I....
need some help
In time....
I'll do it by myself
Why do I have to show it
after all my stubborn ways
begin to change then change
again
I react
can't face the facts
Increasing the feeling of life in and around my eyes
Rise to the dawn against the darkness in night
Finding a centering
While becoming the revolution
Hold on to gravity
The spirit of evolution
Oh yeah
It's coming in
Good intentions
By all of my friends
The earth is healing
I'm listening
Perhaps together
We'll shift and sing
Call life, what you will
It can be rough
I love it still
I've had, so many moments alone
and vulnerable
But now,
I finally found my own
and I'm coming back home
We all get what we deserve
It all depends on the character you serve
Play your part and seek your heart
Manifest it all at start

White sheets
softly spread out
upon the now
empty beds.

these are gems
your tongue kissed in a fit of pink.
your luminous dark, weaving sharp cotton to photons as swiftly as first love.
you are remarkable. so mark.
these are the feathers of dead wings, staring at the sun through the ashes of Icarus
unharmed.

a blindfold of petulance between the deep and the blue
aloft.

this is the air that we breathe, you and i
the construct, struck dumb by the fierce knowing of a soul
the ponderous gaiety of lithe thoughts
that shimmer-*****
in the bleak fears
just cause.

an Earthless
poised in random
sky

but now
adorned.

in my caste, we live too long.
to the nub. we are legion and madrigal.
we troll in the narrows of your one good love
the first hurt that said " again " .
then just flew off.

word is, you have no white lie.
join the club. we are even at odds. the peak of one hill.
we know where the arrow's going, but
the first hurt that meant nothing
meant all.

Dead beat in a shallow grave
Heat sink of phantoms,
basking in the marginal dusk of a hymn...
Stung by feathers
Hounding Oracles to prevent
Omens.

Dim Hope The Raven-
And now more cautious, the Gods you Ransom.

One entire Myth comes screaming into view
From No Perspective
At All Times.

And the Signature is in the Hand
Before The
Name.

It's not in the rhymes you make
That tells one who you are
It's not what you feel inside
No matter how bizzare

It's not in the story you tell
That makes the reader cry
It's not in all the mystery
That leaves them asking why

It's not in the joy you bring
That causes them to smile
Or all the fancy words you use
Or because they love your style

It's not the tales of forgotten love
That makes the reader weep
It's not the broken promises
That someone's pledged to keep

It's not in all the anger
That flows from the writer's pen
Or the feelings of betrayal
We sometimes feel within

It's not in our descriptions
That makes the reader soar
Or the feelings of bewilderment
As we leave them wanting more

It's not in all the broken hearts
That's written across the page
The hope of being famous
Or to make the world your stage

One definition cannot define
The gift that a poem brings
A poem is so much more than that
For it is all these things

it is sensible to be traumatized by absolute certainty.

however; the joy of fishing,  
will remain Ineffable
so don't even
ask.

it is beautiful how beautiful that is