I wish to be in Solitude,*
Away from countless distractions and useless epiphanies.
I wish to be in Solitude,
Away from tiring conversations of endless encounters.
I wish to be in Solitude,
I long to sit in silence, a blanket of tranquility,
To only hear my own slow breathing.
I long to listen to the trees,
While a wave of wind flows over me, into Serenity.
I long to close my eyes,
To only see my gentle hands and the natural colors of the woods when I open them.
I long to see these vibrant colors of life again,
Not to be diluted by monotonous greys.
I long to clear my head of anyone’s voice that is not my own,
Allowing only the harmonic song that the flowers sing of healing.
I long to heal and to rest,
To forgive my brain and body of self-inflicted harm.
I wish to be in Solitude.

They said that,
tragedy holds the greatest power,
to unite a nation together.
Have we ever stopped,
to ponder why it is,
that we were not as one?

From the infant steps imprinted,
by the feet of the wide-eyed;
Pilgrims blew a farewell to the Mayflower.
Their minds were immature to reality.
Survival was a game,
but not played unaccompanied.

It took not a great mind,
no,
but the acceptance of another.
The knowledge to see the greater,
the talent,
in one of a counter race.
Neither built a feast,
off of hatred,
false convictions,
or flesh coloring.
For,
it was built from something grander..

Unity.

Turn the clocks.
Let them tick away.
Where are we now?
We brawl..
over the superior race.
We debate on who,
constitutes to the degree,
of having a worth to life.
Our streets are sprawled with blood,
some of those who preach the protection,
of the violence that is destroying us.

If we,
were to be the pilgrims,
1620,
would we hold hands with whom we did not know?
Or would we choose to perish,
only for that,
the hand reaching out,
is unfamiliar in shade?

We suffer,
because we refuse to see.
We fail to give the hand,
to those we have grown to seem unfamiliar.
Our mindset refuses,
to except a difference.
Thus,
we are allowing ours streets to be stained red,
We suffer,
because we do not help ourselves grow as one.

Unity.

I walked out of the river
The place where I was born
yet my roots remain detached, unbind
Looked up to the nigh's sky
watched the stars burn and thought of their end.

I ran into the forest
The place where I'm confound
my swing torn from branches,sawed off
Looked up to the morn's sky
observed the sun and feared it's distance nearing.

Milk bottle naked, I followed my destined path
the alien world full of new tech and standards
must keep up appearances, have to fit in
I have to fit in
I HAVE to fit in.
I must keep up appearances
I need a phone, I need a profile
I need those grades
I need to get into university
I need a job, a career!

Breathe.

If you read this, please. Read this!
Do something, change.
You must change.


I run to the river
My heaven, oh, home
The roots tied my feet to it's bed, trapped
Looked up to the outside
felt the rush drag me down.

Its quite a funny thing
My darling asked last night
She asked why the sky was pink
In the summers warm sky
I told her that little birds flew up
and painted it that way for all
But she giggled and said to me
Theres no air, they would fall!
When I was a young girl
I asked why the sky was blue
and when told it was painted that way
I took those words as pure truth
But my darling I am proud
that you question what is said
that will help you will be aware of those
Whose lies to you are fed

Moonlight
crawling out of
the sea,

we are
no longer
inseperable.

One
now two
torn,

forlorn
yet half my heart
yearns for you.

The other part rebels.

There is
no unfeeling
your touch,

no way
to unhear
your voice.

You are an echo,
unforgettable,
part of me.

Your parting gift
was an exit wound,
a way back in

through the time machine,
reflected moments,
good memories.

In a way
I guess you'll always be
a stubborn itch beneath my skin.

A whisper lost to ear
that travels often to heart
persuading me to love you,

or keep fighting like hell to let you go.

Decision's tree,
to be falling branches
or growing roots;

thrive or decay.

To hold on
or to let go of you,
both seem impossible

to choose and to do.

In the water
in the ocean
and in the sea
the litter that
subsists
eventually
knits together
far
in the corner
away
from the body
And while it surfaces
within the water
in the ocean
and in the sea
Litter never
rides with waves
for in our
rightful states
we ever
bind

As the dust settles
as the shaking stops
as the roaring quits
as the buildings fall

Small people clench their
fists inhuman rage
for where the bombs have landed
the earth has built a cage

Like snow it coats their faces
like ash it stains their cheeks
it won't be seconds or minutes
or days or months or weeks

They won't forget the pain
they won't forget the fear
they won't forgive you now
because you never hear

Their cries for resolution
their hope that's now forlorn
their pleading for a new day
instead are left to mourn

In silence that is building
an ever growing storm
taking from them the summer
those golden days of warm

You've left me high and dry alone
in misery and doubt
it was you who threw the bomb my dear
you deal with the fallout