I love talking to you,
Standing close to your heart,
Hearing you breathing, and the sound of your voice.
          Not needing a piece of technology
          To express my feelings for you

A phone could never do that anyway.

Love is forbidden
To those who fight
Who fight for love
For love is not.

Love is given
To those who need
Who need love
For love is fickle.

Love is lost
To those who try
Who try for love
For love is cruel.

Love is none
None of these for me
For I have you
And love is mine

I would be more spontaneous. Think irrationally more often. Dance like there's no one watching.

                         I would listen to my mother and talk back less often.
I would have been there for every yes, no, maybe, and I do.

   I would have stopped
   Every bully
   I ever saw. Instead of being a bystander.

I would bleed more often.           Heal more often.                     See more.

                  I would pay attention to the little things, ignore the big.
                                      See the future, remember the past ... not repeat it.

I'd say what's on my mind. Nothing would be bottled inside. I'd pour my heart into everything.

                                  I'd take steps to be the poet I've always wanted to be.

           The Writer I know I can be.
I am strong inside, though inside never shows, and that wouldn't be.

I would believe in the power of magick, for it's everywhere, though oppressed.

                                               I would sing with Birds.
                                               I would smell the Roses.

I have a flower, in a vase, sitting on my window sill
There are no other flowers on my window sill
        Just a rose.
This rose is special,
It hasn't died since I picked it.

The life of this rose depends on me.
No other flowers can exist on my window sill,
No other flowers can fit in the vase.
Just that flower, in that vase, on my window sill.

Walking through a garden, I see another flower.
Better than the rose in some ways,
but not in others.
      This flower is a lily.
My heart immediatly begins to tear in two.

So now I face a dilema.
Pick the lily, or let it die.
Keep the rose, or let it die.
Either way, one must die.
And I am stuck between two beauties.
I need a flower, in a vase, on my window sill.

So I delve deep.
I think broadly.
I remember something.
My favorite flower is an orchid.
I have a feeling my orchid is in a distant garden,
waiting to be picked --
       by me.
This orchid will be
My flower, in my vase, on my window sill.

And so I can live with the outcome of the lily
      or the rose
And I just hope they don't die
that someone else's favorite flower
     is a lily
     or a rose.
Because I know that something is going to happen
that will bring me closer to my favorite flower.
So I must be patient.
And just wait for
My perfect flower, in my perfect vase, on my window sill

When your gaze scours my curves,
I feel naked, yet cloth pulls tightly.
You go beyond ******* me with your eyes.
Tequila has nothing on the way you look--
at me.

When you speak to me, only me,
The lead of words is turned into
The gold of excitement.
Every syllabe tickles my sensitive stimuli,
Every word seduces my thought,
Until all I can utter is--
"more".

Hot breath on my neck drenches
My senses, leaves me breathless.
And when I ask, "can I borrow yours?"
Your kiss rivals that of the french.
So hot, our lips are not our own.
Then your tongue turns into Columbus,
and explores.
Your touch is my master,
Your movement my release.

And when finally,
Liquid love makes my clothing
Suffocating.
There is only one word on my lips--
"Remove".

And** then the world breaks
Light is moved by shadows
Never will it be the same
Gave to us by misunderstanding
The upheavel we experience
Darkness rises from its hiding place
A new Earth begins to shape
Chance is given to those left behind
To regain their lost dignity
Shine like the new stars created by those lost

Dog eared pages
betray my thoughts
or rather the lack there of

I think
then blink
But i'm thinking faster
or is it blinking?
It doesn't matter
Nothing is working

Inspiration dances
Romances
entrances
like a cornish pixie
teases

My muse has gone
his return I await
with bated breath
I wait like fate

The warbling calls
of the peace and the calm
seem pacified and subdued
far from the ears of man

The shattered cries
of the cacophony and the chaos
too loud and incessant
close to the thoughts of youth

With blood spilled,
splashed over years
of adversity and trial,
we stand tired and stained
waiting for everyone
-else-
to change

To see the world through
a peaceful gaze
is to see the world in beauty

A beauty that is not often attained.

Busy,
no time to think, just work, progress, complete.
No room for thought.

So stop,
just think about what you're doing
not what you're doing
but what you're REALLY doing.
Don't you realize?

Wonder a moment,
how you work, how you speak, how you eat.
How does it work? DNA, it codes for proteins
it makes enzymes, that aid in reactions
that make you move, speak, think
You didn't even realize.

Amazing,
that's what we are. The potential in us is
ASTOUNDING
we are powered by tiny cells, with tinier things going on
but it's so small, we often forget how big it really is.
Cool eh?

Busy?
so stop, and just wonder a moment.
Isn't it amazing when you think about it?
The way you work, the way you move?

Now get busy.

It's been so long.
My vase has been empty
for fear of selfish gardening.
I had almost given up completely.

My favourite flower was always an orchid.
I thought I had found it long ago,
but it seems my orchid is a rarer breed;
it takes much more care to sow.

I happened across it on a lively night
in a garden full of flowers.
My lily had just turned to poison;
it's amazing what lust devours.

My orchid had seen many vases,
some much nicer than mine
and yet it chose to flower then
and look entrancingly divine.

For a couple years I watered it
from far away, safe from my touch of war
I was afraid that I would squander it,
like I had so many times before.

But the orchid was just like me,
adventurous and curious.
Though we couldn't be together
we let each other be flirtatious.

And silently we grew together,
and my orchid came to me,
and my whole world came together
even if only very briefly.

Now I sit here writing this,
looking at my orchid, in my vase, on my window sill,
and I look back at myself and realize;
I'm HIS flower, in HIS vase, on HIS window sill.

I will give you a present.
Not bought
Not pretty and gift wrapped in silvery paper
Not shoved in a box with a card on top

I will give you an idea.
Gift wrapped in words
Only thought of, not thought through
You can make it your own

Take my gift and make it something special.
take that idea and make it something magical.

Then wrap it in words and re-gift it.
I won't mind
Spread the ideas and watch as they blossom.

A gift can be more than a material object.
It can be creativity that changes the world...
...one idea at a time

There is something funny happening in my chest
            That area under my ribs
                       Inside the place that pumps blood through my veins
                                    I think it might be pumping faster
                                                But it only happens when you're near me
                                                         I can't understand why it wants to beat faster
                                                          ­          When you put your hand on my leg
                                                             ­                  Or why
                                                             ­        It seems to want to leave my body
                                                         When your lips touch mine
                                                 I think it may be because it likes you
                                      I wouldn't blame it at all, you're sweet, funny, smart, kind
                         And good looking. I think it really, REALLY likes you.
             I might not have a heart by the time you're done. It feels like it wants you. Not me.
I know exactly what's happening in my chest.

It uses the seatbelt as a vesicle
Slithers across your shoulders,
prickles your chest

With every beat
It pounds into your heart,
wiggles into your veins

You're infected
But it feels so good

Your blood forgets oxygen
and caters to the pulse
flowing throughout your systems

At once, Gravity remembers it's job
angrily it sinks to your feet
pools and tenses

Wearily it exits through the sole
spiders into the floor
the music has left you

You are forever infected
And it feels so good

I wept a tear for you
A single, glistening droplet

Shunned from my eye
it cried as it fell
left me with a memory
as though it had a tale to tell

As it teetered on my nose
gravity ended its sovereignty of sorrow
and it fell again
this time to greet my pillow

There it remains
I can't believe I wept a tear for you

Asocial?
I've never seen it.
Maybe long ago, when a shy smile
sent us down the longest mile.

Talkative?
So he calls me.
Maybe I was at a time.
I said "I love you..." and suddenly we climbed.

Caring?
I just know it.
His trustworthiness knows no bounds.
I stubbornly doubt, but he pulls me out,
He always makes sure we avoid the drought.

Beautiful?
He likes to say.
The sun in his eyes, he assumes beauty
Lies underneath the blinding brilliance.
I fear my fun exterior has him in a trance.

Humorous?
Beyond belief.
My brutal honesty could never maim
His clever wit, nor put it to shame.

So who is he?
He lives in the future, restless and unsettled.
He lives in my mind, alive and real.
He is all that I need,
I just have to wish and hope and plead.

I don't think you understand
just how much I am sorry.

I cheated, I lied,
I made a grave mistake.

I feel like the most awful person in the world,
and you won't even accept
my countless, endless apologies.

But,
for all that I've done,
for all that I've put you through,
I DO NOT deserve the things that you say.


I am not a low-life, lying, cheating *****.
That tree that tirelessly produces oxygen for me
doesn't need my apology, though I thank it.
Despite what you think, I am not a complete waste of skin.

At first I deserved all the abuse you could throw my way,
but not now.
I've done my apologizing, even though I have my life
to make it up to you.
According to you.

No, that's not happening.
Get over it, Bee.
Everyone else has.

My rose is not just any rose,
It is very special, one-of-a-kind.
The keeper of the vase on my window sill

The lily that I found,
So beautiful, so delicate, so pure,
So unbelievably uncorrupt,
I couldn't pick it.
My fingers I fear,
Wouldn't fail to wither it.

See, my rose has thorns,
a tough outer layer.
The lily is so soft,
So delicate,
I couldn't risk the chance.
So I offer just one last glance.

I will leave the lily where it grows,
To dodge my trowel, and those of others.
Until it finds the tenderness of real love
to pick it from its lonely plot of soil.
Where it will sit on someone's window sill,
in a vase, thriving in all the spoils.

What would you do if I were to lay in your lap?

Would you stroke my face?
Run your fingers through my hair?
Cross your arms over your chest?
like you don't care

Would you whisper things softly to me?
Tell me a story?
Pretend I'm not even there?
like I am not your worry

Would you tell me to sleep, I am safe.
Just tell me to sleep?
Suggest I sleep on the window?
like you wish to fore-go

Tell me, what would you do if I laid in your lap?

I have a book.
            In this book I keep my heart.
    My heart was inked with a quill.
A quill made of a peacock feather.
                    This feather I found in the rain.
In the rain is also where I found you.
                                            found love.
I bet you didn't know it...
*but you are the author of that book

Of course you're not a poet
-I'm not?
No, you can't Rhyme
You can't get a beat
You can't even take time
-Oh...
Who do you think you are?
-A poet
No, you're wrong
-Why is that?
Did you hear what I just told you?
-No, because I didn't need to
What do you mean?
-Poetry can be all of those things
-And none of those things
-Who do you think you are?

There is a certain lure
About a forbidden fruit
A mentallity with no cure

We want what we are denied
yearning for
that which we are deprived

The desire becomes a lust
Hunger becomes insistant
Sate it we must

A lure with no cure
Being denied and deprived
Sweet lust, which tend we must

The picking of forbidden fruit
the inability to resist
Continue on down this path
To find your problems root

The mindless ticking of your watch
rests behind my ear
it mocks my being here
it knows you have to go

tick-tick-tick-tick
only-5-more-minutes
tock-tock-tock-toc­k
he's-going-to-leave

Arms and legs slide away from me
they rustle the sheets
they seem louder than creaks
a foot hits the ground

Something wet touches my forehead
I shake
I tremble
And you leave me with an empty bed

My bed has been cold
for far too long.
The empty pillow beside me
seems so wrong
and when I think about your head lying there
I get feelings much too strong.
My emotions well up inside me,
they bubble up and over,
soon I struggle to breathe,
yet I cannot hide under the covers.

You won't be there
waiting to take it all away
you won't be there
to tell me it's okay.
I know I need to deal
but these thoughts feel so real
and I don't think I can cope
with this endless lack of hope.

Yet I must laugh at myself,
for well I know
you are on your way to me
even as we speak.
You would swim the Atlantic I'm sure,
just to see that I don't freeze.
You'd rush to warm these blankets
and do everything to please.

This knowledge makes me smile
and suddenly I see,
these sheets are not so cold
and these hopes are not so dead
and I know that soon your warmth
shall overheat this bed.

Serpants slide over the Earth,
and consider it but a task.
I hope my poetry will glide over paper,
like a little snake through grass.

The heat that's longed for in the summer months,
Is now a slow assasin.
Carefully growing hotter,
Cautiously building power.

The bitter cold that's near unbearable,
Is now in need of saving.
Slowly receding,
Quietly waving goodbye.

For many summers we
Have experienced the change.
Tales of brave, strong bears
Swimming endlessly in search of ice.
Drowning.

Our Ice is disappearing
And with it, our secret.
There is spirit in the North
Unlike any other.

Together we must make a change.
Appeal to the better nature of man,
If ever there was one.
We need to fight,
Defend,
Protect,
And love,
Or we will be no more.

I lash out
so you say
and you take it
day by day

I am hard to impress
so you say
but you continue to mess
one day at a time

I bite, I claw, I poison
Poison your thoughts
with feelings of love
and distress
what a test

Patiently you wait for the moment
when you will get what you came for
then you will leave in a flash of
uncut threads
and webs

Who really wears the hourglass?

Swim in the sea of knowledge
Walk through the desert of wisdom
I would trek across this world of upheaval
Just to stroll next to you for a moment

And when you're no where near me
All I have is precious memories
They float through my mind and drill me
Linger and ***** my senses

When I'm able to feel your prescence
When I can hear your heart racing underneath breaths
When your curves are molded by my body
We are so much like one moment, all our own

Its in the way you look at me
The way you touch my thigh
Trail your finger up my leg
Over my hips, along my abs
I know not how you've sinned
Though you said you've been  bad boy
The way that you make me feel
Can only be described as heavenly

So how is it
that when you move with me
when you rock my body
kiss my tenderness
love with no boundries
I feel as though
I've sinned?

Nothing that feels this good
Can be anything but bad

The moon falls lower, the night almost at an end.
It does not cry for fear of shaking the water's surface.
It does not shine its light upon the grass, in fear of seeing its face.
It does not breathe, in fear of scaring the wind.
It hides. It runs.
In fear of the sun it can not be.

To define someone is a task,
which word? how many? how honest?
The English vocabulary stretches onward.
It's like looking for a needle in a haystack.

I found five needles
And with each I sew your quilt.

So relentless and pretentious
to everyone you meet.
With every little show
these stitches are easier to sew.

And as a reprobate
you should surely know,
the blackened thread gets blacker,
but you just can't let it go.

You are violently twisted,
as the definition suggests,
you're a contorted individual
that doesn't pose a threat.

Ah yes, you read it right.
For all your will to fight,
your lack of might
labels you innocuous.
That's correct, you're harmless.

These needles pierce the quilt,
they thread in every word,
and as you lay your eyes upon it
you realize you can't be cured.

I cry in the face of the moonlight
and watch as the firelight
dances in spite of the porchlight
I know that this is just right

Your memory taunts
haunts and flaunts
while my breath
is caught

I laugh in the face of distance
and giggle as resistance
is ironic in this instance
and I know this is a good trance

Your memory taunts
haunts and flaunts
while my breath
is caught

I am in need of no other
these miles won't bother
all because I would rather
have you than another

*Your memory taunts
haunts and flaunts
while my breath
is caught

Our hearts were filled with fierce compassion
The touch of your skin was pure satisfaction
Your kiss, so lush, was once so pleasurable
The sense of excitement was immeasurable

We prepare to draw, in this deadly game
Oh woe to the sheriff that attempts to tame
Felt to extremes are pleasure and pain
For one will lose and one will gain

But while we fight to apprehend our feelings
and curse upon one another with words sent reeling
Our kin sit sobbing, dying, reaching
For a hand that promises words so healing

The birds and the bees?
How did they even get associated?
Maybe it should be the dog and the fleas...
but why sit back while one does the work?

No that won't work

What about the bear and the bees?
but its not good to be at war
oh, such a tease

This is a tease

I know why it's called the birds
and the bees
Maybe because it isn't suppose to make sense
because in love, things rarely go with ease
but hey...

...*Love is the bee's knees.

Inside my body there is a thing,
Possibly the most important thing
A body could ever have.

It beat-beat-beats,
Pulses, throbs,
Extends, contracts,
Reaches out, touches lives.

The soul.
The Life Force of humans.
The riveting complexity.
The unending depth.

We all have one
We all need one
Do we all appreciate one?

All the times I've said,
"I love you",
all of them were lies.
Except one.

Cruel fate denied me that one.

So I roam the vast crowds,
wading through soulmates,
young love,
forever commitments,
and all the passion in the air.

I roam alone.

It's amazing how life changes
when love is no longer in the picture.
Nothing matters, you feel empty,
you feel lonely.

But not just any lonely.

My soul is only lingering here,
for there is no one to tie it to me.

Her tail flicks with irritation,
Her bed is under occupation.
She lets out a quiet meow,
and begins the prowl.

Her cat bed has been conquered,
her feline smell obscured.
She advances on silent paws,
and stirs up a cloud of claws.

Perhaps the name 'Fluffy'
does not fit her.

The silence across the ocean stirred
my worry
was silently creeping up on me

Idle thoughts grew and peaked
my interest
caused me to speak to you

My sun that sets a world away
grew cold
or so it seemed to me

You shine upon another
and who am I to judge?
The little pangs of jealousy
still hurt
they still sting my eyes.

I don't know if you'll be back someday
to shine on me once more.
If you do I hope you're closer
so we can shine together
and I don't have to feel the sting
of losing you anymore.

Every day is a day closer to
the day that I lose
half of who I am

A day closer to the day
I watch my better half
just stride away

A day closer to the day
my soul tears in two
half for me, half for you

A day closer to the day
my whole world falls apart
when you walk away
with my stolen heart

And a day closer to the day
when I will be forced to forget
what my body remembers,
and my mind will regret

Life was the worst kind of painful
the pain that stabs the heart
Living was dragging my *** through the mud
not willing to go ahead and start

A chance encounter was a blessing
given to a lonely soul
A total fluke sent reeling
a new idea, a new role

His love flowed through me swift
the current swept me up
The passion had me set adrift
seeing a sea of future possiblilities

I love like no other would believe possible
what he has done to save me
Thank my lucky stars it's probable
*this love he's got me stuck in

My mind has once again
Taken up residence in the gutter.
Even my pen won't work;
It coughs and hacks and sputters.

My body aches with untold stories
Even now, my fingers twitch.
I feel so compressed,
All my thoughts, they've begun to itch

My hiatus of the mind
Has gone on far too long.
I need to feel the flow again,
Because without poetry, I feel wrong.

With eyes like fire
and breath to match
Fear swoops in on us
Wings ablaze
Tail like a whip
Hate wells up
Legs scream power
Talons ooze poison
Terror cries in our hearts

And with Fear, Hate and Terror
Comes, distrust, misunderstanding
prejudice.
A mighty Dragon is slain
An emblem of Earth destroyed
All because we didn't wait
We judged, misjudged
Now we have lost a great creature

The monster sneers
       you succumb
give up
            give in
The monster has total control
        of you
the situation
             your body
The monster is utterly devious
         holding you fast
pleasing you secretly
              manipulating your lust
The monster has what it wants
          your finished
satisfied
               writhihng in a naked sweat

That monster
~is me~

I wonder what it sounded like
To hear a bullet whizz by your head?

I wonder what it felt like
When you realized you still had another day.

I wonder why you did it
why you put your life at risk.

I wonder what you were thinking
as your bullet swallowed a life.

And I wonder what you thought
when you realized you were going home.

The glory of war all but evaporated
With every round you shot
The spoils faded slowly
With every drop you spilt

The events that haunt you daily
Will try to make you fall
Your past will try to tag you
And so you build a wall

Your safe, no fear, no death
But you still fear death in safety
The poppy stills your thoughts
So you wear one
Remembering

Sun fought on to keep the onslaught back,
Night smiled and sent his wispy minion,
who then cascaded down from the heavens,
covering all the land.

Weak beams tried to pry open the sky,
and take back Sun's rightful place.
Grey fog creeped into the scene,
and thwarted all hopes of escape.

Not all stories end happily.
Sun's rays were beaten and retired.
Fog thickened in triumph.
Night paraded in early.

The fog welcomed in the Night,
and the Night laughed at the Sun.

You reside inside my mind
for my eyes have never looked upon thee
yet well I know- you are handsome

You live in my nerves
my skin has never met yours
yet I feel you in every movement

You've taken my mouth
I have never felt your lips
but your taste is overwhelming

You reign in my ear
never have I heard your voice
yet in my head it rings

You govern my nose
thys scent hath never trespassed
now all I smell is you

Something has happened to me
Now all I have is you

I think my rose is wilting.
The vase chipping,
the thorns softening.

And the Lily calls,
a song on the wind,
a melody in harmony
with pedals and a euphony
of sounds so sweet.

My rose struggles to lift it's weary head
above the edge of the vase,
to look at me,
but I'm looking away.

And the Lily sings
sweet whisperings meant for my ears,
coalesceing me to where it grows
as pedals dry my tears.

I promised I would leave it,
protect it's sweet innocence,
but what does it want?
Can I really deny something that calls
to my very soul, my heart?

Oh, what could we start?