When You hear the name Blake
I bet you think of someone

They could be a person who is full of love
Who is always smiling and just a ball of sunshine
Or
Someone who crushed you
who left you in the rain, eyes on fire
Charred a soul-rending black from the pain
The 3 A.M. Acid of a conversation splashed in your eyes
Or maybe you don't think of anyone when you hear that name.
Maybe just a shillouette

But when I hear the name Blake
I see a seventeen year old boy
With short light brown hair
And deep, brown eyes

I see him every day,
for all of my days
On most he adorns a smile
A genuine curve on his face

But There are days
Where he's become hollow
Only a Shadow, frozen
in his black drift of a nightmare he's caught in
But I will always see him

I see him angrily try to style his hair in the morning
I see him in the dead of night
Feels like everything falls apart, and slips through his fingers
But still I persist, to be so distantly close to him

We are one and the same, black as to white
But if this is true
Then the black can be gray
And so can the white
This is the that confusion that dwells in their subconscious
This is the infinite limbo in which they both reside

He is a bundle of joy stuck between happiness and sadness
And me...I'm broken

I'm Confused
on why I hide him from others
When he is me and I am him.

Maybe I fear what they'll say
When he comes out hoping for open arms
But receives the pain he expects too well
Be it judgement Or hate.

So I hide him
But I want him to know
I'm not ashamed of him
That I love him because he's who I really am
And that one day
Which I hope is soon

I'll no longer introduce myself as Mercedes
The person who feels out of place in their body
But As Blake
The person who is happy and feels like they are finally who there suppose to be.

What the hell
When I have heaven in my arms?

I see Blake, I see Plath
I see the bike next to the block

Am I good?at your puns?
Spotting these metaphors and sensing
your lust
The Devil  himself between these mellowing thighs
Oh, He looked a lot like you Sean.

Undress not your self
But your gown
For me once
Disarm these plausibilities
I know where you're from

Tiger, tiger, burned once bright,
thy forests turn with dying light,
from embers to ashes in gasoline
fumes that reek of deeds obscene.
The flames were fuelled in desperation
by those who fear eradication
of their ancient tribal lands
their blood runs thick on industrial hands.
They are thy lambs arranged for slaughter,
they are the very sons and daughters
of the forests of the night
in who’s heart thou burn’st yet bright.
Alas, therein thy days are numbered,
thy primal scream by mechanical thunder
is extinguished without thought or care
by those who’s eyes see no despair,
blind in sole pursuit of self
from whom greed’s arrows have with stealth
all empathy and grace dissected
and cold cadavers resurrected,
spectres of their former selves,
emerging from the mouth of hell.
They prey on our indifference
and worm into our confidence
for in the name of saving face,
we ourselves by greed debase
by casual purchases, ill considered
we sell thee, tiger, down the river
which carries vandals to ignite
the unspoiled forests of the night.
But thou o tiger, what chance thy rage
to free thee from thy clinical cage?
Near sole survivor of thy race,
a dwindling band who’s time and place
shall with fleeting memory take flight
unless we help thee again burn bright.

The Tyger that was burning bright,
Came down to seek an opponent to fight.
When he stumbled across a grassy field,
In order to see what opponents it would yield.

After hours of searching he found a little lamb,
Not quite the opponent that was part of his plan.
He challenged the innocent lamb to battle,
After all Tyger had defeated large great cattle.

The lamb got up and said this was a mistake,
We were both created by old William Blake.
To fight you would be to fight my brother,
I suggest peace and love for one another.

And so something strange happened that day,
Two different songs came together in a way.
One of Innocence and Experience,
A new song born from both - Existence.

Paddling through this vastness

I look at the ripples I made.

Floating and whirling,

Clanking and Clinking

Shelley, Wordsworth and Blake.

In the middle of the tranquility

I plunged into the blue

Oh, Arizona sun, you blinds me.