Embrace change,
Welcome the weird
And invite in the strange.
Nothing to fear,
But what that yet
We don't understand.
Nothing to fear
But the feeling;
That we have still yet to comprehend.

"I dreamt that the river was burning"
"I dreamt that the snow was on fire"
"And"
"In dreaming impossible dreams"
"I dreamt that you were my lover"

but...
the river dried up,
the snow had melted,
my eyes opened,
and...

I can't remember

As a child, I idolized one day getting a license
Now I'm 17 in a red '94 convertible with the top down, loving
How it feels when my metal daisies pull my ears from the force of wind
I like the adrenaline rush I get when I can scream because no one is around
And that I don't have to feel bad for not talking to anybody
I like the way my car shakes when I blast the volume to 35
Or when I push it faster faster faster than it should go
I like the stick on my skin because of the North Carolina humidity
When I reach my arm out of the window, leaning toward a stranger
Summer's almost over, but I just want more time following the sunset home
On the open road

If only
I was
able to
open
your
skin,
healing
the wounds
you hold
deep in
you with
the touch
of my
hands,
for now,
I only
possess
these
words,
but, do
you not
see?
even
they are
not enough,
only you
are.

open source

I've three poems to write for Open Mic on Monday night
But where to get the inspiration?
How do I know what will sound right?
I'll have to dig deep to find new words and sentences in my own time
As well as making it matter
and make sense to you
But isn't too preachy whilst stood in the limelight
Something that flows free
And comes naturally
In hindsight
How do I change up the rhymes
But keep my structure and flow tight
What style am I wanting to deliver?
Well, I want to really reach in to memories
From which emotions are triggered
But still keep some sort of restrain
To tame all those scenes you'll envision
Cos that's me at heart
I'm all about subtlety
When using specific words and wisdom as art
But I'm not a master yet
I've still got lots more learning to do
I'm still yearning for you
To give me feedback
So if I talk crap
And it sounds whack
Tell me to stop and rethink
I can always backtrack
Cos I've got a passion for language
Which at times is demanding
When I can't seem to get what I want on a page
I'll sit and think for ages
Even when there's no sunlight
To break through the haze
Only by emptying my thoughts
Can I navigate this inner maze
So let me now share with you
How I've written words in cursives
How I've arranged every word
So these verses feel furnished
Full of purpose
And meaning
That enter your chest
Just off left
So you physically feel
What I'm revealing
Giving life to meaning
And now I've started
I'll finish
Cos I'm fully committed
That's one poem down
2 more left to envisage
I hope you enjoyed this
Simple musing I've written

Feel me open
Bodies smoking
Highs in hoping
Keeps us toking
Ego stroking
Mental chicken choking
Limit broken
Receive a token
Attention paid
Moments played
Too long we stayed
Cherish memories made
In daily churn
Through work we earn
Time will turn
What did we learn?
Ask yourself..What is true?
Birth..Death we all go through
Break out cocoon become anew
Feel the open connect to you

I'd rather you use bombs and knives,
I'd rather you use guns and swords.
I'd rather that we would have fights;
that you'd leave me with open sores.

I'd rather you find a different weapon,
a different tool to use on me.
I wish you'd make me feel a pain;
I wish you'd leave me weak and ******.

Yet the sharpest tool is what you use;
you leave me dead inside.
I wish you'd tear my heart out;
I wish I would have died.

You open your mouth and the weapons spill out,
you're armed with words that you scream and shout.
The pain is unbearable, the torture indescribable.
I know there's no point in putting up a struggle.

You **** me, one by one,
your words an open ****.
They slice me up in pieces,
making me feel like trash.

All I can be is silent;
I know that is the best.
I try to block them out,
but they're already in my chest.

Your words are killing me;
a slow, antagonizing death.
Each word you say cuts me,
each wound raw and fresh.

I wish you'd let me be,
I wish you'd leave it unsaid.
I guess you just can't see
you can't bring someone back from the dead.

Open wounds are bleeding cuts exposed to the sun
Caused by a knife or a scratch from a run
They are lines on the skin that fade after a while
At least that is what it is in people’s mind files

But sometimes blood is not the only thing that flows
Sometimes tears or numb expressions are the only thing that’s shown
Sometimes they are not simple lines that just fade away
For some they run deep, they are there to stay

Some wounds feel sharp like a knife on skin
But to some those wounds are short moments of relief, heaven
Compared to the wounds inside their head
Telling them that they are worthless, they are better off dead
If people look on the inside they will realize, they will find
Not all open wounds mark the body, they can also mark the mind