Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

A voice said, Look me in the stars
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth.

Closer in time,
Your heart is
Aching in your chest.
Fading lights
The stars wander
Out of the sky, just chance.
And inside
The warmth of
Just one more night.
From my lungs
I feel a tugging
Catching my breath.

In your sea, I am but a drop
Yet, you are my ocean.
On the field of love, I am but a rock
And you are the mountain.
I feel as sisyphus,
In love with his punishment-
But I've pushed too much.
This torture is redundant,
We get nowhere and feel as though
Further down the hill.
And yet, I love you as such
I would never cease pushing
Till my heart stops
And muscles grow still.
For what is love
To the stone heart?

Lovingly, to fall for Medusa
Onto my own sword.
For were I tasked to **** her
I should sooner forgo my life
So that she may have her own.
For I looked into the eyes of the Gorgon
With my last breath,
And when she spoke
It was clear she was no monster
But a disgraced goddess.
Never did I turn to stone.
As I lay lifeless, she wept
And offered her *****.
Every touch was like lightning,
Though I was the center of the storm;
She showed me kindness
The likes of I had never known before.
And when I was revived
I wept too.

Be the recluse,
Be the hermit,
And make your assessments of others
Based on short and fleeting interaction,
Drenched in the sweat of "purpose" & "agenda,"
And be met with statements
Which really convey nothing and rarely
Encapsulate honest thought in brevity
But are said only to end the conversation.
Close knit,
The threads choke,
Living your turtleneck life.
No collar to be turned up,
The cotton already hugs your throat;
Nothing to end abrupt,
That which never saw its start.
Those who talk
Simply to hear themselves,
Do they have anything to say?
Those with the blinders on,
They never see the entrance ramp
Neither the turn-offs
Till it's too late.

Some Conway Cabal;
It's a regular circus,
In the capitol.

You should follow the law,
And if it's wrong
It should **** you off
And make you motivated for change.
Motive with your discipline should result in action,
Whether you merely speak out for what you believe,
In verbal or physical protest.
Your ancestors had freedoms to yours in fractions
And wealth the same,
Still they fought
To edge out a line in the sand
For a land with equal rights for every man.
Do you wish to return to such old & backward ways
As feudal days with no say?