We see ghosts in the eyes of all.
Scarred lives bleed onto screens
as spoon fed masses forget to use the word human.

Do they not bleed red?

We see fear fleeing war zones
while we in our comfort zones
mourn not the lives lost but the cost of the living.

We see children torn from wailing mothers.
Crushed and bloated by the weight of water
tiny bodies wash up lonely, suddenly silent
now mascots for a cause they did not choose.

Inaction is the thief of humanity.
Greed, it's protector, smiles down on the dying.
There but for the grace of God...

What crowded heart
So cold like the pit
red in loss and hard with memory
Away she said
and lightly tread
O'er summers better glory
Voices rich for lust
Remember paradise unstill
And bathe in times winter

No more will I whisper my pain into storms in the hope that the thunder will hide the sound of breaking.
No more will I wonder at the beauty of death and its promise of release, the monotonous metronome of blood dripping onto tile nor how it would feel to slowly swing, my life ebbing away as my eyes wonder at the stars they create.
No more will I swallow the oblivion prescribed, I will not allow the erosion of my soul any longer, I refuse to become any less than this.
No more will I question my existence  within a monochrome world while all around others glory in rainbow hues.

I alone am the captain of my destiny.

There is beauty here should I choose to see it and I have turned my face away long enough.

Barbed words
arsenic laced
draw blood from the fickle,
cracked and flayed
this brittle heart
cries out as mercy weeps.
Flaws once endearing
bring disgust
as contempt marches in
to dispel the myth we created.
A return to walls,
my worth reflected
within the safety of mirrors
as beauty hides decay
beneath radiant dishonesty.
Solace will not be found within the dawn.
Painted and smiling
I will become the lie you chose.

*listen to the silence of the breaking of my heart

When you are a poet
you don't place yourself on a pedestal
don't spit venomous hate
think fellow writers are dismal.

When you are a poet
you don't feel a superiority
fellow writers you gleefully berate
make yourself perversely witty.

When you are a poet
your heart is a little more wide
you don't fume and fret
readers are not on your side.

If you are a poet
you know better than to be arrogantly vain
don't carry ego's sinful weight
but let your art pour through your pen.

it seems came her

adrift on mellow breezes
faintly scent o' strawberries

red dawn golden lashes  in rhythms
upon a meadow painted by
Emerson words and Van Gogh splashes

so lightly afoot
so not to spoil any of nature

listening
relaying

being
her.

We are surrounded by shadows of all those in pain,
whose bodies have withered,
till they decay.
Fear, depression, and hate,
these are our demons of fate.
I wish their was a solution,
but it may be too late.
We've become animals of fear,
caged and trapped,
challenged by the choices made by our peers.
Racism, hate, seperation....pain.
Must we always take the bait?
All around us we are divided,
because of skin or how we love,
why cant we just be united?
The boy hated because of being gay, the girl being judged on her anatomy,
this is the price we pay?
For the freedom to choose our lives,
we just sit here and lie,
while others DIE?
We've cheated ourself out of our innocence,
chosen to hate and push away,
is there a end to this wickedness?
We have hope,
we can change this world,
we don't have to just mope.
We are creatures of love and beauty,
divinly given to us all,
can we use these gifts to find unity?
The gay boy saved by a straight,
the sexified girl rescued by a gentleman,
it's NOT too late!
We've perserved through tyranny,
we've rescued those in need,
we can stop the villany!
We are the heros of our earth,
we'll stand united,
because we have been since birth.
Race by race, man by woman, gay by straight, we are brothers and sisters all,
and if we don't come together,
who will stop our fall?