who am I truly... even spiritually?
because every time I think I'm there,
I peel back another layer,
and again it isn't me...

I never truly know
who I am or where I am going
but I can no longer deny
that my love within knowing
creates and vibrates
so overwhelmingly strong
when my energy is flowing
like a river
from my glowing heart
permeating my celestial soul

the sun kisses my skin
as mud from a star
on a glorious evening night
with the moon not so far
and as I watch the wind flow
gently into my face
I wholly feel within
a pulling toward the notion
that  I would rather be
no other place than where I am
and all I want to do
is be grateful to God
for who I am
beyond being a man  
now as Love manifest
with a golden tan

There must be something beautiful
in this sick sad tired little world
like the prettiest little tree
swaying in the wind
the one the lonely drunkard
chose to hang himself in

there is always beauty somewhere
depending what perspective takes
in a picture of a broken girl
in **** she is torn apart inside
as she tries to hide her pain
yet her eyes betray her telling
a story of a thousand words in vain

the beauty lies in love that hasn't died
it's in the perception lever
and the place you stand
so take my hand and journey with me
I'll show you no such thing
as right or wrong in man

the dead student with a needle
in his arm next to the best friend
who insisted when he resisted
with survivor's guilt and endless torment
he changes himself fermenting
a desire to never forget
now he spends his years counseling
those still trapped in hopelessness

there's beauty within persisting
behind every so called sin
so when in seeking you shall find
all God's awful grace sublime

this pen is flowing ink through its tip
into my notebook of hardship and love
with a rubbery grip so my fingers don't slip
else I'd lose control
as the words flow through me
and become
a part of my soul

my body is creating poems through its hand
for the lost and broken brethren
where faith in Love is the rubbery grip
so the Spirit of Flow may take control
through these words as
they become
the art of my soul

I wish that there was someone..
anyone for me to call..
on my phone of lonely hope..
so I could connect with..
relate in depth with..
another person..
because this sting..
this pain of being alone..
hurts me deep down in my soul..

Boredom always gets its way,
in my waking life, in this meeting,
with nothing important left to say,
is when convincingly, in reverie,
my insanity comes out to play,
a thought to stand up, strip down,
scream and run away

to be understood on a deep emotional level
I feel is what keeps us  going through hell
failed attempts at love with each relationship
to define the meaning of that four letter word
some of us say it with ease without knowing what we mean
others of us ***** ourselves out to appease the void
that brings us to our knees those dark and lonely moments
begging for someone to please hold onto us
gently stroke our hair to show us that they truly care
through human connection
as only this creates a way to abate that hollow pain
we cannot be sustained with material gains
or made whole by being entertained
with Hollywood fame and video games
the problem lies in the deceit of our minds
telling ourselves like we won't measure up
in other people's eyes
or we aren't good enough to cry the tears
that heal the years in front of our peers
or let them hear the thoughts of fear
that fester near our hearts
so we slowly die inside before we even get to the end
of pretending we're alive
then at the physical death part of this three dimensional life
we'll wish we left the air behind us clear of hate and selfish fear
letting all of it go
helping each other grow through our miseries
not taking ourselves so seriously
as genuine human beings who are open and honest
vulnerable and loving
out of unconditional understanding

I remember remembering this moment
a subtle knowing this occurred before
is it the events unfolding as they were?
or the memories unfurling as they are?

We are like a flower.

The seed stomped into the ground.
Our fertilizer is full of ****.
With some water to drown.
Yet we sprout, reaching for the heavens.

Then some ******* comes along with a lawnmower.

whatever does not love you back
never define yourself by that
for it is the love that you have
that makes you who you are

as you gracefully walked by, your beauty caught my eye
the way that you carry yourself so well, it makes me shy
but then you walked into the door
and cursed a word with letters four
and I fell in love, as I laughed so hard I almost cried

Close your eyes I've got a surprise
a world without lies where your mind
no longer denies the tears you need to cry
for the pain as it's pried from your heart
and you can start to live and discard
all the blame releasing your shame
stop playing the game of guilt
just by making a decision
to stop with the hate of yourself
and rebuild within a love that transcends
the divisions of race and religion
with party lines erased
replaced by togetherness
and the commonality of death we share
as you begin to care again
not to save the world but humanity upon it
we're merely a blink in the eye of time under the sun
so if you accept yourself for who you are
then your life has finally begun

The Greeks were, three thousand years ago,
just as advanced as we are now, you know...
why so little progression?
why so much aggression?
It must be the fear and laziness, universal...

I would like to tell you a story...

There exists a man.

He lives his life soulfully.
He has been called many things,
but he prefers to be referred to as a dreamer.

His heart he wears,
not so subtly,
on the tops of his sleeves,
for the whole world to see.

Though what he hopes to wear is a rarity,
something incomprehensible,
in this here reality.

His reverie is a complexity,
that those who are meaner might see,
as paradoxical insanity.

But he does not mind...

For he is chosen to hear a melody
of silent divinity,
that speaks volumes to his soul,
mystically whispering a hymn of

'everything is more than it seems.'

Unfortunately, there is a catch;
a web of illusion and fear...
and it is here he forgets,
the beat of that singing,
and falls back to sleep...
walking away from his dreams.

But then, an incredible scene;

Out of miraculous calamity,
he once again encounters the Being,
the identical flame,
who gently shakes him awake,
and he begins to recall,
the truest of Love,
and why he was made
and how he can see;

The treasure hidden within all of humanity.

Now in spirit again he sways softly...
In tune with the holiest of melodies.

too many thoughts
on this crowded elevator,
in my brain that is chained,
shackled by prior misery,
haunted by my adolescence,
cursed by the atrocities of my youth...

I'm vying for agony,
with fantasies of a noose,
a knot that slips the pain away...
for that pain must be cut loose,
before I cut lines on a mirror,
or lines on my arms,
to charm the legion of evil,
in their playground of my mind...

on the glass of my eyes,
they're always tapping...
tap..tap..tap...
letting me know they're still in there...
that they haven't gone anywhere...
no matter the pressure I apply,
with my spiritual cries to the divine,

they need to come out,
to eat a hearty meal...
so I try to conceal my zeal,
the lust to set them free...

but the more I resist them,
in this persistent reality,
the more they try harder,
to destroy me in my dreams...

my thoughts turn hazy and cold
in a perverse sense of well being
in feeling not safe on this place called earth
where self-worth is a curse to behold
where my tears appear out of fear
and I submit that it's all in my head
that all will be well in this material hell
as the mystically spellbound
seemingly intellectual
festival of my dreams
and all that would be
seems to be free of misery
yet in loneliness
I stress my regression
from the lessons I've learned
because I yearn to be seen
to commit adultery of the heart
with the song of my soul
to let go of the past
and immerse in the glass half full
of pain and anguish to languish
that which attacks my reverie

my heart is soaked in rain
its pain evaporates in the sun

my heart grows cold and weary
teary eyes melt the fears away

my heart shatters into a mosaic
in tragic art it rebuilds stronger

my heart burns fiercely at its core,
to forge my soul into divine humility

Why does my mind always work its way toward suicide?

I'm trying, I'm trying...

I'm trying to figure out me,
who I am in sobriety,
and every time I think I'm there,
I peel back another layer,
and again it isn't me...

So...

give me drugs,
I try to be spiritual,
give me a rope,
I try to find God...
give me *****,
I try to be selfless,
give me a smoke,
I try to reach out,
give me a razor,
I try to move on...
give me pills,
I try to heal inside,
give me a needle,
I try to feel inside...
give me thrills!
I try and I fail...

I want to give up,
I want to give in,
and one way or another,
I want to just sin..

the cup isn't half full,
the cup isn't half empty...

the cup is where I'm drowning...

Take a look at my heart..
It beats and bleeds..
In time I feel so alone..
In space I feel so lonely..

Everything dies
so I sit here and cry..
longing to be belong..
yearning to be heard..

Screaming to be seen!

Peer into my soul
I'm open and hoping
my vulnerability shines
I'm no longer cowering
or hiding behind lies
I'm hanging by a thread
swaying in cold wind
I need the warmth of love
to help me find innocence
else I'll be hanging dead
letting go of my resistance
and it comes to be written
God rest his broken soul

I saw hell and I'm afraid to go back
I must find the elusive loving I lack
I fear this daydream of death
I want to take my last breath
I wish my mind would cease it's attack

The clock it is ticking
what are you missing?
do you say 'I love you'?
do you say it with truth?

The last breath is near
what are your fears?
do you make your amends?
do you forgive or pretend?

The moments are fleeting
what are you repeating?
do you resent your life?
do you live it with strife?

The clock it is ticking
what are you missing?
remember love is a choice
and that you have a voice

Say what I say and mean what I mean this stream of consciousness thing is quite a release and I know it's not a diary but it's fun to let others spy on me even if only one or two or three will ever see what I'm writing it's still exciting to be open and share because I was closed off from people for the majority of my life and it had to do with self-esteem but now that I don't care what others may think this whole experience is quite liberating so let me become even more  openly free and dare to share something that has been bothering me and that is the fact that so many asshats have mocked and teased and called me gay or alluded to it by what they say and it's been happening my whole life and even in this rehab stay the homophobia is in play and yes I'm effeminate in so many ways but here's the real secret, oh my gosh, I'm not gay! but part of me wants to just pretend that I am to make it uncomfortable but it wouldn't be fair of me because I'm comfortable in my sexuality and that would be retaliatory and just as inflammatory but beyond all of that I really don't get it why people are so upset about how others do hit it can't we just live and let live why do we label each other by whatever preference that we discover to help us feel closer to love because isn't that what human beings are wired  to do so come on I implore you all who are stuck in your hatred to tell a coworker about who you thought of the last time you masturbated and then I'll ask you again if it's any of your business

The love and terror of this path through life,
creates an action within me to gain traction,
so I trudge what feels like forward,
toward whatever is calling,
I say babbling prayers to keep from falling,
yet I stumble and trip,
and to keep upright I reach out to grip,
the most consistent thing in this persistent dream;
pleasurable and lustful things...
but the consistency is my lie,
so I curse my dreaming,
though the feeling is fleeting and treacherous,
all I want is to say **** Everything And Run,
and then I am overcome by which way to flee,
then I fall...

...and the only one I have to blame, is me.

These spiders keep crawling inside of my head.
They're weaving weary lies up into their web.
My soul begins screaming...
My heart it is bleeding...
Their invasion of fear snares me full of dread.

I wish I could feel something other than this sadness
I'm really sick of all this madness
the drama I create inside my mind
if only my sanity was something I could find
except for all these joyous ruses
I'm not convinced that all these bruises
will heal and I feel like running away from me
or starting a catastrophe
to hide in the numbness...
and I keep hearing about oneness
and it makes no **** sense
might as well burn some incense
and conjure my demons and tell them that
I'm ready for relapse
so they can prepare the way to my grave
with all the rage of yesterday
oh Lord!
where are you...
I keep feigning faith and trust
yet the only things I seek are out of lust
from a disgusting array of fantasies
even worse when they manifests in my dreams
because I can hear the screams
that are coming from me
I'm not sure I'm going to be okay
I've worked so very hard at changing my ways
my thinking and perceiving of what I see
but the world is exactly as ****** up as I knew it to be
and there's no consoling me at the moment
so here is me trying not to control it
oh, **** it, I'm tired of pretending that all will be well
that all manner of things will be well in this living hell
'cuz my mind is a prison phone with the devil on the line
telling me that all I'll ever have is time...

here comes the 'cutter'?
where did compassion go?
are you ******* ******?
how can you just label a human soul?

you mock and you tease,
what used to be haircuts,
is now a 'help me' plea,
now I'm sick to my gut

have you ever used your brain?
you god ****** apes with ego trips,
for something other than self gain?
you've nothing but pride upon your lips...

So somebody asked
me to write about me
and I'm taken aback
by the difficulty

I'm an addict in a rehab
my life has been difficult
and often it stabbed
but I've repaired in the mental

I don't watch TV
and eat mostly green
I focus on the unseen
if you know what I mean

Do people eat broccoli on pizza?
Because it sounds delicious
one topping I like is spinach
and cheese like chester cheetah

Seems you can tell a lot about a person
by what type of foods they have aversions

Ah yes, on to Hockey!
the best of all sports
It's my fav so don't knock me
It's a religion of sorts

Speaking of religion
I feel it causes division
with so many revisions
to each their OWN decision

Some think I'm insane because
I think about the other thing
often wondering what I was
and who I am beyond my thinking

When I pray, I get down on my knees,
for no reason, other than to humble me,
I thank Her for the call,
I thank Her for the awe,
I'm praying to a friend, not a magic genie.

light a candle on the run
build yourself for demolition
relapse before you even drug
**** a pale horse with intuition
insecurities and fear,
all clear

**** it all, detach
strike a match!

fight a fire on the sun
change yourself a lifetime mission
relax before you cut the plug
thrill a discourse on disposition
insecurities and fear,
all clear

****!
it's all a trap!

In the realm of spiritual synchronicity,
we all have this fantastical ability,
to get what we desire,
in the burning inside fire,
awake along the path of our true destiny.

I must jump in the flowing river
regardless if it makes me shiver
boots and socks and jeans reluctant
it must be done if I'm triumphant
at it's head there's no enlightened spring
just destiny awaiting inside my dreams
though I may drown along the way
I'll never cease to love and pray

the low loud murmur of a filling theater,
up to its capacity,
though not an audience to watch a play,
just actors of reality,
they all wear masks to hide their intentions,
their true identity.

a never ceasing suggestive satire,
forcing reverie,
an ever present wanting whispering,
my head's insanity,
this crowd of voices inside my mind,
are all just imitating me.

when I look deep down the well of my inner being,
there's a blinding darkness I can barely see,
yet a light that's quite as faint as it could be...
a wild looking child, who looks an awful lot like me,
the eyes are which illuminate, from a tearful shimmery,
trapped inside a prison...
my fears the lock and key.

"A dreamy fantasy of you,
the kind that could never be true,
to let you know, I would not dare,
with you, I would not have a prayer,
so in the background, I am there,
I'm not a creep, I do not stare,
I think about a love that's rare,
I'm gladly in your treading air,
your mind, amazing, mine, askew
wish I, those eyes, could gaze into"

so... I've been trying too hard
I play the intellectual card
my poetry *****
who gives a ****
I'm just another 'smart' ******

At times I make love to my confusion,
that paradoxical craze,
at other times it's as if I'm losing,
my mind throughout the haze

At times I could move mountains,
as prideful as the air,
at other times comes illusion,
where faith becomes a snare

When I hear the ticking silence,
a torment deep within.
then I fear I'm in defiance,
abhorrently in sin

revel in the ever present always fleeting moment
face our twinkling star as it ticks away the firmament
feel the subtle warmth of burning time upon your skin

tingle from the glow of a midnight morning breeze
breathe in the animation of your vessel still asleep
exhale the once hoped maybe into the surely then was

taste the scent of new life springtime flowers growing near
see the buzz of a vibrating bee as it gyrates your inner fears
create yourself from the sacrifice of all the holy recycled dead