Writing, doesn't mean,
you wants everyone to like it,
once they read is enough,
whats important is,
you write it through your heart.

He's way better than the boy of my dreams.
*He's real.

this life it *****, it rusts in dust
it lusts for the thirst of your blood
flowers in dirt and dies in dusk
count your scars in tears plucked
wearing a mask of mothers guilt
in the same home, a father once built
by the same hands that devoured love
of a few names that a box once filled
smothered by the memories tamed
unspoken words burning the remains
from all those dreams that were killed
none shall see the face smile again
standing so still against the wall
almost dead if not for your shadow
there is no room for you here at all
them lies are all buried in the meadows
whispering in the winds now again
how hollow is the lonely song
the piper keeps piling the corpses
only for more to come back along.

Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again

Blue sky thinking,
Late night drinking,
Party swinging,
Glasses pinging,
Sensations tingling,
Blue sky thinking.

Wrap your words around my pen
Bleed them on the page
When the ink turns the river red
A poet is always made

It's not who you are or who you know,

What you wear or where you go.

It's not your friends or family,

Its words on a page,

In this community.

The words we use can settle scores

or open doors.

So hear a heartfelt plea from me,

Let's stop the wars and do poetry.