There’s a garden filled with lilies and roses,
Dancing to the swift, musical breeze,
That surrounds the plentiful, beautiful aroma
Of the summer air.

My heart is thumping so loudly;
I find it difficult to consume oxygen.
It is a necessity, yet I struggle,
Like a person trapped inside a tight shut coffin.

The birds are so lovely,
They sing and chirp to the rhythm of sound,
That seems to echo and bounce,
From the caves not so far off.

I see too many colors to capture in one;
There are yellows, greens, browns, and blues,
That command my attention in this summer day,
For the beauty is too great to try to ignore.

I’m at peace, filled with tranquility,
Or so I say to myself as I watch with dismay.
I’m a walking lie, yet I feel nothing,
But I feel everything all at once.

The confusion is too great,
But the emptiness is there,
Not allowing me to think,
Not allowing me to be the creator in me.

Is this how it feels to lose all hope?
Is this how it feels to lose sympathy?
This may as well be why some choose drugs,
Instead of the high gained through excitement, you see.

His biggest fear was just to be normal
To blend in with the crowd, not to stand out like he used to
To do everything by the rules instead of making his own
Like his old dreams were just thrown in the trash from one day to another

But his biggest fear of all was to be okay with never being anything more or less than just okay.

"Hail unto thee, unlikely Champion!
If I may inquire; to which school do you belong?
Your technique is most impressive and dynamic;
I've never seen anything quite like it in all my years."

"Hail unto thee, Philosopher-King.
Indeed you may inquire!
I belong to no school:
I belong to each and every
however much any
would chose to have me,
and I, it."

"Wise beyond your years, I see.
I've got something to show you.
A book from a distant land. I think you'll dig it."

We turned and walked down the torch-lit vaulted hallway of the King's palace toward the Archives. The King hummed some resemblance of a melody as we descended a rather long spiral staircase.

A distant sound of glass shattering broke the monotony of the decent. We looked at each other and I could see his dark face grow pale.

"The marauders.. I knew this would happen sooner or later. Come, Champion. We must ensure the Queen's safety! Make haste!"

Houses sitting condemned, taking up the view
while the old guys sit sipping forties in forty degree
temperatures facing the wall so the wind doesn't burn
their faces too much in what could be called a modest December.

They turn their back to the guy hiding bags of rock
in his lips to avoid detection from the cameras posted
on both street corners. This place is set to a constant sneaking
violin pluck. We are all capers in a burgle commune.

I hung up a tarp today so the stray cats can hide from the wind.
In one stanza, January has set in and it is bitter to the bone.
We summoned the name of old man winter from repetition and
no one man may hold that burden. The ***** only warms their blood.

She's such a visionary,
she pictures art where peasants revel...
had a near death experience, said she even saw hell...
She sees potential in me, despite the times that i fell..
she convinced me to keep throwing pennies in wells..
not because she believes in myths and superstitions...
but because she sees homeless people dig in after all the wishin..
So on a good day, i throw in a few quarters, she sees i care.
But im no hero i just want Ms. Adeline to be aware..

Everything she sees, and envisions she blesses. & Everyone agrees...
So i tell her.
Never take your lovely eyes off the world, please.

She promised me she wouldn't, ever since she saw God.


What makes her see goodness?, what makes her so kind?.....
if only the world knew, Ms. Adeline was born blind.




-afj