Life is never a plan,
            there is no map.

But lets get lost in it together.

!COLOR!
B * A * N * G
sssswwiiiirrrrlllllllllllssss

take
     a
       step

INTO ART

j      m      !
   u       P    

into a new WORLD
of OPPORTUNITY

don't stop your  ~D R E A M S~

                                                 yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
                                flyyyyyyy
let your paintbrush

onto the canvas
                 and into your
                               <3 HEART 3>


IF YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN
          

               ...then you will...

midsummer day-
The sun was calling us by the names
Two little brace faced dorks running out her back screen door
To find a secret hideout for the day
With composition books in hand of course
Our Top Secret  composition books,
Where we wrote about our futures, and boys (shhhh)

We ruled the streets of Bennington woods
Claiming the oak tree in someone’s yard
Where we competed for height in our cheap foam flip flops
Owning the pine trees of another
Where we spied on the teenagers
Trying to understand their secret language
But it was under an old wooden porch where we pulled out the books
And this time, we’d plan our weddings

We would wear beautiful dresses and pointy high heels
Just like a princess
And most certainly marry our dreamy little  blue eyed boy crushes
I even crossed my heart and hoped to die so she would be my maid of honor
Last but not least, we had to choose our wedding flowers

It was the season of flowers; tulips, daisies, marigolds…
Every house was decorated in a colorful array
We ran exuberantly, scanning our options
Then began to pick away
Every flower we knew or didn’t,
As long as we had one of each
We covered the entire street til our hands and books were overflowing
At home we taped them into our precious journals
Sealed forever so we would remember,
These were the flowers we’d have in our wedding bouquets

It is a terror
To accept a love
So effortless
I fall
And the weight of this dream
Collapses into me,
Encompassing my passion
With possibilities
Never once discovered
Before

I waited too long
to mow my lawn
biopsy my lung
yet lived long enough, anon,
however long is long.
Whatever. It's not wrong
to count along
while busy living. Sing
and stay strong
absorb the sun's photons
and store them in your bones.

Those bones
outlast slights and spurns
are white as lightning and strong
as sticks and stones.
Inside is one's
spirit, soul, the nameless one
the one that's never known.
It has no cell phone
can't communicate or even moan.
Therefore. Why complain?
Have some fun.

Soon
I'll be undone
underground
my garden burned down.
So what. John Donne
died and so did Milton.
Emerson too, and Whitman.
Get over it. Vote. Love. When
the train comes in the station
whistle with it, wish on
stars with passion
or careful hesitation.
Anything's fine, within reason.

Season by season
things get done.
Algebra and calculus, Malcolm X, George Washington.
No taxation
without representation.
A gun
in every den.
People will be governed
one way or another, by a king
or trusted friend. Corporation.
Men
are more disposed to suffer, while Evils are sufferable, than
to right themselves by abolishing the Evils to which they are        
      resigned.

I'm too young
to die! I cry. My generation
cannot outrun the sun
but I want to see what happens
next, a tsunami or tornado, rain
and wind beyond our comprehension
hit in the head by speeding debris, irony
of ironies! plastic contraptions,
rotting computers and yogurt cups, pain
in the baby! Moment's
notice. None,
I notice, live long
enough to see the end. Amen. A million

years hence
human sense
has so modified and mutated under
other moons
we share one mind
and everything's remembered by everyone.
Look it up. There is no death, just perfect rest. A perfect tan
is possible, and work is fun.
I'm going there when I pass on
because souls will travel at warp speeds, using nuclear fission.
About suffering, religion
was right (and wrong) all along.

A poem a day,
Keeps the boredom away.
A poem a day,
Keeps the hurtful thoughts at bay.
A poem a day,
Will help me imagine more as I lay.
A poem a day,
Always helps me find my way.
A poem a day,
In hopes to one day be okay.
A poem a day,
Will always help my word play.
A poem a day,
Helps me to get away.
A poem a day,
To eventually take your breath away.

Little after 2am, I was texting driving home
Time was slipping into mounds of sand
You were joking, playing games
Texting me that it was early and
You haven’t got your kiss
Texted you that anything was possible if
You came and brought Champagne
Mind fuzzy, lost in thought
Seemed my drive it took forever cause
Your reply, it never came
Parked my car and thought to call you
Just to see if you’re awake
Never got the chance to do it cause
I saw you at my door
Flames of red and curly hair
Freckles on your cheeks, smile on your lips
And in your hand a bottle of Champagne

Dear Sunshine,
Thank you for waking me up today,
But the rainclouds won't go away.
It seems a little brighter today.
When you're here,
They seem to fade away.
Sometimes I feel afraid,
Sometimes I feel done,
But when I hold you tight,
You push the rainy day away.