I tenderly hold these leaves
and have watered them
with my joys and sorrows
This is a strong
and determined little sprout
it has lived off of only
moments of the sunshine
that is your face
imagine where this sprout
could grow if it
were to bask in your warmth often.

Like a spider’s web
And all it’s delicate
Intricacies
It catches its prey
from afar
It preys with
Patience
And dines with gratitude

As the web of life
And all it’s delicate
Intricacies
Pray from afar
Pray with patience
The meal will come to you
And we shall dine together
In the web of Love

Am I the only one
Really the only one
Who misses out on fun
And stays out of the sun?

Am I the only one
Really the ony one
Who doesn't have a BF
Who doesn't have a love?

Am I the only one
Really the only one
Who sits around with no one
No one to love on me?

Am I the only one
Really the only one
Who feels this unloved
I wish I had "the one"

I wonder is thinking about my past obsession my new obsession.
Have you ever wanted to eternally hold someone down, hold them down, stay down, like some type of romantic oppression.
My expressions, she Questions, Lectures me about moving faster than the class, seems loving someone too soon is today's lesson.
See I was just trying to appreciate a blessing, Appreciated it so heavily in fact, i began stressing.
Have you ever gotten something so good, the day it arrived you had already began dreading the day it would leave?
It's like getting the throne and not appreciating the throne, just resenting the fact one day there has to be another Queen.
You can treat good things to well when you're used to washing in pain, shampooing in secrets, and using tears as a rinse.
I think this is the reason why in my Heart she had the throne, she was my Queen before I was even her prince.
Lose your Queen and you're just a Jack, with no way to become a King, no way to ascend, no way to bridge that gap.
So I try fill the space with Jokers, 9s, and 10s even but beauty doesn't Equate strength, & every time I walk a bridge composed of attraction and pleasure my path is sure to collapse.
I'm on a Plane to Oregon & as I wait I realized I was becoming anxious, I'm headed toward a dream, and I'm impatient, rushing the moment rather than taking it all in.
This is when it finally dawned on me that no matter how big a lead i have, I will always have to wait until the fourth quarter to see who truly wins.
Sometimes when you're blessed with someone you have to be patient enough to let the buzzer sound, for your blessing to realize that you yourself are a blessing too.
The most Amazing and beautiful things in life are so fragile because they are life themselves, Admire but don't obsess, touch but don't capture, stand close but not too close, even a fish needs breathing room.

"Premises of a Loss" -Tadashi Pinder

Twilight mornings remind me of coffee tables and study notes
Sometimes I smell spray paint through open windows,
Even on the nights I ditch my cans for insanity
Breakfast-less mornings are recipes for undone laundry
And unturned plant leaves and un-salted tears
One morning, the porch’s railings crumbled in my hands
And fell over on the splattered rug sitting outside the green door
That I stumbled over and waited for fresh milk deliveries on
I find unlit cigarettes on the windowsill that taught me patience
And tornados in a mind that is too beautiful for damaged thoughts
I press petals over open cuts that never get the chance to bleed
And ice the bruises that refuse to turn green
But beside laptop keys that spell out what they know
I hit dlt over and over again; that’s what I know
The only other thing besides surety strung on tree branches
Are orange leaves sharp suns coated in silver
The shark tooth hanging from a string around my neck
Was only a metaphor that caused trouble

We sipped our tea
As he sat next to me
Cross-legged on the floor
And he spoke of his youth,
Thrown to the wolves,
As student of the hardship of war.
A war that shaped him and molded him to,
A grateful and God-fearing man
The struggle of a nation burned in his eyes
As he relived his war torn homeland.

Accused and abused he was stolen away,
No justice exists with no law.
He was thrown into prison
But they couldn't cage his faith in freedom
It seemed like endless days and morningless nights,
His family so blind with concern
For the day they would see his return.

The guards laughing in the black of the night as they kicked him and beat him raw,
And the blood and the dirt and the grime of the world and the dark side of man that he saw.
And in the minutes and hours and years that dripped by,
graying away his youth,
As he spent his hours in quiet reminisce of the truth.

He wiped tears from his cheek with the smile on his face,
Brushed the hair back from his daughter's eyes,
His little girl climbed up on to his knees
His words became clear, "After hardship will always come ease".

To think that they would speak of desires and wants so soon, want shall bring disappointment, disappointment will only bring sadness. I've come to this wretched place to speak of a beautiful end for the each of us. Disgusting parasites leech the middle and beginning so ferociously that the end is only going to crash and tumble.
Take time with what is going to take place throughout this burdensome story, or your end will be atrocious.

I am not a poet.
I am the air before a storm.
The weak in your knees.
The smile on your heart.
I am. I am not a poet.
I am the aftermath of sin.
I am the godlike sworn into pages.
Scripture is my tongue, to fold like weak genes
That strike to be like matches
I am beckoned fire. I am not a poet.
I am not a believer.
We were raised by the last unfortunately; I do not believe in
“leaders” or “followers”, I do not believe in “society” or “democracy”
This generation is lost.
I do not believe in found.
I do not believe in freedom.
When we are only “free” to be everything but our souls.
The truth is…I do not write poetry.
I birth it whenever God needs a favor so
When my pen bares fruit know it’s divine nature refined.
I define nature. HOLD UP. WE define nature.
Eve am I in the garden of Eden, feeding the Adam in my spirit
That speaks in tongue,
I taste the susurrus sounds swishing like a serpents swearing
Bite into this forbidden, swallow sin, make ink stain of this metaphor
On the fabric of your perception
The truth is, I do not write. I create life that’s been a part of God’s plan
Since sonogram; my divine right.
I am not a poet.
I am a contradiction.
I am everything including nothing.
I am the song the caged bird sings. Once it’s freed.
I am the silence before a bomb.
I simply do not believe.
This generation was raised by the last, but I would rather raise hell
Then praise heaven to be a place where the gates are too white to embrace the black
Of the sin I’ve committed
I am not a poet.
I write because I want God to hear me.
This Chose ink is the closest voice from heaven like, blessed cursive
Curses curved like
Sacred scribble
Revised, I’ve rised, correction, raised.
I revise like rewritten history; I’ve witness lies, yet mystery
Lies within the truth, somehow.
I’m no doctor, but if I were, I would prescribe patience.
I just want God to hear me, I will listen…but for now
I am sincerely seeking the God within self, I believe in
Other.