A boy stood solely
With his back to the sun he cast a shadow
Arching, twisting and blotting out the light
He held his toys in his hand, his momentary joys
And through his tears, through gritted teeth

He cursed the world who had done him wrong

But past that hate that deafening rage
Around that shriveled grudge
He had made his choice
He had picked his lasting seal
For on that day the young boy desired only destruction
And to this path the toddler ran

For it was the only way he knew how to get home

Tearing through the beaten path
A route taken by his father
A route taken by the wolves
The boy, to his delight, finally found what he was looking for
But in his malice
And in his undying hate
The quest for destruction stole even that away from him

And ripping his home out from the ground  
He was left with the only things he had carried
But discovered something that made no surprise
He was only left with carnage

We are trapped in infinitum
Swirling whirlpools, timely decay
Reach out to grasp the present
It slips through your fingers
Every time

Fight against the endless days
We but only glimpse forever
A stain upon the endless sea
Compete with existence
Rage against complacency

We are trapped in infinitum
Gasping for air in our pocket universe
Existence is a bitter tasting seed
One that plants itself
From the first breath to the last

Rage
Rage against the dying light
Or it will consume you
With the absence of words
There is only silence

Across the water I've seen those lights,
sparkling lights above the sea.
How have I caught those dancing brights
but have never been before?

Across the water I've yearned to feel
the ocean breeze slipping through those streets.
To hear the gravel crunch with my steps,
the soft patter of shoes on sandy grass.

Across the water I've seen that town
from the bridge I've been on countless years.
How have I never been before?
And ventured across that sea?

A friend once told me
Some things are impossible to do
Impossible to reach
Impossible to achieve
No matter how hard someone tried,
They would never meet their goals
And I looked at him
And with a solemn heart
Responded,
Only fools bind themselves
To the realities of this World

Anxiety is a cancer of the mind
One which manifests in kind
That begins as a seed within your head
A thistle **** while in your bed

Vines of doubt with acrid musk
Constricting around your hollowed husk
As it eats away from within
No longer knowing how long it's been

Like fungus that grows in the bleak
Fed by dank and dark lit rooms
Sapping victims till they're weak
Thorns that bind in anxious blooms

But as any learned gardener knows
Who has walked through fields of life
He who lets weeds overgrow
Shall surely be with strife

So prune and shape those chilling leaves
And let your garden breath again
But accept that life shall always have its weeds

But you're a gardener now, not who you were back then.

The sun set behind the shambled buildings
All that was left before our end
And on the wind I heard Them
Those left to plague the dark corners
To hide in the cracks of darkened halls
Swings swayed and street lights flickered
Screams echoed through the cities hallways
Deserted cars like matchbox toys
Moans of the dead filled the air
Friends and family gone and passed
In an instant before the storm
I sat nestled in my tree for the night
Alone
As if anything had changed

I fear the day will come, when everyone has packed their bags
When they have gone their own ways
To faraway places and lands
I fear the day when friends drift apart
When memories fade and names are forgot
To places never to be remembered
I fear the day when I sit in this old town and I have no one to call on to play
When the spring breeze and the awakening trees only beckon another season of doubt
To only haunt me in my lonesome
I fear the day when I must say, I never needed you anymore
When I turn my back to the kindness of friends
To look away when they come to my aid
I fear the day when I fail to succeed, when others have grown and prospered
When I am rejected again, tossed down and thrown out
To search again for another source of pay
I fear the day when I marry a girl
When she puts her trust all in me
To have her forever but in the back of my mind make sure her life is happy as can be
I fear the day when my child is born
When a boy looks up in my eyes and beckons me
To come and sit by his side
I fear the most the day when I cannot say I wrote this poem many years ago
When I am old and decrepit, senile and covered with dust
To die and and be forgotten like always

As long as I have my things
The world is fine with me
As long as I have what I need to be happy
The world is fine with me
As long as I don't suffer in any way
The world is fine with me
But take those things away from ME
And then we have a problem

At first we try to understand
We probe around the idea
But our biases get in the way
And smudge the lenses we look through
We weigh our morality
Trying to fit it within what we believe
To be right
Eventually we hate it
And then it becomes our enemy
Because we fear
How it will change us

They lowered him down into his earthy hole where dirt once lay
Cold and sunken eyes, closed within the wooden frame
With puffy clouds the sun continued to race across the dark set sky
As the  mass of black suited girls and boys sniffled good byes
Some prayed
Some cried
Yet I only stood and stared
At the man reduced to his fragile box of rectangular shape
Who once thought and loved like I
Some hugged
Some needed a shoulder for help, for comfort
And the box slowly fell with the most gentle sway
More clouds came in as final words were said
And just as the last tears were shed
The first drops of rain did fall
As if the world was crying
What a sad day for rain

I'm so sorry
That I did not treat you better
And that
I let my anxieties
Ruin the moment

Ethereal rift, shimmering tide
Calm as ripples dancing across the sea
A standstill beauty where we coincide
Gazing gently, comforting me.

Blanketing sparkle of speckled dust
Swirling sea foam and warming light
Cocooned bliss within complacent trust
Soothing me softly with twinkles bright.

Stepping onto glassy plains
Mirrors to my internal plight
Reflection of eternity remains
As I fade to the night.

Floating faintly I drift away
As gentle gales push ever so slight
Embracing me, my love, I cannot stay
As I fade into the night.

Blankly staring, gaze of hardened stone
Clench fists whitening, knuckles gripping thin air
Jaw line straining, grinding teeth to powdered dust
No words do describe tormented rage
Melted with fury
Churned with bitter taste
Like rusted nails
Wire of the sharpest shape
Acid of purest state
My hate
My hate
A burden to my being
Devil upon shoulder
Days
Nights
Dominos falling
My hate
My Hate
Fire of unending blaze
No fruit to quench its thirst

I show you the stone in my hand
Oh how it glitters and sparkles so
A priceless crystal in all the land
A trap now set that you don't know

I show you a light that shines bright as the sun
Yet behind you the darkness hides a thousand knives
How easy it is to deceive with one
When I have captured all wandering eyes

Like moths that pursue their demise
Ignorant of the rallying cries
You fools, you fools, keep staring at my hand
For in my other, the blades cut up your land

Thread by thread
One brick at a time
Look at the stones atop my head
Look and be amazed how dazzling they shine

He sat atop his marble throne
In silks of radiant hue.
His enemies, to wolves he'd thrown
His decrees were swift and true.

In his right hand he held power to love
In his left, the power to destroy.
Atop his towering throne above
Iron grip he did employ.

He came from nothing and now had all
And cut down a thousand men.
Saw the rise of brutes and fall
And vowed to rid the world of them.

Atop his regal pedestal of stone
On the backs of nameless men.
Alone atop that white marble bone
A tyrant sat just as back then.

Dust did settle soft, upon the bookshelf near the sill
Like Autumn leaves, books scattered the floor
Across the rug of amber golden till
A mahogany desk filled the corner wall
A waste basket still vacant with crumpled rough drafts of previous attempts
Held the memories of good times and bad
Times etched into our memory
To be held onto and carefully nurtured
To fall back on when our world is a rainy set
A warm candle burnt beside lamp, laying so carefully over the desk
Like a balancing act it stood so still
Only for the flame to flicker
Dust did settle soft, upon the bookshelf near the sill
This which sparked my imagination, my head in which to fill

How funny to think
That all this time

As I have scribbled words onto pages
Yearning to find a purpose
Yearning to find a person

Dreaming that when I found them
Pages and pages would be filled

With words bleeding onto the paper
And countless volumes written about us

But in reality, I was wrong
In reality, there is no room for words

For I have been living the moment
And ironically, did not think to write for awhile.

I am in a constant battle
A ceaseless war between what I desire
And what I know is truth
The truth that what I desire is distant
Scarce and miles from where I stand
A balanced plate on a stick
Ready to fall
At any time
With the slightest touch
I force myself to be content
Suppressing the jealousy and pain
The heartache

I am a stone balanced upright in a dense forest
Waiting and waiting
For someone
To find me delicately placed
And relieve me of my duty
To carry me home
And hold me close
And tell me they need me there

What happens to the mediocre man in an opposite world
Where the poor are rich
And rich are poor
Where the tables turn and opposite ends flip
For man always cries for the poor and dirtied souls
Or envies the affluent and golden kings
But who cares for the man halfway there
Who stands at the midpoint between the rich and impoverished
For the sad truth is, that when a sealed jar of water is flipped on its cap
The Bottom becomes Top
And the Top becomes Bottom
But the water remains where it had always been before
Never changing any better nor worse
No one cries for the mediocre man

It started with the music,
her love for music carried her round.
And oh how she danced with that tune,
how she swayed like wind amongst the trees.
Her talent grew with her passion
and people came far and wide to see her prance.
Fate finally brought her largest performance,
the world sat hushed as the lights dimmed and curtain rose.
Stepping out into the light she was cheered
she was loved.
Carrying the world on her shoulders,
proving to those watching in awe,
that she was the most magnificent of them all,
the "meilleur des meilleurs".
Her body moved and her arms stretched
and on that night the crowd roared
and cheered forever it seemed.
Because she proved two things,
she was the best in the world
and that she no longer loved to dance.
For she realized she danced for the sake of the end.
She realized she forgot what it was like
to love to dance for herself.

Have we found ourselves back again
In dark times of hatred and back when
We could not recognize a man of color
We dared not consider him another
Now we try to relegate
Those who have a different fate
And punish them for who they love
How they dress or how they talk
Why must we repeat ourselves
And find new victims, so we may delve,
Deeper into our most sinister plots
To put these "heathens" to a stop
History has seen it, time again
Every moment we come around a bend
We hate what is unknown.

Lights dim,
Sky grey, falling back into its peaceful slumber
Quiet house with an orchestra of the night playing outside the window
pane
Cracked ever so slightly the world breathes its final breathes before dipping into steady sleep
Warm shower, accompanied with fresh scents
Warm sheets ruffled around you
Cocooned like a caterpillar before flight
Bed is where I belong.

Within my grasped palm of a mind
I hold a story that the world has never heard
A story where man meets his match
Where the lines between monster and god run grey
I hold in me the finest story to shed itself to reality
A glistening monarch emerging from its cocoon
Within my grasped palm of a mind
I clasp a story of a lifetime
I simply must release my fist
And rearrange these letters
To let loose this grand tale.

Behind that broken smile
Atop their pristine steeds
Unbeknownst yet for a while
There are the hero's needs

To be a hero is to be broken
One who sacrificed it all
Finally awoken
Who took the hero call

They've seen the ugly side of man
The dark side of the moon
When others turned tail and ran
They were the last ones in the room

Behind that broken smile
As they wave to cheering fans
They've not cried for quite awhile
Eyes bare like desert sands

We stand at the precipice of eventual destruction
tip toeing along safety and danger.
Each man not a waypoint but a door
and within forever, inside infinity.
Diving within and below the collective unconscious  
each man a world unto itself.
Every woman a universe, each child a galaxy.
We found how to open these doors,
shedding light across the bleakness, the ash.
But do we dare see what is on the other side?
Does man deserve such divinity?

When there is infinity,
there is never truly uniqueness.
Perhaps in the moment,
a minor blip in existence.
But an atom in the never-ending string,
is only that.
They say a snowflake is never the same
as the others that fall around it.
For some that is a warming thought indeed.
But they are all snowflakes one in the same.

When the lakes have dried and leaves have rot
As we choke upon the air we breathe
In anguished cries, shall we ask "Where have we got?"
"Is this really how man will leave?"

As the waters rise and drown out our screams
When acid falls from clouds above
With swollen fish floating down the streams
At what point will we say enough?

As the animals die from poisoned bile
From the ground in which they fed
We shrug and scoff, "That won't happen for awhile"
Nestled comfortably in our beds

When the world is grey and full of dust
When the last living things are us
From the gutters, disease approaches
As we spread across the world like roaches.

It was just yesterday I had my birthday party
With puffy cake and excited smiles
As candles burnt and laughter echoed
When tiny hands and tiny faces turned
Dark rooms filled with jubilant kids
Eagerly sat to get their piece
When the presents were opened
And warming hugs as people left
But here I sit writing yet another poem
Another piece
Another part of my life inscribed in words
Why does it feel like life comes so quick
Just when you think life is dullest
Boring and tasteless
You remember that birthday
And the fictional world you thought could never be found
But here we sit
Understanding that the time has flown over our heads
Wondering where it has possibly gone.

I feel no older than I had been the day before
But yet we celebrate it all the same
As if walking through a brand new door
Or completing another level in the game
But Happy Birthday to me
Am I allowed to say things like that?
I surely guess we will see
The next trick I can pull out of my hat
Hopefully it will take me far

Oh music box of darkest wood
So strong, so prominent is your frame
Bold with silver, chiseled beauties brass
A polish of delicate touch
Velvet organs do you hold
Of soft padded shelves and olden gold
A trophy upon a dusted shelf
Crested chest of workman's name
Patched with fervent trust
Lined in steel like curving roads
Your story holds remembered times
Saddened tunes and lifted cries
Broken hearts and twisted lies
And happiness all the same
An elegance none can recreate
Prominent upon your resting place
But beyond the outer shell but holds
The truth to your exterior frame
For when opened there plays
A soft melodic piece does sound
Floating notes from your soul
For when you hear the truth
One can't stop but listen
For all of us are like a music box
Where our melodies capture the world

From depths below and tangled threads
Where cobwebs stow the darkest machinations
Caught like droplets from the dew
Poisoned liquid, envelop mends.

Old wounds bite deepest
Where they're cut again
Where mold and mildew inch and spread
Dark bruises form and grow in hues
Green, yellow, red, and blues.

Bleached wounds that hide beneath the skin
Deep below that soft pink shield
And from within they do not yield
Old anger enflames those ancient wounds.

Some are seen like boiled flesh
Of scars that cut too deep years ago
Or of pains that never truly healed
Be cautious and be wary though.

Of stabs and cuts
Invisible to the eye
Be wary of the blights within
Wounds that slice and gnaw each passing day
Untreatable blights without any cures
Cancerous burdens who always stay

I wasn't expecting her to show
She arrived as a pleasant surprise
I kept my excitement at a low
My stomach full of butterflies

Your favorite toy from childhood
The sport you loved to play
That book that kept you fascinated
The friends you made in school
That bad grade you got on your test
Your first kiss you ever had
The fights you had with your parents
That moment your life was perfect
The moments it was not
That first time you were away from home
The one secret you'll never tell a soul
That person you love to be around
The dog you saw on the street
That sense of accomplishment
The loneliness you sometimes feel
That time you laughed so hard your stomach hurt
Your first hangover
The moment you thought your life was in shambles
That good show you recommend to everyone
The books that shaped your worldview
That character you want to be
The moment you realize
That all things come to an end
The world looks much less scary
That it did before reading this
The timeline you live in
That you inhabit
The things you do
That will all fade
Gently
Into nothingness

A french melody played as I sipped the hot liquid within my cup
The lyrics told of a man who had returned from war
But when he came back to his town, there was no one left
And he was lost without his old friends, empty without his home
The café was quiet but the slow murmur of small chit chat
You had to take a dingy to get to the respectable little joint
They lined the wooded dock and a fading light blinked
A slight breeze came up through the villa
But it was a warm breeze and the water remained calm
The twinkle of the town across the sea winked at me as I sat
I felt like the soldier from war
Siting here inside this floating place
But a speck surrounded by the unknown
A plane flew above the small city
A fishing boat chugged away with its lonesome
I stood and payed the bill
And drove my dingy across the water back into town

He cared so much it consumed him
Moderation was not in his creed
He sacrificed his soul and limb
To attain the goal to forever be freed

He cared so much it killed him
So much so he became a wretch
A villain in the story
Fixated on the stretch

He cared so much to help the world
But in the end he was seduced
Addicted to his plan unfurled
To a scoundrel he was reduced.