I tried to write a song
But the music
Is gone

I have gone too
To get it
Back

I long for the sound
Bouncing
Around

An untamed idea
Forcing its way
Out

I'm a lot like you,
I really am,
we could get along great-
but people don't seem to understand.

I wasn't raised like they were,
they didn't experience my neglect.
I have sixteen years of life to catch up on-
lost time of learning how to be a person
I need to reclaim.

I was raised in a cave.
I learned how to live on all fours.
I know how to fight
I know how to run
I know how to eat and sleep
and I know how to howl at the moon.
But I don't know how to be your friend.
I don't know how to snuggle up close
without biting the hand that feeds me.
I'm a predatory creature
but a submissive one,
and if you shout too loud
I'll tuck my tail between my legs
and cower.
I'm loyal too easy but harsh,
barking at anyone who comes near.
I don't know how to trust like you do.
I don't know about hugs
and love and rewards
and all common that makes you human,
I don't know any of it.
I know how I was raised,
on all fours,
head to the sky,
fending for myself.

You take a look at the universe, and you admire it for it's beauty. What you must realize then, is that you're a part of it.

she writes of the falling days
- knows them well, one can tell

simple things like string
and wrappings
autumn and swallows -
hollow places she has seen
in boxes and photographs

and so it is -  the falling days
the number of birds at my feeder are fewer
no more humming, no painted buntings
-only my homies come now, my vato birds, my mijas

the cardinal, both red and green
the nuthatch and chickadee, the titmouse-
all three
the wrens and finches, too-

and the blues still like to bathe
in the pyrex baking dish sun warmed
on a sunny day-serenaded by the mocking
one hopping from grub to worm below

- my usual feathered friends
not caring about the weather-fair or foul
and in the pale blue, a gull still laughs
at the folly of it all-

leaving goes slowly-
a spiraling, a gust of wind-
days slowly graying
shorter, lightly fading
- friends, they go

the falling days, change and leavings
leave me - well, you know...

i see the simple things
that soothe, like string
and wrappings, swallows -

- autumn, you know?

r ~ 10/6/14

Like flowers, her life wilted,
Despite the ample rain,
The people whom she needed,
The ones who left her in pain.

Deceit was their craft,
To pretend is a must,
Behind the smiles, a rotten laugh,
How foolish was she to trust!

Lies are words with fatal poison,
Injected right through one's head,
Creeping unto the system of the person,
Slowly, making her dead.

When the situation turned unpleasant,
She sought for whom she called "friends",
But the people were hesitant,
Not even one hand can they  lend.

They use her for their own benefit,
Yet the slightest company, they can't provide,
How can she be blinded and cannot see it?
It's obvious, no matter how hard they try to hide.

A mask they would always wear,
Thousands of words they already said,
Yes! Back stabbers they were,
Rumors, they boldly spread.

Now, she finally opened her eyes,
Her trust completely broken, turned into dust,
She finally see through their horrible lies,
Though weeping, a strong facade is a must.