Today I am holding on tight to nothing
and it is just enough to keep me breathing.
How marvelous to be an ordinary artist
who can survive on so little.
You taught me that a kiss matters
more than all the pain and terror on earth.
I leave the world's problems to its big men.
I am a small man working only on problems
a small man might hope to solve.
Why are there birds? What do dogs think?
Why do cats purr both when happy and sad.
Why do you taste like lost oceans?
These are the mysteries I care about.
The curve of your cheek matters more to me
than stock markets, earthquakes or wars.
My hands caressing your human *******
matter more than tsunamis and revolutions.
Your voluptuous *** speaks ****** volumes
about where the world should pay attention.
I would gladly lie down with you in Eden
smelling of apples and the loss of eternity.
I sing only for helpless humans and animals.
Let the wealthy and powerful purchase their
own poems though I doubt they even care.
I am content to feel the texture of your hair
and celebrate your green eyes with humble words.
We are human, we are warm and we are here.
That's enough for me, maybe more than I can bear.
I am holding on tight to nothing and I do not fear.

~mce

A broken heart is a dropped mirror against the bathroom floor
each shard scattering across the linoleum,
fragments reflecting the hidden parts
to something they thought they knew, oh so well.

The lining around the toilet really needs some hands on work--
behind it the sand dunes of the Arabian Desert.
Clumped up hair trying to mimic the humps of camels,
and a lone razor blade as frayed as
a lost wandered amongst the sand.

Wooden panels enriched with the holes of last times termites--
corners splayed with the webbings,
of those **** daddy long legs,
and a pincher bug trudging their way to a hole in the corner.

Picking up the pieces, was something to learn from.
This common room they thought they knew, oh so well,
actually had a hidden world just beneath their view.
Maybe the heart broke just like the mirror,
to open the mind to all the other things near by.

Are firsts important?

I think that they are.

They mark a moment of courage

A moment of faith

A change

An experience that can shape

Your whole world view

You know I waited till 22

To change my mind

On being alone

Only to find

I would have waited

22 years more

Not to discover

What being alone

In that sense

Actually meant

And that's the truth of a bad day


But just how important are firsts really?

Firsts do not mean best necessarily

Firsts form a starting point

And once you start you may as well carry on

They're A foundation to build upon

A lesson to learn from

You know I waited till 22

To take risks, to raise the stakes

That meant I would make mistakes

Only to find

I wish I hadn't waited 22 years

When I saw how much progress can be generated

When you face your fears

All of which I wouldn't have discovered

*If I had continued to run away

Comfort* lies

            In the moment you realise

                            That you are **irreplaceable

when people tell you that you are 'important' they do not mean important to the entirety of space and time and existence and everything that has ever been and ever will be. because we both know well enough that the sun will rise without your eyes to admire it. the oceans will grow and recede without your weary feet to marvel at how it makes you feel young again. the bones in the ground will continue to decay without you to contemplate the beauty of life or mourn its passing. the stars wouldn't die and the flowers wouldn't wilt and life would go on as if you had never graced it.
what they mean is; you are important to their own existence. the sunrise would mean nothing to them without your eyes holding it captive alongside theirs. the ocean could retreat into a crack in the ground or flood the earth and they would not care if you were not here to weep for it. the bones in the ground would decay but it would feel like theirs were doing just that. the stars in their sky would disappear and the flowers would wilt at just one glance and their life would never be the same again.
so next time someone tells you this and you make haste to deny it because of how the big bad world will spin on and the planets will laugh at your insignificance, stop and realise what they are telling you and try to think about it the next time you want to vanish for the rest of eternity.

My mind works in short bursts,

I fight with words, my enemy

the abundance of them.

Who am I?

A poet of magnanimous importance (ignorance) !

Most words get casually tossed into the air,
gently carried away by their impermanence,
lack of true depth or meaning.
This is the majority of conversation.

Some words stumble out unwillingly,
forced out over tongue and through teeth.
These words are harder to coerce into being,
yet too heavy to be kept inside.  

And then there are words flung out innocently,
born of a benevolent background
or intending no substantial meaning at all.
But the implied connotation is hurtful nonetheless.

Or the words haphazardly spit out
in a weakened moment of anger,
and the regret runs deeper than the thought
put behind the decision to hurl them around

These are the words that settle into minds,
the ones that flop out and lie there,
panting from the exertion of the pain caused,  
intentional or not.

Be wary of the words you bring into existence.