I spend my life orbiting beauty
like a moon that never quite makes it
all the way around.

My heart is something of a lost and found,
all the broken, discarded things
have a place here.

It's sometimes hard to steer
your life correctly, down this road
of broken glass and bones.

It's sometimes hard to find the stones
to say what you mean and, of course,
mean what you say.

I never meant things to go this way,
but I have done my absolute best
with all that life brings.

Alas, today I can write no more beautiful things,
The page will be empty, the pen, inert...
...But only until tomorrow.

Maybe we are simply embers
dancing and flying over the fire.
But I do know that we are unwitting members
of the blood pact that caters to our own desire.

I always found it hilarious how I could laugh
at my own cruelty, to myself and to others.
The laughter crippling me, to lean on a quarterstaff
and think of all the cruel jokes I used to smother.

I admire a lot of the poets here.
I believe that wisdom is a thing
it grows inside you like a tumor,
not always benign.
I sometime felt like I lived on a fault line,
because things never stayed where you put them.
I've seen many poets here
spill their pasts out for us to see.
I'm not here to cry, scream or shout
because for me, that's never what it's all been about.

I placed myself here for the recognition...
at first...
Now I've realized I can do so much more.
I got a message by someone saying that
I had made their life.
Heh.
These words cut me sharper than any knife.
Made me wake up and realize that
I can turn this whirlwind of strife
into a twister of hope.
And much like twister
we all find ourselves in a knot from time to time.
But there are sublime moments
that hit us in our blind spots
until we see spots.

If I can give someone that feeling,
then I can start reeling in the fish that got away,
I can stay planted in the past
less like a grave and more like a flower.
sway in breeze
and tower above these problems and enemies.
If I can find it in me
to bury my demons alive,
to strive for the happiness I inspire in others,
to see not strangers, but sister and brothers,
IF I can do that,
so can you.

I've prayed for meaning
as if it would help me live,
but God is a master
of the silent "dunno-what-to-tell-ya" shrug.
Maybe I didn't make this guys life for real,
like... 4real4real,
but I did SOMETHING.
This something
was worth than a million lifetimes
of nothing.

So.
Poets?
Scholars?
Women and Men of the Pen?
Let's give the mysteries of the universe
a break for a day or two, eh?
They'll be there when we come back.
Let's stop cracking the locks on life
and crack a smile instead.
This entire website is black and white,
but let's color inside the lines,
if just for a day.

I'm alright.
I'm fine.
I will be alright.
All poets have it a bit rough, right?

For me
it will always be,
simply,
**prose before hoes