Where bullets and bombs end,
—the Poet begins

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

I am a dreamer and the dream,
ECHOING inside a precious heart.
I vibrate to celebrate the moment
as drifting below satin clouds.

I am the dreamer and the dream
MADE from intentions in thoughts.
I dance merging with the wind,
breathing deep inside gratitude.

I am the dreamer and the dream
FLYING inside aspirations free.
I travel to fields of endless possibles
connecting to all inside oneness,
inside the universe.

Do not detain my whimsy, do not deny my thoughts their flying rampages on the wings of dandelion fluff long past its' prime.
Do the roiling waters stop for rocks in their path?
No. They brush over them.
Yet my feelings grow rockier and rockier yet and brushing over them has proven hard....and futile.

vehement
blood up
controlled

righteous anger
has its place

You said you loved me.
But I took that mask off a long time ago.

all these streams of consciousness
weave and intertwine

meet in a place called mind
shared experiences

unique souls
making sense of it all
(failing often)

Im a loner
Thinking about the bigger picture
Knowing i am a backround pixel,
High definition of my sorrow
Displayed in the domain
Of the public eyes
For all to see me on my naked
Cross and filter the words of my
Pains
Written on a bed of life,
A whisper in the echoes,
I word written for me
Since my life is unspoken