Have you ever had thoughts of the sea?
Ones where the waves ebb and flow dreamily?

Where a tin midnight tide lulls you into lost,
Uncharted parts of a world new and vast.
As a white cumulus sail billows on a mast.

Where neither hindered by cold or frost.
Your stern visage faces what in your wake
Passed ever solemnly on life's solemn lake

And you wonder then, what did it cost?
To break the monotonous protestant fast.
And to begin anew upon the ocean, chains broken, free at last

And the rhythmic crash of that stalwart bow
Follows the beating of your intrepid heart.
And not any embrazoned man, king or knave
Could keep you and your passions apart.

There’s no ancient arbiter to say vainly “Behave!”
So you yell to your heart’s content upon that sea,
As the sweat pours down from your worked brow,
As clear as the midnight sky “Be Free!”

…

So have you ever dreamt of the sea?
Something you’ve never had,
Yet missed so drearily?

Have you ever dreamt of the sea?

I had it under control. I had just spent 3 hours reading, indulging my mind and then it came like a giant wave. Knocked me off my feet
all cliched, down to a bench
My watery guts running down
my twin cheeks

“****” I screamed.
But I knew exactly how I “gut” here.
However, this didn’t make feel any better.
how many ***** can you scream until it gets remotely better.

One was enough for me today.
One calming “F” bomb.

I've been driving down the same streets
Been tapping my foot to the same beat
I don't know, friend, maybe it's just me but,
Every path that I lead,
Every place I go and then leave,
It all feels the same, the players don't change.
Doesn't it seem strange?
They've been mapping out my path since first grade.
They had a plan for me before I even played.
No?

I've been driving down the streets I paved,
Take a look at my world, friend,
Everything you see, I made.
I don't not believe in some force of fate
But nothing ever changed for people
Stuck living in a wait.
While the players never seem to change,
Look deep inside my eyes, I've changed.
While they give reasons in comfort to stay,
I'm ready for a new game to play.

If you neglect all the perspective,
You neglect your potential.
Staring down at my tip-less pencil
"You're broken and useless"
Sharpen your image and mind
And let's do this.
Look into the looking glass, take a breath,
Looking back at a beautiful mess.

Brace for the rip tide's
crash and sweep and pull.
Light, hazy blue,
flares safe heavens,
beckoning a breathless plea

There has never been peace in drowning.
Because every wave worth fighting
demands a hero who can breathe underwater

To write,
was to embrace all the waves
that you kept off the shore.

To write,
was to embrace the thoughts
you shoveled down
so they wouldn't have the power to hurt you.

To write,
was to feel liberated
of your shackles and confinement.

To write,
was to find yourself
navigating towards
your own thoughts
and emotions that you
kept away for so long.

To write,
was to feel once more
and be brought back to yourself.

the moon pulled the tide
to new highs of extreme
scared to come down
the ocean forgot
all he used to be
until the sun came around
and the waves could now hear
the significance of its own sound
he thanked the sun
for bringing him
back to the ground,
“don’t worry”
said the moon
“i’ll be back for another round”

She took a hesitant first step
Closer to bay.
Sand crunched under her toes,
And cold slapped her ankles,
As a wave broke upon the shore.
Receding waters,
Left her tilting like creaking post,
Overburdened with laundry.
Surprised, she jumped backwards
Retreating to the sane solid ground.
But sanity lost,
To the wild, tempestuous sea.

It is amazing, the life of a wave.
It takes forever to build up
and then once it finds its way to the beach,
is alive for only a couple seconds.
As beautiful as this sounds,
the act of the surfer is even more.
The wave exists momentarily
but while it does,
the surfer carves smooth silky lines into it
creating a form of art seen only by few.
After that, that single wave is gone forever;
It is not coming back.
The surfer will never surf that same wave again.
The life of the wave now only exists in memory.

Personally, I find nothing more beautiful than that.

B.K.