I pick up a pen.
                           ...or is it a gun?
and write about zen.
The world is all but one.

I pick up my pen.
                               ...or is it my gun?
I will find it soon then,
the war is all but won.

I pick up a pen.
                           ...or is it a gun?
I write about Jen and,
how war may lack fun.

Jen pick up her gun.
                                    ... it is surely not a pen.
my pen loses rhythm and so has the war
and the people who still fight all lose.
                                                                  In the end we will all lose...

Oh little bee,
What must you mean
To hold that heavy key

Little bitty bee,
Striving to keep flying
Efforts are only that I can see

The water on you
Is full of a color wonder
Unexpected from the simple dew

The flowers of pink
Set you apart from the rest
As you rest to think

Oh little bee
What you must mean
To hold such a heavy key

You left me here alone and cold.
I miss you like you could never believe.
I doubted my faith every day,
And changed my mind again and again
Because if there was a god in this forsaken world
It wouldn’t want to take you away from me.

He is leaving me here alone and cold
I am missing him like the dead flowers on my windowsill
I doubt my faith every day now
And change my mind over and over
Because the god I chose to believe in,
Took you away from this forsaken world.

She is leaving me here alone and cold.
I miss her already like the grass in the winter.
I still doubt my faith everyday.
I will always change my mind when
Looking for something to truly believe in
Because every god I look to for help in this forsaken world,
Will still take her away from me.

I am leaving you cold and alone.
I hope you miss me like no other.
I hope you doubt your faith every ****** day,
And change your mind again and again
Because if there were a god in this forsaken world
I would have found a better way to save you.

The day we met I completely dismissed you.

I gave the idea no second chances.

You seemed like train wreck that I needed to fix
But I just didnt have the time.

Thats a common trend with me.
Not enough time...

It always ticks and ticks
and annoys and annoys
Like a needy dog that pesters you for attention...

Thats how you make me feel.

It was of sticks and stones,
They shaped the words
That leave my breathless lips
And catch on the ends of your ears.

It was of moths and flames,
They guided my hopeful eyes
To the cracked sidewalks
That I would soon know as home.

It was of strings and tan paper,
They wrapped my heart
Like a present you didn't want to receive
But you accepted with a slim smile anyway.

It was of mist and fog,
That filled my clouded lungs
And drowned out my words
So they could never hang on the lobes of your ears.

But I like a mountain in the wind
Let you breeze past me,
The scent of warm blankets and hot rod cars
Passed with you

But your breeze whispered to me
At once the mist and fog cleared
And the moths receded from the flames
And the stones felt like mere pebbles

Light and dark,

the cars stop to park,

while the driver becomes a dream.



Day and night,

he puts up a fight,

to stay at bay with his dreams.



Days and weeks,

they all seem so bleak,

while the driver becomes his dream.

I remeber long nights
With your plaid button downs
Always with the first button undone
And your white T-Shirt underneath always brightend the hazel in your eyes

Memories of Germany danced on your lips
How I wanted to taste them...
The longing still holds on the end of my tongue

Car rides were always needed
But I never minded sharing them with you
Conversations of endless nothings and you didn't know I was falling hoplessly in love with you.

You may not have had the blue eyes I dreamed of as a little girl
But they looked to me like how I looked at shooting stars
The dead of night always ran through your hair as my mind ran circles around itself chasing those cosmic wonders

And there may not be a sequence to this poem
But thats how you made me feel
Out of order
Maybe a little out of place
But when I looked to you, you knew of all the wishes I spent on those shooting stars

I have my nice little place.
Where my heart and I just go and race.
There are no rules during our little chase,
And neither of us will win.

I go there in spare time;
When I sit and write short little rhymes.
I may not even wait to count out my dimes,
But I shall never win.

I have my own little wish,
For my little place with the triangle dish;
'To live forever and never hitch',
But then again I shall never win.

You are the light
In the darkest places in my mind

You are the breeze
on the back of my shoulders

You make minutes seem like the days
I would spend in bed all day waiting for the sun to guide me to the clouds

They told me I was beautiful...
But they were just programmed to say it

You. You told me.
And I belived every honest word that fell from your lips.

Because you taught me what it meant to love myself.