This is the other side of sanity!
I think to myself,
a riddle in the middle of chastity, vanity?
what is it that I have to say?
Is this not another day or is it a play?
Vaguely we are tossed into this
post hence I have seen the other side-
this day with you...this day that never came.
I will not be able to tell the difference of pleasure
or pain.

I am still lost dreaming on to the memory,
you stood there in the middle of high school square
doe-eyes intent, hidden behind you're intense
endless hidden truth, your boyish youth.

A dream of gazing into those eyes some day,
I never wanted to say goodbye or go away,
this world carried me to the "other side" and it was
"too late," I was unable to "succeed." Who am I
to seek this "other side?" In the sky?
What we never do? Call this "side" what you will,
but in the end I would have gladly battled madly
through hell for a chance to share your world with you.

Oh, here I go again, blithering sadness, sad poem!
Look to the skies when you're alone, then maybe
on the clearest of nights when this whole world
they've built of stone is gone you will finally find out
how beautiful you are so.
Even if I never got to see you understand this or
spend another day with(out) you...you are all
I can't get off my mind no matter how hard I try
I will continue to see you can't forget you
Even in my wildest

I’ve been playing this game
for **** near twenty one years
and long ago lost track
of my wins and losses

I simply got caught up
in the winsomeness
of all that is

Why keep a tally
that’s callous and rigid
with the infiniteness of living at your fingertips

your unshaven face rests on my shoulder.
your hot breath sends shivers and little speed bumps on the surface of my tanned skin.
the unforgiving sun stinging us and reminding us of the cool breeze around us.
you smile at my lips and my creases deepen tempting me to smile more at you as if you knew what I was thinking.
your messy hair falls on your forehead and I move it, trailing kisses from the top of your face, right down to your mouth.
we say nothing.
we've said nothing for 2 hours, but our traveling eyes are having conversations irreplaceable by our mouths.
we can't get any closer, and contact wont allow us to get any closer than we are.
we hear each other breathing and it reminds us that we're living. and dying doesn't frighten us, because right now feels like forever.
your lip biting and slight looks up doesn't shift my gaze, as if staring at you has been innate.
your washed out jeans and faded black shirts lay on the floor like my dignity and composure.
loving you something terrible and letting you sink in.

“goodnight”
was the last thing
that you ever said to me
i went to bed, not knowing
that we’d never talk again
there was no way i could’ve known
neither of us had time
i was busy with school
you were busy with work
but the thing is
you slowly turned to dust
the next thing i knew
i was in the church
crying while talking about
how much i missed you
and how wrong it was
for you to die so young

Warhawk and Nate
The Warhawks took off and flew upwards
Like angry hornets looking for trouble
Covering the frail old biplane
A flying camera with brave crew
Tasked to look for enemy locations
Flying here and there warlanes they were
American flown Curtiss fighters
Guarding the Filipino crewed Stearman
On a mission of war in the second global war
The **** were ready and scrambled planes
Nates took off and headed for battle
Each side had skilled determined pilots
Men would die today and planes be wrecked
Like something from Hollywood they clashed
Vicious little snappers reeling about the sky
Rolling turning diving climbing shooting dodging
The battle went till fuel and ammo was gone
Two planes and pilots never made it back
Both fought like demons and paid the price
Each side lost a pilot and plane
They both came to grief on the same mountain
And left comrades and loved ones behind
Bits of broken airplanes on the mountain
Lost forgotten unwanted for decades
Till the wrecks were eventually found
Some answers revealed more questions posed
Only the pilots' ghosts and God knew the truth
In this Tarac Ridge battle February 9 1942
The day Stone and Kurosawa died...

a decade ago,
i would eagerly wait for you to come home
so that i could aggravate you,
the sound of the front door unlocking
would bring me running to the door,
hugging you and your sister.
a decade ago,
you fought with your sister about who would
sit next to me in the car.
half a decade ago,
i visited you,
you asked me, “are you seven now?”
i replied, “i can see why you got held back.”
i was nine, and too sassy for my own good.
three years ago,
you were there for me when i had no one else.
you calmed me down,
when everything was falling apart.
you sat in the basement with me,
and you told me everything would be fine.
three years ago,
i sat with you and we played video games.
you told me stories, and we talked about
politics, of all things, you talked about politics with a newly-turned twelve year old.
last year,
you accidentally took your own life.
i miss you, is all i have to say.

Every night I slept
          in the hope that
        tomorrow will come
           with a new day
          with a new hope.
        It starts with a feeling
              inside my soul
      that tomorrow sun will be rise
          with more brighter.
      A peace comes in my mind
            with such ease,
       when I thought
     tomorrow will come
     and I got a chance
         to prove myself,
    to challenge myself,
    and to strengthen myself.
    After every darknight
      after every storm
    their is a day
      which will come
      with a new hope,
      with a new chance
         to shiner yourself...

Bring on the cold!*
You can all leave you're summer clothes behind.
Now is the apocalypse, all will be as society, as
All of civilization never knew once the pipes crack,
Bad weather or blind.

184 gone and in great despair
one hundred eighty four trials and institutions. 184 new reasons to forgive
to use, to be confused, to lose, and to get loose all gone
they are all gone. gone for good, forever, for evers and everys, somewhere on Everest, or likely just high up in the sky. Somewhere in the chasm of iCloud or hidden on the hard-drive of one of my Macs.

Tired and Hurt, Anxious, Alert, all of me is frustrated my skin is doing different things, all of it is baffling and I don't even know how I'm going to try to keep mildly sane, all of them are gone and I'm a total wreck, I am.

One-hundred Eighty-Four Notes on my iPhone gone. They're all alone, all of them on their own. Me I'm just by myself and squarely overwrought. Confused and upset, I wonder if the Mac God's have tried to take their pain and loss of the Jobbs out on me. All these note's are gone and I don't know what to do. Do I swear? Do I sweat? Do I call Apple instead of setting myself to burn? What have I done? What have I done to come down to a blank screen lost of all its myriad characters.

The pages don't care, I'm sitting perturbed in my underwear, baffled, unamused, furious, and feeling used. My trust combusted, my one hundred eighty four are gone. And no one cares. All my notes are gone and no one knows. My poems are gone, I sing this song, but all my words are gone don't you know? They're all gone....don't you know! I want my 184. I need my 184- don't you know! I just can't ignore, my 184.