The ability to write poetry is the ability to understand life
To know it's not always about being the best
That it's not always about who can do what
Poetry is emotion
It is the silent words that lurk in our minds
It is our unsaid weaknesses exploited to their full potential
Which then makes it our strengths
It is the bridge that connects us to the mortal world
It is the proof that we are human
That we can cry
That we can laugh
That we can have remorse...
To us poet it is so much then just words on a piece of paper
It is our heart and our pride
As poets we all have our reasons why we write
Because we all come from our different backgrounds
Some of us have lost sight of the light
Other bath in it
There are even some who sit upon the border because they can't make up their mind
But as poets we all have one thing in common
We write because we are not immortal
We write because poetry is our life
We write because  poetry is our hope
And if we didn't have it we'd all be in a different place
Most likely a place beyond darkness
Even if the reason we write is joy
What's the point of being happy if everyone else is not
So we write to share
That's what it means to be a poet

whether hungry or satisfied
The face isn't tamed by a smile
Better to distinguish between
scary and ugly.
Being ugly isn't by choice
Being scary is personal

Those who prefer to roar than to talk
Their faces display their ages
And foreheads wrapped with wrinkles
soaked in sadness with pleasure
A true definition of misery.

A chemical addict
one who enjoys jik as juice.
pale faces with purple stretch marks
Good enough to keep enemies away
A face with a perfect answer "No"
swollen with grief though entitled
To no pension
The die hard of scenarios and
a culprit of death.

empty hands with nothing to hold.
waves crashing against my broken bones.
I gave it a shot,
trying to swim to you.
but you let me drown
in the thought of you.

Nothing to see, so I'll stop looking
Nothing to say, so I'll stop talking
Nothing to hear, so I'll stop listening
Nothing to do, but I'll keep thinking
Always thinking
About everything here, in this world
About everything up, in this sky
About everything done, in this life
About everything except, nothing
Never nothing

It was October
He was inside me
I was crying.

"Let's dance!"* she cried, her hair swept back
Her golden trailing hair
Her arm moved swift as lightning and
She darted forth a slender hand
To force an unprovoked attack
That forced him from his chair

"What's this?" he said, his eyes were keen
His striking blue-green eyes
He watched her moves unfolding and
He countered with a steady hand
A move that she had never seen
Denying her the prize

Now back and forth, they whirled and twirled
Each pushing for a chance
Her golden hair hung loose and free
His striking eyes shone bright with glee
Their colored banners both unfurled
As each took up the dance

As he bore down upon her front
She left herself exposed
He ****** in deep into the gap
And fell into her subtle trap
Encircling him, she heard him grunt
And saw his eyes were closed

"So soon?" she grinned, her lips upturned
"A shame you couldn't wait!"
He smiled and then he held her tight
And in the flickered candlelight
He looked into her eyes that yearned
And said, *"You win! Checkmate!"

It starts at the bottom
Of my belly,
Right above your
Favorite spot,
Then it pings
And pongs
From elbows to knees,
From toes to shins,
From heart to biceps,
And from head to fingers,
Taking it's final bow
On the parts of my back
You sculpted-
This is how I miss you,
In every bend, crack, snap, and creek
In every bone, vein, muscle, and tendon.

I'm a ***** for hopeful words
And a ***** to anything true,
This is why I stayed and slept
With you-
The loneliness of your skin
Bumping against  
The desperation of myself,
bold( 3am, eight months later )
Still feels like perfection
In bleached briefs.