If I were a poet
I would know the
perfect
word
to describe
how it feels
the moment I open my eyes
and realize
it was but a fleeting dream
I don't even remember what you look like
in this physical world
only a blurred image
residing in REM

If I were a poet
I could print the whispers
and wonders
and describe with diction
The raging burning battle
with my conscience
that created such
bruising and anger and irritation

the scars those thoughts have left me
They rise
with each moment of intimacy
even after forgiveness
has been mouthed over      and over       and over again

If I were a poet I'd
have the most beautiful acceptable
apology

But alas
I am no poet
or pious princess

Nothing ceases
It's always there reminding me
a personal private world
of pain

Shame
I beg you
Die with all of
last years deciet
do not                                         follow me.

This is as good as it gets!
For what purpose do I exist.
A cruel joke of Mother Nature?

The Tree of life!
efficiently conjectured,
of Birth & Death.
Responding all, to wind, rain and sun.

The fruit of the tree,
Love, Anger, and Indifference.
must die to become fertile ground.

Such an efficiently cruel cycle.
The tree of life.

My life I would trade for yours
A million times over
Till the day the world ended
Even then I would try
To keep you alive
Because your a gift to me
One I never quite deserved
Rachel
I LOVE YOU
I would take a billion
If not trillions of nuclear warheads for you
I dont think anyone
Can quite comprehend
How much it is that I love you
But you are my reason
The only reason
That I shall die
If ever the moment comes

I get straight A's,
You worry I don't have a social life.
I hang out with friends,
You never see me any more.
I spend time with you,
You worry about my grades.
The sad part is,
I keep trying.

I keep to myself,
You worry I'm depressed.
I come out of my room,
You get sick of me.
I'm quiet,
You worry I don't care.
I say how I feel,
You ignore me.
The sad part is,
You don't try at all.

A line in the sand -
a border -
a fence -
my 40th birthday;
my 50th birthday;
my 60th birthday -
the ball drops at midnight!
A new year -
blow horns, beat drums,
kiss somebody, make resolutions.

but everything on that side
looks exactly
like everything on this side.

and somewhere
rivers are carving canyons
and small plants
are shattering boulders

I stood long under stars and trees
clouds transiently swift in winter's eve
memories of yesterday's child, a year to play
a dream, a pond to skate away

Now wintery thoughts are aglow
cool drifts the night through open windows
Owls haunt with delight
they seek to prey,
quick before the light
of sleepy days

I slept and fell deep the well
my soul drinking freely
bathed in sweetest darkness  
depth of sorrow wakes me soon
my joy alights this
morning moon