orange bodies in the
yellow light in the afternoon
green thumbs in the garden
blue lips at night standing at the crosswalk

deep purple
mauve maybe
in the month of may
diving
swimming
blue navy blue
turquoise grey teal and green
earth green like mushroom
dirt brown
black as ash
grey as it too
gray grey
gray grey
soft not a whisper never yells either
don't tell me what to do though
or how to see
i have eyes and my ears
are alive and my cats stretch and my coffee is burnt and my roommate
is gone and i
am singing
and i see the strings and hear the room and they are not yelling no one is yelling or whispering or hushing up or talked over because i am alone.
why did you assume i am sad, then?
i am not.

No twinkling red giant star
Glistens with more red than your lips.
No verdant green of prairie grass
Can be more fertile than your hips.

The sky’s blue hues from morn to night,
Are pale against your royal soul.
The softened tan of perfect skin
Colors my heart out of control.

The yellow sun is cold and dark
When your aura is on display.
Like whitest white more blameless than
A child on his very birthday.

In you is all that can be seen,
In ways that colors only know.
Your gifts of beauty more vast than
The colors across the rainbow.

Green.
Like a field or a forest,
That color I deeply desire.

Blue.
Like the heart of the ocean,
The color I could get lost in forever.

But when you change from green,
To blue,
And back to green,
Then mix them,
It's like heaven.
Like all the stars have combined,
Into two beautiful eyes

Those eyes are yours
And I will drown in them forever

A seed, set into soil, seeded to be
a great oak tree.
sprouts in deepest of hells floors
towers unto heaven’s door.
Many try the climb and fail
Not many live to tell the tale
Many try the climb and find
At the top they are forgiven sin.
Many will gaze upon the tree
maybe you.
Maybe me.
Golden fruit and angels high
branches of life unto the sky.
Pleasure below, swapped for the soul
Ecstasy traded for a heavy toll


Angels look down from tree branch high
Demons beckon below
One way yes, one way no

I am climbing from bottom to top
Although at times I am stopped
even when I begin to fall
I catch myself and begin again

That climb from Worlds end

Lying in the shade of a tree
leaves above guarding
brittle bark, unbroken base
standing solid, a solitary sentry
surveying
Signalling safety to the seekers of sanctum
They search in vain across scorched desert plains
for a sign of the last tree

A little green plant
Just ready to pluck
Crystal shining brightly
With any such luck

Find the best spot
Hang it down to dry
Watch it swing
Think about your supply


Highly be aware
of your buds
No one needs
Happiness turned dud

Take your time
While you clean
Smoking a seed
Is awful and mean

Favourite part ,break apart
Once Confined then grind

Smoke it all up
Sit back ,and unwind
that lil green plant
Will blow your mind.

Can you feel the power coursing through you,
disguised as adrenaline,
when you swing your arm and before the blow even hits,
you feel all your anger and frustration fade, so now all you want is to fight?
You wanna kick and pitch a fit,
till your old ****** arms
are covered up by new scars,
but nothing like that matters because you're the last man standing.
Maybe the other boy, curled up on the ground now
with his arms thrown over his head,
broke your nose and made it even more crooked than before,
but you're the little freak who no one thought could win.
But you entered in
from a world where everyone called you ****
to be the freak who everyone only saw as a ****,
thin-shouldered and quieter than the boys he fought.

Maybe your quietness and meek, weak, malnourished look fooled you and all of them,
for look into your eyes in the mirror and see the gold and brown fighting through the green sheen,
the fire for everything you hate, all the things you're hitting and spitting on when you're through with them,
and when you stare into your own eyes you might recognize yourself.

Don't be fooled, boy, you're weak and you're sick,
your arms aren't thick
which muscle and dark hair,
and nothing about you is real,
with fabricated reactions and premeditated sentences,
all programmed into your brain, which fights itself in its confusion,
screaming, and smoking from the fight with itself, about what should be happening with your emptiness and with your bony chest.

Boy, you're hardly that,
just a *** who stares after the other guys,
but you're not sure if you're gay, because you really just want to be just like them.
Boy, at least you fall for pretty girls,
shorter and daintier than you, with more mellow hearts but stronger emotions,
and passions for poetry (not the kind you possess, rooted in your inability for expressions)
and always with love for another boy, a real boy to grow into a man.

her curiosity had her
daydreaming in the forest.
Avocado leaves tremble briskly
singing its season's chorus.

she listened to the sounds
of squirrels swarming
jumping from tree to tree
like they were performing.

chirp, chirp goes the birds
growing its iridescent feathers.
Animals assembling together food
for the crisp, chilly weather.

she daydreamed
as she studied the mantis green
stems tickling against her sweater
fostering a picturesque scene.