Unseasonal* harvest priced too high
Just the right time to tell her a lie
Not one in the market not even a seed
What she wanted I thought for her own need!

But plump and large they were on show
Their vigor luring me calling me their glow
Fresh from the soil glistening green and cute
Jeered me mockingly the unseasonal fruit!

What anguish breeds the unseasonal fruit
Its pompous arrogance uncivilly brute
You dream of its savor yearn for a slice
Wish could bargain its unreachable price!

It argues with you it’s only the poor’s reason
They don’t taste as good as they do in the season
The excuse for not having them when the price is high
Reason enough to move away in failure’s depressed sigh!

It’s not the right time of year in the market is not even a seed
Come season you would have them plentier than your need
I told her to see the radiance come back onto her face
As she found not in my carry bag her requisitioned fruit’s trace!

It’s not for me I want them the birds they love the seed
Oh dear after so many years my need you couldn’t read
Sorry dear* I hold her and as the clouds leave her face

See there the fruit and seed of her love **seasonless!

love has turned to frustration
and little things have begun to collect
like plastic floating in the whirl-pooling currents of the ocean

a small raft built to protect myself
to stay afloat
after treading, nearly drowning in the swirling masses
keeping my nose to the air
to breathe our oxygen

searching for ways to recycle a synthetic past into raw, earthy tones
dreaming of ways to live gently
and soothe a conscience full of unknown, hidden foes

one moments glance at the jungle of hardened polymers shining in the crusted sunlight -
i begin to realize they are not garbage, but gold

to be re-shapeable, to be reusable; is this not better than gold?
to keep firm and true to ones self, while being agile and accommodating, is this not worth much more?

to have a 75 year half-life;
slow, deteriorating, dissolving decomposition.

or to be re-formed. replenished.

you can recycle the past.

One cold breeze flitters by,
Awake, a shiver rolls down.
Seeping through the ground,
Coated in many aspirers lie.

Abrupt to awaken an eye,
Gazing the half clearer image.
Soon greeted in holy light,
Fixated, gasp a lonelier sigh.

A shadow sweeps by up high,
Quickly to restore the blind.
Bones barely intact inside,
Reaching up seeking a sign.

A shrivelled tongue I do try,
Forcing out the air for words.
Eyes swelled, an anxious look,
Patience left to care the tide.

The blue air reflecting from the water,
Soon I arise to realise where I’d laid.
The minute grains, digging deeper,
Penetrating through my rough skin.

A slight wash for the ends of my toes,
Clearing the dirt further up my feet.
Soon my whole legs were glistening,
Shining like the pearls deep beneath.

With my head levelled I start to recall,
Visions for which I felt most alone.
I search my pocket to reveal a clue,
That night I spent burning in waste.

Shaking in disbelief, falsely accused,
The bluntness of my saviour’s truth.
The sea I think to dispose this guilt,
An addict never deserves his mercy.

Mom makes you smile for a picture in front of the bus
on your very first day of school,
"You only have one first day of kindergarten!" she says.
But every time you hear the scratching of leather seats,
You are back to that day
When tears rolled off your tiny pink cheeks,
onto the front of your Lion King tee shirt
The first time you ever had to be afraid that you
would never see her again.

Brother tells you not to worry about the boy that bothered you,
the impact of a fist on his right eye is a warning
that guarantees he'll never disrespect a girl again.
But every time you step in the pebbles on a playground,
You're still struggling to run just slow enough not to slip
yet fast enough to keep from being caught and held captive
by the first boy to ever kiss you without permission.

Grandma tells you to "appreciate today" every day
because you'll never get it back.
But every time you hear the crash of waves against a shoreline,
You're there with her in your favorite place in the world.
And the sun is overhead with looks of never coming down,
But you'd be okay if it did because you swear these colors of
the sunset don't exist when you see it from anywhere else
And you never feel so close to God as you feel right here.

Dad is sad when you're growing up
because you'll only be little once.
But every time you get the surprising scent of metal and grease,
You're five years old again and dad is getting home from work
and he lifts you up in a hug and you bury your face in his shirt and breathe in,
And you're confident that he will carry you to bed later that night
on that same shoulder when you fall asleep on the couch.

You're told over and over to forgive
and your mother keeps trying, too.
But every time a green van passes by,
you're a vulnerable twelve-year-old with a record that says easy prey
and you're back at that police station and you're both still crying
and forgiveness still seems so far away.

Everyone tells you that "first love"
is something you only feel once.
But every time September rolls around,
You're still staring back into the first eyes to look at you in awe,
His palms feel sweaty in yours but you don't mind.
And you can still taste his lips and smell the sweet mint Stride on his breath
and you feel everything.

It’s strange how they promise that you can't turn back time,

yesterday is gone,

today will only happen once.

Because I go back all the time;
And I still feel everything.

It's sad that as we grow up the brightness in our eyes dims,
Our faith and hope gradually slim.

The stars disappear, they aren't as bright,
It all becomes opaque, the caliginous night.

Our voices get softer, our fear louder,
We prefer to be lonesome, oh we're such downers.

The last of our emotions drip out, the color in our skin drains out,
You don't hear not a sound out of us, though trust me, we want to scream and shout.

Our hearts expand but get quieter,
Filled with sorrow- heavy yet at the same time lighter.

We become so very lost,
We yearn for happiness, though we all know it'll cost.

Can't help but feel scared, paranoid,
We'll do anything to help fill the void.

We feel an emptiness in us- start missing nothing,
We want to learn how to trust, give us something..

It's sad that as we grow up the brightness in our eyes dims,
Our faith and hope gradually slim.

How does it feel to lose yourself,
To feel yourself oozing through your pores and pouring into a shell?

These restless nights are deviously common,
My eyes have gone dry, no more bawling.

I lay here and wonder how did I miss the dead end,
Why did I sprint so purposely with no message to send?

These days you feel ashamed of the right, proud of the wrong.
My thoughts race, there's no time to process them,
I don't think they belong..

I swear I try my hardest to make you all proud,
I gave up, it's hard when you feel all alone in a crowd.

These people don't deserve me, you, us.
You and I confide in them and they ruin our non-resilient trust.

When you're alone, who's there to disappointment and vice versa?
Who's there to make you feel small and destroy ya?

I will spread my opinions like a plague,
which is exactly how they'll paint them.
By "them" I mean the proverbial "they."
The ones who will color me as paranoid and insane.

They'll say not to listen;
to disregard it all.
It's the nature of the games they play.
They push us to the edge,
Then publicize the fall.

Do not watch the news.
Ignore all commercials.
Pursue beauty and truth;
embrace the controversial.

"Any book worth banning is a book worth reading,"
so read them all with zest.
If you get the feeling that I'm preaching,
remember,
only you know what is best.