It's dust, mostly
the kind that burrows
deep into the creases
of his forehead
and hides inside
the crinkles
around his eyes

It's forever stuck
to the soles of his boots
and never rinses out
of his denims
in the river,
not entirely

And it finds a way
to roll with beads
of sweat in dripping
lines exposing
parchment skin

but somehow never
penetrates the ring
around his head,
preserved forever
by his stetson's brim

And it's also ashes
from chaparral
and tumbleweeds,
lit up in circles
where he camped

leaving a trail
of where he's been,
like breadcrumbs
swept away in a
restless breeze

It's the creaking sound
of leather in his saddle
and the rhythmic
thud of horseshoes
pounding sunbaked ground

It's the wind in his face
that grits his teeth
and squints his
glassy eyes

It's standing in the stirrups
to fly above the racing plain,
keeping balance
with the whipping mane

It's the endless sky,
and the horizon
that never fades

But mostly,
it's the dust
that he holds
in upraised palms

slipping through
his fingers, disappearing
from his touch

in the wild and still
untamed range

We’re all looking to do something real
And the words, you’ve got time
Are the biggest lie ever uttered out of the human mouth
What that really means is that we don’t know what to tell you, we can’t, first of all, the realness is too personal, everyone has their own version of what is real, time and space are relative to the observer after all, Einstein proved that, but only if all natural laws hold constant, and theoretically those probably break down somewhere after the age of 22,
No, you haven’t got time, time is an illusion, just like the trophy award ceremony where everyone wins and gets patted on the back for trying,
No, stop telling us we’ve got time, we’ve got time to flail in the wind, we’ve got time to do work, but finding the realness is beyond time, it’s the kernel stuck in the teeth of our soul, we need to water this kernel, and philosophically, everything we do may be watering this kernel, but in practicality, it feels like we’ve been going nowhere with all this time we’ve got, stop telling us we’ve got time and tell us to travel, to explore, to roam and push our consciousness to the brinks of the universe, tell us to be unafraid, not of the fact that there is still this thing called time ticking away minutes before we die, but tell us to be unafraid of what we might find when we come face to face with the realness, tell us to be uncompromising in our search, tell us to stay away from any who would tie us to the ground and care about anything other than the realness
Because we’ve all got time, until we don’t, then what are you going to say to reassure the disaffected grown youth? Sorry, but you had time, and now you don’t, we can’t coddle you anymore with stories about time and how not to worry about it, time to join the ranks of the real world. Make some money, stop wasting time.

Let go the ashes
of the forest's searing fall
and find the seedling
rising up to drink the rain

Lift your lashes
from acid rivers flowing
and gaze upon the mirrored pool
capturing the morning sky

Unleash the torment
locked away inside and fill
the empty space with voices
singing chorus to your dreams

Wash away the blood
from bruised and battered limbs
and let the sun find you
basking in its rays

What is life?
What is death?

What is waste?
What is purpose?

What is good?
What is evil?

What is?

All different, yet all one.
Nihilistic ambiguity,
What is?

If you have thought the thoughts,
You might be like me- trapped.
What is?

Is our purpose to be successful?
To leave something behind?
To be remembered?
To be a conqueror and a Man of Free Will?
Or are we just a doll of rag in Fate's playhouse?

What is life without death?
What is good without evil?
What is pleasure without suffering?
Are they not equals?

Such is life in her horrific beauty,
Deceptively, yet excitingly... ambiguous.

What is Churchill without ******?
What is Richard without Saladin?
What is humanitarianism without dehumanization?
Are they not both equally powerful?
However, are they also not both one?

What is the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter?
One is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do not believe in,
While the other is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do believe in.
Wait...

What is justice and what is tyranny?
What is moral and what is immoral?
Well...
The true question is, to whom is it a moral law and to whom is it an immoral law?

That is when you realize, that everything is one.

Truths become lies,
Lies become truths,
Good become evil,
Evil become good,
Hate become love,
Love become hate,
Justice become unjust,
Injustice become just.

Meaningful becomes meaningless,
As a couple's carnation is destined to wither and turn to dust.

Yet, in it's beauty, both sarcastic and cruel,
The meaningless becomes meaningful.
Being trapped sets you free.

And that is when you realize,
Life is not about being told what is right or wrong.
Life is not about leading the way,
Nor is it about following a person.
It is not about following a code,
A tradition, or a set path.

What is, becomes up to you.
What you believe in,
What is just,
What is moral,
Is something only you can tell yourself.

You may learn from others.
However, nobody reads the same sentence the same way.
And even on the same roads nobody has the same journey.

There is no purpose to anything,
There is no good,
There is no free will,
There is no fate,
There is no truth,
Nor is there a lie.
Everything is meaningless...

All meaningless... until, you breathe meaning into them.

In a way, you are just a passing moment in this Universe.
A tock on a ticking clock.
A small ant in the cosmic world.
A weakling whose death day is already marked on the calender.

Yet, until that moment, and until that day comes.
Without you, the Universe has no meaning.
Without you, there are no truths, no morals, no goals, and no purpose.

For you breathe purpose into this world,
As you write your infinite story into this leather bound diary of life.

The way her hair framed her face
was unlike anything I had ever seen.
It accentuated her character far too beautifully.
She often stayed shying away under it,
but when brushed away,
it revealed the most adorable face.
Her smile hidden behind hands.
She was fragile and amazing.
And as I gazed into her eyes,
I felt something I haven't in a long time.

Let's run away together.
Leave everything else.
And please, let me look into
those passionate eyes of
yours a little bit longer.

Overthinking while i was driving to WalMart, didn't feel good, worried and sad. My life is not good, and been fighting forever to make it good. 

I walked to the store, saw a couple with thier kid putting the stuff in a basket basket, so i thanked God i had a CART. 

heard a kid crying, his mom was shutting his mouth, he wanted a toy, but she couldn't tell him that she didn't have enough money to buy it, cuz he wouldn't understand, so i thanked God i dont have to deal with such a situation. 

Two young couples were trying to find the cheapest diapers, so they have enough money to buy milk for the kid, so i thanked God i am not them. 

A very huge guy was trying to find the best bills for loosing wieght, so i thanked God i never been there.

A young guy was driving the elctronic cart cuz he couldn't walk on his feet, so i thanked God i can.
 
A young girl asked her mom if walmart has mattreses cuz she was tired of sleeping on the couch, so i thanked God i sleep in a mattres. 

People were waiting their names to be called by the pharmasist, so i thanked God am not waiting. 

A man was getting his glass cuz he can't see well, so i thanked God i can see perfectly and i dont have to wear one. 

A customer was yelling at the cashier, and the cashier couldn't say a word to save his job, so i thanked God i am not him. 

A man's card was diclined, mine wasn't. 

A lady and her daughter were waiting for a ride in the cold weather, so i thanked God i had a ride. 

I put the bags in the trunk, and thought of what i saw, i cried and prayed for everyone to be happy, get what they want, and be able to deal with life. 

I don't have what they have, and they don't have what i have, no one is better than the other, but someone is satisfied of what they have, and the other isn't.

They suffer
the harshest loss
family
lovers
friends
community
occupation
respect
dignity
p­ride

Yet they endure

They live in the streets
or the hills
or the places where
no one goes
because for them
there is no home

Yet they endure

And there is no one
to care for them
or feed them when
they're hungry
or treat them when
they're sick and
they have no money
to depend on so
they beg for what
they can survive on

Yet they endure

They are disparaged
as pariahs instantly
and automatically
by most who won't
spare a second
to know them before
passing judgment
and who themselves
would self-destruct if
their better fortune
were to erode by only
a fraction of what
they have lost

Yet they endure

Despite suffering
every painful circumstance
and being dealt luck far
worse than they ever
believed possible
time and time
and time again
they continue to breathe
and to hear the sounds
that play throughout
each day and to see
what visions come
their way and they
feel the sun on their
faces as it wakes them
and brings yet
another day

And they endure

For them the privilege
of being alive when
all the Universe but
this tiny planet has been
without life from
the beginning of time
somehow gives them
the strength to struggle
through each moment
as it comes and to
be grateful for each
experience and whatever
still remains for them
without drowning
in the endless misery
of what is past

And they endure

In New England
the brisk chill winds
of Autumn stir
the trees to set their
leaves ablaze
in tapestries of crimson
gold and hues of indigo
orange and magenta
that capture
the gaze of the sun
as they soak in
its remaining rays
before the long dark
cloak of winter
settles in

In LA the scorching
turbulent Santa Ana winds
come sweeping across
the deserts
gusting through
mountain passes to
chase the lingering
unwelcome air
to the Pacific
where the sun
melts the gathering
clouds into radiant
embers of amber
fiery red quicksilver
and cobalt blue
to celebrate
the glory of the day
before the calm dark
canopy of night
settles in

I hide my poetry from everyone,
Every piece from my dark twisted poems,
To my nature expressions.

I'm not sorry for writing them,
But I'm embarrassed to show,
What I do in my spear time.

Maybe it's because I think they will judge me
Or because I don't like my own work.
Maybe they wouldn't like it.
It's my biggest secret
That I guard with my life,
Like it's the most important thing.

I've never been normal,
But it's weird even for me right?
Even if it's my best poem ever,
It'll be only my eyes that view it
And the members of poetry websites.

I would rather share my work,
With people like me,
Who I've never met and
Who understand how amazing writing is.