I dance with the pen;
it leaves my hands all
inky.

he molded the sculptures
with no one but the models in mind.
    they were angelic.
       and he took a
            picture.
   the marble was unchanging-
     regal. he thought that if they ever
needed to remember who they were
      through whoever they are
    they could look up to their own past's excellent
      persona pillars.

and there they still stand
  in any other market squares or musuems,
      leading us on one of some
  principle,
    until they are felled by
         those that are going
             through more of similiar stories.

learn to let go
and then the angels
will carry you
skywards.

Back when I was young my father told me:
That I’d grow up, and I would be lonely,
But not to go, chasing Cleopatra,
Or else I’d die just another bachelor.

He said;

“Oh those pretty girls, there are so many,
Just look around you and, you’ll find plenty;
When you’re hurt and broken by a lover,
Amen, don’t worry, just find another.”

I said;

“Daddy, what if none of them love me back?
What if I’m alone, when the sky turns black?
What If all I am, ain’t what I could be?
It’s hard to find wisdom, but not misery”

He said;

“Son don’t stress, there’ll always be someone
Looking just for you. You: their only one.
And don’t ever worry about heartbreak,
The road to love; it is made of mistakes.

So, count your fingers and count your blessings,
Invite Cleopatra to your wedding.
Never love ‘til you don’t have to chase it,
But when you do, don’t you ever waste it.”