With a dream filled flask
In an absent set mind,
His thoughts were at a stand still
-of time.

His beard long, matted and Grey
His thoughts old, fading, distant,
And aged.

His home was wherever he roamed,
His flask of dreams, is all he owned.

His well worn shoes covered his feet,
His abused heart, covered his sleeve.

I seen his blackened smile everyday,
Good morning, I'd reply as I walked away.

The same park bench every morning he'd lay.
Letting the chirps awaken his stay.

His name I did not know,
His life's road I did not know,
His morning story,
Was a man with a heart of gold.

Poetry *****!
It shows my vulnerability!
It shows my compassion,  my understanding.

Poetry *****!
It let's others like you know I am human.
It shows you I'm sensitive,
And come with not only my arms, but also my defenses down.

Poetry *****!
Even at my weakest times,
Even while completely open.
My strengths shine through,
Showing my real side,
Darkness and light, that I just can't subside.

He promised her the moon and stars,
When in reality, it was the sun she longed for.
"I can not give you the world. If I could you know I would."
Her words "I need to move away from your kindness, to find it all.
My greed persists and I refuse to change."
That was the day the sun forever would shine, due to his wishes.
Running back she kissed him, "thank you for this." He turned away and walked into the only bunker, the only protection from the sun. Locking it's door, "now it is your turn to burn."
The end.

My thoughts in this fierce world are to brutal in truth for the Lions den to handle.
Your facade gives you weakened followers who know no better.
When the thinker speaks and followers listen, then this is when the truth becomes feared.
The truth begs and makes you not only see, but face the reality, the reality which you fear so deeply, the reality that you can not see by your own.
This is a brain washed society,  with few hopes nowadays.
Don't be a follower,  don't feed this negative energy being used to shut out hope for a better you.
We need encouragements for our selves, our lives, our strengths.
To believe in our soul and speak only with our heart shows the greatest of all beings, a true being.
We need not the "fear to think" we need to display our thoughts and need to fear the resentment towards a free thinking society before it is too late.  Please help show others there is hope and it is never too late.

Rain drops fall from the tree top.
Tree top drips, from the leaves above.
Recreation of a storm that has already gone.
Fall from the clouds rain to be captured again.
Again to the wind, carried across the darkest sky.
Land on a limb falling like the tear from a saddened eye.
Tree tops cry, winds go by.
Fall gentle my tear, like a drop from heavens sky.

You are wind,
You are fire,
The flame that burns to my creative soul.
Are you created?
Are you gifted?
Or are you just a thought?
Maybe you are magic,
The way you bring a visual to your readers with a few cleverly chosen words.
Who are you? Poetry?
I ask who? Are you?
You run through my veins,
Deep in my soul.
I live for you, in you, with you,
Just to share part of your name.
Poet, am I?
I am, poet I am and if not then poetry set me free.
For without your title my words mean nothing.
My words, not a message no more.
My words now just a mere conversation blending with society and it's normal ways.