Cosmic created verse,
A paradox of inversion and introspection,
I am I am...
Less elastic time separating from space,
Snapping back like a rubber-band,
Releasing the ether to expand,
Without keen observation,
All happening at once,
Entanglements preserved,
Lightning strikes not once,
Myriads cluster into singularity,
Birthing God again,
In minds of Hadrons measurements,
Collectors dis-uniting matter,
And matters of self,
Empty is the chamber,
That records such things.

"We'll meet again. In another time. Another place."*

Her hair blew gently as the wind picked up just slightly. The setting Sun peaked out shyly through each and every strand of hair. She tilted her head to the ground. An inkling of a smile turned up on the right dude of her lips. A sort of butchering of Mona Lisa's own. It was an even sadder version of that look. One that told me *"I don't know exactly why, but we have to be apart."

The gentle pulse of a wave hits my feet as I stare out to sea.
The gray horizon is empty of ships or life.
As I sit there I wonder why my dreams keep taking me here.
I feel lonely, yet I accept it.
There is a certain peace here that my loneliness in reality lacks.
I don't think of you, just that I have no one.

I want to move.
To walk along the shore, or go into the warm water,
But I remain where I stand,
Allowing the waves to gently beat their heartbeat rhythm at my feet.
But it's then that I realize I'm not alone.
The ocean is my wordless companion, like a hand on my shoulder,
Telling me that I am strong enough, good enough,
I am enough.

I peeled back the mask and gazed into
the endless portals that made up my eyes
Dipping fingers into the pools of water
cheek bones
piano keys
teeth
self-discovery
The water rolls down my fingers
but I can’t seem to get it off my skin
It clings to me and stings
This water is holy and I am paper thin
A demon lies within
I whisper to myself
A reminder to hold myself at night
but not too tight
do not wake my sin
Crack me open
But gently
I will spill
A pool of galaxies
Infinity
And everything that makes up each and every one of you
Something deeper
Something beautiful

Tonight, might
Just be the right night
To write

It depends on multiple factors:

What time is it – not too late not too early
Happy medium
How much I have drank – not too little not too much
When & Where it happened
Not too much early in the night and not too little later on
And what type of mood I am in
A medium happy mood works best

I have a memoir, seven unfinished poems
And so many wonderful women and moments
And an empty bed
And enough words that hold the potential
To fill the space

To retrace the lines
That draw the past night and week
And to undo and unload this mind
Accomplishing what I set out to seek
Creatively confused by rhymes
And those that I wish to speak

I am comfortable in knowing
Putting thought to keyboard
Will not fail me this evening
Putting cigar to lips
Searching for a lighter
This is a true story
And would mean more
If I said thought to typewriter

Why is this a good night to write?
Simple, I remembered a few things
From the walk home, before
Forgetting the rhyme schemes
Elaborating on a few ideas in my head
Before falling to sleep
Under the covers in my bed

Undercover my best work goes
Dancing naked in the street
To close for comfort
As I close in
on coming close to my dreams
Because sleep and accomplishment
Are two different things

This girl
With more formal
creative writing
Experience
and
Education
gave me a few lessons tonight

One, don’t be so self indulgent
So this poem is already a joke

Two, don’t be too abstract
Well, Moon and the Stars to that!

Three, simplicity is always key
Well – this should be easy