I saw the old man circling the tree trunk
Weather beaten skin, bent gnarled hands
and piercing blue eyes

He seemed to study every knot and crack
in that ancient timber

Then without a word turned and picked up hammer and chisel

The wood chips then began to fly and like confetti on the ground lie soon in heaps some ankle high

Occasionally he would stand back and look but never once a rest he took

Mallet strokes both hard and soft some from under some aloft fell there with unerring skill always busy never still

Long into the night he worked now by the light of an oil lamp and so the tree stump 'neath his hand then became a work of art

At long last he stood and turned to me and said three words " that'll do lad"

I approached to see just what he'd done and there I saw the perfect rose every petal and leaf in place the slender stems in the breeze did sway

With no plan or picture he had made the start
And created the perfect work of art.


So what is creativity? Well that's your next challenge.

No love poems because they've been done a million times. This time something unique

Some people only open the door
to slam it harder.

Everyday I think of him,
Wishing we were together again.
I don't know why I want him back.
When all I want to do is hate him but I can't.

He put me through hell and pain with
al the drinking and partying he did.
I was very mislead.

He said " I love you and I'd do anything for you."
It was just a lie he wanted me to believe.
I knew this could never be real.

I knew I was in love with him.
There was a point where all we could do was fight.
That was the time I ****** up my life.

I felt ashamed.
I felt it was mine to blame.
All I could do was cry in pain.
I want to hate him but I just can't.

10 months of us being together.
I knew there was no turning back.
Everything was to its end.

Soon after that,
I was hurt pretty bad.
I was extremely mad.
I couldn't believe he had cheated on me.

I cried and I cried.
I was to the point I wish I had died.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I don't wish he was dead.
When the truth comes out.
I was completely mislead.
I was in love with this man.
No matter how much pain I was actually in.

Why can't I just hate him?

The Anger within me is boiling
The situation seems out of control
The fight or flight responses
Is as primal as it can be.
The amygdala, kicks in
And takes over for me.

But why blame it on primal
Cause religion teaches another
Created by the Father
Born of free will are we.
The choice of being noble
Or primal is in my capacity

So I decide to test my confusion
And see who lives inside of me
A person of free will or 
A carnal nature of me.

So when I encounter situations
Which would otherwise anger me
I'd like to bellow in rage
I'd like to make believe
Here my animal is taking over
I can feel his grip over me
The struggle within me is stronger
The ground I'm loosing steadily

I laugh! Where are you free will?
See whose got me now in his grip
And then in the flash of the moment
I see the irony!

Suddenly as if the scene's changed
The reactor becomes the actor
Letting go of a long sigh
The drama comes to a halt.
For in that moment, free will kicked in
My freedom I realized

Yes we are carnal beings
And it's not surprising
Because animals behave just as we
But we are armed with an arsenal
To be infinitesimally good
To be heavenly

If only we listen to our inner wealth
Telling us to above all rise
When we give vent to our free will.
It's that moment to decide.

Anger is worst of the lot of monsters
But alone he's usually not.
He has a lot of companions
His minions are all about.

This matter is not simple
Don't get bogged down in psychiatry
Practice makes one perfect
Tackle your fears and threats
Handle each one steadily
Before long you'll know the signs
Arm yourself with humility
His minions will try wreak havoc
And wound your ability

So stop the amygdala from taking over
Ask yourself is it worth?
What is the worse that could happen
if things didn't go your way.
The answer will be astonishing
When you've discovered your treasure
You'll find the demon's flown
What a relief it will be
You'll feel blessed abundantly

We went and got lost in the woods,
Didn't we?

Laughing through it all, as we do.
You're beautiful picking blueberries

Like some Eve of Eden,
Not the least bit worried that

We'll lose daylight before finding
Our way,

And cute as Hell when asking if your
Tongue is blue; sticking it out

With your eyes closed.
I brush pieces of forest from your

Shoulder. Somewhere out there
A leaf still smells of you,

The way my hands do now.
I can't stop putting them over

My nose and mouth; agreeing
With the memory of you stating

That we're the most juvenile
35-year-olds we've ever seen.

Lost?
We never were.

Even my doctor says I seem
Ten years younger

Than I did only
Weeks ago.

She is my my drug.
She is my liquid courage,
And my ******.
Someone as bad for my soul as
A blade is for my skin
And yet her
And all these things are addictive
Took me captive
But I don't want to be set free.
Yet I have...

In youth, to myself I thought,
'Is true love bound in some far away place?'
I flew off— picturing dreams to be had.
Ah, so much in books and on film I saw
And so I settled my gaze
Westward to love.

And I met a girl who knew,
Trades of skin which came and quickly fell,
Of longings true it was not to be had.
Ah, so much in books and on film I saw,
So I left her one glad day,
For we did not love.

Then came my only, true one,
The coolest rains held in longest summer,
But soon even bliss in a shower ends
And words to eyes but stories, whims.
Ah, so many pictures I made
In a camera without film.