when i was young
i was told that there would come a day
when i would understand

when i would understand
what it meant to love someone more dearly than myself
what it meant to love

i thought i knew
because i saw a few movies and i had my family
i thought i knew everything

but i was a child
and as i grew i learned that i knew few things
other than being a child

it wasn't 'til i saw her
that i started to understand what they had told me
that i started to understand

gradual glances and smiles
conversations about nothing for no reason from nowhere
seeing through eyes not to them

touching hands
touching hands and being happy with existence
taking solace in each others arms

joining lips and thoughts
joining smiles and knowing that the world is imperfect
knowing that we are perfect

you're just a child
but there will come a day when you understand
what it means to love

obsidian black-rock soul
lackluster and cold
loosing shards over backyards
failing to heed mother's plea
"keep to yourself, the children are here"
maybe tomorrow i'll borrow compassion
and fashion a rope out of all i can ration
to hold together 'til calmer weather comes
sneaking from behind the peaks and treetops
and leaves me the **** alone
as if
forget the children
they'll know soon enough the taste of hate
and the twinge of pain that precedes disdain
if only i could care
if only i could share a prayer
if only i could waive despair
anymore

I cast out the line, a frog this time
One hook is risky, but that's all it has underneath
Reeling in, turn by turn
Make the rubber legs dance like flesh, in case they know the difference
One, two, three, four, five, six, splash, pull
Almost lose it, hold on tight
Reel, slack, reel, slack, don't break the line
He's heavy
Tire him out
He's heavy
Get him in, pull the line, into the net we go
Black, green, white, wide eyes, large mouth, spines triumphant
Even in defeat
Stomach grumbles, thanks for dinner but...
Beauty
Brawn
Flaunting your will to live against my hands
Remove hook, throw back
Hungry
Proud

Who is to say what a poem may be, a poem is free,
Tearing itself from your box, finding where it needs to be on this day or that,
Finding the eyes that are looking, seeking, scouring for an answer.
It is the answer to the question it presents by existing, what am I?
I am here.
A poem is a matter of life and death, inconsequential as a speck on the ground,
Raising and destroying worlds, empires, men, thoughts,
Ideas.
A poem is the reason to wake, the reason to stay, the reason to feel, the reason to
Love.
It is...
Everything.

Please just tell me once again
Whisper softly in my ear
Fill my head with pretty lies
So I forget that death draws near
Give the demons angel's masks
Make this a joyful masquerade
Drink and dance and laugh and sing
'Til violently Hell's toll is paid
When the boney knife is drawn
And halos start to fall away
Close my eyes with heavy hands
Remind me of a brighter day

hanging gardens

roots cling to my heart

hanging for you

fibers touch, but noone's there
another dream, another stare
the ceiling moves as tv screens
and eardrums ring with tamborines

silently i lie and wait
sleep, come take me to my mate
but only shadows on the walls
and eerie echoes through the halls

darkness now envelopes me
at last! the face i long to see!
and i am taken off to her
but sandman you unwelcome curr

fibers touch, but noone's there
another dream, another stare
the ceiling moves as tv screens
and eardrums ring with tamborines