A colourful explosion in the sky. It suspends, it falls and then hits the night water. A civilian fishing by the dock is surrendered to its beauty until he is surprised by a green limb that floats up to the surface

its hard for us to speak as we feel.

but a poem has no rules to keep,
no untruth to shake us from our sleep.

no one to tell me i'm crazy when I repeat
the same words like a broken broken broken record,
or when I string them o ut
                   in
      nonsensi cal pa
                                 tter
                                        ns
like those girls out on the street,
because these words can bend and SCREAM.

no one ever said poetry is s'pos to make sense
just s'pos to be free
spoken from the unedited souls
of you and me


-e.r.n.

I take comfort in the familiarity
of it all.
The constant madness;
ringing bells and sounding alarms.

I've seen a lot of things.
I know a lot of things.

I'm a different type of person
than I used to be.

I've seen a woman steal my heart;
watched her love:
F L E E T I N G
She loves you today,
him tomorrow.

The melody strikes the match
and the fire rages on.
Unbeknownst.
Without awares.

I've heard the words:
"Is this too intense for you,
it's okay if it is."
and I've answered:
"...it is,
do it anyway."

The 15 year old girl
on the couch
is high
on her dad's methadone.
I'm withdrawling
and hating her;
insane with abandon.

I've felt a needle puncture
the skin;
watched the snake
appear
and
disappear
into myself.

I am another yourself.
We are
One.

You and Me
we are the same,
different eyes
different lungs
but we share a
soul.

I've learned how to make a fist
and pump it
with a jumprope tied
round my arm.

These things are not useful.
They will not bring you
great fortune.
They are the wasted
thoughts
ideas
and journeys
of my youth.

I've been given another chance.
Not a second one,
just another one.
After being purple;
lifeless;
was the greatest hit
of all.

Sick and sad inside
she slumps against the
hallway
wall.
Feeling nothing
after crying for hours
she finds resolve
in the insults
inside her head.

I take comfort in the familiarity of it all
writing like stories
have no end
as if all the pieces
fit together.

The reality is
they don't.

Hope begets Grace
and Grace is what leads
us through this battle;
Life.

I've seen a lot of things.
I know a lot of things.
They are not useful
but

they are mine.