A moment in your arms is life alone
A life alone with you is heaven’s grace
You are the thread with which my heart is sewn
My eyes cannot resist your picture face

You color-code my planet’s black and white
This Technicolor dream is sure to last
And you and I are such a perfect sight
I can’t recall the future or the past

I am in love with you there is no doubt
If you were gone my heart would surely ache
For any bliss that I could dream about
I still can’t wait to see you when I wake

My heart will always skip a beat or two
‘Cause all I ever think about is you

If words mean nothing

Why do we waste so much breath

Telling critics so?

A silly and unlikely scenario… but if just a couple words were changed, would it still sound preposterous?*



From a very young age

I knew I was a little different from the other kids:



They all wrote with their right hands,

But I always felt compelled

To pick up that crayon

With my left hand.



But I was terrified that all the other kids

Would make fun of me for being different

And that my family

Would shut me out…



I later found out that there is a name for this

And that I was not alone:

I learned that I was “left-handed,”

And that this is true for roughly 10% of the world



I spent a lot of time building the courage

To come out about my

Preference.

Then one day I couldn’t bear to keep my secret any longer…



I told everyone that I was left-handed

And you know what?

My family said that they would love me

No matter what hand i wrote with.

Some of my friends thought it was a little weird

But for the most part, they were okay with it..

Some weren’t. But hey,

They weren’t my true friends anyway



It’s tough being a south paw

In a right-handed world

But I have faith

That one day

It will be fully accepted and normal

And that lefties will one day be able

To proudly show their true selves

Without being made to feel strange

The rise of humans

An astounding achievement

Or an utter fluke

Imagine a world



Where everyone has maybe ten,

Instead of seven hundred and twenty four, friends



A world where you would have to help your friend to apprehend

That that dude you were with at the mall on Tuesday is not your boyfriend



And it’s not a big deal, its just something you sometimes have to do

Because it wasn’t clearly stated on a page that tells the whole world about you



Where people don’t like, but they laugh at the jokes you do

And where you’d be appalled by the fact that some creep just poked you!



A world where you can’t wait to get out of bed the next day

So you could tell of what happened at last nights cabaret



Because then you get to be there to see their reactions

Instead of just pinning it up on your page to be rationed



Where a hug is simply the best feeling to be had

And not seeing a red square pop up on your tab

I think that when all is right with the planet

We’ll have nothing to fight for, nothing to bring

So bored and restless we can barely stand it

No mayhem to suffer no preaches to sing



With no wrongs to right we start writing wrongs

Things get pretty boring when everything’s right

For what do we stand if we cannot stand strong?

Your impact is nigh if you’ve nothing to fight



It’s hard to imagine a world without sin

Our striving for change is what makes life abundant

If the world isn’t perfect, just hold up your chin

To exist in perfection is rather redundant

Don’t let the hot air get under your skin

You’ll burst by the tiniest ***** of a pin

If you have a strong fabric you’ll have room to vent

And a ***** here and there will not ruin your tent



There’s not so much pressure when there’s such room to breathe

Hot air may sneak in but in time it will leave

For nothing is able to come burst your bubble

If you’re skin has some give, you can sift through the rubble

I really hate having a cold

This sniffing is getting quite old

With my aching head

I’ll get out of bed

Cause calling in sick is too bold

If it weren’t for other artists I would not love what I do

They make my ideas brighter when I’m making something new

Each one has a certain style that lets who they are shine through

I like to think that when I write I have a style too

And you’ll never see a piece alike. No, not a single two

It really is quite gripping that it’s all so unique and true

And I can almost not believe all the different points of view

It really proves we’re each our own and no one can do it quite like you

No matter what the art you choose, or where you’re from, or who

Cheers to all the artists, and I bid to you, adieu!

She silently swings waving bye to her grief
Floating free like a fallen autumn leaf
A perfect mute to the sorrow she sang
How heavily her heart hangs

                                                                     Not tied with a rope all tight in a noose
                                                           ­   But wrapped in a ribbon so silky and loose
                                                                        Bound by a warm and beautiful bow
                                                                    So easy to break free but she doesn't go
                                                              ­         The color so read of her saving ribbon                                                            Rubs off on her heart and repaints it crimson
                                                         It brings her a smile and a warmth to her core
                                                            ­            Slowly but surely the beat is restored

Plans shift
Friends drift
Love dies
Time flies
Promises break
People flake
If one road ends, don’t lie awake
There’s more than just one path to take
There’s always room for compromise
The sun may set, but it will rise
And with the sun, your heart will lift
Through these grains in life, onward we sift

Les mots que je mange

C’est tellement étrange



Bien qu’on sait

Ce qui est vrai,

On n’a pas le droit

De le dire comme on voit



Et on voit la même chose:

N’importe comment belle, la rose

On sent sa piqûre

Mais on ne sera pas trop dur



On ignorera sa crime

Et sera coupé par ses épines

You’ve made it;
They love you.

You’ve really made it;
They hate you.

Free verse.

It’s not an easy thing for me

To just let the words flow (free)

And not to worry about the structure,

The meter,

The intervals in time,

And making it rh—



…I need control

It’s hard for me

To express myself freely

Don’t you see?

It’s what I need

But I plead

To speak free



If you have to ask,

It’s a mask

So that I can unwind

With some sort of structure to hide behind



Structure.

That’s easy…



But free verse.

It’s not an easy thing for me

The rhymes coach me on what to say

But to come up with this all on my own…

I’m stuck.

Right now, as I am writing this, I am stuck.

I’m only telling you this because I truly and honestly can’t think of something fitting to say

That line was way too long.

Should I break it up? NO

It’s free verse! Just say what you feel

But I feel like this isn’t good enough



New stanza.

Because poems need stanzas

Good poems have stanzas

Good poems have structure

But this isn’t really about the poem…



Am I good enough?

You’re striving to inspire

The world with what you do

In turn do not forget to let

The world inspire you

Devoted digger
Busy bee
With calloused fingers,
And roughened knees

Elbow grease
With sun and showers
All for peace
By fragile flowers

The work is hard
But assures to hearten
In the back yard’s
Magic garden

Pens, tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.



Heals, clack,

Click, clack, click, clack

Click, clack, tap.



Clocks tick

Tock-tick, tock-tick

Click-tock, tick-clack, tap

Tap, clack, tick-tock, click



Keys tack

Ticka-tacka, ticka-ticka, tack

Ticka-tacka clack, tick, tap, ticka-ticka, tack, tock, ticka-click tick

Tick, tock, tick, tock, ticka-tacka, clicka-clacka tick, tock, tap-tap-tap-tap, ticka-tacka-clicka-clacka-ticka-tocka tap—

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap….

It was only a dream

But how real it did seem

It isn’t real

But that’s not how I feel



If a crazy man can live in his world

Why can’t I live in mine

I understand his perception’s curled

But inside his head, it’s all in line



How can you say

What not to believe?

At the end of the day

It’s all perceived

We live on a sphere
Floating through a black abyss.
That is pure magic

Look back on that mistake

You know the one

The one that makes you lie awake

The stratus that dims your sun



I know you think about that day

The things you would have changed

And that all the paths you could have strayed

Were all within your range



You can play it bit by bit by bit

And lead it to today

The thought of it might make you grit

That your slip still makes you pay



How could just one tiny lapse

Have lead you so off track

It’s hard to say, but just perhaps

A tiny shift could bring you back



If a butterfly can flap its wings

And cause a mighty storm

Then maybe just a little thing

Could bring a better norm



Life can change with just one act

We know already, this is fact

Imagine where your life could be

                                   If one more time, you switched the track

Aware of myself, I step into the class
Stomach still turning
Throat burning
It cuts me like glass

I spot out my friends at their desks
Do they know?
I pop a mint for my breath
Preparing myself to put on my show

I give a happy hello and I smile.
Right away I recognize it’s been quite a while
And just as I’m getting myself in the groove
This girl walks in and she dampens my mood

I can’t help but stare.
I’m jealous of the way that she just doesn’t care.
I wish I could know her but I think that she hates me
She always sits so far from me lately

I could not tell you why but I feel the words slip
And escape from my lips:
“My God she’s so weird”
With a laugh and a sneer

Somebody shushed me and said that she heard.
Great, now she must think that I’m such a ****.
She gives us a glare
I pretend not to care
But I do. I don’t know why I said what I said
But the words are now echoing back in my head

“She’s jealous,” I heard someone express
“She wants to be you.”
All the stress I suppress
If only she knew…

I swear I’m not attempting to confuse

It’s not a riddle left for you to find

I try my best to clarify my muse

The way the world reflects upon my mind



I understand it isn’t always clear

The message that I’m trying to portray

It’s often crammed by rules I must adhere

And thoughts I’m not quite sure of how to say



I promise poetry is not a riddle

But it’s not always an easy thing to do

You have to try to meet me in the middle

So I can open up my mind to you



It isn’t always easy, I confess

It’s not a riddle though, it’s an express

I understand

You feel radically for your cause

But your shouts may bring forth,

To your message, a loss



I can’t help but feel

With your radical acts

You suffocate people

With your so-called facts



Be your cause wrong

Or be your cause right,

It’s quite hard to see

When you blind them with light



With politeness and reason,

They will then hear you out

With nurture and care

Your branches will sprout

To say the universe is a big place

Would be a true understatement

If you stood at the end of the universe,

Of what importance would the Milky Way seem?

Of what would Earth?

Of what, would a single human being?



If we are so small; insignificant

How could any act of ours still be important?

It could make a person wonder why

There’d be a point to even try



But why would you not?

We live just one time, if you forgot

So what, if you’re just one tiny dot?

Well here’s my thought:



Consider a rain drop.

Its universe, a lake.

As a rain drop, it gets one shot,

That split second as it hits the wake

That is the only time it has to be a drop within its universe

That lake may be there for hundreds of years

But the raindrop,

Just that tiniest decimal of a second.



Raindrop,

You have one chance to make your mark

And send it rippling throughout your universe

And long after you are no longer a raindrop

And have become but particles among other particles

Of deceased raindrops floating about,

The universe will feel your mark, your wave, rippling on and outward.

Do you really think your universe could ever be the same without out you?

No matter how small, your mark will hit that lake like an atomic bomb

When a piece of art has great success

It is observed and appreciated by all the earth

But when success is too great, it then becomes less

And the earth will no longer know its worth

The art is then turned from a masterpiece

Into but an artistic cliché

Doomed, an outdated piece of work

No more, may it show its true array

In my dreams, I scream

At the top of my lungs

In anger/in sadness

Scream words left unsung



My dream is not to be loud

I am loud in the real world

Perhaps too much so

In fact I’ve tried to quiet down



In my dreams

When I scream

No one listens

As if I hadn’t said a word

When I am begging to be heard



A lost cause, really

For who will hear me

Behind closed eyes

And an arcane mind

Screaming

On the inside

A new patch of flowers is strewed

Toes damp from the days morning dew

A leap and a dash

In puddles we splash

The essence is freshly renewed

Summer, 1879:

I look up

And see twinkling lights

Lighting up the night

So many I could not even begin to count

Stars everywhere

Way up there in the night sky

I am drunk on the essence of its vast beauty

Surrounded by all these stars, I feel so small

But it is not in vain

On the contrary, it fills me with a lovely notion

The possibilities:

Endless

There is no more inspiring sight

Than New York on a summer’s Night



Summer, 2014:

I look up

And see twinkling lights

Lighting up the night

So many I could not even begin to count

Stars everywhere

It is the Big Apple after all

I am drunk.

Surrounded by all these stars I feel so small

But it is not in vain

On the contrary, it fills me with a lovely notion

The possibilities:

Endless

There is no more inspiring sight

Than New York on a summer’s night

Every time you take a leap

There’s someone pulling on your shoe

To pull you back and try to keep

You from doing what you do


Naysayers!

Jealous ones,

Block-your-sun,

Wreck-your-fun

Gloom mayors


The ones who simply won’t believe

You hold the power to achieve


But they don’t know what you can do

How strong you are, they don’t know you


So we won’t let them in our way

We’ll pay no mind to nayers’ say


They’ll have to judge us from afar

For they don’t know just what we are:


No-fretters

Can’t-bother-me

Get-off-my-tree

“I-will-succeed”­

Go-getters


Soon enough they’ll surely see

Just how mighty we can be

The world could learn to understand
That good is made by man
Sometimes what is good for one
Won’t fall into your plan

It is this very disagreement
That breaks the world apart
Even the smallest variance
Can cause a war to start

When someone breaks the rule of right
We all get up in arms
How could they have done this crime
And caused the world such harm?

It’s utterly outrageous!
Well, to some it just may be
But to others it might not be the case
And they would disagree

The thief who stole the loaf of bread
Has children starving back at home
And the one who didn’t “get a job”
Can’t afford a decent set of clothes

Even a killer, in his disarray
As horrid and filled with spite,
Do you think he would have done the crime?
If he didn’t think it’s right?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to condone
The crimes that people do
I just wonder if perhaps you might have done the same
If you had lived your life in that person’s shoes

And you might say no.
And I’ll believe you as that’s for what you fight
Because everyone, in their own heads
Is fighting for what they think is right.

I hear you seek a perfect sight.

Hop on board we’ll take a flight

To picture perfect paradise

I hope you can put up a fight,

The trip is quick but not so nice,

You’ll see the weather’s not quite right,

To the ads you saw, it’s not as bright.

Now where’s your friends, your job, your life?



“I change my mind, let’s leave this rock.”

Alright, let’s go—on board you hop,

You must be quick we’re taking off

But just as soon, your savior drops,

It spirals down, the engine stopped.

You’re stuck here now, you can’t get off.

I see the girl inside my mirror
With glossy hazel eyes
No one knows except for her
The reasons why she cries

I reach my hand out to hers
As hers reach out for mine
As our hands both touch the glass
We’ll stare for quite some time

I don’t know how to help her
But I do know how she feels
Sometimes she’ll wish the world she’s in
Was never really real

I wipe away my tears and smile
So perhaps she’ll feel okay
She returns a smiles back at me
And wipes her tears away

I’m not quite sure who she is
I’m guessing nor does she
I guess that means I don’t know myself
For the girl in the mirror is me

The town was coated head to toe with ice

The poor old trees could hardly hold its weight

With Christmas near this blow would not suffice

They said it was a pretty awful state



With cars not starting and the power out

How could Christmas dinner still be made?

And no one could turn on their pretty lights

The grand vibe of holiday was swayed



But I did not quite understand the fret

All I saw outside was perfect bliss

An elegance that I could not forget

For Mother Nature gifted us her kiss



I’d never seen disaster with such class

A winter wonderland made out of glass

In the crazy world in which we live

Achievement’s all in what we give

It’s all a matter of how much stress

You will endure to get success



The bar is rising more and more

For no one wants to take the floor

The hardest worker takes the top

But for one to rise, two more must drop



We will get out what we put in

The lengths some go, it’s quite a sin

And as we take our leaps and bounds

We might forget about the ground



We must recall for what we strive

We make the cash to live our lives

We all should take some time to breathe

Sit back, relax, and sip some tea



Bring out your saucers, cups, and crop

The ones for which you work non-stop

We slave, day in and out, for perks

We do not slave to do more work



For some, it won’t come in a cup,

The things in life that lift us up

Whatever may be your luxury,

Take time to sip your cup of tea

He calls the others lazy
When they do not do his deeds
For blame cannot be placed on him
When the blame's on you and me

He says that they're not busy
And they should play their part
Why should they it's not their mess
Its yours you lazy ****!

But calling others lazy
Doesn't take the blame off you
In order to make progress
Someone must get up and do

The children all had boxes

With all the things they’d learn to do

When they heard the bell, away with one

And out another for something new



Each box had printed fabrics:

One with numbers, one with notes,

One with maps and little flags,

One with microscopes…



One day, just by accident

Someone knocked the boxes on the floor

The fabrics scattered everywhere

What piece went where, we weren’t sure



But it didn’t take to long to see

What needed to be done

We grabbed some scissors, cut them up

And weaved them into one



Turns out we didn’t need the boxes

They took up too much space

Now we had a lovely quilt

With all the fabrics we had laced



Our quilt now hangs upon the wall

Its much more pleasing to the eye

Instead of hiding in those boxes

We can see them all the time

The drum’s the only beat you feel

Pumping in your chest

Pulling your life and soul along

In one with all the rest



Surrounded by the music

And the aura of the crowd

Drinks in hand, cheers to the band

And no one’s shy to sing aloud



The vibration of the base

In that moment there in time

It’s as if its pulse inside your core

Alone, sustains your life



The boom that makes your organs shake

Brings on a peace of mind

To know that beat is felt by all

And souls are intertwined



The intimacy’s soothing

No matter how loud is the space

You can’t talk much but connect to all

In a musical embrace

I was walking though the mall one day

For no particular reason at all, just passing the time away

I was there with my boyfriend and we were doing our usual routine of walking and talking

We’ve both always enjoyed people watching

I guess that’s partly why we like going to the mall

We go there sometimes when we aren’t really even looking for anything at all

And that’s fine

It’s just something we do to waste some time

It’s better than just sitting around at our houses

So we thought we’d get out and look around at the t-shirts, the jeans, and the blouses–

Anyway,

That’s enough of that, I’ll get back to the specific events of that day.

Like I said we were just walking around

And one thing I could not help notice was all of the sounds

Every time we’d walk past a store

A different tune would emerge from its core

Attempting to briefly describe

Its personality but it struck me as more of a bribe:

“Come in here! We won’t bite!”

But they will chew up your money right out from under your sight.

Once again, I’m sorry, I’ve fallen off track

I have to get back to my story…

So on top of the sound of the music from the stores creating a sort of Doppler Effect

Another thing I noticed and could not forget

Is the bits and pieces of different conversations

All so entirely different like they were their own little nations

A small group of preteens giggled and gossiped as they did fly by

No sooner did the clique disappear I heard a baby cry

A mother and her children: one infant, two sons, and a daughter

Mom said “we’re leaving” but the children, they fought her

Awkward… As I quickened my pace to sooner pass them by

The next I encountered was a group of young guys

Not so young as the girls from before

No, they looked as if they were about twenty-four

With all their ears stretched and tattoos and their chains

I feel like they did it to be different but quite frankly they all look the same…

Next walking towards me is an elderly pair

A man and a woman with thinning white hair

They look very humble and seemingly fair

I wonder what they would think of those guys back there

It’s funny to wonder why each of them have come

And even to wonder where they’re all from

Did they come here as we did, just for something to do?

Is this place an escape, or did they just come for some shoes?

All of these types, with each such a different face,

For one reason or another we all ended up at this very same place.

We travelled sunny Manhattan, my family and I

On the top of a double decker, to see what scrapes the sky

The bus saw it all, Times Square, Empire State,

Broadway, Wall Street, Central Park, it was great!



When we drove by the office buildings, I saw a large set of stairs

It was beautifully vast with a refreshing air

Dozens of suited workers were scattered about

Some sat there to rest, some went up, some went down…



There was one man who sat there and really drew my eye

When I looked the time slowed and I wasn’t sure why

He was generically handsome in a way that was vague

And was contently unrolling his brown paper bag

In a dress-shirt and tie, his blazer set aside

He sat, eating a sandwich with a surreal air of pride

Unlike your average stressed out business man

He was at ease with himself, sandwich in hand



As the moment had passed our bus travelled on

And just like that, the young man was gone

We finished the tour and returned to our hotel

We relaxed in our room and gabbed and shared tell

Of our thoughts of the tour we had taken that day

“One thing I noticed,” I heard my mom say

(I could already tell what she was about to relay)

“was this man in a suit who made quite a display,

eating lunch on some stairs, I kept looking his way”



I could hardly believe it, that she saw him too

I expressed in excitement, that I totally knew

Precisely the man she was talking about

“I saw him too!” I heard my dad and bro shout

We all laughed in surprise that of all the people we saw

To that very same man, we all had been drawn



What was it about him that made him stand out so much?

He was only a man just enjoying his lunch

He just seemed so content and at peace with himself

His aura made it clear of his internal wealth

What was it that set such a grand vibe in motion?

Perhaps he had just been handed out a promotion

It could be that his un-ignorable gleam

Was the personification of the Manhattan dream

Or maybe he was just basking in the warm sunny day

Whatever it was, we all felt his array



I wonder if that moment when we looked from the bus

Was as important to him as it had been to us

I can’t help but feel like it must have been

Cause whatever he was feeling drew all eyes to him

We all have masks

But no, I will not ask

Of you to never wear

Such safety that you bare



It gets us through the day

And keeps our id at bay

Without our mask

It’d be a task

To live a civil way



For we are social beings

We need those special ties

To share our inner feelings

And free what underlies



But underlies cannot be shared

Until you’ve built a bond

And that is why we have to wear

Our mask to help belong



But if you wear it long enough

Your skin will overgrow

And what was once your social bluff

Will be the only face you know



And what is social fabric

If you’ve forgotten your despairs

Your mask’s a pointless tactic

If you’ve nothing left to share



I encourage you to wear your mask

It gets you through the fight

The only favor that I ask

Is you take it off at night

“The money is pure evil,
It brings us so much stress.
It isn’t fair we pay for food
And shelter and all the rest.
I wish there was no money
Then the world could live in peace
And no one would have less than others
And we’d all have food to eat.”

Could it really be that easy
If all in life were free?
If money were to go away
Then would too the greed?

Before the money, strong prevailed
By taking what they please.
Now it is the strongest minds
Who rise and take the lead.

Don’t you see the money
Stands for what was always there?
But the money somehow takes the blame
For the lazy man’s despair.

If it wasn’t for the money,
Would the whole world then be fair?
Or would the strongest still prevail?
Imagine, if you dare.

There is something so superficial

About an art gallery

Strange pieces strewed about

For passers-by to see



Some people stare

With their nose in the air

And say:

“This piece is exquisite, what a lovely display!”

They’ll insist that it’s priceless but would not pay a cent

And others will question if it even makes sense

“How is this art? A stick glued to the wall,

I could do this myself, it means nothing at all!”



But though you think it’s insane

Your eyes still maintain



You’re respectful and quiet and do not make a peep.

Although you still think it’s a bit superficial,

You pretend to yourself that you get it to feel deep

And somehow it creates a vibe that’s… sort of beautiful



Some odd stokes of eloquence,

Mixed with trash on a shelf

But the piece with most elegance

Is the gallery itself

Wings once whisked the air with wonder
Propellers chop like axes through steady grain

The buzz of a bumble bee brisk and with grace
The sting’s in the grind of machines’ rusty chains

The leaves would shuffle humble and happy
Newspapers crackle inflicting a pout

Flowers were scattered like old vintage lace  
From plants to brown bags they’re now littered about

The entitled ones:

Snotty, stuck up, rude

Nasty, spoiled prudes

Your misery, their fun



Loosen up your buns, entitled ones

‘Cause I am in no mood

To harbor your attitude

And snooty snippy sayings sung



The desk between us that which divides

Does not right you to be snide

Entitled ones need not apply

Entitled are entitled nigh



The ones who earn entitlement

Are the ones who give respect

Possessors of this enlightenment

Such respect is what they’ll get



Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity

But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity

As human kind becomes no more

Greens once more may grace the floor



Old ruins last

To glimpse the past

But do not mourn the ones before

Just there to recall

The ones who nearly ended it all



But they could not win

By means of their sin

Either nature would triumph or they’d die

Alongside their polluted enterprise



Their wrongs could earn no prize

An inevitable demise

A system quite worthy of mock:

To wage war with the ground on which you walk

Before I ever went to school
I thought I knew it all
I could count to ten and back again
And bounce a rubber ball

I could spell my name with no mistakes,
Knew 1 and 1 is 2,
Knew how to say the alphabet
And how to tie my shoe.

Then I went to school and found I didn’t know a lot.
There was so much stuff I had to know I mostly just forgot.
Music, art, and English, physics, bio, French, and math.
Social studies, history, so much stuff it made me laugh.

My younger self had no idea how much more there was to know
The more I aged the more I knew the more I’d learn and grow.
When I finished high school I was smarter than before
I knew I didn’t know it all so I went back to learn some more.
  
This time when I went to school I wasn’t so naïve.
I knew I’d have to hit the books in order to achieve.
If grade school was confusing I figured college would be worse.
If I was going to expand my mind I should expect a lot of work.

There was a lot more subjects and they took a lot more time.
I wondered how there could be room to store so much knowledge into just one mind.
You know that feeling that you get when there’s so much knowledge you feel as though
If they feed you any more of it your head just might explode?
My mind was like a barrel that was filled up past the brim with rocks
And when you tried to add one more, then two would trickle off.
I thought that I would have to quit but there was still so much I didn’t know.
But I chose to stay though doom seemed near because I didn’t want to go.

With failure in my future I bit my lip and I pressed on.
In time I noticed something odd, some of the rocks were gone.
But the rocks had not been falling out as I tossed more in from my hand
They simply had begun to change from rocks right into sand.

All these things I knew
Were now all becoming one
Witch made more room for knowing more
And knowing once more was fun

It wasn’t like when I was small
And thought I knew it all.
But the ease of it was similar
I felt more on the ball.

I recalled before I went to school
And 4 things that I knew:
Spell my name, and 1+1,
ABCs, and tie my shoe.

The one main thing that I know now
That I didn’t know before
This list of things I knew is 2
It isn’t really 4.

Because I know my adding
It is very clear to see
I tie with laces 1 and 2
Not laces 1 and 3.

I spell my name with no mistakes
Because I know my ABCs.
It doesn’t mean that I know less
I just know with much more ease.

At first the more you know and know
The bigger is the mess.
But when it comes together
The load becomes much less

For when your barrel is so full
You think it will explode
The rocks will blend together
And you’ll have more room to grow.

And so he rebuilt his lovely home

All on his own

After someone had knocked it down

For no reason at all



It was a lovely piece of art

Until it was torn apart

Out of spite

It isn’t right



But the little spider wasn’t phased

Right away, he began to reconstruct his maze

For that home did not just keep him alive

It was his pride



And when some careless fool

Put his hand through the spool

He did not dare quit

Once, again began to knit

For what the fool had dared commit

Would not dampen him one little bit



It was not a blow by any means

It was a chance for him to gleam

And do what he does best

Because he knows that the next

Will be better than the rest

The students stood at Tiananmen Square

That’s where they went to fight for public gain

The government said they must get out of there

The people stood their ground and so were slain



In utter shock the public stood defeated

They were in disbelief of what occurred

They thought the stand would have to be retreated

The protest of the mass would go unheard



But one man stood alone and he said No.

And blocked the tanks; observers thought he’d die

They tried to pass, he’d still not let them go

For all those silenced voices he would cry



Because of him they did not go in vain

Around the world, one man had made a change