Please wake up and smile at me
Like  you used to be all spunky
Full of fire, ready to call a liar a liar
And a crook a crook, throw the book
At fakes and phonies, only to glad
To whisk the mad out of office
And write an essay to protect us.

Please wake up and laugh aloud
At the proud and haughty, Lordy
Could you ever laugh at bigots
And idiots and creeps in the world.
Protect boys and girls everywhere
And do your best to scare away
The bearboos under their beds.
Now you sleep instead and it hurts.

It hurts not to hear you rant and rail
At those who fail to serve and protect,
Reject their apostasy and hypocrisy
While they endlessly spread their enmity
Treating good people like the enemies
And send money to those who do attack,
Resources we can never get back
All because it makes them money.
You never found that funny, did you?

So, I beg you. Please wake up and stay
Stay with us who need you, all of us;
All of us who care and love when you share.
So let me remind you, fate has consigned you
To lie there and rest your head too long
But that bed would be better less time.
To lose you would be a crime we can’t bear.
We need you here, as before. We implore
All the good luck and prayers go your way
And you rise up and walk again today.

I'm young and in love
with disjointed sentences
mosaic symbols transforming
deliberations into expository
railroad tracks, crossing paths (with)
black jazz cats in the 20's to write the music a little differently for each note,
to ride a little Titanic eye contact
until Earhart makes it home.

Compress these highs and lows,
into melodic notes, dancing up (and down)
the Christmas tree, ornaments from
the time you were only three.
Days before we met, days beyond our starry-eyed goodbye,
Love is a gentle thing,
and you were such the words I'd pray to whisper in the night, on beaches made of all your favorite colors.
I want to be the way you see me,
I hope you never feel alone.
And what a treasure it was,
to speak with the princess,
instead of staring at the castle.
Soft cheeks instead of hard stone,
(cold glass, icy masks, distant hopes.)
But instead of distant,
You were close.

Please be patient with me,
I know, sometimes I get angry
over rather stupid things.
Usually because I want your time,
your affection...
I know in the end,
we're not disconnected.

a hopeless romantic who likes the chase. it’s something that become her habit—chasing someone, liking a man who doesn’t have feelings for her.

she craves for physical touch, yet pushing someone away who is trying to get close to her when she sees he’s interested in her too. she always assumes every guy only wants to flirt with her.

the standards she builds are so high. when someone is falling short of her expectations, she easily gets bored.

all she wants is a man who will be patient with her and understands her because she’s confused, she is not used to what she’s feeling right now.

she’s a flower who just starts blooming. a flower who is still learning how to handle a relationship and how to share herself, her soul and her heart physically and emotionally to someone.

a loop in upper atmosphere today
with a model's figure of grass
to postpone his next canvass

this desire to retouch in a wanton lapse
his brush fitted in a cloud
and he steamed aloud  

a bubble's glow in a tip of the pen
to exclaim foment
as shape blew doctrinaire
with clasps of tarter  
where his strokes were ardor
that trend would enhance with finale
while he deeply supplanted the soul

I know the joy that keeps us believing
that we all should live a different life
filled with purpose
in a place filled with only a few good men
and if that call comes from the inside
that was once said to me
when I was still watching from the shore
I will be patiently waiting
to be able, despite my fears
despite the waves that are crashing against my ship
to show them, with all that I am
I will always be faithful to the one
that will never stop coming after us.

I will keep coming after Him.

The Patient©

As I sit here in my room, watching
The people in white suits rush back and forth
It makes me wonder what separates us from them.

I was one of them wasn’t I
Did I not have what they all have:
a family, a job, a home, and a hectic schedule
What has delivered me to the other side?
What separates me from them

Those of us on this side are tucked away until
One of them has time to tend to us
We wait hoping that one day we will return to our
Former selves: to be able to dress or to eat,
To function without one of those white coats
What separates them from us

Time keeps passing, yet I am still here.
The white coats are looking more and more familiar
The days are becoming more and more routine.
They say that they are helping me and that I am getting
Better. Yet here I wait still
What separates me from them

Days pass into weeks, weeks into years and the white
Coats become a blur.
There is no calendar with which to measure time yet
The minutes and hours tick by, I know. I hear their stories
Of family and friends; of colleagues and all
Those they meet, the weddings, funerals and vacations
What separates them from me

They say that I am well now.
That I can leave and have a normal life, yet I know
I am not my former self
I have been separated from them

Andreas Simic©

As echoes and whispers
Begin to change
And sound and silence
Become the same
I look back
From where I came
And find solice
In everything