We look at the sky
peering up beyond
beyond the last birds seeking home
and the last rays of sun sinking behind the clouds
but generally we see nothing
it takes complete darkness
to really see what lies
in the ******* beyond
but even then we forget
the millions of miles separating
us and the stars
twinkling almost sadly in the distance

We are made of stardust
yes, that is true
basic elements connect us all
in hues of an artist's color wheel
but why do we acknowledge
something so far
when we are really more like what is right beneath our feet

Dirt
overlooked but completely necessary
allowing us to exist in our natural form
something we touch
and through that touch
we feel the energy of the world

Flow

flowing like the blood through our veins
flowing like the river down a mountainside
flowing like the song out a bird
like the ocean 'round a great whale
like the air into our lungs
like the tears from our eyes

just like the feelings from our hearts

love was made for two,
but not us two tonight

I never understood what
‘writers block’ was, until now:

The complete derailing
of your train of thought

I watch them as they go,

flow down my cheeks

to my pillows

to my floor

making a puddle so i can see
my imperfect reflection staring back at me

I've lost my artistic touch
and I've never felt so lost

I’m starting to feel
Less and less poetic
Like a part of me
Is slowly being drained
But not replaced
Hollow and shallow
I cannot not be a poet
For it has grown to be
A huge important part of me
Assisting in who I am
And what I want to be
But I already feel stranded
Far out in the sea

I'm not where I want to be,
and I'm anything but happy

but no one sees

"You're perfect," "You're smart,"
I am anything but art

but no one sees

I'm lonely and hurt
I'm just lying on the turf

but no one sees

my world of broken dreams
nothing is what it seems

I want to write my own story
But sadly I only hold a poet's pen
Not the pen of destiny

Snowy ground
Lies untouched
Perfectly perfect
Made for us

Out the widow
Snow falls
Fire burning
Widows fog

Red nosed
In the house
Rosy cheeks
On the couch

Curled up
In a sweater
“How are you?”
“Never better,”

It’s just a
           Tick
                   Tick
                           Tick
Wracking my brain
           Tick
                  Tick
                          Tick
Programmed­ to drive me crazy
           Tick
                  Tick
                          Ticking
Tak­ing over my thoughts
           Tick
                  Tick
                         Ticks
Making it hard to sleep
           Tick
                  Tick
                         Tick
I need to escape
           Tick
                  Tick
                         Tick
My very own brain

Isn’t it funny how
Earth, forged from the universe
Will die by our hands?

The uncertainty of life
Is both a curse and blessing
You choose which it is

Suspended over
A white cloud covered landscape
It feels like a dream

I draw my poetry
From the depths of my despair
As many other poets do

Sadly I can’t draw them
From my highest of highs
Like other brilliant artists

To all poets
Thank you for sharing
Whether it be a shard of light
Or a wisp of darkness
It all takes power
To turn pain and happiness
Into art