Most things,
That I create,
Are, of course,
Purely meh.

I sat on a rock and stared
At

Larger than spiral galaxies,
Able to comprehend that which is smaller than atoms,
You made us,
But babes,
We have yet to understand,
The works we will make,
For you,
And the words we will sing,
Our infant dancing,
Though beautiful in all its tumbling emotion,
Is nothing compared,
To the whirling,
Of our later years,
A day approaches,
When we will grow,
In all directions,
And remember with fondness,
The days before we could fly,
When walking
Upon the dust of one planet,
Was our only option,
And our flimsy wrappings,
Of main importance
We will laugh,
At our present preoccupations,
With silk or cotton,
3 or 5 inches,
Purple or go ****,
Yet you still give us what we wish,
Like a Father to his toddling child,
Drooling over a sweet.

Poetry is meant to be felt
Not just read

How?
With every little breath while sleeping on my lap

Did you manage the feat of creating every love poem
Ive written & read..
To be All about you?

Long lost live.
Love long lost.
Why do we spend our lives
wishing,
wanting,
yearning,
to be skinnier,
taller,
prettier?
We were put here for so much more;
I'm not quite sure what,
But why else do the pyramids exist
and the Colosseum,
and the 7 wonders of the world
and love stories so beautiful
your heart feels like it is melting.
We are destined for more;
more than we give ourselves credit for.
Comparing yourself
to those girls in your magazine.
This is the root of all evil.
I don't believe in manipulating an picture
so it can make girls hate themselves
by creating an impossible image of beauty.
Go write a poem.
Go take a walk.
Go explore nature.
Go create something other than your
negative thoughts.
Maybe then you will start to feel beautiful.
Maybe then we can create something;
the 8th wonder of the world.
Long live love lost,
live long love which is not lost.

It is 2:13 AM.  I am up thinking, dreaming –
Yet still awake.
My dreams are my reality.
My imagination keeps me awake.
Brain is flooding with creativity,
Yearning to pour out –
A w a k e.

My dreams are my reality
Mind filled with blissful negativity – awake.
Dreaming of unorthodox fantasies.
Eyes wide open but mind floating in another realm – awake.

Blood flowing
Fingers throbbing
Pulse pumping
Heart skipping
A l i v e.

I fall, I fail but I still strive.
My mind aligned
With stars and planets – unconfined.
Letting go, trying to find
The mysteries of  
L i f e.

Are these mysteries meant to be discovered
Are they meant to be uncovered?
Everyone hovers
Till the day reality is
R e v e a l e d.

See, the world we live in
It’s a mere mirage created by oneself.
Lies created to hinder discovery.
Truth buried
Deep, deep down under
Not meant to be
U n c o v e r e d.

The beauty of life that it’s m a j e s t i c
Life blown into our bodies
Temporare - ily
Until the time for departure
A r r i v e s.

We attempt to leave legacies
To be looked upon in history
To be unforgettably
I n c r e d i b l e

To live forever

Forgetting o b l i v i o n is inevitable.

I met a friend
Who handed me a pen
And told me, "write"
To write about what gave me life,
That spark of unwavering light

I met a friend
Who handed me a piece of paper
And told me, "create"
To create things
That'll make your bones shake

I met a friend
Who gave me the best advice
He said to be true to myself
And everything will be all right