Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

I just finished texting you on December 31st
Sunday night, or maybe you consider that a Monday morning
and a country song just came on the radio
I couldn't help but to think about how much I hate country music
I hate the stereotypical voice the singer always sings,
the predictable pattern of strung guitar strings
So, at 2:24 am, on a December 31st, Sunday night/Monday morning

I started to wonder if you liked country music
Or believed too that it's tacky
I wonder if "tacky" even exist in your vocabulary
Where did you get your vocabulary?
Did your mom raise you to believe words would be your greatest ally
Was she raised with more than one language
I wonder what your ancestor's native language sounds like
And if it was ripped out of their tongues
Like culture in our history books
what stories were told from those tongues that history books could never tell
I wonder, what kind of stories you've carved in lover's mouths
with just your, tongue.

I wondered if you've ever lost someone
I wonder if you've ever lost yourself
If you did, where did you find yourself?
Did you find yourself in your palms over bent knees
That kissed the ground that at one time
kissed your feet.

I wonder when we'll meet
I wonder if I'll meet your best friend. If shell ever get scared
You'll replace her with me
And if I'll have to tell her, she's irreplaceable.
I wonder what's your favorite places you've been to
The places that made you smile to your human anatomy's most potential
And I wonder how much you know about your own human anatomy
I wonder if you know that an average heart beats 100,000 times a day
Pumping almost 2,000 gallons of blood through its chambers
Over a 70 year lifespan, that adds up to about 2.5 billion heartbeat
And sitting here, just wondering about you- you made me skip a few.

It's now 3:07 a.m.
And I'm wonderin' if you've ever wondered what it would be like to be loved by a poet
To have your body be put words and your words be put against my body
To have lips match figurative language to the figure of your body
And write love poems on your cheek
And I wonder if you even consider me a poet.

What are the events in your life you consider poetic?
If your life was a poem, what kind of poem would your
8th grade English teacher categorize it as?
If you were a curious child and if now
You're ever curious about me
If my mind ever wanders while I wonder about you
And if I could ever weaver it back

At 3:21 a.m., December 31st, Sunday night, Monday morning
I'm wondering if you're wondering about me.
Or if you ever wonder if I've ever lost myself, but more recently, lost my mind writing poetry

I wonder if you wonder if I consider myself a poet.
I wonder, if at 3:27 am, if you're awake too,
Wondering if I like country music.

(1/23/13)

when it comes to **** - i agree for this was something that she did not foresee
she wanted to have a normal life, fall in love and become a wife.
to have children if and when she decided, and not be afraid or to hide it.
she had been ***** - body , mind , and soul
and she feels she no longer has control.
now this is what a ****** has in mind, and wants to be in control all the time.

yet now ! you do have a choice which will be the first of many
keep this child or abort, and foget everything that you may have been taught.
if GOD had this **** planned for you ( which i don't believe)
then he's also given you the choice as what to do
he has given us all free will, and with a decision like this
you can't stand still.

some will say it's because the clothes you wore- or things you said
but with a ****** - you did not want to bed.
( e.g. )right now this child is like a drop of spit which you spit out
because of the bad taste it gives. "do you want this child to live?"
the taste may stay in your mouth the rest of your days
is this the way this child will be raised?

yet the choice is up to you - no one knows what you've gone thru.
if they had punishments to fit the crimes, then the ******
would get it from behind.
they would know what they put you through because they'll be
going thru it too, and if they was to **** with intent
their life in jail would be spent.
if they have no regard for human life
then they should pay the ultimate price.

"how are you?"
"fine."

It's routine
you and I

Sometimes I wonder
who you'd react
if I told you the truth

"how are you?"

I want to tell you everything.
I can't stand life anymore
I'm depressed
I'm confused
I'm upset
I'm alone
but never the less

"fine."

I don't think you want to know, really.
you don't really care, do you?
you never will

I think I'll find someone else
maybe he'll care

maybe he'll listen to me
instead of a simple nod
and hug me tightly
when I cry
or stroke my hair
and help me
instead walking away
and leaving me abandoned

"how are you?"
"I don't know."

It's a start.

My body is not
a wonderland.

there is nothing
sultry about
A Cold.

'Come hither' with a
red nose?
Oh Baby...

Commentary on
Modern Music,
nearly halted by
an almost snot rocket...
Authority tempered
with a rasp.

"Did you know you could
DIE if you hold in a sneeze?"
9 year old anecdotal prophet's
looming outline, right up close to
my face.

messy  half-dreams under the
futile winter-hat Reality Shield in the
backseat of  Homeward bound
Economy Wheel Gathering.

**** Man Voice to
telemarketers.

No sir, that's Mrs. White.