Pondering whence the Sun will harmless lay,
Hurting, no more the beauty, I array.
Inkling to destroy two months away,
Little did he know.

Ice melts slower than snow,
Peaceful rivers begin to flow.
Indeed i speak the truth,

Letting biting cold do my will,
Out i look, upon many a blue hill.
Vines have ceased to entwine,
Entranced, frozen in frosty time.

Utterly desolate, purely divine.

I dream of* lovers
who fascinate me to no end,
veering the course of their affection
from something they understand exists,
to something they fear to understand

I dream of hearts
yearning for their better halves,
as they seep deeper into the chasms
that engulf their intimacy within

I dream of sinners
who wish to speak of sin;
rather the innocence of deviance
and its naiveté when it comes
to matters of the heart

I dream of writers
who bleed from their pens
as they wholeheartedly express their emotions
and aspire to quell the heartache
that they endure every day

I dream of innovators
who wish to present upon their peers
the next invention selected
to represent the advent of a better tomorrow

I dream of tears.
I dream of tears....

Why? What sorcery forces one
to shed so many
that they leak past
the prisms of known consciousness
and into the peaceful slumber
that comforts aching minds?

I apologize.

Now you know of the dread, sorrow,
and sheer wonder that comes
when I dream of earthly elements
begging for peace.

I dream because I am a coward.
I apologize for *dreaming.

Lost in conversation at a party
with a friendly person
I ended up almost tardy
but the event was worth it

This woman older than myself
had lost her youngest son
He had a bout with depression
and used his father's gun

A teen that never listens
comes with the territory
Blamed herself for doing the same,
called it her "horror story"

A touch of blue hit her face
as she remembered his smile
Her hands continued to shake;
they had been for a while

It got me thinking quite a bit
of what we leave behind,
be they achievements or kin,
by them we are defined

We tell the world of our struggles
with words and demonstration
and teach the kids how to live,
preventing devastation

Our legacy will continue
past their life expectancy
and through the passage of time
raise their dependency

The stench of death is rotten,
but still our biggest fear to date
is living life to the fullest,
yet remaining forgotten

And not to mention
raising sons and daughters;
we do our very best to keep them
from the guns and slaughter

Living in the here and now,
ever considered a future
where your experience today
will tutor newer users?

So* leave your mark - *be it poetry, melodies,
artistry, pedigree, even guiding infancy or
serving in an infantry, believe in your legacy
You're remembered infinitely.

There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips

Honesty is a very hard thing to look at
Most people think they will burn
In the intensity of the light it casts
I promise it’s a cleansing fire
A rebirth