Colorful umbrellas and waders as little ones splash in puddles. Little streams flow down sidewalks where leaves are used as boats to race down to the mighty ocean. Sprinkles fall down and laughter abounds, what a joy to see children in the rain.

The walls glisten adorned with silk at the great gates are opened wide. The precession of many warriors is dazzling to see as they parade in their colored armor. The music of the many instruments fills the air with jubilation as the forbidden city of the middle kingdom celebrates the coming of a new year. The sun smiles down on dancers who mimic a ancient dragon as they prance and jump about. The fire  works pop and shoot into the air as the players do their part. The celebration goes on until the setting of the sun, when lighted candles rise in paper balloons to the heavens and small ships float down a river to watch the spectacle from afar.  All are happy and hoping for good fortune as the new year comes in.

The lights blink on and off in the cell block, but not from Christmas cheer. The prison is old and in much need of repair. I have a Christmas card taped to my wall, I put it up with chewing gum so that it will stay put. The photo shows my daughter another year older. I watch her through photographs while I complete my time. It is like being a stranger looking into my old life. The warden lets us sing Christmas songs, at least those of us who still believe. Many just sit in their cells waiting for the season to pass. We get our Christmas packages right before Christmas day. A few packs of cookies and what ever else the state thinks we should have. I lay back on my bunk and look through the ***** window onto the snow covered yard. I try to suppress the loneliness I feel as they call lights out at Christmas time.

Winter snow falling all around, ice covering the barren trees. Inside a warm and sheltered home, a bush blossoms. Covered in thorns but placed near a window to collect the days fading light. A bouquet of white roses has blossomed, just in time for Christmas. A special gift to be given on a chilly Christmas day. To each lonely passer by that I might see in the way. A gift out of season, and of stark beauty. Designed to remind them that winter is not for ever, but that you should celebrate life with beauty, as roses grown for Christmas to be cherished and shared.

Evergreen Pine Spruce and Cedar covered in decorative lights. Silver Bells and colored ornaments shining bright. Waiting for presents to be placed beneath on a quiet Christmas night. Christmas trees throughout the land giving children joyful Delight. Here for only a momentary season then they return from whence they came look for a few brief moments they bring joy to so many lives.

We are children, playing at adulthood. Our measure of time is minimal. Like Ants or Grasshoppers we move around. One changes the environment the other exist and dies away. Nature measures time in Eons while we palpitate when we loose a few seconds that we deem to be precious. We think we matter, we think we can undo what it took Millennia to accomplish. Nature works slowly but deliberately. Sometimes it takes leaps forward in one instance and in others it creeps along age after geological age. As the Ant who's colony can be wiped out by a strong rain, or the Grasshopper who is ended by a frost, we are here but a moment and are fleeting. We play at the religion of the moment, then we die away. Ideologies change and points of view differ. In one century we reach for the stars, then in the next, we are using stone tools because creation changes it's mind. How much do we really affect a natural balance that shifts like the sands of a desert? Does climate change, the answer is yes. With political opinions, or mass cataclysms climate changes, but do we really have anything to do with it at all?

It is going to get hot, no it is getting cold. There will be massive flooding, no the polar caps have refroze. The science says this, no the science says that. We went 10 years without a major storm, how do you explain that? It is dry over here and it is wet over there. We have been told the sky is falling so many times, that no one really cares. So can you tell me what the weather is going to be today? At least give me that so I will know what to wear. Can you even tell me if the sun is out somewhere?

I have not taken time to think about anything. I am afraid to have a thought. I worry that any action will disturb the delicate balance I have found. Not a cog or wheel has turned in quite a while and I like it that way. When I do look inside my mind, it is very dusty. I dare not breathe while peering in. All of the dust and thought making things are still and the cob webs in my mind are kind of pretty and I want to keep them that way.

Brother is now against sister. Friend is against friends. For so long we fought for equality, now it is all at an end. One life matters more than another as nothing makes any sense. Laws are flaunted and disregarded for anarchy. This has replaced civility and decency. Those who once were down with the struggle, now only look out for themselves. Their ideals have been compromised for gold and their morals have been placed on dusty shelves. Where are the color lines drawn that once were a blur. They have been redrawn by those who fought to erase them and the sacrifices of the past have been lost.

All people are born the same, naked and cold. Some may come into advantage and some may be lacking, but we are all human. Our lessons are taught to us by others. What we do with knowledge is left to us. Some of us cannot see past a skewed vision of reality. Some humans let superficial differences define who and what they are. In reality it is character that matters more than what we look like. Because we are all equal in the end as the in beginning. For we all come to the same end, and what we do between life and death is more important that our outer selves.

The dust falls off of the flag as the soliders quietly salute. The stars and stripes ripple beneath a pair of well worn boots. An honor guard walks ahead of the covered coffin, another fallen son. Children weep silently, dad's work is done. On a TV people scream, but they do not understand the sacrifice that our sons and daughters have made for this land. In quiet repose a coffin sits awaiting 21 guns, before being laid in hollowed ground where others have gone before. At last a solider has come home from another foreign war.

I want to get something pierced, but I am told not yet. I want to get a tattoo, but I am told I am not old enough. I want to stay up late, but I have to just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Everything I want is just beyond my reach. What I think is good for me is some how evil. When can I make my own decisions? When can I do what I want. I just want to have some fun, I am not looking to harm anybody. Why must life **** so much?

Hair begins to grow in unusual places and a point of view begins to change. Once uninhibited and carefree, we are now shy and awkward. Unsure of ourselves, just like when we first learned to walk. At first we must crawl into adulthood. We try to muddle our way through, but often we fall down. When we were children, we had no concept of shame, now one misstep can leave long lasting emotional scars. So we try our best to become the people others expect us to be, and yet sometimes we lose our true selves and may never again find who we really are or who we were truly meant to be.

A vacant lot has been taken over by people in rubber boots. The asphalt is being torn up and the earth beneath gets to see sunlight for the first time in years. Seeds are being sewn in neighborhoods without the governments help. People are taking charge of their own lives. The air is becoming cleaner and neighbors are working together again. Children get their hands ***** and learn what a garden is. No more is it a place where a lone farmer grows our food, but a place of unity that builds a community and breaks down barriers and abates fear as it helps people learn to live together again.

Many seek the meaning of their existence. They study philosophy and history but cannot find a purpose. In truth the greatest thing any person can do is show a concern for others. Having a willingness to give of yourself even if it is a small thing, is of great importance. Many feel hopeless and helpless but if they know that others care, then the seed of hope will be planted and they can live a better life.

I see the degrading of what once functioned well. I wonder why confusion has come to it. What mishap could have destroyed the harmony of the sight, oh when will the ship right itself?

When you see me do good, do not praise me. When you see me reach out to a friend in need, do not reward me. When you watch my life and see the things I do, do not honor me. Consider me not but to God give the glory, for what am I without him.

Straddling the floor in a perfect split, arching my back and bending over backwards. Standing on one foot upon my tip toes. Flexing my arms and legs in many an ****** pose. Wearing form fitting clothing to show off every curve. Hand standing upside down is among the things I love. Putting up my hair in a bun nice and neat. Approaching the mat with smooth legs and bear feet. Taking a turn then flipping backwards and landing with a thundering bounce. Twirling a ribbon as I prance about. Showing how agile I am as I strut my stuff! Flying like a eagle into the air and hoping I was good enough. Doing all of the things I love, finishing with a contortion pose in clothing that fits like a glove. Being an acrobat is really too much fun.

I scream at the mirror. I jump up and down in a cold sweat. I cook something I should not eat. I walk to the store in the rain. All the things I was told not to do, I have done and more. It is my way of weathering an emotional storm

Fiery darts fall all around you as arrows fly at you. Slings with stones of innuendo are flung at you, yet you remain calm. Trouble seeks to undermine you at every turn, as land mines of hate explode with each misstep. Through it all you hold your resolve, under the microscope you remain undaunted. A heart of bold intent and a resilient spirit that cannot be shattered, this is courage under fire.

Lay a blanket of emotions over me, and envelope me with the secrets of your heart and I will open up my soul and let you come in. Share with me the most intimate parts of your life and I will knit my heart to yours. Surround me with your affections and I will immerse you in mine. We shall walk a path of emotional strength and be joined for all time. In the deepest part of the night, beneath the starry skies above, embrace me and hold me tight, cover me with your love.

She cut her teeth on raw hide leather. She could use a rope before she could stand. Her hair is the color of sage grass and she is as wild as the Texas wind. Her favorite clothes are her boots and a faded pair of jeans. She would rather be on horse back on the open range than at hotel fit for a queen. Her hands are not soft but her grip is mighty firm, for holding the reins or her man. She knows how to build a camp fire, and she can cook and she can ride anything  Around an open camp fire is where she prefers to be . She might not win any pageants, but oh what a boring the world would be, if not for a  few wild cow girl.

Crackle, crack, snap goes the sound of the paint as it flakes. Seams open little by little as the wall begin to break. I look at the stucco and I swear it is splitting into. Each line that appears separates into a dark fisher. I peer into the crack to see if I can find the bottom of the darkness. All that I find is that I get lost and drift a bit more out of sanity. If I stare long enough, the cracks become rifts in reality, cracks; cracks in the walls, why are they taunting me?

My body is frail and my spirit has lost the will to fight. I see the coldness of my surrounding and I no longer want to be here. Family that once was familiar to me have become strangers. They weep and bicker while I languish. I hear distant voices that I cannot quite make out, I get a sense of something different. As my mortal shell fades, I take stock of the changing scenery. One world begins to fade and another begins to come into focus. I feel the pain leaving and joy returning. I am slipping the bonds of mortality and crossing over to what lies beyond.

A vast gulf stands between our souls. We each want something different and we cannot even agree to disagree. While we offer the Olive branch, the others rattle sabers and cry for war. It is their way or no way, even though we won the day. There is no surrender, only venom and vitriolic hate. They would rather scorch the earth than surrender one inch of ground. Now the roar is getting louder and there is no right way. We must gird ourselves and prepare the battle as no words of kindness will soothe the wounds that have been opened without a single blow. Now is the time of endurance, now is the time to be strong. The rift will not be healed by intolerance but there is little in the way of hope. So we must simply wait, until cooler heads prevail and we can sit quietly at a table again as brothers despite our differences. Until then we bear our shields and defend ourselves as best we can, until once again we can safely cross the great divide.

A crown of thorns placed upon the brow of the one for whom they had disdain. A unceremonious adornment for one they mocked as king. With little but mournful cries did he bear the insult and indignity. Little did the oppressors and purveyors of the persecution know that they were simply adding thorns to the Rose of Sharon. For what beautiful Rose does not have thorns.

Drawn between pages one and two, making the social media rage and angrily stew. Pulled apart in the internet, sectioned piece by piece. Thus goes the crucifixion of my character with every single tweet. Posting to face book rocks the internet. Oh but their not done tormenting me yet. All of the pages rave about what was I said, your not being berated unless your misquoted at least ten times, but not to worry your cover shot will be just fine. Now days with fame and fortune what is in a name, just be forced to the cyber walk of shame. You will be a star and obtain riches galore, just because your crucified as someone's little *****.

The silver drops fall down around me. The cold chill rushes through me until I am numb. I stand beneath the dark sky and shed the tears that I want to hide. As the drops of water fall down my face, I cannot be sure if they are tears or if they are rain.

Spires that reach into the sky. Crystals shining bright like a new star. Stairways that seem to let you walk on air, clear as the cool night air. Walls of Emerald and Amber, Floors of Topaz with Sapphire arches. vaulting upwards to hold up a translucent ceiling that lets you see the clouds as they pass around the towers filled with white light. A Water Fall pouring from an altar, down over cascading piles of Diamonds. Flowing clear as the Crystals that abound. Serenity as harmony rings from the very walls, as a harmony resonates like the voices of Angels and Fairies. A house worth of divinity but built for the weary soul. A place of rest and reflection, made with no tool marks, but cut out of the Ethos and placed inside a garden like Eden. Waiting for those who journey to come home.

Holding the knife as I lick the blade. I think it is sharp enough. I slice a piece of paper and listen to the sound with my eyes closed. I rub the cool steel blade along my wrist. I look as the veins pulse. I wonder how long it hurts, I wonder how the flowing blood feels. I am not sure if I will do it just yet. I am still undecided. Each day I sharpen the blade, each day I contemplate make the cut. I only know that if I decide to do it, I will cut it long ways.

Cut me deep, wound my soul, tear out my heart strings as you go. Slice through my emotions and rip me apart. Just like I knew you would do from the start. Brush aside any caring cut me deep. Leave me bleeding and in need. Forsake my love and tear it to shreds, leave your memory echoing inside my head. Take away all of my peace so I cannot sleep, your love has been taken from me as you have cut me deep.

I thought you were my bff, then I find out you're trash talking me! You berated me on Twitter. You posted my not so hot photos on Instagram. My boy friend just broke with me via text message. Apparently you have him thinking I am a ******. I would just get over it, but letting go has never really been my thing. I'm more of the Revenge type of person, but then you knew that already. I guess that's why I've been unfriended so quickly. Now that my social calendar is empty, I'll have lots of time the plot. Though I think you're not done with your ragging, it's that time of month for you is it not? So I'll kiss our BFF selfies goodbye as I delete most of my files. By the way you have some unimpressive photos so this might take a while. I can still feel the knife twisting in my back, so enjoy your moment of Glee. It won't be long the tables will be turned and you will no longer be ****-shaming me. So get yourself ready because I'm about to become that ***** that you always said I was. Don't try to deny you did it and ask pity from me. I don't know why you just didn't cut my throat you see.

I stomp my bare feet upon the  shards of a mirror that was broken a few moments ago. I run the burning cold pieces through my skin as they mix with the warm blood oozing from my wounds. I dance as pain resonates through each nerve. I seek a truth that I cannot find in sanity. I looked at that dam mirror a thousand times and not once did I like what I saw. So I shattered it with my fist and released my power. I now stand in a Crimson and Silver pool as light shimmers beneath my feet like flecks of Diamonds. I realize that I am hurting but my soul does not care. While my body screams for reason, my spirit is elated to feel freedom, even if pain is the only way that it can obtain it.

Holding the razor with a shaky hand. I look into the mirror and see the rings under my eyes. I push the powder this way then that. separating it out in even lengths. I lay the razor down and put the straw to my nose. I close one side so that I can get a strong inhale. I must do this each day, to wake up I need this to feel alive. Putting money up my nose in the form of white powder. I am always cutting the lines in order to just get by.

Slash the parchment, cut the scroll, open up the words and let them bleed from your pen. Place your feelings into letters that form words, dispense your passion onto paper. Write down what troubles your heart. Cut the lines into the grains of eternity with your steely pen. Cut the paper and let it be wounded for your art. Inflict your pain, sorrow and joy for others to read. Let your life be poetry, words given from your heart.

Someday the spirit will be set free from the physical body. It will fly free in an infinite new universe. With the human mind connected to machines, the internet will become reality. You will not have to shoot for the stars, when you can explore a cyber world of your own making. Anything will be possible as we travel at the speed of light, passing on ideas and communicating with thought alone. Borders will be forgotten and walls will be torn down. We will be able to look into the ideas of another from their electronic eyes. No more will we be constrained by governments or laws of prohibition passed by dictators and despots. We will finally be free to build upon the blocks of knowledge that have been lain down for us and to be able to create things not even imagined as of yet.

My parents didn't want me they abandon me to my fate. From foster home to foster home that's where I was made to stay. A ward of the state I was forgotten and no one cared now I've turned 18 and I'm staring into an abyss. Why was I even born, life is not supposed to be like this. I reach out to find someone , anyone who will care. Each time I grasp at Phantoms that are floating through the air. I've closed off my heart because I don't know how to trust, the only thing that I know is being shuffled from place to place. Now I've been kicked out with nowhere to go, I guess I really am no good. Who would ever want to love me for you see I am just damaged goods.

In an array of bright colors in the light of the morning sun, when the cool air begins to fade and the fog lifts leaving dew drops on the petals of flowers that form a tapestry of color. The sky becomes bright with layers of color as butterflies rise on warm air. Swirling too and froe in the wisp of air, they leap from flower to flower taking great care. They land on dew drops that hang like jewels glistening in the days new light. As they finish on one blossom they rise to seek another, creating a winged rainbow as they dodge in and out between one another. Thus is a symphony formed on the warm summer breeze, with the dance of the butterflies and they live for a beautiful short moment in the sun.

Trapped in the light of the lesser sphere, like a Moth drawn to a cold flame. Immersed in Silver streams of light, that shine brightly and pierce the night. Like a fairy tiptoeing through a magic stream, I frolic and dance merrily on a moonbeam.

A violin sings in the night air and candles light the street. People are dressed in colorful clothes as they celebrate. Wine flows and people drink and dance. Some in bare feet others in ornate shoes. The stones in the square crack and echo as they are tapped by the souls of shoes and slip upon by bare feet. Exuberance fills the hearts of the people who dance with joy on Cobblestone streets in a place where cares do not exist, even if for a single night.

Twirling around in your embrace beneath a glistening sky. Lights from a thousand galaxies shine down with ancient light as we bask in the glow of love. Wrapped up in each others arms, we forget our cares as we move to the music that is in our hearts. Enjoined as one soul, we are knit together. Our fate joined until eternities end. I look into your eyes and see the reflection of a single star that twinkles just for our love and I simply melt into your gaze as we are dancing under the stars in a celebration of our love.

Silver rays of light shine down as pixies open their wings from a sleepy day. Owls take flight as their golden eyes peer into the night. Fairies rise out of the quiet meadow and fly skyward towards the rising moon. With sacks made of golden thread, they fill them with moonbeams and shake out their dust. A cool breeze whips through the trees and scatters the magic over the veil. Gnomes come out to begin a harvest of mushrooms as fire flies flash and wink through the bushes and trees. Dark blue night orchids open their pedals to receive the lesser light as they perfume the air. Fish jump out of the water and flap their tails in the air whipping and snapping then falling back into the clear water. Life takes on a mystic feel as the night settles in and the moon finds it's apex before it begins its journey towards morning. It quietly watches as life follows it's light as all things dance in its silver glow.

The streets are littered with waste and the cities are brought to ruin. The images of anything that is holy have been called offensive and made illegal. No one can speak up for what they believe without the governments approval and liberal thought runs through our schools. The mention of God in any form is forbidden and criminals take what they want at will. All of the wealth and prosperity has been taken to pay for others who hate us. Hunger runs rampant in cities and people riot but find nothing to eat, all the while the elite gorge themselves and blame it on dead ideals that have long been silenced. The rest of the world is in chaos, as dark powers subjugate anyone who opposes them. Now at the height of their power, the purveyors of lies feast on the marrow of that which was once great and America falls into darkness and despair as she lies in her death throws after having succumbing to immorality and idleness.

On ravens wings as dark as midnight you come. Sailing down from the celestial plain. Blacking out the light of the stars you stand over me. I shiver in anticipation of what is to come. You cover me with your wings and pull me into your embrace. All of the light fades as you pull my spirit from my body and we ascend into the ethos. High into the darkness we fly. I lose track of time as we enjoin ourselves. Then the sun breaks the horizon and I fall back to conciseness as you pull back into the shell of darkness where you dwell. Exhausted from my flight into the forbidden pleasures of your touch, I collapse into my body as I wait for you to come break my spirit again as you feed on my passion and desire for you.

Hair that curls and kinks all around her rounded face. Full supple lips with deep set dark eyes. Cheeks that merge delicately with the curve of her face. Long slender arms with finely honed finger tips. Strength in her hands and desire in her dark breast. A curvy subtle form that looks like an Ebony statue in the moonlight. A soft whispering voice that melts the inhibitions of a mans heart. A body receptive to his passion and ready to receive his strength. A seductress that walks delicately but with strength. What a treasure this dark beauty is to posses.

Like a Black Dahlia, she sits in solitude. Her Essence is intoxicating and draws you in with her mysterious ways. To touch her is a delight, but be careful you don't get lost in her. For what may appear to be a delicate flower, is simply an enticement to get you into her web. In truth she's poison, she has been the ruin of many men. So if she happens to Blossom in your path, beware the dark flower.

The sunlight begins to fade as evening shadows come once again. The flowers begin to draw up their petals as the wind rustles the leaves in the trees. From inside the hollowed out space in an old knotted tree, a pixie spreads her wings. With a great yawn she steps out into the air, falling gently to the cool earth, her feet settle onto the grass. She surveys the flowers and the mushrooms around her. She then begins to sing a song that sounds like a brook gently washing over stones. One by one the stars begin to peek out through the curtain of a Purple sky. As the moon breaks the horizon, and the birds settle into their nest, the Dark Pixie spreads her wings and catches an evening breeze She sails high above the tree tops to greet the coming night like an old friend.

Brooding and misunderstood, draped in dark clothing with a bright red scarf. A splash of color for what no one understands. Walking in fear of sharp objects and not embracing children, the frustrated writer mulls the life that has been chosen. Not a carpenter, or a painter, but a writer of prose. A tortured soul that literally hungers for understanding!. Not able to relate to the normal world without painting drastic pictures of reality through the blood letting of words from a bitter pen. The poet loathes the existence that has been chosen. Not able to find joy, the red scarf the only emblem of another life, but no one can understand the symbolism, is it for cheer or Crimson for blood and want to commit suicide. Only another tortured soul can understand the pain a brooding dark poet feels.

The water falls as black as night. The sky blocks out the sun. The ground looks as if it is covered in liquid soot. The rain flows into the streams and lakes, turning them to the color of oil. Life is choked out of the world. We sit quietly and watch as we cannot take a drink. It is as if heavens tears mourn for our impending death. Down the rain falls, covering everything. The trees, the grass and our homes. The rain has become black because of our own legacy, our unwillingness to find a new way to live.

Bearer of foreboding, carrier of souls over the land of the dead. Dark emissary for some unknown force. Why do you sit on my window sill ?Your wings shimmer like dark gems in the pail Grey light of day. The wind howls and you caw, sending a chill down my spine. Gathering in a tree just beyond my reach, your brethren become a ****** of Crows. Oh how you intrigue and frighten me, oh daunting messenger. Bring not fowl news to my door step, fly away to another persons refuge and be their bearer of bad tidings.