Things are things and
Verbs are verbs
When you hear chirps
It’s probably birds

Feet go in shoes
And shoes on the floor
Music echoes in ears
Leaving you wanting some more

A heart is a heart
Until it’s beats aren’t for you
Love isn't love
Until you share it with two

Then comes the end
As all good things must
Settle on the shelf
And gather life’s dust

"Too late" is a lie
So get back on your way
Start life over
If you can, start it today

I have heavy boots
My boots are filled with all of the things I never say
They are getting heavier with all the things I never do
Sometimes it’s just easier to wear heavy boots
At least your legs get strong

26 angels have arrived for orientation
Taken from the world without hesitation
Heaven is a little more crowded:
There’s a place already prepared
At least tonight those who’ve passed,
Will rest in God’s care

Buried under heartbreak, Newtown still stands
Worlds changed, for this kid and the next
“Kids, 2 +2 is…” BANG -
Children were unable to protect,
Themselves or their friends

Gunshots filled the air
Instead of love that should be there

Flags at half-staff, leave us half-hearted
Soo many, like too many,
Will spend their Christmas
With families torn apart
And no New Years resolution
Can make up for the inhuman execution

May we ever look to love unconditionally.

I am forgotten,
As my footprints
melt
in the snow.

I find myself in the crowds of Central Park
The trees look taller than last time I was here
I’ve never been to New York

I’ve shed at least 54 tears in the last 12 minutes
I count them as they drop
Like seconds ticking off my clock
I can’t wait for tomorrow because
Maybe then I’ll feel better

The grass is green under the snow
I dug down to make sure
It took me 33 minutes to touch bottom
The grass was dead
It hasn’t seen the sun in at least 3 weeks

Maybe it is safer to be alone
I know for sure it’s easier to be alone
At least it was when I didn’t know what good company felt like
Now I can’t even read without feeling eyes over my shoulder

I don’t fit in here or there because of my odd mentality
I’m not mental, but my thoughts will soon be detrimental
I take a shower to feel better – it didn’t work
I go on a run - I didn’t make it back

I finally wake up; still crying
6 feet under and my heart finally calms
The dirt is fresh on my palms
I dig my own grave over and over

We named our brothers ****** Boy John
We shoveled indifference with our ignorance
Into the grave of civility and brotherhood
The white family – we are the majority in the school of intolerance
Leading to social starvation
A minority of one is not wrong or mad
One is the last line before
an infinite sea of negative
Under God we are all equal and even
I hope we’ve cracked the whip for the last time
One more might sound louder than Judas’s kiss on Jesus’s cheek
Whips of words are seen holstered
On the tips of tongues and the points of pens
If the worth of your values breaks, and dogmatic hate begins to leak
Then stick the gum of pride you’ve been chewing on for years
To protect whatever you have left
Dr. King was an inspired man and leader
He painted the pages of history with red, not black
Sacrificed his blood, while accepting his skin
It was the kind of idea that seemed too extreme
Never forget the words: **“I HAVE A DREAM!”

I never understood “made in God’s image” until I saw her.
Anyone who’s seen her has higher expectations for what heaven looks like.

We’re both sensitive enough to know what love feels like,
and reasonable enough to know that it can be broken.

The first time you use a new toothbrush is nothing like the first time you kiss a girl,
But I still love them both.

Her laugh is a paradox; an outsider would think she either just said the cleverest thing ever or she wishes she could retract it faster than it was said.
Only I know it’s simply because it’s beautiful. It’s easily my favorite language.

I have considered wearing a wiretap so I could go back and listen to all of our conversations again. And I hope that it picked up her heartbeat. She told me, it’s beating exactly like life should sound like.

She offers to iron any wrinkled clothes. I don’t have any. But I have a wrinkled heart.
I thought it was made into origami but it’s just a wadded ball that missed the wastebasket.

The way she dances to hip-hop shows her versatility,
yet you can tell she doesn’t do this every day; but she still dances.

I’m almost too nervous to hug her - knowing it will have to end.
Whenever I let go, I feel like I made a mistake.

Her voice trails off into silence,
like an hourglass that’s trying to hold itself together.

I like that “click-clack” of her boots.
It lets me know I’m next to someone really going places.

She goes to the mini mart with me even when she doesn't want to get anything,
besides more time together.