You have to hold it up to the light
To see her darkened soul
She was born into the night
When the spirits were forced to let her go
Releasing her from the delusional 'utopia'
She had always known as home
Throwing her, stumbling into the blackness of the universe
Through the gauntlet of buffeting blades
Which tosses her back into her past
From which she has tried so hard to hide
If the truth were ever known
She'd hide it in the crevices of lies
Lies and half truths she has woven into
Thick veils and walls which block out the world
Like her hair does, hiding her eyes
Which brim over with tears daily Leaving pock marks in the path she's taken
Like a season of acid rain
Unforgiveness to her is another saying
She hears time and time again
Like a backhanded slap
Each time stings, but with repetition
She numbs to the pain
Cold as ice from her fingertips in
Creeping in towards her heart,
Surrounding it in a protective ice cage
Until some hopeful soul comes along,
Trying to warm her fingertips again

So I've got two AP classes I'm studying for for next year, as well as trying to study to skip german 2, so I'm going to be pretty nonexistant this coming summer. Thank god finals are over.

Beauty queens on the Hollywood scene
Plastic surgery before the age of fifteen
Striving to look like somebody else
Not happy with life nor even themselves

Riding 'round Beverly hill with Porsches, and Mercedes too
Strutting their stuff with brand new Jimmy Choos
Tiny lap dogs wearing diamond studded collars
Designer clothes costing many a pretty dollar

Watching the sun set over Beverly Hills
As the man on the corner passes out ****** pills
Life is unreal on both sides of the ditch
No matter how much you have, life's still a *****

And as you inhale the intoxicating clean air
Think: your vault might empty, and quickly be bare
But you'll still have family and friends and old fashioned love
(Though to be honest, you're never as free as The Dove)

The dove that flew off so long ago
Leaving the filth of it all far down below
In search of brighter days and bluer skies
Leaving Hollywood to deal with their own web of lies

This dove we speak of, he was truly free
Flew away so he could find his own special tree
No more worries of blank eyed starlet's destruction
No more worries of the wicked red-eyed Hollywood corruption

Once upon a time, long long ago
And angel and a demon met
Both assigned to work on earth
To follow respective fates.
Once the jobs were done,
Both missions fin, complete
They set back to rest their feet
And bask in the setting sun.
At least the angel did.
The demon, here you see,
Was a serpent, or so they say
And of feet he had none.
A flaming sword was missing
But ah, what else was new?
They waited, talking until dawn
And then off the angel flew
They now had new missions,
Which sometimes conflicted
But tell me honestly,
What else would you have predicted?
So through the millenia they worked
The demon and the angel.
The angel shone, the demon lurked
But not as well as before
And through the years that passed them by
They began to form a bond, unheard of in all lore.
Though one a sinner, one a saint
Both found they truly had
A friend in enemy lines, and wondered;
Was it really truly so bad?
Though forces of good and evil,
They had some common ground
Of the Father and the Devil
No easy master was to be found.
This demon and this angel,
Though as different as could be
Were assigned the same mission
And it became clear to see
No longer could they fight
No longer could they be friends
They must form a new alliance
One to last beyond the end.
And it was plain to see
This was a good omen

To sleep -- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
For once your life's candle is but a nub
Your fate has been decided and you cannot run
And you wonder what happened to bulletproof weeks
In your arms, just building sky-castles of words
And as you open your mouth, the raven first speaks
Telling of cabbages and kings, and gentle demon birds
Playing an asphyxiated song of angel's wings
Leaving me intoxicated and feathered with silver crowns
And as the breath from my lungs makes rings
Of vapor in the air, the mist settling on ancient frowns
The future runs through me now to capture
Absolutely clawed leviathans, found in rapture.

Ich will frei sein
Ich will mit Vogel fliegen
Ich will die Sterne küssen
Ich will Gedicht über alles schreiben
Ich will mit die Engeln leben
Aber kann ich nur jetzt schlafen
Aber werde ich nur jetzt traümen

I want to be free
I want to fly with birds
I want to kiss the stars
I want to write poems about everthing
I want to live with the angels
But I can only sleep now
But I will only dream now

Steh auf drache
Du kannst stark sein
Du sollst froh sein
Ich werde die Sonne scheinen für dich machen
Ich werde für dich und mich singen
Und werden wir unter den Himmel schlafen.

Stand up dragon.
You can be strong.
You should be happy.
I will make the sun shine for you.
I will sing for you and me.
And we will sleep under the heavens.

I'm bleeding out
Shedding my radioactive tears for you
Wondering as I walk a little tightrope
Between cyanide and happiness
Would it **** you to live and love?
To remove this curse of curves
To spend some time raising dragons
So that the love killer and killer queen
May not be left undefeated and unbroken,
Their stories left unwritten

What's rice anyway?
Could it be with another
Race that its a currencey
Golden coins of the fae and wee ones
The dust shaken off the feet and backs of orcs and
The gold cinders of balroc flames
The precious jewels of the sandman

Katydid, dear katydid
Your wings unbroken
Whole, but unusable
All scrunched up
Like a terrible essay
Or the tenth draft of
A love letter
Tossed aside
All crumpled up
Because of how you
Backed yourself into a corner
Hidden amongst tendrils
And strands of grass
And weeds pressed into
Place in a synthetic
Prison-turned-hospital
You hide and change
Your skin, stripping it away
To be subtly reborn

Bacon
Grease
Unpleasant slickness
Oil
Flith
A ***** feeling that you're overwhelmed by so you just want to get into a shower and scrub your skin raw
The one time my sisters and I played in mud and were covered in gritty goop
Losing the handle to the outside faucet
Cold icy water
Jumping into a creek and getting soaked
Cold water and cramping up, drowning
The ocean's waves pulling me under
Fear of drowning and ocean water forced down my throat
Salty water and the taste of the sea
Salt
Bacon

Little butterflies
Heal my scars
Protect me from myself
Fly over them
Flutter gently in place
And stop me with your beauty
With just a beat of your wings
Colorful angels
Spread a golden balm
To salve the wounds
Of my heart
Of my mind
Of my self

Oh little
Lonely traveler
Where is your home?
You are cold, tarnished and
Silver and black
Your name?
Who knows, but
You have been branded
925 stamped into your saddle
Shall I call you this?
Tiny one, come home
Go home, be home
No longer be alone
And wandering forever
You stand *****,
Proud and petit of stature
You speak no
Words to me, but
You do express volumes. Tiny one,
Little prince
Find your home.
Go, and belong

They say you cannot have
Compassion and innocence
And yes I can see that.
But you have great compassion
And that is the greater virtue
They say that there ain't
No rest for the wicked
But what of the kind hearted?
The sweet and gentle?
They say that ignorance is bliss
And that knowledge is power
But do you know, these tables
Can also be turned?
I know you have a kind gentle heart
A tender soul and a listening ear
I know you have a wearying life
A tortured soul and a sore heart
And I know you have a bright mind
Brilliant thoughts and a clever eye
I know because with these
You've touched me
Touched my life and heart
And mind in an irrevocable way
And shown that you can lighten
The world for those in need

What's with this phrase, 'come at me bro'
What does that really mean?
People use it to provoke, but why?
There's nothing particularly threatening about it,
And it's not even very grammatically correct
One could just as easily say
'Get thee away from me, ye dark angel of hell'
And it would be equally offensive
Or more so, if a bit befuddling.
But why not say 'come at me bro'
As a request for affection?
I know I would much rather say this
And receive, instead of a flurry of blows,
An armful of sweet affection

After some taste tests, I must admit
The differences in your kisses are not subtle
Some were animal and possesive
A sensual and surprising ferocity
Some were soft and fast
As delicious as honey and as sweet
Others were long and powerful
An outpouring of emotion
Still others were light and lovingly
Pressed to cheek or temple or neck
And though I admit they're all so different,
Their qualities bleed into one another
So that of the
Quick and passionate ones
Or light kisses with a touch of wild
All have been received and welcomed
And enjoyed

I have no fancy words for you
Nor any spectacular things
But I will give my heart to you
And my love flies to you on wings
I love you more than anyone
And I've never loved this way
For you, my love, and what you've done
I don't have enough to say
You've made my head absolutely whirl
With just the thought that you are mine
I'm not the brightest or prettiest girl
But I tell you that when our fingers intertwine
Then I seldom feel loved more
The words you speak, each touch and kiss
Makes my lips curl into smile and heart soar
And when we part for a minute, you're missed
Even in my deepest slumber
I breathe your name
When your antics cause me to wonder
I still feel the same
I have no fancy words for you
Nor any spectacular things
But I will give my heart to you
And my love flies to you on wings
I've never lost love for you
It has only ever grown for you
So I tell you once again,
I love you

Vocal pyrotechnics and aural fireworks
Fire and flame from my mind
Begin to drive me berserk
So I join the rest of my dying kind,

Laughing through pain and sorrow
Living now, only for today
Forgetting there was ever tomorrow.
Sticks and stones and bricks and hay

Poor building materials are these
The big bad wolf comes to knock them down
His pelt mangy and ridden with fleas
Humpty dumpty wore a crown

Yet it too rolled down the hill.
Following the example of its predecessors, poor Jack and clumsy Jill.

Friendship, is a thing for all to enjoy
It‘s a beautiful song full of laughter
But be careful with this supposed toy
Or there won’t be a happily ever after.

Love, is a mirror to hold close
To show you what lies in your own heart,
A picture in time for which to pose
And then that is to be torn apart.

Pain, is a kiss of knives to be felt
An ever-growing, body length scar
And an agony for which to cry and melt
As it drenches all that is good in the black of tar.

But as these three intermingle and you fall,
They fix the others, so it’s not so bad after all.

On this ground I was born raised and lived
In the years since my birth
I've sowed much wheat, and many rocks I've sieved
Making this land mine, this sky and earth.

The blue, clear skies, and evanescant clouds
Have dissipated now, this land is torn
I'm a mere denizen, yet here I still stand proud
So that on this ground my children will be born

The dust roils in ferment around me
And flings topsoil in my face
No green thing, nor bird nor bee
Is allowed to thrive in this barren place

And for my progeny, their future I mourn
This land is dead now, and has left me forlorn

It's funny how people tell me I'm strong, tough
Independent
But some things make me so weak
My will breaks easily and I fall
I'm not talking about physical weakness
Nor any type of physiological frailty
My mind and heart are the problem
And sometimes I wonder
Were the tinman and scarecrow wrong?
True, there is benefit in having a heart
And yes, a mind has much to offer
But the heart remembers you
The mind aches with pain
And I'm tired of being broken
I know I can be sweet
Kindness is little problem
But does one need a heart to be kind?
Perhaps its absence would suit me better
And if I think, I think so often of the past
What could have been, what might have been
And I think(hah think) that maybe
Losing my mind wouldn't be so bad
So tell me heart, and you also mind
What is your great redeeming quality?
I'm dying to know

Peek through the bushes
Look through the vines
What lies there in the clearing?
Bleached white and draped in green strands
A mouse climbs over
Worms squirm under
A fox pup comes along and sniffs around
Nudging a white bowl in curiosity
But look! now the bleached object moves
A few pale digits twitch
The bowl rolls over and its plain to see
This is no jumble of old dry sticks
This is not a set of hoops and a ball
It's a sleeping skellington
No, don't worry; it's not dead
It's a living skellington, Daddy!

I'm sitting here
Reading these words you wrote for me
It wasn't really that long ago
But it seems like ages
And now I'm thinking about you and me
I'm not the same person you wrote to
I don't feel the same either
And what about you?
You said 'I love you'
Even wrote this poem to say it
But now we're a bit estranged
I know I can get on without you
And even though it hurts, I'm fine
So what about you?
What are you feeling now?
What are you thinking?
And I have to wonder
Are you ever curious about me?

Here, hold out your hands
Don't drop what I give you
Please don't be repelled
See? It's not so bad
Mucous and slime won't hurt
Blood and water won't burn
Do you feel it beating?
Can you sense its pulse of life?
It's living because of you
It feeds off of your emotion
But don't worry, it replenishes
What it takes, and more
What you give it will take
And what you take it will give
It will not strike out and
Will not harm you
You are in complete control
If you so deign to **** it
Then do it and swiftly
It will follow you and be yours
Forever and always
So as you receive my gift,
I ask you, please be nice
After all, it is my heart you play with

I wish for one thing only: wings
Why wings, you ask?
Well, they've so much to offer
I wish for wings to fly
To soar through the clouds
To dance circles around you
To fly closer to you
I wish for wings to embrace
To shelter myself when I'm lonely
To hold you closer when we hug
To shield our kisses from prying eyes
I wish for wings to love
To caress your cheeks with wingtips
To tickle friends with feather touches
To brush snow and leaves from your grave
I wish for wings to be strong
To help me flee those who hurt
To comfort myself with their presence
To remind people that angels do exist

I don't really know what to write anymore
I've got bits and bobs and puzzling pieces of poems
Floating through my mind
But I can't put them to paper
I know what to say and how and why
But cannot
I could write about love and life,
But I'm tired of that
I can write about butterflies and doodles of
Flying cheesy donuts or a land whale
But nope. That's too boring for me for now
Lethargy and apathy are taking over for now
So my inspiration tree is a little wilted.
So here's to another lack-of-inspiration poem
And another ode to boredom.

I think that if you were to look at my heart,
Not my mass of blood-pumping tissues and arteries,
But my real heart, the metaphorical, emotional one,
I believe you'd find a glass bowl
Delicate, thin, transparent and fragile
Carefully pumping not blood, but emotion
And as bowls and vases do, it would have an orifice on top
Into the hole are thrown little pebbles, bit stones, junk, debris
All the metaphorical cast-offs from real injuries
Cruel words and nasty deeds
Enter through the eyes and ears
And along the way from some sort of unwanted material
The larger the crime, the more serious the harm, the larger the stone
Thus it falls into my glass heart
Perhaps chipping an edge or cracking against the sides
And the added weight is a strain on the silicate walls
More and more pile in until it cracks
Let's out a squeal of shattering protest, and out pours
The hurt, the pain, the angst
Unless, some kind and gentle words,
The warmth of an embrace, a kiss, a murmur
Or strokes of encouragement and love come along
Patching up the little nicks and scratches
Pulling out a few of the stones, some new, some old,
And healing the scars that can't be seen

I can shake off everything if I write;
my sorrows disappear,
my courage is reborn.
-Anne Frank

When I write and pour out my troubles
I speak to the invisible audience
To the page, to the future
To my friends, and myself
And those things I hate and love
I spill out the ink of my worries and past
My thoughts and feelings and doubt
And for a moment, a handful of planck seconds,
I have nothing, feel nothing, *am nothing,
But one entity with myself
The little trouble I have is voiced and shed,
And I cry, but do not worry so much about it
I lose my gloomy dark thoughts and
Lighten up, and feel... not warmer exactly
Not happier either, but more.
More neutral and more myself, and more happy
And just more
And I again have courage and strength
To continue living without being weighed down

So I've got two new bracelets
One's actually a necklace but who cares

I've got blue and reddish beads dangling
From this necklace, wrapped
Five times around my wrist
And sometimes the bobbles get under
My wrist when I write

I've got five peace signs melded
Together, gold toned and metal
I must admit, the reason I prefer it
Is because of a tiny imperfection
A little spike of metal on the second
Only I know it's there and it's
My silly imperfect secret

So there you have it
My two new bracelets...
I think I'll name them
Pentapax and sanguine
Bet you can't guess why

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these things. - T. S. Eliott*

So maybe by pouring out our emotions and personalities, overflowing and drowning pages in the ink of our words, maybe this is how some escape from themselves and feeling. By expulsing their repugnant selves, using the energy behind self-loathing or -fear to rid themselves of themselves. Perhaps that way we can live with ourselves and all our faults. They say when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. Thus, deep self-reflection for too long reveals the abyss in us all. This deep, animal emptyness, clawing the sides of its pit, becoming and creating an overwhelming gnawing of absence. This feeling that you lack, this feeling of loss, of some unknown, perhaps this is what we poets write for. We write to find our unkown selves by escaping our known selves.

I saw you flutter and die
At the crossroads
Your wing-pages flipping quickly
Then slowly, desperately as cars pass
As if your pathetic fluttering can lift
The only thing you can call a body,
A flat, limp *** of paper
Shuddering and shifting when a
Quickmoving elephant runs by

I saw you flutter and die
At the crossroads
The muscles of your sides
Heaving in, out, in out
Gasp for ink and blood
Shudder with need
As if that inhale, intake
Of gasoline soaked air will
Replenish the lack of life in you

I saw you flutter and die
At the crossroads
I saw you die
And flutter no more

Who are you Sang?
I know the body your face belongs to,
I saw him a few days ago at my brother's school
But you're a different person,
You're born of my dreams
Long black hair
And tall lanky body
In my dream you were my age
Following me around high school
But your real life doppelganger
Was just goofing off with his friends
Why did you so capture my dreaming mind?
And why did I name you?
I've never named a dreamizen before
And so what's up with 'Sanguine'?

Scarlet is the only paint I know
Gone from my palette forever
Are greens and blues of every hue
Yellows and oranges no longer acceptable
Purples blacks and whites, no more
Red, scarlet crimson; only these
The color of blood and roses
But wait, I don't like order
So let's say that french kisses are red
And cool water is too
Redefining red as I wish, I make
Soft curling ferns and fuzzy bellied hedgehogs red
And you know what?
Scarlet is now the only paint I know

Red lines appear as
I pull this silver blade through flesh
Blood dripping, oozing from the cut
Red valleys and redder rivers
Scarlet is the only paint I know
Allowing, of course, for silver
A lovely edging, with a dangerously
Wicked edge
Then you add fire
Flames of scarlet orange and yello
Licking, touching, brushing the edges
Lightly trailing against the surface of meat
Burning, cooking, melting
Delicious
This fire burns so deep it sears
It melts the very fat, hidden beneath
And then it's over
It's done, finished, complete
No more flames
But the blades are back
Slicing up the scorched flesh
Anyone fancy some steak?

Falling into mortality
Rising from the ashes
Shedding off the cinders
And glowing coals of my rebirth
Scarlet fire feathers
Icy eyes of blues
My beauty, stunning, blinding
In both light and actual measure
My threat level, fatally high
But as easy as I ****, I nurture
As cruel as I am, I’m kind
As strong as I am, I’m gentle
I lift an infant as readily as I carve into flesh
And you’ve not seen kindness
Until you’ve seen me with the injured
Though as cruel and harsh as the oncoming storm,
I’ve got a soft spot for the lost and lonely
The wandering and dreamers
And if you think I’m an enigma
You should meet my friend,
The big bad wolf
3.7.13

I've never liked hospital room flowers
Their plastic, chemical smell mixed with the scent of disinfectant
Fake yellow, greens, pinks and whites
All the colors of pastel
No reds or blues, why's there never blue?
Sometimes they come with squeaky foil balloons
Brightly touting phrases like, "get well soon!"
And "we miss you!"
Cheerfully shouting the words to eternity
To everyone, but no one listens
But what's the purpose of flowers?
All they've ever done to me is cause depression
They stare you down as they slowly droop and decay
Wilting, they seem as if to say, "look, look at us"
"Like us, you are dying, slouching, falling into mortality"
Then when their rank water is cast aside
Soggy limp flowers and leaves tossed in trash
You're sickened by the task, rub your hands in disgust
Feeling as slimy as the cold ooze on the stems
What's the purpose of hospital flowers?
I've never liked them
All they've ever done to me is cause depression

What if people were not flesh?
Perhaps instead made of books
Sheaves of paper and pots of ink
Words, words, words
Filling the pages
Shaping the heart, shaped from the heart
Telling the life story on the skin
And through the layers of body
The heart detailing the loves and passions
And heartbreaks it has felt
The tongue and stomach telling
Of the delicious foods they've tasted
The mind regaling the stories and tales
It has heard and read
The eyes etched with pictures
And places and people
The ears curling around their recollections
Of songs and voices past
And last, the lips.
Inscribed with the memories and tastes
Of every kiss stolen and each word spoken

My outwards view, though as open
And strange as my heart, is hazy
Decisions, made in the moment are a
Testament to my mind and self; always crazy
Though I can most certainly be studious
I'm far more inclined to be lazy
You bought me roses? Thanks but,
You should know I'd prefer a daisy
I act so nice and neat, cute ain't it?
But my taste in jokes? A touch of ****
And as for my state of being, I'm rarely focused
I'm more often drifting, dreaming, spacey

So, don't you see her pain?
You've always been  observant
Can't you see the sick look of pain in her eyes?
After all, you're the cause
Your pretty eyes, curtain of *****-blondish hair
Sweet smiles, irresistable scent, soft touch
Your ingenuity, intelligence, creativity, and kindness
Don't you know that's why she fell for you?
She doesn't blame you for this split
But can't you see that hurts her more?
She's got to be strong, got to hold it in for you
And for her own sanity, but oh the irony
So you can sort yourself out, fix your problem,
Don't you know she hasn't cried
Hasn't screamed out, tried to smile, for your sake?
She knows your problems must be big
Big enough to hide it from her, to retreat
To ask for a break that you vowed against
She's trying like she always has for others
Confused, hurt, but mostly worried and longing
So for her, be okay, and return
She doesn't hate you

I sing for you my friend
Be safe, be strong, be all you are and more
You are beautiful
You are special
You are loved
I know you are troubled
You’ve got personal trials
Your inner fights
Your own battles
I’ve heard you say, “I’m ugly”
I’ve heard you say, “I’m nothing special”
I’ve heard you ask, “Why do you love me?”
I know I've said the same
But you are beautiful, inside and out
From your skin to your heart
But you are the most special person to me
For I trust you as a best friend
But you deserve love as no one else, and as all do
Since you are you and no other
So listen to this song and know you’ve always got
My shoulder to cry on
My hand to hold
My everything to be
I love you with an intense fiery passion
The flame’s color only dependent
On our relationship
Best friends, you burn yellow as sun and lemon and sand
Old friends, you burn orange as citrus and rust and balloons
Romantic friends, you burn red as blood and apples and flowers
The comedic and entertained, you burn green as grass and words and ether
The sad and most troubled, you burn purple as violets and poison and art
And the ones I love most? You burn blue-white, the hottest flame of all
The blue-white of shells and ice and sky
So to my friends all:
Know this and hear my song
You are beautifully stunningly gorgeous
You are more special than the stars you wish on
You are more loved than I can ever say
To me you are everything
Love and Laughter
Food and Drink
Breathe and Life

What's a girl with a face to you anyway?
Just another human with the curse of curves?
Someone to be the heroine to your heroics?
A girl you won't write songs about?
Most definitely not the only exception
The liquor to make you love drunk
The one to tell you 'give me love'
Who will say 'kiss me' but only to be loved
Not necessarily a girl to be your everything
Just the one to follow your lightning with thunder
A girl who hoped you see two is better than one
She doesn't want to be a secret valentine
It won't take long for her to fall for you
Cause everyone knows most boys like girls
And she'll take a rocket to the moon
Just to hear a secondhand serenade from you
Don't let me fall and I'll be that girl for you
But not just a girl with a face

My tinkling clattering bracelets
You provide such interesting theme music for my
For my daily wanderings through life
Chiming as small bells do
Clinking together as I shift my hands
Subtle movements and quiet sounds
A flow of water over you
Merely adds to the harmony
A quick **** of my arm
A jolt from being pushed
And the music adjusts accordingly
The same movement gives rise
To the same chords
Yet the meaning changes for
Every single moment of life

Hello again love
Welcome back to my heart
You're so familiar
But you feel different this time
Like an old friend in a new time
A bit softer and warmer in feel
But met with harder and colder feelings
A little more giving and embracing
But met with eager thirst
And hungry greediness
I'm hesitant to accept you
If only because I hurt
And have been hurt
And will be hurt
But you want to change that this time
You're the same
But you're different
I think I love you better now

Cupid's known as the love god
(Eros in the greek)
Shooting arrows of attraction
Towards those unwary
Arrows tipped with a love potion
Laced with aphrodisiac
Feathered with rose petals
Bow strung with rainbows
And infused with sweetness
These are the tools of his trade
Or so they tell us

But I like to think differently
Maybe he's a mischievious deity
Arrows tipped with complexity
Laced with anxiety
Feathered with the red of blushes
Bow strung with false courage
And infused with unsure passions
Maybe these are also his tools
Perhaps a mix of the two?

I think the gods get a little too bored
So they play with our lives
Like a child with a nest of ants

I want to imagine dragons into existance
I want to kiss fire to your lips
I want to be shocked back into life
I want to fight my way down from the top
Just to break the status quo
I want to sing in the rain and
I want to dance on the edge of skyscrapers
I want to close my eyes and melt into you
Until the colors of our souls swirl into a new color
I want to smile mischieviously and whisper
"Fin" as the last echoes of my song
Fade away
I want to climb the clouds and
I want to fly through mountains
I want to swim through space and
I want to sail through the deepest depths of ocean
I want to do and be and speak and feel more than
Can be done and spoken and felt
I want to stop the world's rotation
And switch up the planets
I want to achieve the impossibilities and
Do what cannot be.
For it is said
Only those who attempt the absurd can achieve the impossible.

Once I read a poem
Quite a long time ago
It wasn't especially happy
But it was also no tale of woe
Just a tired reminiscing of tomorrow
A future dreaming of sorts
Where one may freeze a dream
And melt it when you're old
Soaking your weary feet and relaxing
In the thawed memories of youth
In a world where one may
Freeze a dream
Perhaps they could bottle up my hopes
I'd store mine all in mason jars
And old liquor bottles
Then when I feel dark and down
I'd crack one open and drink up

If we had no bones
Were only bags of skin
Stretched like amoebas
Barely holding our insides in
Our bodies would be jelly
And have no form at all
Without our bones to hold us up
No longer would we stand tall

In a universe of toys and dolls there was
One planet
That is to say, there wasn't one planet alone,
But one specific planet
This was the planet of stuffed creatures
The second home of teddy bears
And velveteen rabbits
The place for old friends full of fluff and honey,
Old grey donkeys and shy pink piggies
The place to go after they've been loved to pieces
The over loved and worn are
Ever so tenderly pieced together
The battered and abused are mended
Comforted with thoughts of laughter and sun
Given extra shiny buttons and softer filling
The loved and misused have all have come here
The adored and discarded have all come home
Long after their time on Earth is through
Once burned or trashed or lost
Little angels fly them to the new world
For a second life of happiness
Home to the land of stuffed creatures

Progeny of grey sloppy sponge
And hard, dense cranial matter
Sons of electrical pulses and impulses
Daughters of ideas and concepts, half formed
The words and phrases spat out onto pages
The pictures and doodles creeping out
From behind your eyes
The mess behind your all-and-nothing
Viewing optical orbs
Art and trash, poems and junk
These are your brainchildren

In every circle there is
An infinite number of triangles
In every triangle there is
An infinite number of circles
In every triangle there is
Another infinity of triangles
So then why the heck is there only
One circle in a circle?