I sometimes take words that were first used by others
(I'm About to admit I'm a bit of a crook)
Re-hash and re-use them, and make my own covers-
Stealing little known lines from an eloquent book.

I've stolen from Shakespeare, yanked words off of Yeats,
And pilfered from Plato and Brown;
I've probably swiped stuff off all of the greats,
And many of zero renown.

There's more to be heard in the wise words of Wilde
Or took from a Tennyson line
Or the thinking out loud of an inquisitive child,
Than could spill forth from this pen of mine.

So if I've stolen from you, and perchance have offended,
(Yes- I'm about to steal Shakespeare again)
Just think but this, and all is mended;
Nothing original came from my pen.

Which means that, eventually, all that I've ever done
Will be lost in the shadows of time,
Skipped over, or lost, and simply outdone
By your works original shine.

i know a man who steals.
slowly slipping treasures
into those darkened pockets
of a trenchcoat with no soul.  
tumbling down deeper,
further into an endless abyss
so that if i ever may find him
and reach into those pockets
my fingers will reach out
and merely graze the felted sides
and the emptiness below.
he will flash a crooked smile
with eyes full of mischief
and simply laugh at my endeavor,
"girl, those arms of yours
will never grow again
never be able to grasp
all that you seek."
and as tricky as he may be
he will fail to see the strength
that hides in this heart of mine.
a spirit that tears the stitching
of a conniving crook's pocket
from his very own coat.
everything of mine once stolen
-- my happiness
-- my imagination
-- my willpower
will soon be returned
as it was many years before.
the man's name was age.

Crumble
brothels sprout
flesh peddlers collect their fees
selling daughters
in twos and threes
Lopez or Diaz
lazy or defiant
escaped
in polluted lagoons
the virus spreads

Dancing with the dead
priests absolve the devils
in their mist
Pilar sold her virginity
for a few bars of gold
wrapped in an old ladies hatred
she murdered her vows

Mexico is a land of smiles
the knife only glints
in the Aztec sun
as they bury you
after eating your heart

don't cry because he didn't love you
nor because you sit alone
biding away
between meaningless breaks
in an endless day
not because they never saw
never looked
far enough
inside your mind

cry because they love too much
because every text and tweet
and shout in the hall
those whispers in you ear
had never known love
they abuse "love"
throw it around
like amateur middle-schoolers
playing catch

cry because you know
nothing other than this "love"
and too much to accept it

I saw her in my room
She was beautiful thief
And good at stealing

Her sparking eyes
Made my heart
Fly to the skies

Im closing my eyes
Feel her warm hands
Around my chest

I feel her warm breath
Around my neck
She started to blush

Her heart started to rush
And i said hush
Enjoy how I steal your heart.

Light
                                                inside
    ­                                                 defies

                                       a love that denies


                                           Flight
                                               height
                                                     petrifies

                                       a promise that lies


                                            Bright
       ­                                         delight
                ­                                      collide

                  ­                     with heartache in sight


                                           Provide
                                                subside
 ­                                                        hide


                                       Another stolen night