Poetry is just a tool

To speak your mind, not serve as rule.

Constructed help to bear one's soul,

Declare one's love, or friend console.

To speak in verse is but a scheme,

A packaging for fancy dream.

Fixing meter's common place,

But it's up to the writer's taste.

To rhyme, to pair these simple sounds,

To fuel the whimsy, feed these hounds,

Can sometimes be itself a crutch,

Or hind'rance if it's used too much.

The feeling and it's heartfelt message,

Speak more than some structured presage;

Create your voice from humble words,

An ode or sonnet, praise or gird.

Loose your arrows, verbal arcs,

And dot the Earth with sharp remarks

And when the last launched barb should fall,

Who minds if they should rhyme at all?

The heartbeat does mock
when like a drum, it quakes
and echoes the eternal applause:
 
A foolish reminder of what
Devils become you
when you recover
from the constant
thump, thump,
breath after breath.
Yes, my cruel heart,
I will in death recover
you.

Only then will the bellowing, burst
of my laughter
become the only beat you
know

 
          bravo.

It was 3:42 on a Saturday
When a boy picked a lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To give to a girl that he thought
Was as beautiful as the morning sun.

It was 4:05 on a Saturday
When a boy gave a girl
A lilac and said that it
Reminded him of her.

It was 4:06 on a Saturday
When a girl studied a flower
That a boy gave her until she
Tossed it aside and disagreed.
"No one could ever love me."

It was 3:31 on a Sunday
When a boy picked a lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To give to a girl that he thought
Was more stunning than a sunbeam.

It was 3:39 on a Sunday
When a girl studied a flower
That a boy gave her until she
Tossed it aside and cried.
"I'm not pretty."

It was 6:15 on a Monday morning
When a boy picked every lilac
From a bush in his backyard
To make a crown for a girl
That was more royal
Than a queen.

It was 8:02 on a Monday morning
When a girl woke from her slumber
To a knock from a boy on her doorstep
Who held a crown of lilacs in his hands.
"You are every petal of every flower
I've ever held between my fingers.
But I can't appreciate their beauty
Until you appreciate yours.
You're beautiful to me."

It was 8:14 on a Monday morning
When a girl finally believed
She was loved and she
Was pretty.

I keep such music in my brain
No din this side of death can quell;
Glory exulting over pain,
And beauty, garlanded in hell.

My dreaming spirit will not heed
The roar of guns that would destroy
My life that on the gloom can read
Proud-surging melodies of joy.

To the world’s end I went, and found
Death in his carnival of glare;
But in my torment I was crowned,
And music dawned above despair.

Black is
a never-ending book
a shivering in the dark
a cunning cloak
a depleted creek

Black is
an unexpected wonder
meaningless whisper
a dusted mirror
silenced anger

Black is
splash of drops of tear
chilling in the fear
worn gears
which witnessed too much drear

Black is
momentary quiet
long-lost connect
hastily hided secret
disillusioned crotchet

Black is a handful of mud
buries the past
upon unknown future
where the hope it entrust

Black is the one unfailing excuse for everything

Blossoms at night,
and the faces of people
moved by music.

If you want a lover
I'll do anything you ask me to
And if you want another kind of love
I'll wear a mask for you
If you want a partner
Take my hand
Or if you want to strike me down in anger
Here I stand
I'm your man
If you want a boxer
I will step into the ring for you
And if you want a doctor
I'll examine every inch of you
If you want a driver
Climb inside
Or if you want to take me for a ride
You know you can
I'm your man
Ah, the moon's too bright
The chain's too tight
The beast won't go to sleep
I've been running through these promises to you
That I made and I could not keep
Ah but a man never got a woman back
Not by begging on his knees
Or I'd crawl to you baby
And I'd fall at your feet
And I'd howl at your beauty
Like a dog in heat
And I'd claw at your heart
And I'd tear at your sheet
I'd say please, please
I'm your man
And if you've got to sleep
A moment on the road
I will steer for you
And if you want to work the street alone
I'll disappear for you
If you want a father for your child
Or only want to walk with me a while
Across the sand
I'm your man
If you want a lover
I'll do anything you ask me to
And if you want another kind of love
I'll wear a mask for you

A banquet of clouds dance a ballet with the sun
As the morning arrives and the birds awaken
It is quiet
Pure
Still in your robe
No makeup on your face
Watching the sun reveal itself from the horizon
The ocean is scattered with gold flakes
The birds rejoice at the marvel of it all
And take flight