Write it down
10 times then
Erase it again
My mind is
Racing again
Emotions
raging again

My eraser is gone
Before I even
sharpen the pencil
another line I delete
And I sigh in defeat
I hate what I write
I can't stick to beat
I swear that I can
Rhyme mean
If only I could pick a
Rhyme sceme

You can say you don't care
Or wish me away,
But I'll always notice your stare
When you really want me to stay.

Just go through the day
Pretending that everything is fine,
Just keep resisting to say
That you wish you were mine.

I know you want your feelings
To be hidden away,
But please then allow me to say;

You are my free verse love poem,
Not the rhyme,
Not the theme,
Not the time,
Nor the sceme.

You're my breath
Your my beat
You're my smile
And my C4.

You make me want more;
Love to give to you,
Smiles to return.
Heartbeats to increase.

You make me want more,
More than C4.

You are my free verse love poem,
Oh I'm so glad
That I know him.

My mother
was born
twenty-seven years
before I was,
so is that
ahead of me,
or is that
behind me,
so me
being younger
come later
in the sceme of things
so that makes me older,
or does it?

There once was a man
who lived on down da bayou
went crabbing for his amors etouffee but before he got to dat bayou
he picked up his bon amigo
then dey headed down highway 41
Well the trip was going smooth
as the wind be blowin til they stopped at the station for some pane upon arriving to dat station it was being robbed for its payment and now they got a 3rd in company
Its been a long time coming, who dat cajun running, said he must've lived on down the road. Ain't stopped for no crawdads ya know they dont know where dey at, the ole creole man be ramblin again. Dey been back and forth, up and down, fought like a mule, acted a clown, dont think dey known theys right from left. Mason jar of daniels, open road in the high beams. Ain't no telling the cajun man's dream and his podners sceme.

The spin to my records, Scream

Makes it all easier

To face the music

Relentless trouble

And I drown it all out with noise

A choice between Hell and America

Heaven now too good for anyone

I perish between

The perfect and righteous

The flawed, Rip the hostages

I've trapped

In my mind

They are chained and scarred by my mistakes

That in the moment were choices opposed

To a dead end

My screams now level

Only an octave higher

From the massacre I've deserved

I've been targeted

After...

All the abuse and trauma I caused

How could I have known then?

My mind once creating scenarios on how

I'd sceme my way into getting what I craved

I, deprived of what was not needed

Just wanted it so bad

Those I've hurt

I'd never hurt again

If given all tools and resources to do such

I'd use them upon my soul

To dispose of reek planted by shame

You live and learn

And all my knowledge now

Is put on hold until

Their hurt

Mirrors mine

Resembling

Shattered plastic

Because I'm stubborn

And Glass too fragile

Reminds me of a relic reflection

When the entirety of my dreams collapse

When castles I've built up in sand become ruins in a heap

And weigh more than a mountain as they melt into the beach

And the waves come to pummel any of the remains

As the turning of the tide swallows up my fame

And the Son beating down turns all my selfish works to shame

What shall a soul, broken, battered and lost, do in the midst of such destruction?

Or who can heal a broken spirit that lies parched and vulnerable in the rays of noonday?

A perverted soul like mine withers in the face of such Glory divine

Glory of a hidden paradise, an island all mine own

Filled with wonderous sights to feed the eyes, and luscious fruits to feed the soul

And yet I sit upon the beaches, looking down at the dust

Trying to build something of worth out of the most worthless thing I've found

Not able to get up, to explore, or be at peace

And the one thing that keeps me here is my own prideful, ambitious sceme

I worked through the night, in the shelter of darkness

The bitter cold of night preffered to the cool of the Day

And now I see that it was all vanity

The tides of Love stay at bay for none, and are as fierce as they are lovely

And they wreck the best intentions built on the wrong foundation

At the end of myself, and the works of my hands, I see how foolish I have been

For none with sense would ever build a home upon the shore

And only the most perfect Love could breathe life into sculpted sand

Too weak to resist, I succumb to the roaring waves

I feel the tide pull the ground out from under me

This final surrender pulls me out into the deep unknown

A baptism of death to self, and a life so truely real
That when I rise back to the surface, I shall finally, really heal