This is for you-
                 beautiful,
                 understanding,
                 kind of heart,
                 quick witted ,
Where are you?
    this beating drum has been drumming since,
           hair first grew
                                  in place i did not knew hair could grow,
or are your eyes only for
     him; who hides behind a six foot tall juiced frame
                                big blues
                                      and spaghetti like blonde hair
I've been waiting for you to observe what you see,
because heaven and hell knows you see
           but are incapable of observing

oh dear you, don't cry
even though he left you
                beaten, and damaged
                broken, and shattered
                lost, and bewildered
i will hold you, catch you
    even,
            when you fall
i will seize it all,
from the bruises,
                scars,
                and contorted memories
i will hold you
          and,mold you
to your **former glory

My biggest fear is that I am too late,
afraid what my actions would cost,
scared of leaving anything to fate,
I have so much on my plate,

My worst nightmare is that i won't make it
Simply because i am my biggest critic,
with every night that comes i repeatedly tell myself,
          Don't quit, don't quit,
As I hide behind the words I create,
I have so much on my plate

Who knows what father time has in store
I know for a fact I don't want to stay still
but rather explore,
Find the most exciting thrill
From the most highest mountain,
to the lowest valley,
Every nook and cranny,
to the dirtiest alley,
Hell, I would have love to meet John and Annie,
Who met when they were kids
and died together at the age of ninety

It would be great if we all knew our fate
Truth be told, we all have so much on our plate

I know of no other catharsis
other than this...poetry
it's my escape from the world
I have a million words to say
even the most repetitive never gets old

I breath in words
and, breathe out an image
I take in pain
and create a colorful painting

Oh poetry, take my experience
and, create  life with purpose
an entity with existence

Seriously, what's wrong with you?

What happened to the man who did not let words phase him

Or be brought down by an insignificant slur?

The man who bottled everything

and wrapped that bottle with the toughest steel.

The man who saw the light at the end of every tunnel,

Who smiled at everyone he meets,

Who saw the best in every single person,

Who believed in chivalry and love at first sight

Is he still there?

Did that bottle break?

Or is not dating a woman killing you?

Do you miss her touch?

Do the words of people who don't know you get in you skin?

Why don't you listen to the ones that care?

Stand up,

Speak up,

And believe,

Those are the words you once stood for ever so vehemently  

Open your eyes and gaze at all these questions

It's about time you answered them.

This is for the soul searchers
This is for the song writer who feels like who he is doesn’t fill the space

of who he was meant to be. This is for the depressed cigarette smoking chain smokers.
This is for the poet who writes a thousand lines and keeps them all to
herself, because nobody else deserves to hear them.
This is to fight the starless sky of every midnight wanderer who looks up
wondering, cause if there were more like you the night time streets wouldn’t be so empty.
This is for the traveler who never got a chance and lies below a rock with
his name.
I don’t even know if I’m old enough to say it, but it’s for the generations
of baby boomers of old women and men whose ideas and values are shushed by an obnoxious generation.
This is for the wedding planners whose weddings never seem to come.
This is for the beautiful girls that somebody told otherwise.
This is for the 15 year old gang member who can’t leave.
This is for the second place finishers and the C students.
This is for the guitar strings never threaded and the scripts never
written and the thrill voices that never cried hallelujah because they didn’t believe they could.
This is for the incapable,
Because you and me both are incapable.
This is so you can look at me differently like I was an amputee.
And what I’ve had cut away was my expectations.
I was supposed to be huge—
I was supposed to be the first rose ever planted in the desert—
I was supposed to be the first paint on the ceiling in the Sistine chapel—
I was supposed to be either Axel Rose or Frodo Baggins, and whether
you’re cool or not you understand that line.
I was supposed to be the first pope with a full body tattoo—
I was supposed to be Neil Armstrong—
I was supposed to be the first life on another planet—
I was supposed to be bleeding iron and nails—
If you saw me as I was supposed to be the contrast between me and the
rest of the world would be unbearable, but I’m incapable.
‘Cause nobody ever pushed me,
Nobody ever pushed me,
Nobody ever pushed me and said:
Be something bigger,
Be something bigger,
Be something!

Nobody ever told me I had the power to leave a hole when I withdraw
my hand from water or move a crowd with mere words or play notes on a piano like bullets to your eardrums.
And in all of this, I wonder if the big things know how important they
are, because I’m a mustard seed and nobody expects me to move a mountain,
Or even cover its slopes in yellow.
But I still feel vastly important, so what then?
So this is my push, my push that you may never get from another person, ever. So, listen carefully:

I EXPECT A LOT OUT OF YOU.

Don’t be discouraged when you can’t cross one line, ‘cause you’ll pass a
hundred others learning you can’t go over one.
This is a dare: go to your fridge and get out all your eggs and put them in
one basket and tell me if you’re still incapable.
And if you are, go back to your fridge and get all your egg based
products, ‘cause you missed them, you missed them and you need them and the neighbors not lending any ingredients.
And when you get there, wherever it is that I pushed you to, don’t worry
about telling me—
Cause I
Will notice
And most of all remember that if you’ve been pushed, if you’ve really
been pushed, you’ll be dearly missed when you’re gone.

                                                         -Marty Schoenleber III

She owns the brightest smile
that could light the streets for miles
She has the bravery to tame the wildest beast
yet, she see's non of these

Once upon a time--not so long ago
she decided that luxury is what she would forgo
so her dreams would not fall,
Her creations could be describe with anything, but banal
What a hardy choice she made  
in a crooked world with no aide

She has the strength of ten men
like finest steel she would be hard to bend
like the toughest riddle i could never solve her
on these facts there is no err

It's rare that anyone would catch the impossible girl,
she appears only to those cut from the same burl
Impossible as it seems,
I will catch her--and not only in my dreams

This journey started with a morning pancake
and your special coffee with chocolate
that all tasted so real as if i was awake

Five years we sat on a table,
with you across from me,
and I across from you,
we spent years building something true

Come rain, sleet, or snow
no matter which road I take,
You were always the way to go

As I held your hand,
And You held mine,
We walked through every weather
and still your hand would be engulfed around mine

Just as the sun rises in the morning
   you have always had my heart,
   And just as the sun sets in the evening
   you took what we built
   and tore it apart.

You were all that I had
and all that I ever hoped for,
Now I'm laying here
on this cold October floor.

In a man who dreams,
is a kid
whose ideas reigns supreme  

Oh how lucky is a man who dreams,
His head full of amazing schemes
twisting,
        and turning,
              never ending,
Everyday is lived with a new theme,

Oh how lucky is a man who dreams
for in him a child survives,
despite a tragic life
In spite of needles and knives
He ducked and dodged,
to carry in him,
the greatest regime
Oh how lucky is a man who dreams!

As I lay in the cold New York night
shivering, in hate
fist clenched, in anger
kicked off my thrown
Forever left to wallow alone

Those who watched as i fell
were overjoyed,
Curse those who filled my heart
with a flaming void!

No one stole time
to understand,
Their draconian words
I could not withstand,
    specially
those whom, since grasped my first air
poised by me,
those who lessoned me to be fair
    tossed me deeper into the void,
like i was left locked out
and no one handed me the key

It's amazing what one person can do
they could come in and leave a mark
as big as the the sun,
And at a moments notice
they leave you completely undone

And when they return
it's immensely magical
that a second chance is given,
when all along you were a fool
for thinking love has risen,
and it strikes you like lightning
that everything is just so cruel

Whatever happened to following your dreams?
Performing magic for sheer entertainment,
Or making it to the big league and playing for your team

At what point did it all come crashing down?
when did you say "***** my dreams"
just because it was a profession that seems to be run-down

I once dreamed of performing as a wrestler in the squared circle,
then i realized that in life it isn't a straight narrow road
a plethora of ups and downs, and gigantic sacrifices here and there

Now I am only a quarter of my dream
holding on to it, hoping that the actual things did not matter
everyday I'm afraid of falling off, like I'm walking on a beam

In the not so distant future--what happened?
Will turn into It Happened!
And when it does you will see it actually happen.