You know, we're not that different, you and I...
We've got things in common, you and I,
and this could be you up here,my
*** in the seat and you tellin' me why
the world's so messed up with words so sly...

I'm proud to say I'm a poet.
That makes me a wordsmith.

My weapon is words which I create
in the fire of my heart,
temper in my mind,
and forge in my mouth.
The air hits my lungs with crushing force
from the weight of my intentions.
The pressure hammers my tongue to action,
like sword to anvil,
showering hot sparks into the crowd.

And in this battle, I pray not to defeat you,
but grip you, trip you, flip you, and steal you
away from your world, your hate, your depression,
and overcome you!

See, all that baggage is kindling that lights very easily,
so if just one spark ignites in you
the spark of creation flowing through us,
just waiting to be tapped, or ends your solitude
by lighting a fire in your heart bright enough to reveal to yourself
that you are not alone,
but rather surrounded by others just as lonely as you? I mean,
******.

I hope I succeeded, and was not defeated,
but more and more wordsmiths are out there; they're needed!

Even now they hide among you,
and need to be weeded out of the crowd.
Brothers and Sisters.

This is not a poem.  This is a call to arms.

When you hear it, answer.
Don't just be all you can be,
say all that you can say,
and be a Poet's version of "Army Strong"
and join the few, the proud, the wordsmiths.

We are the thoughtmakers.
We are the thoughtshakers.

My word is my sword, which will cut through this silence
until not one doubt lingers...
When I'm through, I snap your minds,
not your fingers.

One day a year we dedicate a rose or two
to those we love who pull us through.

We put words on candies,
take off scanty *******,
and let hot , whispered breaths carry
the glories of love.

I can't be "Us" cause I'm fresh out of you.

We aren't lovers, don't kiss under covers,
And I don't suspect that we will.

But I couldn't be me
if you didn't see
the sun in my soul
just begging to rise.  

What color rose stands for "Thank you for saving
me every day with your smile?"

Let's change the rules, who says that we can't?
The "Others" I know aren't that significant.

But you know my fears,
have seen me in tears,
have stood by me after all of these years.

I want you to know that I love you.

Love the wrinkle in your eye when you giggle.

                                            Love when we laugh about things no one else sees.

Love you despite all your perceived imperfections.

And should the world take me tomorrow,
I'd be filled with regret if
the love that I'd carried
became the love that they buried
rarely spoken, and never spent.

                                       This 14th, tell someone what they mean to you.

Never assume that someone else will.

I feel like a friend-- a true friend,
is more than a profile on a website.

And peace is more than a handshake agreement
brought by the outcome of a gruesome fight.

I know that self worth is more than someone's opinion,
and in no other dominion but mine own to foster and care for.  

And I can see that happiness is more than having money, sure,
cause most of us laugh everyday here, and come on, we're dirt poor.

And I pray the human soul is more than Casper's counterpart,
somewhere between the heart and the pancreas.

And God, faith is so much more than cryin' and dyin'
over spilt milk between religions.

And in case you were confused, "I love you", is more than
pet names, bed games, and ***.

Music is more than pimps, hoes, and MTV Shows, and T-Pain singin through a computer.

Believe that life is more than grades and degrees,
or drugs and disease,
or the 'ABCs' of success that some old man wrote a thousand years ago.

This poem has to be more than words strewn together
to voice my discontent at the status-quo..

Hell, the word "more" itself is more than a one-syllable statment
that what we lack in the present
is just a larger quantity of the **** "we already have",
and no!

The power of your silent agreement is more than that
of my voice alone, so...

What is "more"?

In many ways, "more" is the friend you never had.
More peace in the world would end all the mindless bloodshed.
More respect and selfworth would bring beauty back to youth,

especially to the women in the world,
that sell their unique souls to look like the cover of Cosmo.

More faith, that grants serenity in the times of hardship,
will be the soothing hand of an Angel on our shoulders as
we say, "I love you" to our enemies, martyrs for a better world.

More positive music will inspire us,
to be the change we want to see in the world, today,
instead of, "Waitin' on the World to Change "♫ ♪ ♫♪

So ladies and gentlemen, make a decision: if you want to be
critics and vipers,
war mongers and hope-snipers,
ignore my intention, and live with more division.

But, if any of you are artists starving for meaning and inspiration,
if you envision a world of more than... THIS...

Then let a word change a feeling,
change a thought, change a meaning,
change your mind...
And get more out of life.

First:** Get mad when someone goofs up.
Take "overreaction", and add a half-cup.
Bottle the liquid anger up,
and store until it boils over...

Pop the cork at some bystander,
and It flows with a vengeance, past him or her,
and straight to the innocent; add just a little stir,
and thats miscommunication.

Caution: Don't drink in groups-- it's quite explosive
and the need for communication is just too massive.
No experiment shows the involved to be passive
It becomes aggression for aggression's sake.

Last: Toss the leftovers.  You don't want them anymore.
Everyone is a little less happy than they were before,
But fixing it is just too big a chore,
So the effects last about 4 hours.

I don't know
why I can't remember
the first moment I realized
that your warmth, inviting and unrequited,
had rekindled the flame of my own self-worth.

I wish I'd seen it coming,
How the light from your soul
would cascade like summer sunlight
across my fair skin, warming
even my darkest inner recesses.

I didn't protect myself from you.
The purity and radiant brilliance
of your smile has burned a change in me,
forcing me to peel away layers of a dead fascade
that I have hid behind for years.

I didn't see you leave.
Although it hurts me to say,
you were worth all pain.
I wish I could still live protected,
enveloped by your light- invisible to most, Ultraviolet.

I will look for you amongst the stars,
which you taught me can connect kindred spirits
across thousands of miles of apologies and tears,
regrets and dreams. For if I search for you
in the North Star, and you still look there for answers,

Then in that instant!

its guiding light might bring you back to me,
bridging an ocean of mistakes I made
at the speed of light, so that I might bear witness to thee..
that I am a better man today, tomorrow, and forever,
because you were my angel in disguise <3

This is.... The story of a girl,
who pretends that airplanes
in the night sky
are like shooting stars...

In my head, I see her in front of me,
[thinking] I am, I am, I am,
the luckiest...

But her boyfriend?  He don't know. Anything.
About her.

...And I don't believe that anybody
feels the way I do
about you now..

And I gotta be honest! I think you know,
I'm covered in lies, and that's ok...

Cause when you're dreamin with a broken heart,
The wakin up- thats the hardest part..

If you'd just realize what I just realized then we'd be
perfect for each other and we'd never have to wonder
if airplanes in the night sky
are like shooting stars.