I throw my change into a coffee cup. I do this everyday, I know it doesn't sound like much. When the cup gets full I take it with me. I find some deserving soul and I give the change away. One cup at a time through weeks, months and years. The cup has become worn and had to be replaced once or twice. As the years have gone on I can't remember all of the times that I have given away pennies, nickels and dimes. A few quarters mixed in for good measure every once and a while. Now I sit in my chair, my hair has gone from Brown to Grey. I can barely get around but I still find a way. I take that old coffee cup with me once or twice a month. Not as often as I used to, now not often enough. Perhaps I will get a chance to see it all one day. What pennies in a cup did for so many along life's way.

Some people say they are holy. Some say they are whole. Others have parts of themselves missing and try to fill the void with anything that will help them get by. The truth is that none of is holy, nor are we all complete, for each one of us has something missing or has a need. I am not sure where you can find the answer to filling the gaps. There are many who think they have the way figured out. In truth we need someone else to make us the holy, whole person we want to be. We need someone to fill the holes in our lives.

Knead out the crust and fill up the pan. Prepare the fruit with just a hint of brown sugar. Mold the filling into the crust. Cover it with a topper and adding a little more sugar is a must. Working with a fruit that often taste like sour grapes, requires patients and skill to get the flavor just right. Not too **** and not too sweet, somewhere in the middle is where the flavor should meet. If all has been done with expert care, the smell will bring family and friends running from everywhere. Take delight in a difficult fall dish, made with love and care. Persimmon pie can be wonderful, just try a piece and see.

I think therefore I must exist. That is what the great thinker said. Yet do we really exist or are we just a dream. Is life all an illusion in someone else's mind and do they awake when we are asleep. Is there any reality or is all a charade. What if we never really existed except in the ideas of a debate an when the debate is over, we are at an end?

The ideals of a reasonable mind can be argued and even put into practice. If they have merit, then many will subscribe to them. It is only when it becomes necessary to use violence to get people to see your point of view that you lose the moral high ground and thus go from advocating a philosophy to practicing tyranny .

Reaching down into a box, I pull out photos that are memories. I try to put them back inside of me. I weep until I am an empty shell and look for comfort but find little. My life is destroyed by your betrayal and all I am left with is the shattered shards of love. So I will pull together what I can find and paste together what I used to be. I will let you go slowly as I continue picking up pieces of what I have left of me.

Sharpen your quill and take aim at me, write what you really feel. Reveal to me your truest emotions and show me what you really keep inside. Do not hold back on what you desire, let fly the words I have longed to hear. Show me the truth of your passions, let the poison come from your pen and let your emotions ignite inside of you. So long have you withheld from me that which you truly feel. Give me all of yourself and pierce my heart right through. Free yourself of the things of the past and let your love come through.

With the fields of flowers swept by warm southern breezes, the pixies come to life. They twirl and jump from blossom to blossom spreading their magic as they draw nectar from each bloom. Jumping high into the sun in colors of every shade, they spread their wings and glisten like diamonds. For a few brief moments they dazzle nature, putting all other things to shame with their grace and colorful displays. From mid-day until the final rays of the sun, they prance and play. Then as the south wind fades and night falls, they fade as distant shadows and become one with the landscape again. Until once more they are enticed forth from their hiding places, by a brisk southern wind and the warmth of a golden sun.

I envision the ways that I can **** you. I see you bleeding out. I work on the intricate details. I still haven't finished the complete plan. I sit and watch you  intently , the urge to finish you bothers me. I feel empty inside because I'm not sure how it will end. You annoy me to no end. I am tempted by you completely. I just want to cut out your heart, then savor each exquisite moment as I consume it. Watermelon why do you tempt me so?

Till the soil and pull out the weeds. Sew the seeds and water them with care. Watch dutifully and see the sprouts begin to grow. Feed the young chutes with love and prune back the leaves. Let each one rise to the sun and form a blossom. Watch as the flower comes into full bloom in many colors of all hues and types. This is how to plant a garden of humanity where all flowers are welcome and grow in harmony with one another.

I took a walk in the woods and a patch of Kudzu turned black. I leaned up against a tree and all of it's leaves turned brown. I went swimming at the beach and the Algae turned red, perhaps that's why I am banned from the ocean? I once lay down in a bed of poison Ivy and I had to chase it to get it to support me. I am not really sure, but perhaps plants hate me.

I dance and I joke while everyone else laughs it up. I let you make fun of me and I don't seem to mind. While you are off with your buddies, I am left alone with your girlfriends. By the time you realize what I have done, I will have moved on. Now who is playing the fool?

Put one bullet in and spin the chamber around, listen to the clicking and whirring sound. Flick your wrist and close it with a snap. Hold the cold steel in your hand. Look down the barrel and take the chance. One out of six, lets pull the trigger and dance. Eyes wide open and you hear the hammer fall. Your hand is shaking and your sweating and the firing pin goes click. Release the cylinder and do it again. Listen to the clicking and whirring sound, flick your wrist and close it with a snap. Place your finger on the trigger and lets dance.

Words scrawled on a suicide note, written on a tear stained paper. The last mentions of a lonely and ignored soul. Laying in agony, ridiculed and misunderstood. The words were so simple, yet they would tear your heart into. The limp body laying beside the paper and pen, lifeless and blue. Only wanting to be acknowledged, only wanting to feel loved. The poor tortured soul now rest with the angels above. What could be so heart wrenching that could be written on a single piece of paper you see. With ever tear stained word, all that was said is please don't forget me.

I open my soul and bear the scars to you that are evident, emotional damage that has been wrought by poor decisions and  bad mistakes. I open up in grief and sorrow, wanting only to be loved. Your words cut my heart like the sharpened blade of a cold knife. I reach out and plead with you not to go. My tears stain the ground as I grovel at your feet. I am lost and I do not think I can stand the emotional blow of your leaving. My heart melts into despair and this time I do not think I can recover. I am an emotional wreck without you. I will offer you anything to stay and comfort me. I beg of you please don't leave.

I want a drink of clean water, with nothing but what nature put there. I want to see ducklings that do not have three eyes or deformed wings. I want to be able to see the bottom of a deep pool where fish swim and I can dive in and join them. I would like to water my garden and not have my corn wither and die. All in the name of profit and money, this is the daily norm. No one cares about their neighbors, they only care about themselves. Its not until the children get sick and die does someone have enough. Then money is offered in the place of life, to buy silence if it is offered at all. So as the earth cries out and children get sick and die, I ask one more time, please don't poison me.

Crude and unfinished I am pushed into the flame. Again and again the master brings me through the holy fire. Each time I am drawn out, a few more imperfections are taken away. Each time I become more than I was before. In the forge of trial I am prepared to be a worthy vessel. By testing and the purging heat of Gods spirit, I am drawn through the flame of tribulation. The hammer falls upon me and I am quenched in the sacred blood. Until he is satisfied that I am ready and worthy of his work that he has set for me to do.

The truth lies on the ground like broken pieces of glass. It cuts deeply into the feet of those who walk on it. Reality does not bend to our will or let us reshape it to our liking, it simply is and we must accept that we have to live in it. Emotions are complicated and turbulent like a storm at sea, they can toss you around one moment and you can find a calm patch the next where you will forget the turmoil that you just went through. All of us put on a different face that the one we truly have inside of ourselves. It is the rare soul that will be brave enough to show their truest self for all of the world to see.

Jonathan Campbell  1d
I was wondering if you would be interested in this project im starting up. I wanna post spoken word poetry audio on sound cloud and youube. non profit just for the artists

You hold me up, but I would rather fall. I put on a brave face, but the real me doesn't show. Each time I come to you, it gets harder to leave. You are an addiction I can't seem to shake, but you are bad for me. I am unsettled that I can't seem to function on my on for long. I have tried to forget you, but it all goes wrong. Every vice that I use will not erase the addiction I have to you. Even drugs won't work, so what am I to do. I know your bad for me, but I can shake it off. You are poison in my veins, you stay under my skin. I guess I will just have to accept that I am dependent on your love and just finally give in.

The clock ticks away on the wall and the months pass by on the calendar. The nation moves forward towards an inevitable decision. On a time appointed, millions of people will step before a box and there they will be presented with two vials of poison. One is a known quantity and the other is unknown. Both have equally deadly consequences. To take the known poison, is to embrace more of the toxin that is currently running through the veins of government. To take the other vial, is to possibly receive a new kind of death that is even more dramatic than the first, though there is a small chance that you might live through it. So the question is, which kind of political poison do you prefer?

Elect me, no reelect me is the cry of the parasite. With fangs sharpened ready to pounce on a federal budget and drain the life out of the public, one dollar at a time. the political vampire vies for position to be the next in line to feed.

There are lots of distorted people walking all around. Words are spoken and don't mean what you think they do. There is a lot of fanfare and things don't quite make sense. Often you are not sure who you even are. One moment you feel powerful and the next you feel numb. You think you can do anything then you find out that you can do little to nothing. The best you can hope for is to enjoy watching the illusion go by, then come down easy. The harsh reality is that you are likely to end up in withdrawal, and if all you need is rehabilitation of yourself or your image, then you were lucky. More often than not you come down hard and are not sure where you will wake up or land.

Tumble weeds roll along the dry arid land. The breeze picks up dust and carries it along an endless open range. There seem to be nothing for miles but the flat expanse. In a place where it looks like nothing could live, the wind bears witness to life and death. The dried bones of a Buffalo lie bleached out by the sun. Partly covered in dirt and grass that has become hung up in the ribs. The empty dry wind howls through them as it sings a sad song. As the sun begins to set, ghost of people long past can be seen dancing at the edge of the horizon. Are they really there, or are those just illusions cast through a crack in time. The wind carries their songs across the open expanse, where only the Prairie Dog and the lone Wolf will hear them. The wind blows on, dry and empty until rain comes and washes out the dust. Then it goes onward filled with clouds and moisture, keeping watch on the flat great plains like some invisible sentinel of time.

A crown adorns the head of the fallen body, broken and shattered for our sins. A crown of pain becomes a symbol of redemption drenched in innocent blood. So that which ****** and cuts, now has become a holy thing. Precious are the thorns that pricked the Rose of Sharon that bled for all our sins.

Precious little snowflakes coddled by society. Kept at arms length from harm. Cherished little blossoms nurtured in the womb of ignorance. Holding that their little feelings should guide their every thought. Lost to logic and reason, placed in flower pots of bad ideas. Given to the belief that life should be fair and go their way. Oh what an awakening when the winter of reality sets in. When at last the flowers emerge from their cocoons and enter the world beyond the veil of their protected realms. Into a land of adversarial ideals and bureaucratic impossibilities. Where their primrose path and rose colored glasses are shattered and they are forced to fend for themselves. Longing for their perfect utopia which is a paradise lost, because not everyone agrees with them.

The streets are ripe with opportunity. I see them walking around unaware. I focus on what they need, I see every detail of their personality. Like a Spider I bide my time until I see what I like and draw it into my web. It doesn't matter if it is day or night, the hunting ground is always plentiful. You must not project fear or appear as a threat. Only when you have lured them in should you take off the mask and reveal your truest self. By the time they realize what has happened, it is then too late. Like a fish that eats a bated hook, they are drawn in. Then as a cat will toy with a mouse, I play with my victim to my sheer delight and their utter terror. Finishing slowly and carefully, until at last the deed is done. Then I keep a memory and move on to the next one. Waiting as the hunger slowly builds and I again begin my quest for new Prey.

The wind whirls and stirs up autumn leaves. I feel the sun of summer passing away. In the serene moments that I can steal away, I spend time with you. Like a precious jewel each moment is held in my heart. Though we have been together for a while, it is as new love is found each time I look into your eyes. Your love enriches my life and takes away my breath. It is in these stolen moments with you that I am most at peace and revived from my daily worries by the presence of your love.

What story do you want to hear? What truth would you like me to twist? I have an unlimited imagination you see. I hid in the bushes while you were talking to the air, I know exactly what it is that you need. I am everywhere and no where. I am in the air about you. I can give you a little fib or a full blown fairy tale. I can give you what ever you need at the moment. Some accuse me of having a silver tongue, but I simply have my own version of what is truth. I will gladly share with you if you like, it cost you noting that you will miss. Oh it is true that when you get caught, I may not come to your defense. Depending on how well you listen, will determine if I can help you. In all things I am honest in that I will never tell you the whole truth. You see I am the Prince of Lies and will gladly be your friend if you like.

Wrapped in my cape, adoring my princely crown, as I command my subjects who purr and roll around. Lazily the ***** of fluff proclaim my greatness as loyal subjects the adore me and show me adoration as I make proclamations of great importance. In sequence they mewl and rub my legs and feet one by one. Awaiting my command or at least a treat to make them full. So on I go surveying my subjects, as each sits before me feasting on a bowl of gratitude. A feast set before those who are loyal to me, as there prince. The divine cats of my realm, who show loyalty every time they are fed by me.

Chatting, tweeting, snap chatting, and photo bombing, where did we go wrong. Intimate moments have been lost to the electronic domain, we have forgotten how to relate to each other. Emojies tell others what we think and not our own words. We are analyzed by corporate number crunchers so they can market to us even in our sleep. We are photographed and video taped with in an inch of our lives. Our privacy is on display for all of the world to see. Electronic books and blogs have taken the place of a good novel and a quiet conversation over coffee with friends. All of it is tracked and digitally quantified. What if we all unplugged for just one day, would the world come to a screeching halt? Perhaps the brain trust that wants to monitor our every moment would come to realize that we do not want to be face booked to the world and just want our privacy back.

I show the world the side of myself that I want them to see. I try to give the true meaning of what I believe. I speak of my philosophies to any who will listen, but do not try to force them on anyone. I give of myself charitably and work to constrain my prejudices and anger. I want others to see that I live what I profess to believe, even though I struggle with myself. So forgive me if I falter and fail some days, I have not reached perfection just yet. It is my hope that the positive parts of my life will influence others and help someone else live as I would like to .

Oh emotions that bind my tongue please remove the ties that hinder me. Oh blinding sorrow that grieves my soul, steady my pen that I may give life to my words. Oh imagery that transcends understanding as you flow from the river of ideas that I immerse myself in, give me back my what was taken from me, open the door to creativity. Oh prose please set me free.

First and foremost I must shield what I love. All that is with in my power I must do. I must be a voice of heralding giving warning of any danger. I must stand on the front line and defend what I believe in. From my native soil, to my dearest family, I must be brave and relentless. No one will stand for me but myself. In the breach I must be present, offering kindness and hope to those who are in need. I must take counsel among my brothers and sisters to know what they feel. To this end, I will offer my life and my fortune to preserve the way I choose to live. With respect for my neighbors and a willingness to ward off those of ill intent. My home must come first, before all other things. Though I may offer kindness to strangers and send help to those in distress in foreign lands, protecting my own is my first and greatest duty.

Every so often we must cut back things that have grown too out of control. As a rose bush must be pruned or a grape vine must be trimmed, so must the problems of life be cut back in order for us to have room to grow.

I am up then I am down. I live on an emotional Merry go round. I never know who I will see in the mirror when I wake. I never know what kind of day it will make. My life is a mixed up cake full of pills. A discolored bottle is where I get my thrills. Pink, blue, white and green pills. Several times a day they make things very real. I live in a drug induced stupor, people call me brave, my mom says I am a real trooper. All I want is for the fog to go away, perhaps I can be the real me for just one day. How did life end up this way? This is not the existence I would have chosen, but I have personalities by the dozens. Being one of my many selves is not always appropriate, welcome to the world of my psychosis.

Take the pieces of who I am or what I was. Then dissect each and every one. Look through my soul and find my emotions. Pull on my heart strings until they fray. Look at my memories and go through them with a fine tooth comb. This is how I feel since your leaving is pulling me apart.

Furry feet and floppy ears, so adorable it can bring you to tears. Whimpering and yipping all hours of the night. Chewing on your favorite shoes to your sheer terror and delight. No matter what the breed no one can resist. A sad eye puppy with a cold wet nose. Warming and loving no matter what your day was like. It is willing to lick your feet even when nothing else might. Such playful scamps that take up space on a rug. With all of our emotions we want one, it must be puppy love.

I was born of human frailty, and ****** into the heart of life's raging battles. My strength was tempered in the fire of oppression. My soul was purged through the need to sacrifice. I have carried burdens and I have been weighed down with fears. My mortal strength often fails, but my spirit has been purified as Gold through the furnace and silver through the fire. I am tempered and unblemished made ready for the master forgers hand. I will be created in the image of perfection, what ever the master determines that to be. I will be purified and made whole a vessel for the service of the greater good and worthy to inherit the kingdom to come.

Oh Yellow ball of fur that purrs while laying on my kitchen floor. Oh annoying kitty that leaves fur everywhere. Oh ***** that plays with those annoying ***** with bells in them at 2 in the morning. I would get rid of you, but alas my girlfriend loves you so. Thus I must endure your presence, oh ***** so that the other one may be happy. Yet perhaps I can get rid of your ***** which you love to play with so much.

Oh youthful brow that bears the golden crown. She sits upon her throne of stone. Looking out on her kingdom across vast fields. She rules her subjects with generosity. The Honey Bee and the Daffodil reside in her kingdom among her army of other subjects. The golden Dandelion so regal sits as her proud army. She sees those who have aged into white puffs of fuzz and she promptly frees them from their stem. Stomping lightly between the golden flowers, she sends her children to the wind. On a warm summer day, the lively queen, with her golden crown and woven locks of hair. She is loved by all of her kingdom, even if only until the wind comes around and finishes dispatching her subjects away.

Jumping and diving over rocks in a struggle for life. Magnificent creatures seeking to return to their place of birth. Noble creatures of bright and splendid colors fighting against the force of nature itself. Swimming to exhaustion, driven by some unseen force. From the cold waters of far inland rivers to deep oceans then back again. A course of life that is planned out by generations of selection through natures process of survival. Each fish must run it's course and finish where it started in order for it's species to survive.

Torn pieces of cloth, old forgotten clothes and discarded linens. Things nobody seems to need or care for. This is how we treat our old, our poor and our fatherless. An image that is not pretty, but accurate to describe the way of the world. If someone would take the pieces and patch them together, a beautiful quilt or tapestry could emerge. So let us take the ragged broken lives of those we consider lost and patch them back together. In hopes of a beautiful creation being born from the ripped and shredded pieces of tattered lives.

Let the cold drops wash over me! Let the water cleanse me! Let my silhouetted form in the Darkness add a sense of Mystery as to why I am here. Some people run from the Thunder, I embrace the lightning from the sky. I relish the cold water as it falls over every inch of me. I shake my head and let my hair flow freely. Water drenches me and sets me free. I become one with the Skyfall as I shed all of my pain. I am what was and will be again, I am reborn in the rain

I started hustling when I was only 9. I had to make a way because my dad was doing time. I learned to listen and not speak. I learned not to cry because that meant that you were week. Drug dealers became like big brothers. They showed me how hustle a buck undercover. I had to keep running to hide from the police. I learned to sleep where I could, never really had any peace. Learned how to keep my mouth shut and break bread. Anything to keep the peace and not end up dead. I buried a few friends before I was 15. The streets aren't forgiving they are just plain mean. I was there when 5.0 dropped the hammer. I got away but some of my peeps went to the slammer. I sit back in the shadows listening to their girlfriends and mothers crying. That's just the way it is when you have a hustlers life. I finally graduated to the big time, making all of the money I will need. I sometimes wonder how much I have lost being raised by the streets.

What ever your adversity, know that there are others that stand with you. Who ever is oppressing you, know that there are those who fight along your side. Where ever you go, know that helping hands are always waiting to lift you up. So give the battle cry of unity and hold one another as the enemy comes against us. Let those of us in humanities army who dare to care for our fellow person be a wall upon which despair will crash like an empty wave. Let our standard be a unifying symbol and let us live in peace with each other. We will not falter and we will not despair, as we raise the standard high as one people, for we are human kind.

Striving towards a goal, seeking to be better today than yesterday. I push myself to achieve more. Looking to be a better person, through discipline and sacrifice, all of these lessons are applied in every aspect of my life. Being kinder to others, while improving my own state of existence. I seek to move to a new level with each concerted effort. If I can reach a new goal, if I can help another person, then I have moved beyond what I did before and I have gone beyond my own expectations and perhaps I will inspire others to do the same.

Leaders stare at each other and pretend that they are kings. Armies march on parade as nations look on with pride. Poverty fills the streets as children play in the dirt. Threats are hurled as young men are sent to war. The rich consume the resources of the world like Locust devouring a wheat field. Citizens are fed a diet of lies as the puppet masters make their plans . posturing and preening while others bear the burden of their selfish ways. Such are the way of governments as they rattle the Sabre for no reason at all.

With midnight locks flowing over her shoulder, she has a mischievous smile that says she has a secret. Her skin is smooth and fair, but do not let her gentle ways deceive you. With eyes that pierce into you like a cold north wind , she can see the truth of what you are hiding. She has a gentle touch but do not get caught in her spell. She will cast upon you her charms and leave you trapped in bewilderment, only wanting more of her. She is like an intoxicating fragrance of a rare flower or a bouquet of fine wine. Once you have encountered her, you will not be able to get enough of her and you will never forget her as she leaves you longing to see her again. So tread carefully when you see the Raven haired girl..

I used to hustle in the streets, with all of the players that is where I would meet. Running the game, trying to get by that was a daily thing. The ebb and the flow of my reality, I never thought this is what would happen to me. They took me to the judge because I like to hustle, now I am sitting hard time because I got busted. People who I thought could be trusted put the knife in me, now my life is noting but history. The code of silence turned out to be nothing, now behind prison bars I am running. All of this goes through my mind, I am  dying in here doing this time. They say ten years is nothing but a minuet but you do not know until you have lived it. They always say let the punishment fit the crime, now I am locked up looking for a life line. The people I thought respected me, now all of them have abandoned me. I sit here with years in front of me, a life that seems wasted behind me. I was only fighting for my piece of the American dream, fighting the poverty of the life I was living. I didn't asked to be born into the street, it just happened that is where I landed on my feet. Now I sit here in this cage, the inside of me is filling with rage. I try to think about what I have lost, the betrayal and what it really cost. So I am filled with anger and doubt. I just want to hear from someone who still believes in me, I just want someone be reaching out.