I have so many ideas swirling through my
Head, I never know which ones to write
Down, which ones to commit to memory,
Which ones to care for like my child.
So many of my thoughts I abort, and
For different reasons.  
Maybe this idea will slowly corrupt my mind,
Maybe it will harm someone else.  
Maybe it will be worthless in time,
Maybe it is already too old.
Yet what should I do with these
Thoughts I’ve aborted?
Just because I’ve discarded them,
Doesn’t mean they’re entirely forgotten.
Does a mother ever forget an aborted child?
Does she forget the feeling of the child in her womb,
The raging hormones, the night of conception?
Of course not.
My ideas are the same,
Still there in the back of my mind,
Wanting to be alive,
Breathing, Functioning.
If you had an idea that would stop
World hunger, create world peace,
Find the cure to cancer, or
Stop humans from harming the earth,
Would you **** it?
Then why would you do the same to
A child who could have those ideas?

Nightfall should be a time for sleep, but it isn’t.
My brain is jumped started and the questions begin.
Do I let down my walls?
Do I let him come in?

Is he really different? What’s his goal?
Sure, he says what I want to hear and does what I want to see.
Does he mean any of it?
Or do my senses deceive me?

Maybe it’s real and his intentions are true,
And I’m letting the past play with my mind.
Maybe I’m looking too deep...
Maybe he’s true and kind.

The sun starts to rise.
Somehow the hours has slipped through my fingers...
As I move through my day,
The questions still linger.

What happened to the land of the free?
What ever became of American equality?
When was The Great Take-back begun?
What became of “with malice toward none”?
What happened to rich people’s responsibilities?
When did we decide our peers were enemies?
Why didn’t we learn from the Great Depression?
Why are we letting them set up another session?

Eenie meanie mighty mo, when is it fine to hire a **?
Hickory slicker zippity zopp, when is this b.s. going to stop?

Why have we let ourselves think like adolescents?
Why do we keep liars and cheaters in our presence?
It’s up to us each who what lies we should tolerate,
So when does being a mountebank go out of date?
When do we start fighting and hitting bullies back
When they make it known they’re on the wrong track.
How many times will they have to lie and steal
For the rest of us to know their villainy is real?

Fluster and bluster and flippity flopping, confidence is dropping
We can no longer trust our leaders to protect, so let’s reject.

When did all of our statesman turn into real estate’s men?
When did the human in humanity cease to matter at all?
What makes half the country vote for a scoundrel horde?
What did our country accomplish by dropping the ball?
Why have we become the people we used to dislike so
And now we are the ones who arm and **** each other?
And why do we still have many lifetimes or more to go
To finish paying for murdering and pillaging our brothers?

Questions, suggestions, all are loudly ignored by them,
Our leaders whose sense of decency has grown dim.

As the temple throbs
For each wham of a thought
A push back is made
Leaving you distraught.

As each stitch is cut
And the wound gapes wide
The light in your eyes dims
Your gaze cast aside.

You question yourself:
"How can a heart, once young and ready,
Turn its petals to shades of ash,
And cower when it wants to be happy?"

Mellow
Mundane
Mutiny
Meets the madman
Conducting orchestration
For our mothers lips
Saint Frances
Saint Frances
Saint Frances
I hope you've arrived
Cacooned eyes awaiting
Ephemeral steady fluctuation
Persephone gaze
Diana's rage
Eternal blue flame
Dripping crimson fingertips
The heavens eloped when you left us here.
us.
here
Remains.
Remains on the fire escape
An external buzz
Heard during my cigarette break
My sight caught by persephones polenating powerhouses who remains meditative and floating
Above the clover grass
Elucid and fleeting
Yet evermore
Remains on the tumbling limestones and mounds of our ancestors.
I beg for your wisdom
Sometimes I think
I'm hearing your voice
Asking me to be calm
And stop searching so deep
Saying your "with me
In more than the form of a humble bumble bee
But still keep running for me through the vast trees
Until you find your self unmoving and buckled at the knees"

exists







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