Transient nights of sleeping alone,
fingers tied in knots around my heart in wait.
it slowly drums to this hollow, lonely beat.
I know there is life and its all twisted inside.

Eternity prisms upon grey desolate plains,
a sound echoes across palpable heartstrings,
its music, enchanting in crescent domed skies,
my name on her lips, happiness in my eyes.

I see the mind of her world,
it sparkles and shines,
her light, beautiful, inside.

I wish I could come over,
make your walls break.
I want to get closer...
much closer..

Her elusive heart, a tower to climb,
her love for him, she cannot hide,
jealous wrath that beats in time,
and I feel nothing else inside..

Hope wrapped in coalescent knives,
it's searing pain, always burning,
corruption overtakes me, as it thrives,
scalding torment in my yearning.

I see the spire of her world,
it spirals and entwines,
it reaches the clouds and collides.

See my light fade,
watch it break...
as you two get closer,
much closer...

until darkness is all that remains..
corrupted and twisted inside..

Tell me,
what is so sweet about sixteen?

The layering of lashes in an attempt to age just two more years?

The relief when the shopkeeper served you that Smirnoff Ice?

And the excitement of drinking it in a park?

If you were lucky, the occasional spliff stolen from someone's older sibling?

Sweet is the nostalgia
but sweet is not the rawness of the reality.
Living the teenage tragedy is bitter and sour and tasteless.

Late nights
filled with mascara tears
fuelled by heartbreak.

Your rose-tinted spectacles see past the vomiting and the headaches and the regrets.

Would you do it all over again?
And would you do it exactly the same?

the night frosted in silver,
shadows and moons,
iron ghosts stretching
into the darkness,
unravelling the song
of the tide.

The way I read your mind
Is the same as sign language in your poetry?

Poetry is the chiseled marble of language;
It’s a paint-spattered canvas - but the poet uses words instead of paint,
and the canvas is you:

You borrow a phrase, and hanged it like a gibbet,
That meant nothing for us: it was so ribbit ,ribbit
You sat there on the log and watch as the frogs
Jump from Lilly pad to lily pad: in the dusky fog
The frozen frogs’ moves, your words croaked

we decipher your deepest fears,
so why do you filled the pond with the splashing tears?

******, spoke.
They gathered.
They listen.

George Wallace, spoke.
They gathered.
They listen.

Donald Trump, speaks.
They gathered.
They listen.

And all their population of supporters shows you in some forms they attracts bigots.

****** target the Jews.
They gathered, they listen.
Wallace target blacks.
They gathered, they listen.
Trump target Latinos.
They gathered, they listen.
And truthfully none of those target harmed anyone in terms of surviving.

But the supporters cries foul when they should be addressing their problems.
That those with less can't affect those with more.
But one voice comes with tricks of manipulations and fictional facts.

This group, they gather and willingly listen.

******, met his downfall.
Wallace, met his match.
Trump will be *******, if only logic wins out.

Cause many has gathered and listen.
A bigot don't have to say the words to be known.
Most of the times, its in their tone.

Do not ask why you are here,
Treading the waters of a
Planet leaving tears on the
Straight razor held
Firmly to her throat by her
Children.

You are here to dance your life
Out from birth to dust
On the floor between Satan and
Seraph, between kind and
Selfish. Between
Poet and predator.

Know that a light heart, love
For yourself and others; a
Whispered gratitude for the
Smallest of things, is the tallest
Tree in Paradise.
Anger is an axe.

And fear. Fear is a chainsaw.
See the flower; ignore the
Thorns.
Look past the hurtful comment;
More often than not, it was a tickle,
Not a slap.

Be the finger that begins the easing
Of the grip around the razor's
Handle. Form an open hand upon
The face of our blue mother.
Kiss her. Kiss her every sweet
Tear of relief.

Us

We share the same
wounds you and I.
Our blood is flowing
from our hearts.
But our hearts are in love
bleeding for each other.

We share the same scars you and I
Lasting memories of wounds passed.
They were made from forgiveness
And in forgiving one is forgiven.

We share the same love you and I
Unbreakable and everlasting
Rising as a phoenix each new day.