I want to create art for the rest of my life but I don’t want to paint flowers I don’t want to draw ocean waves I don’t want to photograph the sunset

I want the art of the oppressed and the needy and the weak and the tiresome, I want their words to break down walls and I want to be an outlet for better days, for the moments that create lifetimes and the stills that hang on walls in your robust mansions that are cleaned by the very people who live in the cities hanging as part of your decor, the cities of workers and lovers and people who depend on one another

I want screaming and crying and the capture of a second of time that will not be erased by your mahogany dinner dates where you talk about the politics of war from the perspective of someone who has never fought a day in their life in the war that a going on right here and right now

I want change and I want to write a piece that years down the road high schoolers annotate like the way I annotated Martin Luther King’s Letter from Birmingham Jail and I want it to ring in those high schooler’s minds until they realize what it is that is bothering them,

what is bothering them is the need for action the need for expression the need for art that is not currently in existence but is instead hanging in an uncomfortable state like an elephant in the room but guess what,

that elephant has a bigger heart than you and guess what,

good things come to those who wait and better days come to those who pray like a little boy who was robbed of his innocence when he saw a shooting in the light of day but was still given a warm meal and a place to stay

bitter cold and bitter winds flow through the blocks of city streets like snakes weaving with a hissing in their teeth but we are the magicians

we are the ones with the power to create something from nothing and you’ll never know what hit you, you’ll spend your whole life trying to figure out our trick because you are not on the inside

you don’t know the method behind the madness, and for the first time

you will be the one in the dark.

don’t bite off more than you can chew,
don’t dance with the devil or tango with time,
love without reason like the pretty girl and her dime
ashes to dust, dust to ashes
when did all this burning happen
when did angels lose wings and spring turn to copper
spring is renewal when your wet hair doesn’t freeze into sharp icicles,
your fingers don’t constantly feel like they have frostbite,
and spring melts hearts with the melting snow that
sometimes is a shame to see go and spring is green with envy of the white snow’s purity yet loves the flowers with such unprecedented maturity
dry wood to flames, flames turn stale
how to keep calm when anger prevails scream how are you doing to branches on trees, its nice to meet you to the sun and the breeze
yell goodbye to the boys of the cold,
buried in snow under rooftops of gold.

The more we view ourselves through lenses the more we see others as skewed and bent

A heart made of stone will crack and crumble when it tries to beat so let the drummer keep drumming and bring the sinners off the streets 

He loves us even when we think one bump will implode us to dust because He sees dust as stars with the potential to be infinite

And He loves us even when our blind eyes judge another for not seeing a problem within a New York minute

We all have winters but warmth makes them a little better so pour thy neighbor a mug of hot chocolate

And call thy a friend

And those stones near our lungs will begin to soften and beat to the sound of a wall falling down 

And the skies will rejoice in one small unity

The bells will ring and the wings will create a wind strong enough to knock down walls even taller 

Even sturdier even thicker

And we will take His love and love others with the fire of the sun

And this winter will burn bright

And the snow will cheer with its soft millions of claps

And the earth will be as one

I am water.

I can carry you and your burdens the size of ships on my shoulders

And you will never sink.

People always talk about how crazy it is,

That the invincible ship can float on something as feathery as ocean waves.

No one ever mentions the strength of the sea.

Isn’t it odd how I can carry you thousands of miles,

But when you try to return the favor I simply slip through your fingers?

I am the tears on your face that you never let anyone see

I am the rain that sets the mood for another dreary day

I can be solid as a rock when you’re not around

But the second your sunshine hits me I evaporate into nothing.

No one considers how hard it hurts the raindrop to hit the ground

after free falling thousands of feet.

They simply notice the inconvenience of a wet road

On their selfish journey to get where they need to be.

And no one considers the pain of the river

That it runs and runs and runs to escape from nowhere

And to go nowhere.

What you don’t understand

Is that water is the single thing that you need to stay alive.

You need me.

But I don’t need another sinking ship.

I’m not a ballerina, it’s all a misdemeanor.
Moderacy is my enemy.
My fingers have replaced my spine so my back cracks a lot more often and now you have the power to bend me over backwards. But please don’t.
When my nails press into my palms they look like little crescent moons surrounded by veins of ropes miles long that let me hold you like a balloon.
When the heat kicks on it gets colder,
The enemy is not just a rock, it’s a boulder.
Man, I wish I was as bold.
Criminals wear gloves to cover their tracks but my fingers have left trains on everything they have touched.
I’m running away from the gunman behind me,
So trust me,
I know what it’s like to sweat bullets.
Don’t be fooled by the snow on my eyelids,
Each time I blink every flake commits suicide.
I was honest until you came along.

After the flash a smile cracks.
I have a bet that all astronauts are atheists
But maybe I’ll lose when I walk on the moon.
I cut my mouth wrapping aluminum foil on my tongue
Trying to reflect the light back on you that you send towards me.
It made my teeth look whiter.
After 17 years I’m still not in the swing of things
But that’s okay,
Swings don’t go anywhere anyways without someone pushing them.
Chaos dreaming chaos screaming
Let’s go to the ice cream shop.
I have this awful sense of psychotic importance that is going to ignite the lighthouse
In flames
And maybe it will be more beautiful than all those petty sunsets.
I’ve thought about it every day.
Graffiti on the walls six states away and an onion ring halo wrapped around your head.
Even tigers sleep sometimes.

Teddy Roosevelt was shot under his heart

Yet he told the crowd mobbing the shooter

To stand back, do not hurt the man

And I like to think that’s what I’m going to do for you

When you shoot an arrow through my chest.

There is ice frozen on my windshield

And every time I play a CD in the cold it skips

Like the tone of your voice

And I wonder what those friends are doing

But then I remember that I don’t really care

Because compassion doesn’t mix well with alcohol

And if I have to sit in another bathroom with pale yellow tiles I think my head will crack

Just like the porcelain seat you slammed your head against

And I’ll fall short of sympathy.

We’ll never find our glory in stained carpets and shaking hands.

I think I’ve started to get wishbones and backbones confused

Because my wishes are buried in the crevices of your spine and now

I hold on to both ends of the wishbone to guarantee success

And maybe that’s why I’m only lucky half the time.

I’ve gotten repetitive repetitive repetitive

And I have gotten faulty with my words

And this is beginning to sound like a tragedy.