Not with a blade
Nor with blood on my hands
But with wisdom
And compassion
May I be tyranny’s end

With poetry and prose
With the ink and the rose
With an inkling to know
Just and unjust
Right from wrong
May I be tyranny’s end

With love
Not a bullet
No bombs to blow through it
No glass shattered or metal disfigured
This is what I figured
May a revolution of words
Be tyranny’s end

Give me one world at a time,
I am doing the best I can
but there are still so many things
that I will never understand
and all I have is myself
yet I don't know who I am,
I'm still trying to accept the fact
that I am only human.

I'
M
Cut
Deep
And it's
Killing me
You didn't use
A knife just your
Words, but they hu
rt so much more th
an if you sliced my
Wrists up because
You've sliced my he
art into little shreds
And I'm not sure how
I'm going to put it ba
ck together this time,
but I know it will take
Awhile and through it
all I'll have to wear a pr
etty smile, like everyth
ing's ok, but we both kn
ow it's not, I'm.not at all,
but that's the price I pay
**Maybe next
Time you co
uld literally
slice my heart
from my chest
and slowly wa
tch  eme bleed
out and die, cau
se that would not
Hurt as much as
This feeling I
Have right now
But the idea of
Being without
You in any way
Hurts so much
Maybe I'll just
Use this knife
To cut away at
My own pain

it's harder, now, to let the thoughts flow
now that i've learned to let the bad parts go
and where the pen meets the page,
it seems that i've finally broken out of the cage
that held me hostage for so long,
another day, another song.

the ocean doesn't call out to me anymore,
to take me away to the void
and maybe I've become this sorry *****,
but almost all those demons, i have destroyed
they lingered in my core
waiting to take over

And they did, for the time being
a past so infinitely profound,
i feel like a blind man, for the first time, truly seeing
all the light around
i am lonely but i am whole,
no longer an empty shell, no longer sorry and cold

no apologies for the people i let down,
because they never would stick around
even after they visit me in a hospital room,
after my impenetrable doom.
the sadness was so engulfing,
and the wounds would not stop pulsing
to remind me of all the souls lying
in the ground, in urns
they were all trying
but can never return
they are angels now
they are found in the clouds,
the sea, the trees
they are living on in you and me.

we all fight different battles,
but in the end we bleed the same.
i remember the love i found back in seattle,
and i'll never forget his name.

First one, should have been the last
but now our love is left in the past
a future that holds a new reality
to keep you in the present, with complete totality.
my lips are cold
my heart is full
of longing for what once was,
but excitement for what will be.

no hurry, no rush,
the words will one day break free.

Can I ask you a question?
one of life,
or maybe living?
one that no one has answered
that is unforgiving--
why is poetry so ugly?
and deep?
and complex?

Why can't it be simple?
and happy?
about wildflowers
and running through them?
and stroking the mane of horses
who smile and dance?
when a pretty girl appears
with tulip scented perfume?
and a boy who's madly in love with her green eyes

can he pick her up by her waist and hold her close?
and whisper serendipity under her twisted brown locks
into her small, un-pierced ears?

no. he can't just be happy. he can't.
why?

because humans are a deep, suffering race
we are complex
no day can simply just be "good"
we won't allow it
rather,
we want to hear about the pain of others
death-sufffering-sorrow-sin-***
that is want we want to hear
and by doing so we create a life of our own suffering
death
sorrow
sin
***.

don't ask why we suffer
we want it
and we want others to, as well
but in our destruction
we find comfort
and manage to live another day
anew, fresh with hope for what is to come
we still manage to believe
that
the darkness of the moon will not consume
the sun's bright eyes