Formula of being a happy man:
Whenever sadness strikes you smile at its face...........

You don't have to explain yourself
Justify yourself
Refine yourself
Talk to the moon if you must
Share your secrets with the stars
You're allowed to say
whatever you may please
And write every word that pops out of your mouth
when you lay on the
comfort of your bed
Who cares!
Not your pen
Not the birds who are heading home
Not the creatures who creep way down deep on the ocean floor
Not the sea shell you hold up to you ear
They're all just listening,
not judging, but accepting
and applauding
Through your journey and theirs

Neighborhood is another garden......,.

When the sky has molded over in pollution and our shoes get
stuck in the swamps
the Earth will still bless us with forgiveness
fully knowing we did this
We let the tides consume our dissatisfaction
but they still let us swim naked in them
Our rain forests losing family one by one
they have eyes you know
they see you, you know
we're killing our air supply
we use them disgracefully yet they still lay low
covering your head when the rain decides to give the soil a drop of purity
An unrequited love this world is
and the evil it implodes us with, is the anger
it has been waiting to emerge
Can you blame her...
giving us a piece of what years of us not caring tastes like
She, the woman in blue, emerald hair as long as the rivers may flow
tried to show the world magnificent sunsets and
mountain tops peeking out of the clouds and
the ocean as vast as the desert land
and the animals
we must let them be
the intelligence they withhold, the beauty they bellow
yet we do not give gratitude
we do not clean up our messes
we live in our pristine houses
drawing the curtains
She, this Earth, this Woman has brought us life and we have kicked it aside
We have forgotten to love
and it's bigger than you think.

Does the crimson rose grow through my heart now...
Will it crumble on top of my gravestone
Will it lose its pedals after I have breathed upon it
I can't sustain it.
I've chatted with the trees, they've held me. My grandpa did the same. though I will never remember.
I rest my head on the damp moss, as i laid my cheek on his. against my ear.
I only hear the worms moving on by
living the simplest of lives
I must say, I've never been so curious of the other side
Ironically, that's what keeps me going
I'm saving the last piece of chocolate on the shelf for when my heart is to finally bleed