you met a girl who
cried raindrops,
tasted of champagne and regret but
oh did she love so hard
i never got a chance to feel how soft she could be
i was too busy drinking in her mahogany eyes and
lightly tanned skin-- by the gallon, gulping
trying to get air in between sips like
an aged merlot she was
timelessly magnificent.
i swear to you
she had the sun within her,
could shine so bright but
a single cloud could wash it all away,
dim her, shroud her
in stringy clouds of despair i swear
i would've done anything
to burn away those clouds.
-a.c.b

Only the poets feel the pain,
of climbing up the mountains;
Where thoughts and visions are pursued,
and run down the hills like fountains.

Yet often running far too fast,
and under a mystical spell;
At first it seems like heaven's arrived,
then we're burning as if in hell.

Opening our eyes to what's around,
the solemnity and beauty engaged;
Just as the theatrical moment begins,
to set the long sought-for stage.

The words sublime yet subtle too,
in notions of earthly pleasures;
But still the poet seeks the heart,
to burst out loud with treasures.

My poems don't have a sentence.
They're vague, unfinished, unclear.
And they certainly don't address the reader,
For that would be unprofessional, dear.

My poems don't have a meaning.
They're meant to be read and understood.
And they certainly don't have a title.
Yes, guidance is not at all good.

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Commas and them old fullstops.
Questions? Hah! What do they even do?
Exclamations? What silly ideas!
My poems don't need you!

Yes, my poems never rhyme.
For what use will it lend?
Yes, my poems never hold ironic lies.
And of course, they'll never end.

Have you heard
of a town called blue?
The reason for the name?
Sure, I can tell you.

So smile, relax
And try not to frown
'Cause the story you'll hear
Is not a happy one.

Picture a city,
An ancient town,
Full of people
Who all look down.

Now picture it blue,
Their clothes, their skin,
Everything they own,
Even the smallest ring!

The roads are blue,
The buildings are blue,
The houses, the cars,
Even the food too!

The sad thing is,
They all look the same,
Their clothes, their hair,
And they all never change.

They had no personality,
They never had much fun,
They were always on edge,
As if something would go wrong.

No imagination
Was the main problem they had.
The reason for this
Was a mayor who was sad.

The town had a history
Of sad, sad mayors
Who make others sad
And sorrow in layers.

Everything was safe
And always sound
But something was changed
When the mayor's son was born.

On a calm spring night,
On the twentieth of May,
Joe was born,
Looking bright as the day.

This was a problem
That the mayor despised
His son had colour
Except for his blue eyes.

He had pale skin
And a pair of pale hands
His hair was blonde
Just like the sand.

So his father trained Joe
To be blue like him
He had to grow up
His patience grew thin.

Day and night
The mayor always tried
His plan did work
At least in his eyes.

Joe's hair remained yellow.
His skin became blue
But his mind never changed
As the mayor thought it would.

In a last attempt,
He locked him in a room,
Told him to grow up
Ever so soon.

So with sadness and sorrow
Joe sat down on his bed
He imagined a life
All in his head.

Then one day,
on a pretty summer night,
Joe escaped
Disappeared in plain sight.

He wanted to see
Outside of his town
Wanted to see
What exactly was going on.

Why were his people
Always so sad?
Always angry,
Or always mad?

He walked and walked
To the edge of his town
Where a wall stood high
Mighty and proud.

He found a small door
That lead outside
He pulled it open
And squirmed at the light.

What he saw,
He couldn't have imagined
For he saw colours
That looked like magic.

He saw red and yellow
With green and white
He saw orange and purple
And black like the night.

He saw trees with specks
Of brown and green,
A bat, a bird
And other small things.

The boy was in wonder
As how could this be?
He wondered if the lack of this
Was why they weren't ever happy.

Then he saw
A shack near a lake,
The walls were ancient
The paint was flaked.

He knocked on the door
One, two, three
A boy opened and said
"Hey! You look like me!

Except for the skin
Or the clothes you wear
I never saw someone
Who could look this sad!"

Joe examined the boy
The boy who talked
He told Joe to come in
And in he walked.

Joe then learned
That his name was Kyle,
And the weird thing on his face
Was called a smile.

Then Joe asked
How Kyle could be so happy
So he said,
"I imagine and then I be!"

Then Kyle asked
Why he was always blue
Then Joe answered,
"If only I knew!

My father, the mayor
is always sad,
He tells me to grow up
And then he gets mad.

He says, 'The real world
Isn't a happy one
You have to learn
Or else you'll fall down'.

Kyle shook his head
"That's not what mother told me
The world isn't sad
It only is if you imagine it to be".

The longer he talked
The more Joe changed
His skin turned pale
And colour he gained.

The moon rose
And the stars all shone
When the lights went out,
Joe knew it was time to go.

So off he went
Saying 'Good bye' to Kyle
And on his face
Was what his friend called a 'smile'.

He told his father
About the things he learned
He told him to imagine
To get the happiness he yearned.

But his father didn't listen
And told him to go
"Learn the real world,
You have to grow".

But Joe wasn't satisfied
His father wasn't happy,
Then he made a new plan
"I have to get them to think like me".

So he went and got a paper
And got out a pen
Then he drew a blue ball,
being thrown by children.

But it wasn't enough
As he saw this every day
So he took out more paper
And began to paint.

He painted a person
But with huge ears and a tail!
He painted a hammer
In the shape of a nail!

He painted a bat
But with butterfly wings!
And painted some other,
Wonderful things.

He climbed up the stairs
Onto the front porch,
And he yelled out aloud
To get the attention of all.

"Listen, all of you!
Pay attention
Take in this lesson
Use imagination.

You can be happy
If you believe to be
You can be you
And I can be me.

The reason we look alike
Is because we can't imagine
So put your mind to use
It'll be like magic.

Think of anything
Your mind can weave
It can be real
If you believe".

And with that
Joe quieted down,
He showed a smile
As he got rid of his frown.

He threw his paintings
Out to them all,
Told them to see
What cou­ld be done.

He looked at the crowd
And saw his friend from the shack
And slowly but surely,
Kyle began to cl­ap.

The others were hesitant
Their thoughts ran wild
"What if th­e mayor's right?
This is only his child!"

A girl stood up
She lo­oked five years old
She joined in with Kyle,
Her claps loud and b­old.

They all looked on
As the girl showed a smile
And one by one
They joined, in a while.

But ­this didn't last
As a voice rang out,
Joe looked behind
To see hi­s father lash out.

"The real world is sad
It's corrupted and mad,
You have to be aware
Or you'll end in despair.

You shouldn'­t imagine,
You shouldn't be different,
You shouldn't be you,
And ­you shouldn't attempt.

If you are different
Then it'll give a re­ason
For enemies to rise,
The cause of treason.

You shouldn't be­lieve
That you could be happy
It will never last
It's what father­ taught me".

The crowd grew quiet,
Hearing the mayor's speech,
Of course they ­can't be happy!
"I shouldn't be me".

His son lost hope
And let h­is thoughts go blue,
His shoulders sagged 
He had a frown too.

Kyle was desperate
And his­ friend needed him
So the coloured boy shouted,
"Don't listen, Jo­e! Or you won't win!".

Remember what I told you!
Remember what y­ou learned!
You have to believe,
To get the things you yearned".
­
Joe shook his thoughts,
He was back on track
So both of them syn­chronized
About what they learned in the shack.

"The world isn't sad! 
It only is if you imagine it to be­!
You can be happy,
You have to believe!

Remember this talk,
Rem­ember this speech,
You can be you
And I can be me.

Think of anyt­hing
Your  mind can weave,
You'll make it real,
If you believe".
­
Joe paused 
And so did Kyle
They both had on
What they called a ­'smile'.

The crowd sighed 
And made their own smiles
They knew t­hey were happy
It would stretch on for miles.

One by one
Their colours changed,
From blue to red
And a bit of Orange.

And all the town 
Was covered i­n hues,
The people were in awe
"Look at me! Look at you!"

And th­at was the day,
People were never the same,
In a town called 'Blu­e'
The reason for the name?

Sure, I can tell you,
And so can they.
It was to remember
This very special day.

It was to remember 
That they were happy again,
All because of two friends
Who weren't afraid o­f a change.