I'm the ripples in the water that fight the current
created by the forces from above and below.
I wrinkle the surface and add dimension.
Would you see me, if I wasn't mentioned?

I'm the splashes caused by a heron diving for fish
and missing its prey by mere inches.
My waves of frustration can be felt by all.
Would you see me, if you heard the Heron's call?

I'm the droplets shaken from a doe's wet pelt
that splatter on the surface, broken by her hooves.
I'm water that fell as silver, but was picked up as blue.
Would you see me if you had to?

I'm the flowing motion of rivers and streams.
I'm the dark water of your dreadful dreams.
I'm the rain that showers land and sea.
I'm the tears that form when we are set free.

And if you see me in the water,
would you come and join me?

Days of happiness dance around
my ever-present mental frown
while a smile takes over my face
to disguise my lack of emotional grace
My mind is captured by stormy sounds
threatening to leak out of my face
and fall apart once they hit the ground
they're splashes of what it's like to be drowned

I'm going to ride this tidal wave of euphoria
          until it
               crashes
                    on the
                        shore
and the feeling exists no more.

Suburban streets are stifled with traffic when school gets out
and righteous rain falls from the cloudy, gray sky,
making the red taillights of cars glisten and glare
directly into drivers' squinting eyes.
Children rush rapidly between cars to get to their own,
as pitiful parents weren't prepared for the rain.
Did any know that one of them today
was calm even as they grew insane?
Patience inside pained people is a terrible thing,
for they can always see when the end is in sight.
Like they are the wearers of robes and bearers of scythes,
they know when one is approaching the night.
A screech of tires, or screams, only one is sure
a fateful falling, anyone could have foretold this crime
bones crunch and a head hits the asphalt too hard.
It is far too late, when we know it's the last time.

The words I speak sound foreign to my ears
as I address strangers that I've known for years.
We're engaged in simple, common talk.
How I can't wait for it to stop!
It has been too much I need time to myself,
to disperse the energies of a negative self.
For one whole week I've continued to converse
and it's all sounding a bit rehearsed.
Conversation smothers me like a pillow
calling me to a sleep that's eternal.
I need to find a way to discharge
this exhaustion that stalks me and recharge.

If I look hard enough
I will find
a void in your pupils
one that does not fill
with the glitter of amusement
or glistens with tears
just a sort of intense nothingness
as you don't even blink
a black hole where your soul
should be

I've always found fast floods to be rather grand.
See how quickly they wash away the land.
I would never hide my heart there;
     I fear it would be swept away.
     I don't trust the rising waters today.

Though I'm impressed with how it takes over lives.
I stand just below the gloried sunrise
and watch the floodwaters slide.
     Moving quickly, yet looking sluggish.
     With an effect that's rather druggish.

The heart beats wildly at this concerning commotion
and it's a deceptively strong emotion.
Or so I've heard it said.
     I've watched many floods approach myself
     and I've left for higher ground each time for help.

There is a bridge - I think - it won't last long,
as it is no longer rooted; no longer strong.
It quakes, like I, as the waters approach.
     It will get swept away without its support.
     I feel I have nothing left to report.

Every possibility must be explored
to its fullest extent
in order to come up with the best solution
in any situation.
Does the concept of a disaster-like situation seem impossible?
It isn't.
Think it through completely.
Does the concept of a perfect day seem impossible?
It isn't.
Think it through completely.
What will you say, do, see, think?
All must be thought out ahead of time.
Who will you see? What will they say? What will they do?
Know this ahead of time.
Never be caught off guard
Never be surprised
Never be at ease
All options are viable
All options are viable
All options are viable

For the next two weeks he digs a grave.

He deftly wields a shovel
with hands that have forgotten
what it's like to hold the tools of life
He only knows what life is like
when he digs a hole for holy men
who have cheated others into strife
who have hurt their children, brothers, and sisters
who have made damaged wives
So for two weeks, he digs the hole deeper
than regulation states
for men who were mistakes.

The more time he spends digging
The more time the dead spend climbing

And they're always climbing
the ranks to be on top.
Falling again, bones breaking on impact
they just shake it off and start again.

He met one dead man who climbed to the top
with a light glowing where his eyes should be.
The dead man shuddered, bones rattling a song
of all the people he had wronged.
He was more bone than skin
More ghost than human
But he came back with sorrow on dried, discolored lips
and the grave digger wondered if
he could have redemption

For the next two weeks he digs a grave.

Pain is a peculiar feeling
solely because of the ways it can be felt.
Piercing one moment.
Dull the next.
Stabbing this day.
Subsiding the other.
Emotional on a Monday.
Physical by Friday.
Absolutely mental on all days
that end in Y.

If you see men pass through
a desolate room,
and fade out of existence.
You've seen ghostly residue
of men lead to their doom.
You've seen a past violence.

If you see women pass through
large, empty halls,
and constantly look over their shoulders.
You've seen how societies' glue
is stalked within the walls.
You've seen a fear that's grown colder.

If you see people pass through
the pages of your books,
look closely at who's remembered.
Four men die and get their due,
four women can't escape threatening looks.
Only one group ends up dismembered.

If you see me pass through
a part of your life,
please don't have any doubt.
You've seen this world's terrible retinue
that haunts and causes strife.
Yet the sight of me makes you pass out.

Swallows get caught in your throat
trying to escape the cat.
Feathers are ticklish,
the cat's grip is vicious,
is this how we've come to say that
the cat got your tongue,
the cat got your tongue,
because you thought
you could swallow winged lies.
The hunter inside
always finds its pride
in the throat where the swallow choked.

Two monarchs cross paths
dancing around eachother.
With words so airy,
one should know to be wary
of what will be said next.

"How does your son fair?"
"Fairs as well as yours I presume."
"Yours always had a knack for flair."
"Yours always could wow a room."

Disguised insults spoken.
Each compliment flapped away with wings
that carry the monarch to their next test.
Where they'll see which flowers they like best.
To gather in support of their queens.

"You know what would be tragic?"
"Why do you continue to speak?"
"If a son were to fall to magic,
before his heart could take a beat."

The two monarchs parted ways.
Promises rolling off their tongues
as sweet as the nectar they drank.
But were designed to attack the other's rank.
Their success depends on the other's defeat.

Conversation stalls as the monarchs fly home.
On wings decorated so finely.
Each of their thoughts seem to turn towards their sons
Just caterpillars before their transformations.
Weaving their chrysalis with determination.

Though they're far apart
the monarchs speak the same words

"I fear for you, my son, in this great world,
Our reign can never last for long.
But I wish for you to have your chance
To encapture the world in a trance
With a grace bestowed upon your wings
I wish for you to make others sing.
For I've seen the tragedy of the other king
Just before transformation
I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis."

"I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis,"

"I saw a caterpillar die..."

"My son, that has made all the difference."

××××××××××××××××××××××××
Keep guard in your garden
××××××××××××××××××××××××
Lethal lean leaves
seem to stick to their trees.
Scraggly-looking and furnished rather sparsely,
its roots still dug deep into the earth;
Absorbing all moisture from the dirt.

Leaving it
                   dry,
                   cracked,
                   broken
Like lungs;
                    unable to breathe.
Like hearts;
                    unable to beat.

A leaf falls and gets caught in a sudden breeze.
The wind not realizing what it released,
for attached to the leaf were its lethal seeds.
Ready to spread their toxicity.
×××××××××××××××××××××××××
Keep guard in your garden
×××××××××××××××××××××××××

My words have lost their way.
I'm sorry there's no poem today.

My words
                  have lost
                                  their way
I'm sorry there's no poem today.

My have words their lost way.
Sorry i'm no there's poem today.

Long ago, Moon reigned alone and empty
born of the Gods Sky and Sea.
The world was painted with a pale light,
that came from Moon's own might.

"Hello, I don't believe we have met before?"
    "Call me Heat."
"I am Light."

A meeting destined in the heavens above,
inspiring Heat and Light to love.
For Moon had grown sickly all night,
as she never had time to rest from her plight.

"What shall we call it?"
    "The yellow light that we lit?"
"Yes. It's like a disc. A shining disc."

Light circled Heat like a shield.
Blinding those who do not yield
with their interest or attempts to charm
Heat away from Light's arms.

"Perhaps we shall call it Light?"
    "No, we shall call it Bright!"
"Please, we cannot fight."

This world moves forward even as time stands still.
Heat takes Light's hand with great thrill.
A movement not so grand,
yet it's worth more than the price of this land.

"Feel the warmth of his heat!"
    "He climbs the sky with no fear of defeat!"
"Moon can finally rest her weary feet."

The pair watched with great pride
in the sky, their child no longer hides.
Look at him! He soars! He flies!
Bringing heat and light to the lands beneath the skies.

"My child, formed from Heat and Light"
    "Please do not feel any fright."
"My child, vow to keep balance with the night"
    "An eternal dance with Moon so bright."
"And remember above all else,"
    "That when the dark arrives,"
"know that Moon will maintain hope and life."
    "Maintain life and hope, my Son."

I like to think I'll find peace for me
resting beneath a sycamore tree.
I can't feel its roots burrow into my body,
sapping me of my strength.
No
    No
No
    No
No
Can't you see?
There is peace beneath this sycamore tree.
Look at how it shelters me
in the shade, so I can't see the sun.
No
    No
No
    No
No
What on earth are you telling me now?
This is just a simple sycamore tree
it is not acting sycophantically.
I'm not held down, it's protecting me.
No
    No
No
    No
No
It wants your death to fertilize its growth.
You're rooted to the sycophantic tree.
Just go, there is nothing here for you.
I'm corrupted, leave without me.

Hands wrapped around my throat
      like a bow
A gift to the present times.

Am I pretty enough in this
      chokehold?
Squeeze my throat until I fall in line.

I create while under the influence
   of my mind's imbalance.
Equilibrium is not found
within me.

Ask me to walk the line you'll find
   I can do it just fine
But on the inside I've fallen off the line,
which was well above the ground.

Touching the clouds I shout
    I'm falling! I'm falling!
Down from the sky my head was in
I've fallen into a garden.

The first thing I see upon waking up
    is a sunflower facing the sun.
The most surreal flower I've ever seen
is what I'm greeted with after a dream.

Sunflowers don't look real to me.

Who I was would attack who I am
And who I am would attack who I was
One day I hope to be someone
Who finds peace within themselves
And they can look back on their past selves
Smiling for what once was
Smiling at my growth
I just want myself to know
That regardless of my many mistakes
I'm proud of who I am
And of who I will become
I just wish for myself
To stop fighting myself
Constantly
I wish for my selves
To be at peace
To accept that they exist
Within me
I am who I am
I am who I was
I am me I always will be

And to reject that
Would be devestating

The cranium persists even with a bruise on my brain.
No, I do not wish for an ounce of pain
    and no, I do not feel like I am a strain.
There is no malintent that flows through my veins.

The rib cage persists even with a bruise on my heart
No, I do not wish for both sides to fall apart
    and no, I do not feel like I am able to restart.
There is no malintent that flows through my art.

The drums' pounding sounds
echo deep in my chest
rattling my rib cage
a new heart beat is found.
I surge with the crowd
dealing with the push and pull
like it was the ocean.
Well we were on Ocean Avenue
So it sort of was.
People are being held above the surging waters
like boats floating on treacherous seas.
One boat emerges from the depths behind me
One that I did not see.
The next thing I knew
the head of the boat had hit me
connecting with the back of my head.
I turned around quickly
and pushed the boat along,
but by then the damage was already done.
I sang and danced to every song
Unaware until later of my new concussion.

Though my dad and I
may not always see eye to eye
I can count on these simple facts
to remain true:
He will support me in my choices.
He will offer advice when I need it.
He will protect me when I feel unsafe.
He will make jokes
with varying degrees of success.
He will teach me stuff about cars.
(Stuff that won't stick in my head
no matter how hard he tries,
sorry dad)
He will always be in my corner
even when I'm wrong
(And he'll allow me to figure that out
for myself)
He will ask what I think
and will not say my way of thinking is bad
just because he disagrees.
He will do his best to be there for me.
He will always love me
no matter where life takes me.
Just as I love him.

Happy Father's day!