(You made this monster)

invented by provided feelings of reverence
forced to difference without relevance
with resemblance to hands of elegance
evident difference, deliberate severance

(it is so hard to ****)

envious enemies with torches of treacherous
eloquence lost when pestilence is generous
serpent like in genesis, tenaciously venomous
fighting the exodus against shields of credulous

(and the tower burns)

ignited by chemicals of nominal assessment
tower of suggestion is now infested
where questions and statements are incessant
born by resentment, this basement investment

=====================================================­===

i walk the streets with arms outstretched
never meeting touching grace
i haven't met a decent monster yet
the greenest monstrosity in this place

we are all only pieces left
stitched organs, sewn parts
a dug up heart in my chest
could come alive with some sparks

i haunt these streets of broken dreams
another life to survive
i'm just a being, beyond their screams
it lives, it's alive

i'm afraid to watch you die
fear of not being strong enough to see you through as i've sought strangers
love never ends but the body decays
and who's to say i won't climb into your grave?
i've never had to be without you
if you count the years i've been alive
you've held my heart for over half of that time
how do i go on when you die?

i kiss you so deeply so i won't forget the taste
i hold you so tight so i won't forget the feel of your softened skin against my face
i run my hands through your curly hair so i won't forget the touch
i lay my head on your chest at night so i won't forget how your heart beats so much

and all the while i create your memory
i pray to keep you forever
if God must take you first
i will only get through life after
knowing He will bring us back together
curing the never ending hurt

somber it may seem
but you see, i think about it too
i can't imagine life, nor death, nor an eternity
i just can't imagine to exist without you
they say soulmates aren't real
that love at first sight is never due
but i know what i saw
when we first locked eyes
and i can speak from a heart full of love
that

it's true

Roses in the bath
Run around makes me laugh
Lavender in the bed
For your aching head
Chicken for your soul
I filled your bowl
For I am lost
Without
You

The sun was gone, and the moon was coming
Over the blue Connecticut hills;
The west was rosy, the east was flushed,
And over my head the swallows rushed
This way and that, with changeful wills.
I heard them twitter and watched them dart
Now together and now apart
Like dark petals blown from a tree;
The maples stamped against the west
Were black and stately and full of rest,
And the hazy orange moon grew up
And slowly changed to yellow gold
While the hills were darkened, fold on fold
To a deeper blue than a flower could hold.
Down the hill I went, and then
I forgot the ways of men,
For night-scents, heady, and damp and cool
Wakened ecstasy in me
On the brink of a shining pool.

O Beauty, out of many a cup
You have made me drunk and wild
Ever since I was a child,
But when have I been sure as now
That no bitterness can bend
And no sorrow wholly bow
One who loves you to the end?
And though I must give my breath
And my laughter all to death,
And my eyes through which joy came,
And my heart, a wavering flame;
If all must leave me and go back
Along a blind and fearful track
So that you can make anew,
Fusing with intenser fire,
Something nearer your desire;
If my soul must go alone
Through a cold infinity,
Or even if it vanish, too,
Beauty, I have worshipped you.

Let this single hour atone
For the theft of all of me.

I keep searching for you everywhere

I don't remember where I saved those old pictures
And sometimes you're asleep when I want to talk
     But when I look inside my heart, where all my love is kept

I've found that you *completely fill it up

I've been looking for you all around

I can't find you in old photographs
And sometimes I can't reach you by phone
    But when I look in the mirror and see my smile

*I know I've found you

Dead fish do not move.
They lay there,
Dead.

Dead fish do not breathe,
They lay there,
Dead.

Dead fish do not speak.
They lay there,
Dead.

But the dead fish do wander.
They wander around fish heaven,
Or fish hell.

Dead fish's minds, lasting longer than their physical bodies do,
Explore crevices of the universe that people aren't even familiar with.
Well, at least not people from Earth.

Dead fish not only wander, but they do this thing that sounds like wander and is spelled like wander but is called "wonder."
Their minds forever wonder about things.
Like seaweed, ah the good ol' days of eating seaweed.

Or maybe dead fish wonder about what life is like now that they are gone.
They might wonder if it's raining, or if it's sunny.
But they're fish, so what the hell matters if it's raining or sunny?

You see, dead fish also do this thing.
It sounds much like wander and wonder but it's different.
The thing is "nothing."

Well, I assume "nothing" would sound like the words "wander" and "wonder" to a dead fish.

Considering dead fish can do nothing.
They just lay there,
Dead.

But we are not dead fish.
We are alive people, well at least some of us.
We can do things.

Like ride a rollercoaster, or eat a sandwich.
We can watch televisions shows probably longer than most other human beings can.
We can write poetry books that only five and a half people will read.

(One of those hits home for this author.)

We can go out and live lives livelier than those dead fish.
We can live for those dead fish.
We can wander and wonder and do nothing all at the same time.

We are all given life to live and lives to breathe life into.
Alive humans and dead fish.
At one point in time, we all have the opportunity to be someone who does something maybe even with somebody.

Alive humans and dead fish.
Dead humans and alive fish.
Alive humans and alive fish.
Dead human and dead fish.

Creatures have beautiful and blank canvases on which they can spill beautiful masterpieces on.
Or even blank masterpieces.

It just depends on who you're asking to paint you a picture.
An alive human, or a dead fish.

Both have some type of story to tell.