I'm frustrated
with myself
No, better yet with time
Or rather, my count
the amount of times you have crossed my mind

Whether lyrically or in theory
I've imagined our make-up
A love that would spur from 3 simple words
and like a dream
I'm awakened
wiping my eyes and stretching
not fully realizing that my mind's fabrication
has no relation
to my present situation
which consists of
my determination
to get you to accept our relations

I'm frustrated
with myself
No better yet with time
or rather my count
the amount of times
I've uncapped my pen
to let it dance along my pages
yet my hand even as it tires
working to depict my heart's desires
but when I look back at what I've created
all I see is you
subliminally written across my pages
hidden behind poetic rhymes
I hate it
I know deep down its truth

I'm frustrated
with myself
no better yet with time
or rather with my count
the amount of times
I lay my head down to sleep
and can't help but think
of the nights you spent with me
those of tranquility
where I would lie awake to listen
to you blink
Those nights where you forgot your oath to discretion
and showed if only for a second
your affection
The rub of my cheek
or my hands yours to keep
as I pretended to sleep
daring not move
fearing your retreat

I'm frustrated
with myself
No its not time
for he is a figment of my imagination
personified
that I use to describe
distant memories
which still seem
to occupy my mind

When in fact its my own heart
which beats distantly in my past
as if that
will resurrect
my grasp
on another we cherished
my mind pleads the memories to cease
because my time spent on what was
shreds my peace

But I cannot help but admit
that my frustration
or better yet Time
or rather my count
those times
seems to forever briefly
brighten my day

I tried to write an epic
Like those who've come before
It had to grab the reader
It had to leave them wanting more

How to start an epic
I've a line but it's not mine
I  could use it, as have others
I think most will think it's fine

But, it's been used so very often
By writers  we all know
Four words that grab the reader
Four words that make us go

We see these words and wonder
Where will our writer lead
Will we go to foreign countries?
Will we see someone in need?

I'm five verses in now,
I've not even started yet
I think I'll use the four words
They're the best I'm gonna get

So here is my beginning
In the sixth verse, and last line
I guess it's here where I'm beginning....
Once upon a time...

I saw you walk out the door
The first day I saw you.
It was just like
What I felt in a novel.

Leaving impressions in my heart,
I saw you,
Though I almost wish I hadn't.
Nothing could ever be the way it was.

So bold, so right,
I saw everything about you seemed so sure.
I hardly knew you,
It was something unreal.

I saw you with him.

It was something unreal.
I hardly knew you.
I saw everything about you seemed so sure,
So bold, so right.

Nothing could ever be the way it was.
Though I almost wish I hadn't,
I saw you,
Leaving impressions in my heart:

What I felt in a novel.
It was just like
The first day I saw you.
I saw you walk out the door.

I sigh over a childhood that was nailed to a cross.
Captured memories return home knocking
Though they were lost.

I sigh deep in the cracks of my soul,
Remembering childhood as it rolled,
Echoing stories untold.

I sigh over what will never again be.
I lament over my childhood,
But is there anyone mourning for me?

You, rainbow, hanging in the sky,
Defiant of the contrary -
Will you teach me the secrets
Of your freedoms?

Faint but full, you live a life.
So true, yet you don't live at all.
None can catch you,
None can hurt you.

You watch over those you love,
Intangible, unreachable.
Why must you taunt me?

Perhaps I will be a rainbow,
Someday.

Inflation, I tell you.

Back in my day, happiness was a stuffed bear,
Or finishing an ice cream before it melted down your arm.

And you came back with change.

Now it takes a life loan, entire people involved.
Might as well cost a first-born.

I hear they make it over-seas now, for pennies a day,
But I'm sure not paying any less for it.

Maybe if they subsidised it, like a good government,
I could afford three square smiles a day.

Hell, one would be nice.

I'll just have to work a second job
To afford being able to afford things.

That **** inflation,
Always driving up the price.

I wonder if the moon seemed higher
To those who first stood on it
Or their families looking up at foreign stars.
Would they even know where to look?

An adjunct obsidian dotted with deceptive white,
So similar from afar, betraying none of their detail,
None of the subtle brilliance defining each world
As the universe that could have been.

Where here water trickles, there miasma flows,
Yet the patterns left behind are so strikingly similar
One wonders if there is a difference at all,
Where echoes of purpose mar different soil.

Is the choice more apparent on the land where we dwell,
Or from that sombre vantage so solemnly watching?
Those that have gone always wish to come back;
Would they know a new world if they found it?

Would they even know where to look?

She gets impatient
so quickly,
even though
I've told her
things worth
cultivating
take time to grow.
That she's always unsure
is all she really knows.

God had already
given her a sick
set of six strings,
so she sold her
steel body to the devil,
to do what he will with it.

Now they
resonate
together,

one howlin' wolf,


all through the night.



*Haughty,



naughty
necked
girl,

Why would I
write you a jewel,
or a star,
when you already
are one?