By and by Man will try
To get out into the sky,
Sailing far beyond the air
From Down and Here to Up and There.
Stars and sky, sky and stars
Make us feel the prison bars.

Suppose it done. Now we ride
Closed in steel, up there, outside
Through our port-holes see the vast
Heaven-scape go rushing past.
Shall we? All that meets the eye
Is sky and stars, stars and sky.

Points of light with black between
Hang like a painted scene
Motionless, no nearer there
Than on Earth, everywhere
Equidistant from our ship.
Heaven has given us the slip.

Hush, be still. Outer space
Is a concept, not a place.
Try no more. Where we are
Never can be sky or star.
From prison, in a prison, we fly;
There's no way into the sky.

Did you ever wonder...
                                          Why we feel pain?
Why we fall easier than we get up?
                         Why the clouds part beneath shaky feet,
                         Why the snow falls in black and red flakes
                     Breaking
                         The
                      Coldest
                      Hearts
Why my music no longer flows sweet
                   And the foreign face in the mirror
Won't look me in the eye

Cashing in your years for tears,
Is that the way to live?
Living in a state of hate,
With so many to forgive…
Judging others for their flaws,
While you, yourself are a fake.
While you hold yourself above,
We are humbled by mistakes.
You walked away and watched
As I drowned in a sinful sea
While you turned the other cheek,
He has always been there for me.
Forgiveness has been upon me,
I’ve forgiven you, as well.
Although you’ve ignored me,
He picked me up when I fell.
When hypothetical happiness
Dwells in your own personal hell,
What will it take to make you realize
That He will make you well?

Yesterday was my father’s 60th birthday so I called him.
How many times have I heard tears of joy at the end of a receiver?
I don’t know how to answer these things,
I do not have a response to my own age sadness
nor my father’s.
I told him I had class and hung up.

Sometimes, I wonder why god does not give me a phone call.
It seems everyone has been hearing from him lately
and I wonder if it is because I do not brush my teeth
in the morning or if it is because I spit on Ricky’s pants
in third grade. He called me foxy
I just wanted to be human.

Do you think people are ghosts until they speak their mind?
Look at Anne Frank and Michael Jackson-
They are the closest things to humans I can find
when I look in gutters and radio signals
(I don’t find much there)

I bet you’re the type of person
who looks in between couch cushions and finds
job interviews and an always loving mother
who will never forget to pack you a lunch
and will always remember the exact time
of your birthday or your soccer schedule

I bet you and god talk on a regular basis

You are the type that I wish the best of luck to
out of respect but never necessity
and you tell me my eyelids are too heavy
and I should stop ironing out my poetry

I want to write you a letter
and dot all of the eyes with hearts
but I don’t mean to be ****** at all, I’m sorry
I just miss feeling as good
as my first kiss which wasn’t very good
but I am running out of firsts
and last is my least
favorite word in the dictionary

Tonight I will try calling god,
but my roommate will pick up the phone
and instead I will crawl into an envelope
and wait, wait--
I hope this is not something that will disappoint you