though she  walks  a beautiful  road
    that  is  not  all  there  is.

bathed in brilliance
    flowing through her  being  as  if  it
      were  in her veins.

courage surges from  every orifice:
       a  warrior,  underestimated,   unappreciated

   head  among the clouds
      sun kissed eyes   blind
to  the  adverse

        lips graced  with  a  wisdom  beyond  the  years
  worn
       refined
radiant patience brushed  over  her skin

so though she walks  with  flowers  in  her  hair
     beauty   is  not  all  there  is.

a little paper prince
with a little paper crown
lived near a little paper city
in a little paper town

the little paper prince
with his little paper crown
lived his little paper life
found in paper books all around

one day the little paper prince
in his little paper crown
found a little paper princess
in a little paper gown.

the little paper princess
had no little paper crown
but a little paper halo:
above her head, was round

the little paper prince
with his little paper crown
could not see her paper halo
and his face fell to a frown

the little paper princess
with no little paper crown
saw the little paper prince
with a smile turned toward the ground

the little paper princess
in her little paper gown
knew that they were more than paper
in that little paper town

so the little paper princess
in her little paper gown
took the little paper prince
and they ran away from town

the little paper prince
lost his little paper crown
as it fell off in the forest
and shattered on the ground

and the little paper prince
with no little paper crown
saw the little paper princess
with her halo that was round.

sticks and stones
break bones,
and words
break the birds
of a feather,
a familial tether,
a soul
susceptible
to the thoughts of another.

sticks and stones
can fix homes,
but words
heal the unheard
hearts,
with a love torn apart,
and dry the tears
that smear
down your cheeks
and drip
off your lips.

kiss your enemies.
keep them closer
to your heart.
let the demons play their part
on the inside of
your mind is the ruler
of the monsters in your head.
walk with them
hand in hand
down the pathways of your past.
let them dance with your emotions
and leave them there at last.
kiss your enemies
goodbye
and let the rain clouds of your
sorrows water the flowers
of yesterdays tomorrow.

good news.
the world still spins around the universe
sunset and sunrise
just like before.
everything still seems to move on
the way it always has.
even without you here.
even when it seems
the world inside me has stopped
the world around me never stops moving
never missing a beat
day after day
slamming into you
knocking the air from your lungs
kissing your open mouth on the way out
reminding you
that just as easily as something,
someone
can be brought into your life,
they can be taken out.

i linger on the corner of moving on
and forgetting
and the pathways look all too similar.
down one,
the stars dance with the moon
cloaking the world in darkness.
down the other,
street lamps tease the midnight air,
flickering on
and off,
hiding what's just around the corner
and in the end, it doesn't matter which road i take
because while i linger on the corner of moving on
and forgetting
i still wear your watch to work.

i  dream  with  my  eyes   o p e n
   and  love  with   my  eyes  closed.
i go to bed with the moon  and  wake up
        with   the   sun.
i understand nothing, and  a  lot  more
  than you would know.
i knew a boy who held the world   in  his  finger  tips;
   he  let  me  have  it  in  exchange
        for  my  heart.
i smile like  the   stars;  laugh like fire;  cry  like  a song.
i eat love for a midnight snack  and  hide  it for my own.
and  at  5  am  i finally  go  to sleep.

this is a poem for the warriors
and for the worriers.
for the children whose eyes have grown so big
they cover their mouths.
"children should be seen; not heard."
children should open their hearts;
their minds.
they should follow their dreams
and whey they are asked: what do you want to be?
they should know
that in this world, there is not one thing
they cannot do.
it's time we raise kings, and queens,
poets,
lovers,
dreamers.
it's time we teach them
that when they run away,
the fastest way to chase their dreams
is to take the train into downtown tomorrow
for there lies a world of possibility
and promises.

this is a poem for the kids
who flew too close to the stars
and were left with scars
across their cheeks.
for the teenagers who are lost
inside their own minds
and their stories that are lost
on the tips of their fingers.
this is for the wanderlust
and the starry eyed.
for the boys who have fallen too hard
for a girl who was never strong enough to catch him.
and for the girl
who is too afraid to say goodnight to the moon.

this is the time
to throw your heart on the line
and blow caution to the wind
with the seeds of a dandelion.
this is the time
to forget the nights that sing "maybe tomorrow"
and jump on a train with a one-way ticket
to a world of your forgotten promises
and know that when you hop off
tomorrow will be today
and today is the rest of your life.

the way you view the world
through rose colored eyes
looking towards the heavens lost in the sea
and the oceans in your veins
that run through your warm fingers
painting the sky a deep ocean blue
that glitters in your mermaid eyes.
i hope that when the stars in the everlasting skies
lose their fire and fall
you make a wish and light another fire in your heart
bright enough to burn through the fears
lost in the shadows of your soul.
promise me that when the ocean whispers your name
you will run forward into its cold embrace
with your arms spread wide
and you'll never look back
towards the rivers and lakes that once held you back
from who you are now.
and with the powerful waves that drip from your fingers
and billowing fires alight in your heart
i hope you never lose sight of the shore.

the world will never tell you
there are stars in your eyes
that it cannot compete with.
instead, it will tel you
"the sky is the limit,"
because as soon as you realize that the clouds
are merely closed doors to the heavens
it can no longer hold you in.
there is no force on earth strong enough
to stop the power behind your unspoken words,
to keep you from unlocking the gates of heaven,
and from breaking the roots of your past
that cannot contain the tumultuous fires in your heart.
and there are flowers in your thoughts
that reach infinitely higher than the depths of despair.

and yet the world will always tell you
that you will never be good enough,
when you already are.

a  lost  cafe  hidden  by  the  tumult  of  a  rising
city;
    backpacking  through  lands  unknown  to  the  ascetic  individual.
in fields of  flowers and small  lakes  kept  secret  from   the   men

  of   business  who seek   the  thrill of  a  silent  corner  book store
and the  the bustle of   an  airport at

noonday,   quickly  and   quietly bypassing  a bashful  stranger  
   lost  in   lands  all   their   own.
in castles   on clouds   and   beds  of   rolling waves  
   only seen   by   creatures  unseen  by  
man    
     whose   joy  is   found  through   the  stable  beat
of feet    on  three am   pavement   and  a rhythmic  
    discovery of  wheels  against   earth    l e a d i n g   the way  to a        distant   land
surrounded by an    azure  sky    
          inhabited   solely  by the    deep   voice  of a   weary guitar.

  here  remain   the  lost  pieces   to  the   puzzle
     waiting   to   be   made   w  h  o  l  e
four  arms     four  legs     one   heart    one   soul
            one     being   too   powerful
left  in   two

   but  in  the  end
if  you  were  to  find  yourself  on  the  other  side
  of  life  never  crossing  the  path  of  another   soul in pursuit
of      your     own
   it    is   because   you   need   not   another
to   complete   a   soul   as   your   own
but    only    the  soul    you     already      are

    and    of    all  the souls   yours is the   most powerful    for it is
c o m p l e t e   as it    was   made.

don't just wear your heart on your sleeve,
wear your scars there, too.
don't cover them.
don't hide them to make others comfortable.

they are proof,
not only that you survived a battle,
but that you were hurt
and it didn't **** you.
your scars are proof that you are fighting;
that you are strong enough to fight
with tears in your eyes.
your scars are no sign of weakness;
they are every indication of strength.
don't cover them up.
don't hide them under your sleeves
or behind your teeth.

when they tell you to calm down,
yell louder.
scream because you're angry.
cry because it hurts.
stop listening when they tell you
to get over it; to try harder.
this is your battle.
fight it however you want,
however you can.
don't believe them when they say
"it's not that big of a deal."
it is a big deal.
it's your deal,
and that makes it the biggest deal in the world
because you are the world.
you are your world.
and they are not your sun.
they are not your moon.
they aren't even your stars.
they are dust, left over from an explosion that created you,
and all they do is disrupt your connections with the heavens.

it takes an explosion to create a universe.
so do not listen when they tell you to calm down.
stand up
and scream louder.
don't stop when they tell you to sit down.
don't stop until you are heard.

Color inside the lines
  if you don't you will look
messy.
That's what they tell me.
      teachers.
              parents.
                   friends.
i can't find the colors.
     just keep looking.  you'll find them
that's what they tell me,
       always keeping me locked in.
i never could see that    outside    is where the colors are.

everyone just gave me flowers,
but you gave me an entire bouquet,
and they turned out to be weeds.
but they smelled so sweet,
and i already planted them in my garden,
and now they won't go away
no matter how hard i pull.
they are stuck there,
you are stuck there
killing the flowers i had before.
growing so thick
i have to poison myself to get you out.