poetry
it is the way the pen taps at an anxious hand
waiting for the words to catch up to emotions
your head unscrewed at the top
your thoughts dribbling down your cheeks
in droplets onto paper

ink flows with ease
when flowers blossom in your mind
reaching their way through your chest
or
when your heart is clenched so tightly
to keep from shattering

i sit here empty
sunken eyes
cracked fingers trace paper
and i am uncomfortably numb

evil has looked back at me
razors down my back
i’ve felt the sun on my mind
a heart of healed cracks

i cursed the past
tried something new
and i managed somehow to live
without holding you

tonight simply i’m nothing
blank as the page before me
i hope that soon
the universe hands me
a bouquet of life
a handful of seeds
that i can plant as new thoughts

i need something

Lifeless inside of me,
the light peeks, spring up
Do not hold despair on
finding little mud in island of gold
Hear the echoes you inscribed
from the top of the hill
,you named success

Life up.
Taste the mud sometimes
In mud get nourished new seeds
Say hello to your friends
Do not be surpriser if they
offer you their clean handkerchief
they are friends, that explains

Run with denial for things that
do not belong to you
Run with spirits from place where
you don't belong
you are born to live and
show how its lived!
Life up!

HUNTINGTON sleeps in a house six feet long.
Huntington dreams of railroads he built and owned.
Huntington dreams of ten thousand men saying: Yes, sir.

Blithery sleeps in a house six feet long.
Blithery dreams of rails and ties he laid.
Blithery dreams of saying to Huntington: Yes, sir.

Huntington,
Blithery, sleep in houses six feet long.