there is a longing
that cuts deep
like the long
slice of cake
from the 1st birthday
you remember

there's a home
that shines bright
in the distance
during a storm
and your clothes
are wet and cold

there are people
who live in fear
beyond their control
they still don't stop
hoping for better days
no matter the cost

I spent so many years
on the outside looking
into all of these things
wondering what it means
and I learned something

Hope is like a blueprint
a guide towards greater
purposes and even if
you find yourself lost
it will always be there

My village is a bit crooked, of course
of course
it shows
on the streets
it was known
evening police
traded in grace for blow
sources say they
wanted to drive it home
catching sirens
dating gang bangers
on video drones

My village is corrupted, of course
of course
it shows
puppets wave
programs
smiling daggers
while our weakest
become sadder
kick the bucket
and say goodbye
to the dispatcher

I suppose
some people
lead by a nose
and someone else
must shake
his ****** fists
and cry;

"All these beautiful things I've seen make me feel so alive"

I am holding myself accountable
For now, but not always
There's times when I should have
been the first to say I'm sorry
Of course we all have those times.
We must all have those times.
To err, to caution, to be human
Questioning if you said or did
What was right, most kind
The best possible actions
Achieving the most perfect outcome

But I cannot hold myself hostage
To reckoning with perfection
Nor can anyone else reasonably
****** me upon such a pedestal
and expect me to preform
my best, most absolute
unconditional, unequivocal
gestures of good faith
If they have not made themselves
Stand tall in such high places
Responsibly bearing the weight
Of being incorruptible to errors


I allow myself to look within
And search for the answers
As to why there's always this desire
To be something more than
The accumulation of cells and dust
That surrounds my innermost self
It seems like finding answers
Will have to start with asking questions
As to why I am the way I am
Right here in the now.

If I can shape myself into anything,
more than or less than
what I already am right now
How can I ever truly be myself?
How to begin knowing myself
If it was never really clear as to
what my self was to begin with?
Where is the source of who I am?
What I am? How I am, and why?
What happens if I stripped away
All that I am and put the pieces
back together in a different way?
Would I become someone else,
or something else entirely?

I have always wondered
If wondering will be good enough
In search of the answers
In search of the miraculous
An inner earth within the earth
which I heard only
existed in pages of a book
Written in the sand
A very long time ago

If you looked into yourself
and saw a mirror reflecting
the parts of other people
you either hated or loved,
Could you continue to look
at yourself when others called on you
and honestly say to them,
"Look, I am what I've become"?

No one is to blame
No one is blameless
The truth is a place
That meets in-between

If I were a stone
I would not believe
that the medow
looks after the rose.
To be hardened
is to be muted.
Any stone that
does not tumble
will not shine.
The truth is that
freedom comes from
aching hearts,
and full moons.
Lonely roses hidden
behind tall blades
of grass.
It's so good
to see you thrive
where you thought
you might not
have survived.

You always bring up that time I broke the pint glass and cut my finger.

It leaks out onto the floor and becomes a habit.

Nobody salts the wound more than me.

Providence the dreadful mystery;
The impeccable dignities and places
Sweep in spirals, from the sand;
that blowed And licked at your feet
The world Conceived before those hills
Foot-fast; Look, where He strove to get at.