Render Your Salutes,
And say your prayers.
The night will come and go.

Follow me from this misery,
to the land of immortality.
Where you will shine,
like the brightest of stars,
and I will be,
your shadowing moon.

Take a glimpse of the Earth,
As we slowly fade into,
The Universe.

My hand will guide you,
while my love confides in you.
Together we will see,
the sunrise on Mercury,
or spend our days,
wandering the Milky Way.

I will take charge,
of controlling the march,
of this absently ambling asteroid.
And you will be,
the courageous Queen,
of this cleverly considerate comet.

Hold my hand,
and maybe we can see,
this awesome galaxy,
from where Pluto and Neptune,
watch the constellations congregate.

I want to be your shadowing moon,
if you will be my shining star.

I was writing you a letter

a letter with my confession

My confession

of unruly decision

but then my hand froze

and my body trembled

and my neck

twisted

           Left,

                       Right,

           Left,

                       Right,

           Left,

                       Right,

****.



My body collapsed to the floor

like the Titanic capsized

in that frozen ocean;

like the Lusitania was drowned

by the torpedo’s bite.



There I lie

staring into nothing

because nothing stares at me.

and there I let my mind creep

into the vast expanse of death

where the demons claw away

but I can only speak when I bleed.



Mutilated I hang

waiting for the moment

when I am pulled from this hellish nightmare;

the moment when I take refuge

in the sweat-soaked bed sheets

that surround me.



Yet,

That moment never comes.

I continue to hang,

speaking when I bleed.

The tree holds me,

while I reap the consequences,

of my foolish escape.

An average guy,
Twenty-two years old,
Whose life is just                        a picture show.
Cliché acting
And Predictable drama,
This boy’s life
Is a rewound product.
Slave by trade;
Free Spirit by desire.
He holds his head high,
In search of his destiny.
Yet, deep down,
He’s just a common typist
Who spills his emotions
On the page of Sadness.
Good God!
Won’t somebody save him!

Languish in language; the one only I know.

Spare me your sensitivity, Miss Queen,

And may my honor align with the truth.

I don’t want to get left here now in this

Miserable old town, where love fades slow.

Give me the aftershock of a Martian glow.

It doesn’t make sense, to sit here wasting

On this church pew when my trust has left them.

You can find me floating down a shallow creek,

Savoring the chance to taste the morning dew.

I’ll find peace in the glance between mirrors;

Where my reflection cannot follow me.

Time will tell our story
As we navigate across these waves,
                     and these clouds;
       Daring to be bold!
Seeking the adventure
                        that only we can take together.

Hold my hand, Darling,
and let us chase our dreams.
    I’ll be by your side the entire time.

I’ll be there beside you;
                                  holding you tight when the thunder
                          echoes across the sky.

I’ll be there to love you
            when the world comes crashing down.

I’ll be there to kiss you passionately
                         after we’ve said “I do,”
               and the preacher pronounces us Man and Wife.

I am your strength.
You are my mind; my heart; my Love.
I may be your Superman,
              but you’ll always be my foundation.

Your heart is where I’ll seek refuge when I’m weak.
Your eyes are where I’ll remember love.
Your hand will always be within reach.
Your lips will always comfort my soul.

I Love You more than anything in this world.
You are my all, Baby,
                        so please be my
                                    Valentine
For the Rest of Our Lives.

Reminiscent of

Times lost, when I would stay up

And write until my

Heart had nothing left to write;

When my soul could rest in peace.

Distorted words, and

The common misconception

Of glamorous fiends,

Help to destroy the sanity

Of hopelessly subtle, old kings.

-

Dastardly provoked

To implore, or deceive, the

Faint of heart—cowards—

To commit themselves to war;

To attempt courage for once.

-

Yet, not one of them

Is capable of such strength.

In today’s battle,

One man here, is simply just

Another broken, dead boy.

-

Scream “Hallelujah!”

They do, but it comes as a

Whisper. They whisper,

Because they are afraid of

Their own voices; the noise scares them.

-

Circumstance may have

That those faint of heart—cowards—

Cannot see their chance;

This inexhaustible resource.

They know not their own power.

-

Brother: Please humor

The condemned souls in this town,

For they are no more

A concern for the Killers,

And Invaders moving through here.

-

The rippling muscles

Of defeat swarm this dead town,

And those who stood by

Were consumed by the vultures,

And the wolves who haunt the woods.

-

Those who could not stand

And confront the oppressors,

Because their voice was

Inaudible and weak, were

Burned at the stake, like Bruno.

-

               Yet, these plebes, could not look Him in the eyes because their guilt weighed their chins down.

-

Wickedly the cruel,

Conquering enemy will

Capture the souls of

The less fortunate who hide

In their own puny shadows.

-

Yet, even when the

Strong make their stand, and fight

Those wicked demons,

Their victory is in vain,

Because the cities still burn.