there lives a loveliness deep down in all things they sing
and they sing of the freedom of beauty that is in all things
and all things give out their all unto all that could ever be
or wished imagined made- up fanciful and living is the secret
at the bottom of all alchemy scheming and pondering the loveliness
surrounding impressed crowning and surpassing all things

hands reach out across the dividing centuries
generations offer their love and good wishes
willing on the living to be all they can be and
more to stride out into the unknown fearless

life is like playing basket ball.
when you don't always make a successful shot,
you move on till the game is over and try your luck
and have hope till the end.
for when you quit the game, you don't only lose,
but you become a looser yourself.
never give up!

i am in love with all my brothers and sisters:
when i am empty.
They all sing for me.

Teenagers write poems about sadness
And I diagnose
Drain false narcissistic depth
I choose to diagnose
Girls that moan about darkness
I can try emphasize
At a therapeutic distance
Walls rather a leather settee
Cry me your conjured problems
The attention that you desperately need
Hug into my
False intellectual façade


You want your name in lights
Rose-colored perception
Of a overused typecast
Your sadness poetic and bottomless
Caught in the flight
Spotlight
That you cannot bear
Insipid perpetuity
Whining and moaning and whining
Life in hard and it is not fair
I’ve seen it all before


But should I sit
Put myself high on a pedestal
Satisfied with my own scholarly ruse
What I lack in qualifications
I make up in apathy
You wear a different coat
You messy attention grabbing
Poetically distraught
Attracted to the next sparkly thing
That will make you more interesting
You magpie, you lemming, you
I will hold your hand if you hold mine

Lucid dreams of what could have been; another world or time, the difference staggeringly saddening. The time to find the means to an end goes too fast to comprehend it all as it comes. It floods the brain, the mind and heart. Overwhelming circumstance: motivation lost. Exacerbation kills creativity altogether; and the cycle repeats. I’m lost.