It's rare you know.
When a woman possesses such gifts.
The strength and defiance of a God.
Yet the elegance of a swan drifting on a crystal blue lake.

She is a fallen one.

She has a dream carved into her mind
but fears keep it hidden.
She has a fire burning
but society keeps her at embers.

She has this love that even the Gods fear.
A woman who can inspire even a stubborn fool like me.
A goddess dressed in fire
bursting with the passion of a thousand lovers.

Yet few ever see it.
But I once did.
And it was
Beautiful.

Watching more attentively than ever.
Sudden yet predicted change,
every second daunting.
What comes next is known
yet unknown,
clear
yet obscure.
As the hand spins
the vision blurs.
What comes next?
Another unprocessed thought?
Another tick in time?
Drawing so close you can hear it whisper,
feel it's swift hand,
taste it bitter.
Time goes on without a stutter
and here we are acting like we control it.

Take a moment from your pathetic life.
Watch the clouds swoop over the earth like blankets.
Hear the noise and melody of the joining voices of birds.
Be inspired by the determination all around.
Observe nature for it's beauty.
But most of all,
observe the nature of humans.
The deceit, lies, harsh words,
violent actions, unprocessed opinions,
bias choices and false beliefs.
Because human nature is tainted.
It is not beautiful.
It is not joyful.
It is not forgiving.
And if you don't believe me,
take a look at yourself.

I want to love like the movies
The love-struck beauties
The hopelessly romantic studs
Perfect love among the flames
burning away all but the soul
I want to kiss as if I'd never kiss again
Tender lips like our souls
joining in sweet communion
our bodies merging as one
I want to know that love

But I am not special
My destined love lies in another mans bed
Their lips touching but their souls miles apart
I stand drunk ordering another
winking at the cute blond across the bar
My true love aches for me as I do for her
But I am here and she is somewhere
We all find alternative compensation

We pass each other at the market
Our eyes meet
but we look away
Because she is not perfect
nor am I
Two lost souls in a fish bowl
running over the same old ground
and so year by year we question
Where did it all go wrong?
How did I get here?

Somehow we meet again
share memories of marriage
children
"love"
and then and only then
will we know
Where it all went wrong

People are blissfully unaware while at the same time
completely aware of the nothingness their lives have
amounted to.
I haven't been able to figure out if that is beautiful
or just nothing special at all.
You see, we have all these quotes about life
and love and loving life.
But none of them actually help us in any way.
I'm still here typing away.
The goth is probably still cutting.
The **** is getting ready for his next game.
And the forgotten soul is contemplating suicide.
Nothing changes me, you or the next guy.
So why am I writing?
What purpose does these words serve?
Seems like they are all just whistling winds through hollow heads.
or maybe it's more...
Could it be that these words are the last string holding them together?
Maybe we have it wrong.
These inspirational quotes are not there to salvage us.
They are there to keep the forgotten soul from diving to his death.
For the goth to remove the blade
For me and you to hold on to something long enough
so that we too don't find a more permanent solution
to the nothingness we call life.

Here we go.
Well, here i go.
Slowly swaying
waiting for the arm to fall on 12.
It's just another day.
Nothing to get excited about.
Around 3 a.m it started to rain.
And everything became dull
like a once hyperactive dog
in its dying days.
The ceiling white with brown stains.
How'd that get there?
I slowly get up, get dressed, brush teeth,
eat, and smoke.
I stand by the door, waiting.
Waiting for a miracle.
But it never comes.
So out I step into the pouring rain.
I'm not ready for this.
I don't want to face my demons.

I remember you young
Free
Hopeful
and oblivious to life.
Those better days of
Frolicking youth with blissful gladness.
Oh how things changed.
The sweet innocent girl I once knew
is now
gone.
Your belly is swollen with the burdens of now
and tomorrow.
All it took to change your life forever was a
thoughtless night in hot passion.
Does the passion of that night
suffice for the hungry, relentless,
dormant future that awaits?
Only you will know the torment of it.
And when you know.
It will be too late to escape.
And you, like many, will just become
another wasted teen who ******
too much.
What a shame.
Now watch your life slink away in shame
and wave goodbye to youth.
For the girl I  once knew, is no more.

I read the words of another lonely soul.
A tribute to the drunken madness of
Another lonely soul.
My words are few but my emotions aren't.

It brings wonder and joy and far more than
Words could ever describe.
It's like rain in the sun with stars dancing,
Giving tribute... Like she did.
How beautiful it is to see my emotions
In another poem. Written for the same cause.

For now i know...
Im not the only one to feel
What that drunken lonely madman's
Poems stir in my soul.

People are blissfully unaware while at the same time
completely aware of the nothingness their lives have
amounted to.
I haven't been able to figure out if that is beautiful
or just nothing special at all.
You see, we have all these quotes about life
and love and loving life.
But none of them actually help us in any way.
I'm still here typing away.
The goth is probably still cutting.
The **** is getting ready for his next game.
And the forgotten soul is contemplating suicide.
Nothing changes me, you or the next guy.
So why am I writing?
What purpose does these words serve?
Seems like they are all just whistling winds through hollow heads.
or maybe it's more...
Could it be that these words are the last string holding them together?
Maybe we have it wrong.
These inspirational quotes are not there to salvage us.
They are there to keep the forgotten soul from diving to his death.
For the goth to remove the blade
For me and you to hold on to something long enough
so that we too don't find a more permanent solution
to the nothingness we call life.

I write so that maybe
Just Maybe
she will one day read this.

I write so that this feeling might
pass.

I'll never see her again.

To my disillusion
I hope
That one day I might see her face again.

To glance at beauty, perfection,
an Angel sent to me.

I'm not a man of destiny.
I never believed that fate decides our
outcome
until
I met you

She says everyone is special.
If you just took the time to get to know the person.

I've met the punk.
I've met the barbie.
I've even met the popular kids.

They are all pretty average to me.
Not much to separate the groups.
They all have problems.
They are all running from them in some or other way.

Empty vases in the window sill.
Different paintings on the clay
Yet empty, hard, tenacious exterior.
But oh so frail.

People are blissfully unaware while at the same time
completely aware of the nothingness their lives have
amounted to.
I haven't been able to figure out if that is beautiful
or just nothing special at all.
You see, we have all these quotes about life
and love and loving life.
But none of them actually help us in any way.
I'm still here typing away.
The goth is probably still cutting.
The **** is getting ready for his next game.
And the forgotten soul is contemplating suicide.
Nothing changes me, you or the next guy.
So why am I writing?
What purpose does these words serve?
Seems like they are all just whistling winds through hollow heads.
or maybe it's more...
Could it be that these words are the last string holding them together?
Maybe we have it wrong.
These inspirational quotes are not there to salvage us.
They are there to keep the forgotten soul from diving to his death.
For the goth to remove the blade
For me and you to hold on to something long enough
so that we too don't find a more permanent solution
to the nothingness we call life.

What beauty have I found
In looking for something, anything,
I found that priceless diamonds and gems
hold no worth in her presence

Who am I...
Who am I to find such beauty?

What man can say
"I have found what all men have sought after
for all their lives but have never even seen a glimpse"?

Who am I to find Atlantis?
Who am I to find El Dorado?


Her elegance and radiance draw me in
The dreams lose their value
My addiction grows strong to this incandescent reality

Sit with me lady of fire
sing for me in silence
bring forth your autumn display
that never ceases to bringing ecstasy to my eyes

You are the fire that burns away
the barriers of my heart
my soul now ashes beneath the autumn leaves

In the words of Charles Bukowski
"There is no lie in her fire"

It takes a lot
doesn't it
to move you.
making you feel something again

whether it be a Keaton Henson song
or a soul shattering movie

something that can tug
enough force to move the mountains
but only cause a slight deviation of the soul
how accustomed are we?

all the emotions in line
following the whistle and commands
marching forward
you do not cry unless told to
love unless loved
smile without humor
point out the ever-quickening spread
of emotionally hollow organisms

it takes an earthquake to awaken your soul
how fucken sad is that
we have become so disconnected from reality

laughing when instructed
and crying when applicable

**** that

feeling emotions is the only **** thing
that reminds me I am still
******* alive

and I'll be ****** if they try take that away

You know through all the time that has passed
and all the experience that I have gained.
I honestly thought I would have grown past this all.
Yet I feel that warm gush of memories.
Like a steaming bite of food. Too hot to swallow
yet too stupid to spit it out - or in the company of pretentious *****.
Either way I can't help thinking I should of learned by now.
After Zoe and Nanette...and Claire...Rene, Beth, and so many more.
I still fall into the same gear. Down the same path. And always wonder why I hit the dead end. and the bitter sweet irony is that
I know of the on-coming demise.
But that's what we do.
Doing the same thing over and over hoping for a different result.

This poem has no message. Just thought that by sharing my
"idiocracy" with you, that maybe you won't experience the same.
Just maybe.

That's the beauty of it all
a stone turned inside out
a life unraveled to the audience

Such glorious pain to heal the wound
feeling it all
at once
alone

I think about it

we are all living these subjective lives
too afraid to feel
too ashamed to be ourselves
walking around with these tailor made expressions

what does it take to rip the core out of a man?
how much longer will the muffled lives be kept quite?

JUMP OUT YOU *******!

leap for joy and drink to your hearts content
love all and cherish the affection of those around
embrace you who are

someone put this heart in me
not a handsome one
not a muscular one
but one that is capable of love woven from the finest linen