you can't
no no no
this cannot happen
refrain
drawback
recoil
anything
just don't let this happen

To write food in the stomach
Of every hungry child.

To spell war as peace,
Metaphorize flowers into the barrel

Of every gun on Earth.
The poet has responsibilities

Beyond those of mothers,
Of kings and presidents.

I refuse to give up hope;  
This could be a poem world.

Come on, write your worst piece
Of literature.

Even misprints may give other
Meanings to a word,

Write me a green sky, blue dirt,
Trees the colour of air.

Sometimes the best poets
Have the least to say,

So keep writing, write until your
Fingers fall asleep.

Write until you havent slept
For weeks in search of that word,

That one right word,
Then rest on a notebook pillow

And dream the world right.
Write the world right.

There is no such thing as
Wasted poetry.

Trailers don't give away the entire plot.
I've been watching for years
As an active actor
In various melodramas.
  
     The good guy is clean shaven
     Beneath the lather,
     Emotes empathy,
     And never snickers.
     A straight shooter.

The other guy needs a blade
As cutting as sarcasm,
And aims when you turn.

     Then there's re-runs
     Whose endings never change.
     The prophet gets arrested.
     Tara burns. Ice bergs floe.
     I am under Lowry's volcanoe,
     Or leaving Las Vegas.
     28 Days is only two hours
     Of wine and roses.

The trailers just reveal enough
To give me hope.

are you
criss-crossed
starstruck
routined
day dreamed
*** crazed
hex slaved
are you
nightmare fueled
leaving soon
paranoid
must avoid
money ******
no luck
love starved
too hard
no fun
on drugs
hate sun
are you
worse off
all talk
can't sleep
repeat
back seat
like me
want out
big mouth
head south
don't care
not there
are you
me?

He makes her stay, in his memory for yet another day,
didn't she wait, without the sign of desperation in anyway,
the world has it's callous ways, they were mute witnesses it seemed
she understood, he kept silence, hoping for the best; did he pretend?

In each garden he strolls, she appears as a flower, he struggles to forget,
in every flower he kisses she is the musky scent that makes him faint
on a rainy day, he stood enchanted, watching a peacock dance,
the eye- spots on it's feathers about her love eloquently spoke.

He lives a life went awry,can't blame it on her, she never complained,
it's him, who erred as a lover,the silent apathy that brewed destroyed,
misled by it's  blue hue he chose poison, that numbs,a grave mistake
facing mountain ranges, alone, he seeks forgiveness for his corruption.

your light exudes a mystical glow
things are revealed and yet still hidden
I love walking through the night
under your magical glow

They took the worst of me,
rehearsed and scripted me
to make a better me but
I'm well versed in me, and
wrote new lines to be
the new reality,

A full moon rose,
I sense her near and
know she knows the better me,
I see the worst can be no
more than the
new reality.

And now I'm sure the cure was
meant to be an
experiment in surgery
altering psychopathy.
Oh
lucky me.

i thought that destroying myself
was the way to save you from who i am inside
but it turns out, harming me
destroyed you more than i ever managed to hurt myself

maybe if i had hid it from you better
you never would have seen the scars and cried
youd have never heard me puking
i destroyed myself, but you are a part of me