Knock down the walls that hold you bound
Your heart is afraid of falling and not getting caught before it hits the ground
The only happiness you choose to feel is shallow
I want to give my world , my life , and my soul if you'll only allow
I'm afraid you won't learn how to trust
Your heart was once like a ocean filled with love and lust
Now it's just a dried dessert in a mouth full of dust
I don't really know what I'm trying to say
I guess I love you and I just wish sometimes you and me...didn't feel this way
But I know that will soon change and I don't care how long that takes even if it's when the world has no more days.

Love is a bottomless pit,
Once you fall into it,
You are but a lost soul within seas of emotions,
Only your other half can guide you back into the light,
Only two single winged birds are able to take flight ~

~ Umi

Go on with haste and fly through this undawning memory of love,
What is the moon looking up at, perhaps a dance of pulsar stars ?
What is the sun looking down at, perhaps the life growing from light?
An eternal sinner wanders under their light, with no aim, no goal,
All he carries shall be the pride in his heart, with undying love burning as bright as a hyper nova in the nearby young nightsky,
Lingering sadness seeps it's way through, to the surface of the moon, forever to be bound in an orbit, overshadowed, shining in lesser light,
Yet does it oversee, what beauty it brings to the night, or what it would be if darkness reigned supreme without it and the stars to rise?
Enlighting the darkest of nights for us, forgotten it keeps up his duty,
For maybe, even if just one is touched by his luminosity it would be enough to keep going, until the time comes to greet the break of dawn
The milkyway alike a river of stars, each with their own story to tell,
Stars stand with their secret hidden, an orbital parent to many planets
The sky is the eternity in a land of pure fantasy and hope after all,
A dream which knows no death till its termination draws near,
But isn't waking up the commencement of something far greater ?

~ Umi

Yea of course writing ideas unstoppably
burst asunder at the most inconvenient
opportunities such as driving Miss Daisy,
taking a shower, or using the bathroom.
Accursed ambition becoming a prolific
scrivener (case in point Stephen King)

Woolworth ridding, oddly lumbering
lackadaisically shoehorning out this
being from a self made gully. The jury
yet to decree if attempting to extricate
muss elf from tangled web of decades
old setbacks via literary output successful.

Every morning, noon and night, this chap
blunders, flounder, (like a phish out of water),
yet plod his shipshape reclusive quiet-natured
person along the boulevard of broken dreams.

Oft times, huff hind aye muss elf entering The
Dead Zone (bordering a Pet Sematary). Earlier,
a previous saunter found me surmounting
The Green Mile. Attendant in regard to these
Bag Of Bones, and Desperation to acquire

telephone contact with Cell phone quickens
pace despite Insomnia. No matter unexpected
Sleeping Beauties warrant kisses, my determination,
motivation, and slight trepidation occasionally breeds
(The Dark Half), doomsday facet heftily jackknifing lust.

Occasionally, a feeble goading simply under minds
any corporeal aim to restore endeavor to experience
Joyland. IT (creative juices within spur meeting Rose
Red and her restorative powers. Onward atheistic
soldier goes this chap. No matter tipping point (vis
a vis hungry fatigued body clamors for Needful Things.

Revival (for food and sleep) frequently appears grim.
Downcast state of body, mind and spirit reinforced
by mirage. The Dark Tower looms ahead! Adjacent
to ominous evil looking structure silhouette casted
of a Black House. The initial ambition to ward off
abysmal results summon forth creative literary juices.

Simultaneously a migraine headache pounding pitted LIX.
They hammer horrifically, ferociously, and diabolically.
Shades of shad rock Under The Dome. Ma noggin
aches like The Tommyknockers! Every attempt to locate
a royal crowning coeval counterpart jinxed with laborious
ill luck. Hell in a hand basket plight usually generates
nostalgia for destiny to Carrie be back to Ole Virginny.

Sage advice from Christine, Delores Claiborne, or The
Colorado Kid, yours truly blithely heeded. As a result
(The Outsider within this paperback writer wannabe)
sports defeat written all over face. Concomitant figurative
futility gussies and kickstarts leaving invisible pockmarks.

Ordinary Dreamcatcher fate invariably finds aptly named
Writer Errs Block. Need to back track arises (figuratively)
along vista. The roads have no name. They command
stubborn respect. Near impossible mission manifested
to transcend mental hindrance. This more difficult than
playing Gerald's Game. Hence sigh embrace The Shining

opportunity to avoid Misery. Doctor Sleep would undoubtedly
encourage braving, challenging self confronting The Eyes
Of The Dragon. Such a risky pursuit could force facing pitbull
Cujo. No matter gamble foisted prospect fraught frightfully
being burned at the stake by a Firestarter. Voluntary action

brings small hairs to tingle. Hunchback, sans severely curved
spine straightens. This (The Stand) ding pose offered supreme
vision as promised by The Talisman. Tidbits by me alias
Mr. Mercedes reddit carefully Just in case The Girl Who Loved
Tom Gordon chanced to stumble upon this redoubt versus
her hours spent staring at a blinking cursor. Metaphorical
po' wet ick feet took me where they would.

Sometimes I really wonder,
What would it be like,
To be like a thunder,
Always ready to strike.

And yet there are days,
Whit this simple blue sky.
And warm sunny rays,
That make me wanna fly.

There are also some nights,
When stars seem like flakes,
And moon slowly glides
Upon reflection in lake.

Beauty really has no limits,
Every given present time,
There's always chance to seize it,
Words like thunder, strike with rhyme.

All I see is nights follow days,
Or the other way around.
We are dust in the space,
In the train, Nowhere-bound.

I made a pitcure of jade and emma,
Tossed it on my wall,
Even took a couples pics
They loved it, that was all.
Neither understood its facts,
and till now, neither did I
Intended not as honorary, but as a battlecry.
That picture I conceived of them, includes me in it not- just my reflection in it's glaze, an abstraction in their thoughts.

And yes, even we formidibal three
Somehow all forgot
That even forever aint forever
Our lessons already taught.
And so the power of this image, is more then I will share-
It merley depicts my two best friends,
Admiting they don't care.

This type of art is devistating.
Astonishingly clever,
So clear its truths invisible
The subjects see it never.

There was a time when you and I
were impossibly tied to one another,
when we reached the ends of our ropes
we had no place to go but each other.

Years of the world trying to pull us apart
had only made us more tightly bound,
but when it came time for us to part
there was no way we could be unwound.

The problem with knots is when they get too tight
and you no longer want them teathered,
you're left with a single heartbreaking choice:
one end needs to be severed.

A rope that's cut will lose its strength
and the ends will begin to fray,
so one would expect it to loosen in time
until it finally falls away,

but even though my end was cut
the day we were torn apart,
the piece of me that remained tied to you
became the chains that still bind my heart.

"Clamorous Tumult"


We often form a clamorous tumult
Within. Not illusion, but a chosen
Mutable reality. We are caught
Amid our own theater, acting frozen
Dead parts, with anguished hearts and shame laden
Souls, a lifeless script of mimicked lines. What
Paths to freedom we may find, if any,
Are ours to seek. No mindless slaves are we
To this world's pendulunt course. Though many
Flee their task as co-creator to be
Bound in various roles, all are truly
Aspects of the whole, which is our Light, to see.