I’ve traveled
a million miles
on an open road
with memories of home
strapped to broken bones.
Mama,
these dreams are heavy
against will
that’s strong as stone,
but I’ll carry these feet
across the desert ground.
With the moon above me
I’ll hear my spirit howl.
Like the wolves that run
protecting
their forest ground.
Mama,
I’m meant to roam,
to let my spirit soar.
High as condors
above the mountaintops.
I know
freedom
comes at a cost,
but so does
happiness
that has to be bought.  
Mama,
don’t you worry
I’ll never get lost.
I have the stars,
and a thin blue line
between the folds
of my map.
I don’t know
these strangers
or places I stop,
but my eyes are open
to the hourglass of time.
Mama,
I’m not scared.
I know
where I’m going.
My destination
is everywhere.
Mama,
don’t you worry
I’ll be fine.
When my cup is full,
and my heart is whole
I’ll follow the stars,
and wander back home.

We are
on the forefront
of a revolution.
Our generation
holds the key
to eternal peace.
We are
the rising tide,
the ones
that will shift
the tipping point
of our world.
We will
ride the wave
to a new millennia,
or let it crash
against
the breakwall.

We have a choice.

Be the lighthouse
that shines
through the storm,
or repeat history
in one more
****** war.

What will you stand for?

Twinkle twinkle little light
How I wonder that you might
Give my sight a bit of joy
Through this wooden toy.

How I wish that it could just
Speak to him and so, entrust
All my thoughts, my love and care,
He would be my only glare!

I would care not that its flesh
Is a piece of pine refreshed
By my old and wrinkled hands,
That's not where its value stands!

Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I wonder if you are
Listening to this old fool
Who has nothing but his tools

And his silence and long beard
And some hope that he could hear
Someone dear to call him "dad",
Privilege he never had...

I am dust.
Blown by the wind
And rained down
By evaporated seas,
And flowing
And glowing
And starting
A sneeze.

I am dust.
Just a tiny piece
Of earth,
Just a flying piece
Of rock,
not steady,
But ready
for permanent
Change.

I am dust.
Not now,
But always,
And important
Through all days
Like Saturn
Or Plato
Or Gods
On walls.

I am dust.
And as dust flows
And as wind blows
And as my
Soul beats
With ashes,
I will
Forever be
Dust.

How much
I would wish
to be the shape
of your tear...

To whoever matters,

sorry for not being able to sort out my priorities

sorry for giving into life's surroundings
and losing myself

sorry for being a disappointment
because I will never be enough

sorry for being a failure
no matter how hard I try and then

sorry for not trying as hard anymore
because there are so many out there who will always be better

sorry for just not being able to give a **** sometimes
because everything important is just pieces of paper
waiting for someone to burn them

sorry for making you work so hard
when I know I'm not worth it

sorry for never learning from my mistakes because
I'm too dumb to figure them out or even remember
what they are to me

sorry for being so mad at the world that I can't
seem to be a positive or understanding person anymore

sorry for hating who I am but never taking the time to reflect
on things and thinking about the things I could change

sorry for being so self-absorbed and centered at times

sorry for being so hurt that I want to hurt every person in the world

sorry for not being in control of my life and

sorry for no longer trying to fight for it

sorry for always having to regret everything
to let anger overwhelm me in the moment and

brand a broken heart on the future's arrival
to the present

sorry for falling into a bottomless pit and
not being strong enough to climb back out

sorry for always thinking about the ending
before taking the chance to live

sorry for not being sorry enough to have
what it takes to get up and try to be
the person I want to be.

I feel many things,
tilting my head to gaze at the sky in the warmth
of bright sunlight on a chilly, autumn day
the sound of faded orange-red leaves
crunching beneath my feet,

I feel like flying,
suddenly feeling the wind lift me up into
the air and so high until I'm far away,
far from the troubles that weigh me down like
the world on Atlas' shoulders, and suffocate me
like manmade islands spreading on the ocean's surfaces,
far from the sounds of people and things
writhing in agony and their endless desires
that are never met before the time of death arrives,

In the clouds, I won't have that sickness
to restrain me from expanding into the horizon,
the sickness that sprouts from seeds of ignorance
and society's flaws, rapidly shooting out into
weeds of choking anger that suffocates my entire being
and distorts my reflection when I put on makeup
and peer in vain at the me in the mirror,

In the pure fields of grass that sweep
the horizon's grounds as far I can see,
there are no dripping wells of bitterness and remorse
soaking into the roots of blooming flowers,
the ones I will pick and offer to you,

in the hopes that you represent
for all of eternity,
for all of me,
goodness and justice,
freedom and forgiveness,
faith and love.

I look out the window of my bedroom
that restricts the blowing wind,

and sets the boundaries
from spreading fragments of passion and life,

the sky is an ever expansive tranquil blue
to match the blank canvas of my mind,

and the sea of green grass,
sweep in the fields of emptiness
swimming behind my eyes,

although my heart beats, it seems to have
bursts into silver flames requiring handfuls of salt
to glow fervent shades of rosy red,

and I remember that in books, characters caught up in life
find themselves in rare, warm moments
and in lost, nostalgic, and heartfelt times,

while in my world of white and black, with shades of reality
flinging around paint cans of fraud colors,
I can't seem to find myself,

because I am not allowed to wander outside
onto the cracked, bent concrete of unknown roads
that would take me to a far more different world,

one that I wouldn't have thought to exist out of my dreams,
the dreams I once let my head full of stars relish in,

because I am not allowed to lose myself
in an ocean of people whose goals in life
is to find themselves,

who despite the broken shards of glass underneath
their aching feet
and the spiteful stares received towards the vibrant colors
rebelling against pitiful shades of gray skies,

are people who remember to keep their chins up,
and will forever dance
to the steady, unfair beat of life's rhythm,

but, why do my words always weigh heavy
in my heart like pounds of silver in a world
ruled by gold,

and why do I hold up the goblet of truth
but can never seem to find the strength to sip from it
and peer inside my empty self,

why must my life be put on repeat, and I struggle to rise
from my shapeless bed that every morning holds me captive,
binding me with my handspun bundles of faithlessness
in seeing the white grayness of another day,

and why do I live on slices of self-deprivation
and insecurities
to aid me with staying in the perfect, bony shape
of one who can no longer distinguish where real beauty lies,

why do my thoughts stumble upon each other like strangers
and fail to connect themselves,
as if they were meaningful words sadly destined
to be lost in the wind,

why do they swim around on the ruins of my bravery,
only to be at the end
submerged in heavy rains of silence,

why can I never stand tall on my feet,
and kick regrets away as fast as the changing tides
while heading towards dreams that would allow me
to relinquish feeling everlasting joy and hope,

and of course of all things,

why do I always ponder quietly fading away
to pure non-existence,
as the response to the guilt I feel towards
everything I have the privilege to call mine,

when in the end, I have never even once,
been given the privilege to

call ownership of myself,
of the person who I really am.