if you find yourself
attracted to the simple
swirls of black ink against
white lined school paper in
a locker you know belongs to
her, you know that you have severe

problems.

Read this to yourself. Read it silently.
Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound.
Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.
What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?

NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD!
SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND!
DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.
Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper.

Now, read this next line with your best crochety- old-man voice:
"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"
Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that?
It sure wasn't yours!

How do you do that?
How?!
Must be magic.

Woop As the siren blares/

Scared nervous/
I hear a loud pull over!/

Its the Grammar Police/
awwww snap
They want to see my diploma/

I keep my hand on the pen
Like I don't even notice/

In my window of opportunity
Asking/

Son Do you know why I pulled you over?/
Cause I'm in the office
sir writing these poems?/

I take full responsibility
I don't got no diploma
I just got this GED/

He said that's not good enough
Put down the pen son
Your coming with me/

Now there's Turmoil thru the streets
drama around every corner/

There should be no commas
Period I question marked your honor/

Butchering with clevers
run on sentences for ever/

The alphabet guys set up
Planted evidence missing letters/

Sworn I had it down to a T
The I before E
how does that go?/

Well don't look now
I done broke another law/

How ever this may trouble you
I keep my vowels sometimes Y & W/

Somethings not write I'm reeling feeling uncomfortable/

Is it me?
Well don't you see/
A fused two V's?/

That's my story
I'm sticking to it
my testimony/

Yet we speak it double U/
confused by another rule/

They label me an outlaw
In the middle of the court room/

A mystery/ A victim being pursued/ by the Grammar police/

The jury siding with the prosecution
I may never be released/

Its Invictus/
The defense rest
Now they have an eye-witness/

With an eye on who did this/

There,     their,      they're,      hair,     heir      and..... here/

The Ironies in the rule book/
similar sounding confused look/

If i where to spoke this and not
wrote this you would have not notice/

No no Input
was it done on purpose?/
For a purpose?/

One things for certain/

If l lay dying dead in the street
It's cause you took shots at me

Just remember I wasn't perfect/

But you are the grammar police
Just doing your job I know working/

"Home is where the heart is."

My heart has been on vacation,
got lost at the station,
missed it's connecting flight,
has come down with a plight.

It's missed the school bus,
forgotten how to trust,
spilled coffee in its lap,
fallen into a trap.

It's still playing dress up,
afraid still to mess up,
losing its car keys,
crying after a tease.

If home is where the heart is,
a place where a warm hearth is,
then mine has missed the boat
for I'm still just out afloat...

what is this feeling
lurking around within the confines
of my head
and my heart

its not numb
but it is neither happy nor sad
it is hope for later
it is hurt from earlier
it is undefinable
what is this feeling?
is there a name?

Sometimes I wonder
at the marvelosity
that is our universe

we can give and create
we can love and debate
we can push and pull
we can die.

but yet in all this sparkling madness,
this canvas that has yet to be covered
why are there so many blank spots?

The curious thing is,
I'm too busy helping others color their lives
to give any life
to mine.

.

You were skipping stones

and as I watched
a slowly arching ripple

gently kissing the shore

I found myself wishing
I was that ripple

and you were that shore

What if I were to tell you that what I deserve
makes up only a pinch of
you that makes up
you?

One day, perhaps, I can show you
what exactly it is that makes
you so alluring, so
you.

But until then,
arms. Please.
Only the arms from
you.