I wake up
No breakfast  today, life's much to fast.
A cup of coffee will do
So I set the coffee maker,
turn on the shower,
And lose myself in the mirror.
All the while watching,
Waiting.
Waiting for something
But finding nothing in the end
This morning is not my own
It belongs to someone else

I once read on a dollar bill a few years back that
“You can't sing the blues without blood on your hands,
And you've got blood on you hands.”
I spent that dollar but the blood staid on my hands.

We absolve our tender memories
Of what it was like to be children
To not have worry on our brows
To have an unstoppable imagination
which could build floating boats
and mega droids the size of skyscrapers.
An imagination that would make us all ninjas
and princesses and cow boys and girls
Each of us have saved the world with a cardboard swords
and index finger barrels and gun hammer thumbs

Now, we sing requiems of missed messages
All for a few lousy blood soaked dollars.

This city is built like all the other cities
Atop lives and deaths long forgotten
Covered in the dust form its excess

The people, draped in costume and mask
Rarely pulling them off
Always making up stories to go along with their suit
I'm a business consultant
I'm a banker
I'm a painter
a poet
a liberal
a conservative
an anarchist
a national socialist
Forgetting what it's like to be naked
Even when they are alone

But a few walk naked
Hearts out, heavy with the weight of the world

They sink deeper and deeper
into a sea of trouble and worries
There is no land to call home anymore for
The restless wanders going nowhere fast

Once forgetful
But remembering what it was as children
We play games with friends
while spitting the fire in our breaths
Atop the graves soon to be reused
waiting to be buried in them
so the city can be built on top of us.

Underneath a canopy
Moonlit and cloudy
Your body rested against mine.
The night seemed effortless
Much like our first kiss
That day's eve was sublime.
And we drove out of the city
To a place with red rocks and Juniper trees
So together in moonlight
We shared another night.
And when we drove down the mountain
I did take the long route
So together we got lost in a desert blackout,

So may the short fuse hiss towards a boom
That will scream my hearts discontent
As my love lights up and begins to bloom
While all of my patience is spent.
Yet never fear my dear for the bomb is a dud.
Instead of a sparks and fire a lily flower did bud.
For what your eyes may hide I will never know
But for eternity I will spend wondering so
And how the sun and moon seem so lovely
Whenever I wonder what it is that you see.

And at the top of the flight
Of these wide, white stairs
For the rest of our lives
I would wait for you there.
Up-top the flight
Of these wide, white stairs
I would wait
Arms held out, opened wide,
My guard let down
My face without a frown
For I have no need to hide from you.

And still the sun it lolls
Through its daily stroll
As the season changes its colors.

And still the moon it passes
Through its nighttime pageant
As the stars burn out of existence.

Time may beat us with age
So we each may turn our page
As our story must be writ,
Still your love I will yearn for it.
And I might throw my little fits
With all my kicks and my spit
While you absence colors me blue,
Still my heart will burn for you.

You'll always have a place in me,
Underneath my breast, inside this chest
In a small little black dot that is my heart of hearts,
You can have that spot.

I can still smell you.
It drives me mad.
Mad to hear you
Mad to see you
Mad to touch you
Mad to taste you
Mad.
Love has lifted us both
And to the heavens we reach
But as high as we are
Though as light as we are
We remain shackled
For fetters bind our flight.
Yet these fetters of ours I love
For it's not our limbs that are chained
But our very hearts.
So we float
Suspended from the ground
Holding each other while in hiding
Up top roof-tops under starlight lighting.
Dancing our dance when no ones watching.
Enjoying what we can
Whenever we can
For as long as we can.

Shadow before me tell me what you see...
Can this truly be? is this what's become of me?
This desert wanderer tired and thirsty,
Whose only drink of water was given away for free.

What I try to reveal to light is now hindered
By the shifting of stars and the coming of winter.
Forever lost in the wake of the sun's glare,
Exposing to me, my love and all my worldly care.
Now how the wind will burn me with its frost,
Reminding me that death is worse to bear than loss.

Broken heart of mine heed my call,
What I've found is your not broken at all,
Bruised and battered a bit, maybe-
But beaten and shattered you'll never be.
Heart of mine please be strong
And keep me well when love goes wrong.
Bleed this blood as I type these words,
Words in the vein of a song-less bird
Without a voice so seldom heard.

Avail oneself, of no avail.
Cast it down like the summer-storm hail,
Eat the dust that floats in the wind.
Breathe in the earth, breathe in, breathe in.

As if the fire wasn't enough.
They decide to spit on the ashes.
I still remember the smoke though
And how it stung my eyes
As tears poured out like waterfall.
I'll never forget what was once there.
Such a loss.

Our hearts are heavy with the weight of the world.
They sink deeper and deeper into a sea of troubles and worries. 
There is no land of ours we can call home anymore.
We are restless wonders on an everlasting voyage to nowhere.
 
We once were like you, forgetful 
But we remember
And that is how we got so lost.

I don't know who I am or what I want or what I'm supposed to be
I don't always know what's right, or do what's right but I know I'm trying.
I'm trying to change but be the same.
I'm trying to laugh even though I'm crying

I'm trying to find out what it is I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing here but all I can find is that I'm hungry for some soul

So feed me already cause I'm ******* broke.
But the food's not good enough when it's not cooked with love
And the World is really lacking a lot of that these days
Yet I wonder
How am I going to get through all of this and find out what I'm supposed to be?
With the bills stacking up and the job taking up all this time to dream
And the world completely forgetting about me and you and him and her

What am I supposed to be?

So I sit down and think about it
Write down a few ideas only to scratch them all out.
Because I find that a clown isn't really fitting
And a wise man never calls himself a wise man
And thief is what we've all had to become so it's not fare to say that's me

So I drink my coffee and look into cup and what do I see?
I see a man who's too scared to be brave
But would take a bullet for someone he loves and speak nothing of it
I see a man who's only 24 but acts like he's 80

I see a man who's been burnt up, beaten up, and completely neglected but **** that's everybody with a story to tell and mine's really not that much different from any one else.

So what's so special about me?
This doesn't to tell me what I'm supposed to be

And then this kid walks up to me
Bright face with a smile that could make a funeral seem like a birthday party
His eyes are big and his body is half the size of my leg
He smiles at me and climbs up my lap and says uncle you're already what you supposed to be
And I'm hungry so feed me.

I wrote you a love poem but you'll never read it.
I wrote about your red hair
        blue eyes
        fair skin
        brown hair
        hazel eyes
        olive complexion
        your prefect breast
        your curly locks
        your red lips
        the things you said
        the things you did
        how smart you are
        and funny too
        how you knew what to say
        how you drove me insane
I wrote about how you hair was like fire
        and reminded me of your personality
        and how I never would expect you to bow down to anyone
                or anything
I wrote about your lovely smile
        and how it would light up the night
        even if you were faking it
                and I could always tell when you were faking it
I wrote about how you had an aura of purity
        which is why most men where scared of you
        how I've always respected that about you
                and how I was never scared of you
I wrote you a love poem but you'll never read it
        because we never made love
        because it was just *** to you in the end
        because you said 'I love you' like a chess player making their next move
        because your unconditional love had it's condition
        because you've got me sitting at the crosswords of what is to be a cynic and a poet
        and I find it's easy to just be both
But don't get upset, thinking you've wronged me
        or to excited because you had some impact
        because in the end -
I wrote you a love poem and you'll never read it.

Like the saying goes, it's now or never
And if you stop to wait you'll wait forever

Don't bother trying to be too clever
For you'll spoil a great endeavor

So get to movin' and dance with fate
Or fool around and miss the date

For wise men say, 'to late's to late'
So no point in lying down to wait

Just grab your heart and always remember
That today's the day it's now or never!

Misery knows a drunk with hangover
It knows a poor soul sick with flu and no one to care for them
It knows the lost dog to house broken to fend for itself
Misery is a friend of mine and a good friend indeed
It picks at me when I need picking
It ***** the air out of my lungs when I think I'm out of breath
Here misery is king and it's queen is solace which, like in all great love stories, misery will always seek.
For all great loves are like high-speed car chases
With the peddle punching through the floor boards.
And misery too is a kind of love
A bad love, but a love nonetheless,
Searching for it's queen.

I am not an ordinary person.

I am no genius,
no artist,
and barely a poet.

I have no great life's work,
no opera,
no magnum opus;
but I'm no ordinary person.

There are no great lovers
waiting for my arrival
at the docks,
or morning my departure
as the ship sets sail.

No major sporting events
with crowds of fans cheering
and booing my every
success and failure.

Nobody takes pictures
of me or gawks at my pose.

Nor does anyone ask
for my signature
on their favorite
piece of paper,
which happens to be
stained by the ink
of my own words.

No one praises me
for my work,
or thinks I'm the best
at what I do,
whatever it is I do.

But I'm no ordinary person.

I have no son or
daughter to look up to me.

Parties aren't thrown
for me, and I am not
on the top of anyone's list,
not even the **** list
my enemies make.

I don't dance very well,
and I'm not a good singer,
songwriter,
musician,
or composer.

I'll probably never
be on TV or
in the movies,
no that's not
gonna be me.

But my life's work
is its happiness,
my operas are
my own personal dramas,
and my magnum opus
is this life itself.

For I am like you
the extraordinary person.

There are roses in the road
tear soaked tissues
torn up pictures
with letters on fire.

They are the breakup play-list
for hang overs
and scratches on the hood
from relationship status updates.

The secret poems
in songs of heartache
and paintings thrown in the trash.

A fingerless engagement ring
unworn wedding dress
and a honeymoon for one.

The divorcees still wondering
and the mothers and fathers
who didn't quite make it

There is never knowing
and always wishing
but never seeing it.

Not to mentioned the ex
you can't forget
and the unfortunate person
who can't afford to leave.

all the widowed wives
who are forgotten after death.
and solders with no one
to return home to.

But all the while
a broken chord
amid the misfortune
and sorrow of the world
could not escape the
thresholds of inevitable ends

That ships sail, now forgotten, is remembered only in rust.
What stormy waters have you conquered?
What triumph have you fostered?
How many hurricane eyes have you starred into?
Forever forgotten is you legacy.
Forever forgotten is your destiny.
Your death knows not the silent depths of watery tomb,
But the slow sway of a swish swash waltz.
A dance in rust and slow decay,
A dance we all share someday.
Let us pull off our hats of to you and your skeletal remains
As your skeleton serves us as a reminder of our tick-tock days.

let it go
it's hard
life isn't a relationship child
it's not about that
it's about you
you are beautiful and you will find love again should you not look for it but let it come
love isn't something you can demand out of someone
it is given
it is like waiting for rain
it doesn't come when you want it
it comes when it comes
and it goes when it goes
you will be okay
you've gone through so much worse
so so much worse
i know because I know you
because i am like you too
i've cried over losing someone i loved
and i've grown from it
i've come through, scared, bruised, and sore
but I've come through
and i've been better for it.
you will too

Feed the lion.
She is the law of the light
and the love of the lamb.

Teeth tear open wounds
ripping skin like rags;
flesh for the feast,
an altar for the beast.

She looks at her prey.
Her eyes pierce the heart.
Her body's of a lover.
Her breast are of a mother.

She swallows the sin of it's soul.
She eats the salts in it's sweat.
and let's the blood wrap around lips
dripping crimson on the sands.

The smell of fresh earth
The sun shining through cracks
The smoothness of a womans skin
The sound of birds chirping at the break of dawn
The taste of strawberries
The memories of romantic nights never easily forgotten
The occasional smile on a strangers faces when you say hello
Staring at the sun
and the green and pink stains it leaves when you close your eyes
The attention from another woman,
especially one that's got your heart.
Dew left on the leaves of trees.
Holding someones hand
Watching a kid get exactly what they want
Running
Writing a song with other people
A good book, preferably a classic
Science and how it brighten ups the world with possibility and impossibility.
Poetry
A sad love song
and a sad lonely instrument in an array of other instruments
Sleep
Exercise
Dancing like an idiot.
Dancing with someone you love
though I don't think I've ever done this
*** with someone you love
it's really quite different
Teaching someone something new
An intelligent conversation
not just talking at someone or being talked at
there is a difference
Being understood
Being in love
Hiking
Biking
Nature walks
Being needed
Living

These are all things I love
And there are more
But this was all I needed to remind myself that it's all worth it this morning.

there isn't anything to be said
Nothing to be seen
there isn't an interesting thing about it
in fact no one really cares
but that's just the fact
some exploding stars go off in the night sky but no one ever notices
that my friend is like so many unsung songs and unread stories.
the silent passing of disaster and the bandless parade.