on.
For if I make one mistake,
I will lose a life of a patient and will be glared at a ton.

I dream to fly one day,
To touch the clouds one by one,
To feel the cool breeze,
Noisy brothers, noisy sisters, nope there are none.

I wish to fly far enough,
To go to a quick visit to heaven.
To feel my grandma's cozy embrace,
And to tell her I have turned eleven.

Dreams don't have to be possible.
They are still very important.
I will keep on dreaming no matter what,
Because I want to dream until the moment.


The moment my dreams come true.

I
Is the total black, being spoken
From the earth's inside.
There are many kinds of open.
How a diamond comes into a knot of flame
How a sound comes into a word, coloured
By who pays what for speaking.

Some words are open
Like a diamond on glass windows
Singing out within the crash of passing sun
Then there are words like stapled wagers
In a perforated book-buy and sign and tear apart-
And come whatever wills all chances
The stub remains
An ill-pulled tooth with a ragged edge.
Some words live in my throat
Breeding like adders. Others know sun
Seeking like gypsies over my tongue
To explode through my lips
Like young sparrows bursting from shell.
Some words
Bedevil me.

Love is a word another kind of open-
As a diamond comes into a knot of flame
I am black because I come from the earth's inside
Take my word for jewel in your open light.

512

The Soul has Bandaged moments—
When too appalled to stir—
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her—

Salute her—with long fingers—
Caress her freezing hair—
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover—hovered—o’er—
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme—so—fair—

The soul has moments of Escape—
When bursting all the doors—
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,

As do the Bee—delirious borne—
Long Dungeoned from his Rose—
Touch Liberty—then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise—

The Soul’s retaken moments—
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,

The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue—

You say that i don't know you,
Or know of anything you're going through..

You say that i don't really love you
Or care about you
Because i say really sad things about myself and can't seem to be truthfully happy for you
But i've never loved anyone to the point where they became all i cared about, and though i can't be happy for you, i care enough to try to

You say that i don't know what the real world is like, or how harsh life can be
But I'm the one with the dark past and depression, forever catching up to me
I'm the one who lost a father in a war that could not possibly have been won
I know what it's like to lose people who mean everything,
Because i've been losing you and that's as harsh as anything

You say you're not pretty, you think sometimes i'm beautiful
Well let me tell you if you weren't in any way, as thought provoking and as breath taking as you are,
Would i really waste my time on all these poems for you?

You say that i don't know you..
But last year your favourite colour was turquoise, you wanted orchids at your future wedding, (which i may un-invite myself to) your favourite animal was the great panda bear,
Your secret talent was impersonating perry the platypus and you took 27 showers a day and drank posh tea, oh and you loved long hair.

Okay so now i don't know you so well
But i knew you,
I knew you more than time could tell

But now you're just a stranger.
The pretty girl with short hair

Rebellion is a task because there are a number of forces to overcome.

The first being the saturation of the grid and the reasonable desire to succeed against these odds, that in turn make this lifestyle difficult to achieve.
-- The realization of the powers that hold our government with the capability to destroy the very genetic code of human beings.

Fed by extreme structure until life outside the system is illegal.  

Second: the curse of pattern recognition and the grand achievement of neurolinguistics;
The systematic and biological inclement of philanthropist action
taken to assert an advertisement is within itself a mechanism
to wash true passion for life on this earth.