You**
             don't know it,
                                           but
             you can't be with
me.

so that when you’re young
so that the sky is falling
so that you tell the moon goodnight
so that a moose can have a muffin
so that the giving tree
so that the hungry caterpillar can eat all the leaves and turn into a beautiful butterfly
so that brown bear, brown bear
so that the sidewalk ends
so that, will there be enough room? Chicka Chicka Boom Boom!
so that Corduroy can have a home
so that the little engine could
so that Harold could draw with the purple crayon
so that you can give a pig a pancake
so that wishbone
so that the rainbow fish learns to share
so that the cow jumps over the moon
so that you can go where the wild things are
so that your imagination soars
so that when you’re young
you read for your soul’s pleasure.

Hot, steamy
Coveted by many
Treasured by few
Life trickles down,
leaving no part of my body untouched.
Magical, I am renewed.
Where epiphanies erupt
And fallacies falter.
Reason hides within these 3 walls,
Kept restrained by a playful curtain.
A safe haven for unspeakable words,
unthinkable thoughts.
My treasure chest.
I roll my eyes as my mother yells,
“Get out the shower!”

Dreams dance under the glare of the sun’s moodiness
Blood vanishes from the veins of once dead men
Medals of tarnish float along a river of bedridden nightmares
Soft drinks pierce the heart ache of an ancient lover

Coffee mugs litter the world’s tainted breath
Cake mix splatters the wall of any old soul’s happy day
Laundry baskets of forbidden desires clutter my mind
Australian needs rise up and revolt against the will

Steadfast now, the winds have changed and blow upon
new dreams from the shorelines of an imagination.
Hindrances break even with the mob, blowing jobs in the faces
of masked gods under none.

From what does the truth set you free?
And what sets you free from love?
Cerulean dreams dart like angels to the ball
Woe to the marching band stuck at the disco

Tripping on bumps in the sidewalks as if the flaws
were meant to convey the illusion of perfection.
Bumping into dreams while on day trips to a place legendary
among the star screamers of yesterday.

Played with market chiefs in the fishy dreams of villains
Heroes rise from the ashes of who they wish they could really be
Hunger penetrates the enigma in which livestock consume the diet
of better days and healthier people.

Strangers.
Blanket thieves.
Snuggling with the poverty of heart stricken saps who ****
the life out of the tear duct orifice between theses beautiful lashes of grace.

Come with me,
let’s escape to a world of ours.
My imagination has room for
Two.

Dew drops sit patiently on the earth
My thoughts race, incomplete
without a story line.
What’s the difference between an animal
and a man, you ask?
Men can carry guns
The revolution falls short as the much anticipated
Apocalypse begins

Zombies moan and groan as their limbs
creak with their shuffling art.
They say zombies are the living dead
Why, you ask?
They’re dead on the inside.
Like Davy Jones, they’ve ripped their hearts out
and hid them away from the world.
I’ve met a zombie or few.
They inject sunburnt life into their veins;
They inhale the emotions they can’t convey
I see right through their drug induced façade.
Life can’t be bought because the government can’t even afford it.
Kudos to China for figuring that out

A joke tumbles from the lips of the self-righteous
An apology pours from the mouth of the condemned
A question slides from the tongue of the forgetful
Remember me?
I jumped because the Hermes of death seeped into my mind
Go down in flames or fall for a thousand Arabian nights
Calm before the storm chosen over
Panic during the tornado.
Take the credit, you *******, and we’ll take your lives.
Congratulations, Westboro Baptists are humming dirges
at your last bed
You’ll be missed.

Now what, you ask?
Come on home, boys,
I’ve got a country to please