Short nights.
We toured the sands of lake Erie.
Wet feet,
The flashlight beam breaking on rocks and waves and empty beer cans.
You laughed at me and we talked about finding a bear or
Maybe, in a few years, living together.

There was heat.
I was swinging and the trees were touching my feet,
Bending boughs before us and the cops came
So we piled in your car and you
Were called to “drive faster.”
Speeding up to catch the sharp exhale I
Let spread across your neck,
Trickling slowly off your collarbone.

We brought a camera.
And, negatives spoke volumes when we reviewed our faces;
You were looking at your feet and my
Eyes were on your lips.

The news comes to us
Running all around
Coming from the air
And from the ground.

Happy news sad news,
Any type of feed,
Computers are shoes,
Running us what we need.

You can surf it you can scroll it,
Or even search google
You can find the perfect color
To match you white poodle.

You search all day,
And even all night,
And the results are run to you,
Like they are running from a fight.

You can search sitting down,
You can search standing up,
You can search foreign languages,
On how to say whats up.

Want to impress you girlfriend,
Show her you can cook,
Pull up a recipe on google,
You don’t have to search a book.
Want the newest fashion news,
And the newest styles,
They are only a click away,
Within the internet files.

Shoes are the foundation,
That we live on every day,
And computers are that foundation,
That we use everyday.

Computers run information,
Going and coming to and fro,
They can tell you the directions,
for where you want to go.

Computers are shoes,
They are solids we rely on,
You can use them for your homework,
To find a certain ion.

So this poem is over now,
And I think you get my point,
Computer are shoes,
This is my poem joint.

As gentle as the misting rain,
You’ve soaked your way into this brain.
No matter what, there’s always doubt;
I try and try to pound you out.
But oh, again I fall back in…
It seems like I can never win.

In a tiny church with an overlarge steeple
I opened the doors to see all the people
A little girl stood there and sang about god
and all the sheep stared, shocked and awed
As the tears rolled down her rosy red cheek,
each one symbolizing another week
A week of havoc, pain and circular gain,
we live in a world that knows no blame
I stared at her focusing on innocent eyes,
her naivety made them so big and so wise
She looked at the crowd, they were hungry for more,
she thought of her sister, shunned for being a *****
If we are his children and all loved the same
how come people live life with no name?
How come I have the world in my palms
when girls with my birthday are running from bombs?
Her answers will go unanswered forever,
she will be called a fool for being so clever
Dear god you are supposed to show us the answers,
but our youth sees only society's best cancers
How can a little girl have faith in your craze,
when she sees people hungry, day into days
So you see dear lord I don't really believe,
all these people need to rise up from their knees
Stop praying for someone to change your fate,
and do it yourself, open your own gate
Love thy neighbour and to ones own self be true
but don't do it for him, do it for you.

Sorry I never treated you the best
You were better than the last
My love for you will never rest
The spell is permanently cast
I will love you till I die
Even if it is not by your side
I am sure I will see you
Before I see death
A part of my heart will always be yours
Until my last breath

Only he can wear this crown
The woe that pulls and holds him down
A life without, a life with shame
And only he may hold the blame
A door once shut can ne'er reopen
The portal sealed with those words spoken
A path he frequents and walks through slowly
A friendship formed by suitor lowly.

we float on top of the world
drawing through clouds
and walking on air
laughing at the things we draw
with the moisture from below
we are no Icarus
our wings do not burn down
we are like the bight sun
we never leave the sky
we always are on the bright side

Mosséd trees stand in respect,
a moment of silence.
Still breathing
but stillness dwells.
In amongst the green
a catharsis of orangey-red shades.
The Japanese maple poised,
chest puffed,
arms elegant.
Sight unstirred.