I'm born in the wrong generation
And I'm fine with that.
While others are
Keeping up with the Kardashians
I'm busy keeping up with the Jones'.
While others are
Listening to the new album
I'm listening to music
From a jukebox inside my mind.
I remember the 50s well,
Even though I was born forty years later.
I remember watching Jailhouse Rock
At the Drive in, inside of my living room.
The day the music died
I sat at home and cried.
There is an instant running of
"Let's Make A Deal," going on
Inside of my head.
And I can almost hear Dean Martin
Roasting Don Rickles.
Around this time, **** Van ****
Is tripping over furniture,
While Ricky is coming home to Lucy.
Or was it all just a dream that I had?

Two men were drafted for war.
One turned to the other and said,
"I find it odd that we leave our own family
To keep each other's families safe."

The man turned to him and said,
"I'll make a deal with you.
If you fight to protect my family,
Then I will die protecting yours."

Do not follow where you were meant to lead. The blind cannot lead the deaf.

Catch every stone they throw and build your walls.

Each unsettling measure of nerve that remained, shrieking, longing for acknowledgement. Dulling my senses, shrouding me placing me in a situation and a relatively deep and dark abyss where my once every joyous memory my every childhood dream, residing in an area that even I wasn't sure existed, remaining to be seen but had I journeyed long and far to find that land - My mind.

Who you were
Is not who you are.
Where you have been
Is not your destination.
Love the person you were then
But respect the person you are now.
Keep moving forward
Because time does not change direction.
If you reflect on yesterday's storm,
You won't get the chance to see
The sun come out today.
Live like your life depends on it.

People like us don't change.
We just do a little better each time.

Remember to breathe, darling.
                    It's a bad day, not a bad life.

The only problem with a closing door is the possibility of something falling between it, unable to be closed, and the chance of it being opened again.

Love is sand in an hourglass
                           That cannot stand.

And somewhere within the field of weeds and shrub,  she smiled until there was nothing left but Roses.

The secret to knowing everything is knowing nothing at all.

To be the person that other people see in their dreams, you have to first become the person you see in your own.

Even the greatest books have a blank page between chapters.

Some of the most extraordinary things in life have never happened for the sake of over thinking.

I will tell you a story
That I know nothing about.
Regarding a deaf man
Who was sure he heard a sound.
Now you could go
And ask the blind man
Because he saw it happen.
It even woke the dead woman
While she was busy napping.
What a sound, such a sight!
Under the sun on that starry night.
For those of you reading,
I'm sure your curiosity grows
But I can't tell you anything about it  
That I don't already know.

Try as you may, some people may never like you. Why? Because your spirit aggravates their demons.

Our life is our story.
Write well, edit often,
And do not spoil the ending.

Mister Stephen King quotes,
"We should write every day!"
If one was to do that,
We would very soon
Run out of things to write about.

I saw you dancing In the ocean
Writing love letters In the sand
A spirit no one could tame
Holding beauty in your hands

In the instant that you feel so free
In the second that the truth reveals
Running wild up your spine
And then you know that it's real

There are signs we choose to follow
There are roads we choose to take
A bitter pill that's hard to swallow
Too big of a decision to make

Every road leads back around
Soon enough if you take the wrong turn
And sometimes all you ever need
Is someone to help you learn

And all I ever needed was someone
That would teach me how to fly
Someone to open my door
And turn me loose into the sky

And all I ever needed was someone
To show me how to shine
Like the stars above
And then burn bright like the sun
All I'll ever need is you
You're that someone

Poetry is the fine line that divides our world from a world we never knew existed.

Mad hatters and hares
Walking hand in hand
Down the highway
In our Wonderland

The girl with her gown
Thumbs another car down
To escape a reality
That she doesn't understand..

And the mushrooms make her feel
So good inside yeah yeah yeah yeah..
And the tea is poisoned with
Something she can't abide

Girl, girl in the desert
Girl..underneath a highway sky
Girl..Girl in the garden
Is it any wonder why...
Why why why why...Aaaow!

She knew too much
That she read in her books
Now she's underground
And not the way that it looks..

And the queen in the red dress
Has shown the blackest heart..
Little blonde girl
Dont you know your pain is a work of art..

Girl, girl in the desert
Girl..underneath a highway sky
Girl..Girl in the garden
Is it any wonder why...
Why why why why...

Why did you have to die-ie-ie-ie..

Laugh today to make up for tomorrow's tears.

The wave leaves the ocean, but not all of it returns.

A Poet comprehends the most about love, however in ironic commentary, they have experienced the least amount of it.

Darkness is everywhere.
But then again so is light,
As long as the sky is there
To hold up the stars.
It has a brave job, the night sky.
To hold up so much light,
Like the moon and the countless
Amount of stars,
When you're still surrounded by darkness.
But at the same time, the night sky
Doesn't seem so dark.
Just as long as the moon and stars
Are there to keep it company.

I enjoy the concept of writing using a feather quill, for the fact that some truth can be found in it. Like the bird who lost its feather, we do not know where it will nest, we only know where it's journey started. Much like our own story.

Tis I-the one who walks the weary mile. The one who escapes my past, though I walk in reverse, keeping my eyes set on those who I have met before and God forbid their arrows that fly by night will not pierce my own nerve.

The world burns books as if the trees themselves were seeking revenge hoping to rise once again from the ashes.

On that day, I felt that fire of fire
For in my heart burned such desire
And Such desire had I not wanted more.

'Twas a vision and captured thought
Another place I dare forgot
And my longing left my soul to wrought!
Their splendid secrets left beyond the door.

A child's shadow lived in the walls
To every book their voice would call
Music filled the air and God forbid they fall
And shall the memory reside forevermore!

I sit outside more often,
Taking notice of everything
That I feel like I hadn't seen before.
The sun on my skin feels so different.
The birds sing a different song.
The grass looks a bit more green
And until now I never watched
A flower bloom.

In the highest hopes of Heaven
Do the radiant angels
Call the name of Helen.
Who's beauty is fair
Much like they which do dwell there.
Who's eyes do resemble
The stars at night that are assembled
To throw such light upon a wanderer far.
How thine beauty is to me,
Upon the waves of that crystal sea
And I do not by any means
Speak such truth for just pleasantries.
But the words embedded in my heart
Have kept their stay by your own part.
Though how the moon holds my envy
For upon that brim are you perched,
Praised by many.
And though I'm certain I hold your pity,
You remain to hold my heart.

A somber sleep a quiet death
Unknown I draw my final breath.

Two separate trains departed
As the same did two friends.
Each going the wrong direction
And the tracks, God knew where would end.
I am not in the slightest ashamed to say
That I was not on a train that day.
Instead that day, I remember well,
With bags in hand, I bid farewell.
I was not amused, no I was not impressed,
The journey beyond that thickened smoke.
I must confess, that what I found best,
Was the road, though longer
Was no kinder stranger
For this drifting bloke.
So I said Goodbye, with no tear to eye
As I went about my way.
Towards my destination there,
Though I can't say where,
Perhaps tomorrow I'll find it some day.

A poetic word has no power to enchant the mind without pertaining to the elegance of their reality.

You're worth more than just pretty words.
You're worth the truth in them.

Never be ashamed of your past.
Your pain may be the key
To someone else’s cell.

I'm only able to see the world through one eye,

And yet I see more beauty in it than those who see out of two.

Vivid dreams
Of my lover's screams
In sickness and of plight.
Try as I may
To rid these dreams
I will have them again tonight.
Every morsel of tortured sleep
And each moment of poisoned thought,
I find despair, no comfort there
And no greater anguish my soul has brot

Before you can hold the torch for someone while they walk in darkness, you have to walk through it first to know where it leads.

This is for you Robin

I'm a genie in a magic lamp
I'm a bird thats in a cage
I'm a man who's really Peter pan
And im a kid trapped in a game

I'm someone who wears a smile
Even though there's so much pain
And I may not be here tomorrow
So can I make you laugh today?

I'm a man of many faces
And sometimes I forget my own
I'm a man that can find a voice
That you will always know
But one thing that I cannot find
Is any peace to be near
But the thing that gives me the greatest joy
Is your laughter through the years

I'm a man with a broadcast
Telling you good morning every day
I'm a man who can "patch" you up
When your blue skies are turning gray

And still I wonder what dreams may come
But I believe I've lived all of mine
But I dont worry if there ever were some
That I left so far behind

I'm a man of many faces
And sometimes I forget my own
I'm a man that can find a voice
That you will always know
But one thing that I cannot find
Is any peace to be near
But the thing that gives me the greatest joy
Is your laughter through the years

My Dear
I beseech thine own gratitude.
Parting, be it spoken
Or be it a favorable token
Or adieu by the by
Who were thou once
In a matter of deliberate thinking
But the rose that wilts
While the Gardener tends to his own roses.
Be there no just cause
By way of reckoning with
My poorly based manner
I ask your hand
Love be it a thing of adversity
Or diverse confusion
To he who holds no compassion
Hatred still holds not passion
And while I cannot bring myself to love,
Love premieres itself to me.
How Heavens Gaze
Upon star crossed Lovers
And the tide holds true
To a Voyager on a perfumed Sea
Onwards his own own native shore
Love is blind to ties that bind
For you my dear I your lighthouse far
And you my anchor bold
That I ask your hand to hold

Here it comes
I've had this feeling before
I told myself never again
But here I am back for more

And I know that it's true girl
That you will end up like the rest
But I can still pretend girl
And still treat you like the best

No I never listen to myself
I never know when enough is enough
Now you've got me under your spell
Hypnotized by your love

So hit me with your love until it hurts
Blind my eyes with your pretty little lies
And make me believe it's what I deserve
And when you've finally had enough
Be sure and shut the door
So hit me with your love
Until I'm begging for more

I should listen,
Maybe I should go
My thoughts say yes
But my heart says no

It's what I'm after
But it's a losing game
There's love and laughter
But it always ends the same

And now I'm running from myself
While I'm running for your love
Put my worries on a shelf
And I don't know a thing about love

So hit me with your love until it hurts
Blind my eyes with your pretty little lies
And make me believe it's what I deserve
And when you've finally had enough
Be sure and shut the door
So hit me with your love
Until I'm begging for more

They came and stepped on
Our sacred land
Took our way of life
Before they took our hand

And the huts and houses
That we built
They burned them down
And had our people killed

And to this day
We still don't understand
The wicked ways
Of the crooked man

They do not listen
They do not see
They ask no questions
To you or to me

But maybe one day
They will learn
That not all bridges
Must be burned

And all you white men
I've got to say
We were here first
When your ships drifted away

And still we will
Make our final stand
When you return
To your own native land

People like us don't change. We just do a little better each time.

We watch movies,
To create the illusion that the actors
Are still alive.
We listen to music,
So their voices will still ring
About our ears,
We write poetry, so that
Every last word that poets of the past
Never got to write, is said
And remembered.

Many "wise men" lead lives of secret stupidity.

Turn your gaze
To warmer days
Alas! Winter is dawning fast.
Perhaps memories
Shall keep you warm
From yesterday and summers past.

Should your candle flicker
And your heart grow worn
And the sun forbids to show its face,
Then I hope you should recall
A familiar smile in a warmer place.

The constant shrieks-each syllable overlapping one another, aiding to the utter horror of which their eyes have seen. A stream of red trickles down that lowly alleyway. And the victim still, who's eyes have seen all things, keeps her secrets well in death. And the blood! The blood itself has an empty accusing stare at the very assailant standing idly by within the crowd. I do not see his face, though a man stands beside me with his collar upright and his brim pulled well over his brows, keeping his secrets in the lining of his pockets,  twixt the stitches in the seams. The man is gone without a trace leaving only a letter behind without so much washing the blood from his hands, his skin stained with his own heinous misdeed. It seems this Jack has vanished into the night, a prowling beast who stalks its prey. Is he man or devil? Is he? Are they?