Organizing the desk
on solid wood
if only i
understood

Sorting the papers,
a perpetual mess,
thoughts
my mind
wishes
to confess.

Shredding the confidentials
security measures,
they could never
understand
my secret treasures.

Boxing the pictures
with pain
inside
nonetheless,
the moon moves
along with the tide.

Time is always changing,
looking from
within.
I know the life
I must choose,
But you?
will undoubtably
see it,
a life full of sin.

Here’s the church,
here’s the steeple.
Open the door
and see all the people.

Slam it shut.
Shatter the glass.
Because it feels
this too won’t pass.

Please just wait;
see it through
Then you’ll realize,
every little thing you do.

All that you are
is all that we do,
our time is best utilized
serving as glue.

Pick up your cross,
but have no fright,
because I know
there will always be a light.

It may seem obtuse,
but your sight will shift.
Only then can you make good use
of his precious gift.

Dare to try.
Intuition is keen.
Trust in yourself.
Create beauty
from a sorrowful scene.

And when the time is right
to reflect on your life,
I hope you can say
you’ve been stained
through the power of strife.

mKp (3/3)

Can I share a little secret?
it's all much clearer than you think.
I know it to be true,
as i press my paper to your ink.

Life is like a box of chocolates,
too sweet to eat at once.
But if you savor each by name,
you'll never need a bunch.

If you rush to the end,
it will only make you sick.
So many layers to taste,
And the caramel?
So rich and deviously thick.

Though the sun always sets,
and it will never be the same.
Remember, life is

but a game.

If you dare,
make like the waves!
But the wind,
will too,
send them to their graves.

Maybe today,
you are the highest score;
but tomorrow,
it will leave you
only wanting more.

So, have you won?
Did you do your best?
Well my friend,
then you have passed The test!

See, Mother nature picks no sides,
she is always synced with the tides.

My body has no control over these lives,
And mother’s touch sometimes stings,
like a thousand knives.

And I sit and ponder how this all can be true,
I find myself wandering back to you.

Stillness consumes me,
and all I can do is admire,
the sound of water
crashing like fire.

-mKp (2/24)

So when i must travel through the valley of night,
i will carry only my canteen in sight.

Then no soul could feast on my fears,
my tears are the only thing in this life
I now hold dear.

mKp (3/1)

Where you see weeds,
I see blooming trees.
Old flowers,
new leaves.

Buried by drifts of snow,
yet something beckons them to grow.

The transforming seed
stretches
with a desire to breathe.

What do you see?
Grave of the dead?
or tomorrow’s flower bed?

Death comes
and death goes,
yet the crazy daisy’s
wild roots never froze.

Somewhere, within her,
the plan was already seeded.
The simple truth?
The light was all she really needed.

This law paralyzed her with desire,
to see nothing but nature’s unseen fire.

She laid and she wait
as the bitter winds blew.
But in all of the darkness,
nothing from her grew.

Do you believe in time and in fate?
She pondered as she lay and wait.

In her shell, she is saved.
What lays beyond, may leave her graved.

Is there such a thing as better tomorrows?
She wallows,
wading,
in the mud of her endless sorrows.

She did not,
could not,
fully understand:
the price that must be paid
in order to be grand.

As a seed,
she thought she knew.
She had something left,
yet to do.

It required her break to her very core,
in the hopes of be coming some thing far more.

She emerged from her old,
cold,
worn shell,
seeking the warmth and comfort
of a new place to dwell.

She must give one last, epic fight.
Squaring off,
this time, on the side of sunlight.

"Make like a bandit
and run from your cell!
Never look back
and you’ll never fail."

She solely set sight
on its’ captivating rays.
Gleaming and unfolding
to enjoy the beautiful days.

In this attempt,
her core begin to extend.
Allowing her to appreciate,
and bask in all the sun had to send.

Standing tall and growing crazed,
she basks in the fragrance of the cold, passing days.

She heard all the stories
every leaf had to tell.
Even if it was true,
that to their grave
they eventually fell.

She tried with all her might.
The seed saw it through.
With diligence and perseverance,
so could you.

Although at times,
I know it’s difficult to see.
When going through a change,
the truth will eventually set you free.
{even if it feels a little strange}
When these changes do arise,
there’s always a brighter side.
Your time in darkness makes you wise,
if you choose to enjoy the ride.

You are the delicate flower.
Take your time,
to truly understand
your heart’s eternal fire,
buried deep under the sand.

Then set foot to build your tower,
to match your own deeply rooted desires.

Become the beautiful
delicate
flower.

*

But nonetheless,
The seasons will change,

Always remember, September,
and there must always be December,
along with many April’s rains.

And as the seed,
before it can bloom;
you as well,
will see many
hours of gloom.

mKp (3/24)