for magnificence of spirit, holy grade arsenal of blueberry blossom fantasy folly, laughs at the most inappropriate moments, flan with coconut sprinkles and espresso, rip out my insides, and I'll reach out to you, my love, all we've been through.

the song wasn't meant for you but it turned to be yours anyway, a broken wheel on the freeway, some kind of trust or something beyond whatever people can do, letters, tiny, speckles, frightened under the bridge of a passing train, jumping over puddles, children again

or maybe it was, you insist, insist and I have learned from you that I don't seem to have a god ****** clue, and your light shines a whole light brighter than mine so I'll just have to clutch your hand and let you guide us through the underground, resume's and bits of talent, empty pizza boxes on a radioactive island, stranded

but something is ironic about the whole thing, and in your jacket you look look like a lost little penguin, and the absurdities add up and the question marks leave us with humor beyond anything I've known, question marks that bed and make love, little tid bits of apology that didn't make their way to the trial, now their standing there with feet chained to bits of radioactive metal, the apocalypse came before anyone could punish us, and now the jokes on them, or maybe its just on us, because we just can't seem to stop farting!

I am from the starless sky.
From comforting blankets and warm cups of tea.
I am from the warm and quiet, the sometimes cold and stiff.
From the always filled with laughter.
The memory filled air, bright colors fuse.
It was dark silk, that I could not see.
I am from the form of a willow tree, perhaps the scent of a pine tree; the gentleness of a daffodil and the elegance of a tulips petals.
Wallowy branches of the willow tree, ***** scent of it's bark, the wiltedness of its form.
I'm from the gathering of family, greeting as if we were strangers, where sometimes we are separated
From Sharon and Covington, and the Hills'.
I'm from the bright flames in our chests.
From you are your own, and you hold the power.
I'm from the thought of something bigger, but never weighing my heart down.
I'm from mixed races, ones of different traditions. From the hardworking Africans, the dignified Caucasian, the intelligence of Asians. And many more
I am from life lessons, influences, bad memories, and the joy that some days have.
I am from what I dream to be, what I build myself to be.
I am me.

Clouds close off the sky as droplets fall from high
Traffic doesn't slow down as my foot falls pound
Wind lifts dried dead leaves, trees wave goodbye
Timing is right as raindrops stop before the ground
Roadway is still wet, spots cover my "four eyes"  
No pain in the knees easy pace arms move up and down
Sadness has caught me, running even at my shoulder
Sweating from the exertion the warmth is turning colder

How can I express what I don’t yet know?
How can I talk, when their language I don’t speak?
How can I show the real me that hides below
When opening up to them, is only a sign that I’m weak?

How can I dream, how can I sleep
How can I breathe, how can I live?
They all have eyes but they’re too blind to see
How can I stand up for what I believe?

How can I smile if I’m not happy?
How can I tell a joke if I’m not funny?
Some are born lucky, but I was just lucky to be born
And now my whole life is written on a single sheet,
Ready to be torn.

How can I say goodbye if I didn’t even greet
How can I live when it feels like I died?
It’s hard to get up after yet another defeat
So since I can’t shade a tear, internally I will cry.

Now in case your brain stem is loose
I'm a big fan of Dr. Seuss
And clearly a few of my screws are loose
at least I'm not crazy like a moose

Now, for those that remember Sam I Am
he heavily endorsed Green Eggs And ham
persistently and though he cajoled And coaxed
the other party wouldn't eat them, not on a plane
not on a train, not with a goat, and not on a boat
not here, nor there, he wouldn't eat them anywhere!

However I'm much older now and now I can say,
that old rhyming story holds truth even today
so put away all your prejudgements and prejudices
Because something beautiful has come by, and if you let that cloud your mind, you'll miss it.

She paints a pretty picture but the story has a twist her paint brush is her razor and her canvas is her wrist.
She Paints a pretty picture
In a color thats blood red
While using her sharp paint brush, she finally ends up dead.
Her pretty pictures fading quite slowly on her arm,
The bloods not racing through her she can no longer do harm.
She Painted a Pretty Picture
but her picture had a twist you see her mind was her razor and her heart was her wrist.

makes me sick to my stomach

I had the unfortunate opportunity of walking past you in a hallway

cried when I got home

I will not waste another ten dollar's worth of mascara on you
**You're not ******* worth my tears

When my body aches in pain,
When my loved ones leave,
When my hair turns gray,
When my brain loses memory,
When my heart beats no more,
My love will be as pure and whole
As the day that I first met you.

Organized teaching limits some learning
Blinds us from truth, the shiny is alluring.

Organized media sometimes mislead information
Their freedom has boundaries of confrontation.

Organized politics always have hidden agenda
        - A self-absorb Propaganda.

She loved him
  So she said yes
Tears of joy stream down her face
As he put the ring on her finger
Under the tree where they met
Birds singing lullabies surround them
Wishing them a forevermore

Years pass

She loved him
  So she hid the pain
Blood streams down her face
As his knuckles kiss her lips
Shattering his fragile promises
Together with her bones

Weeks pass

She loved him
  So she set him free
A smile forms on her face
As she pulled the ****** knife from his body
A pool of blood forms on her feet
Joy and grief filled her soul

Days pass

She loved him
  So she went with him
A blank face was all that is left
As she hanged herself from that tree
Birds singing lullabies surround her
Comforting her troubled soul