sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles

moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear

they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste

cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them

We know not the times or the gifts that are ours specifically and unequally you see someone at a
Distance walking through a pastoral scene away and down a hill at first by voice recognition you
Know who he is this grandfatherly figure brings a flood of feelings and moods to brush your soul
With the telling of wonder of intimate days and moments you have shared so often you smile as
He naps quietly and then a night comes where for one reason or another you get involved and the
Whole night is used for this activity the next day being Saturday you relax and in the late afternoon
You at first just set for what you think is a moment but the previous night delightfully and pleasantly
Catches up with you sleep affords you this non cumbersome trip of ease and you awaken and it is dark
At first groggy disoriented just like in a dream this logical but off answer is provided then you finally
Figure out what is going on what surprise and pleasure to know you have been ambushed by a slight
Tiredness that robed you in sweet bliss then trimmed it in solace you stir yourself and do minor things
Until it’s the bed time hour but instead of the normal lights out its turn away from the computer shut off
The television **** all the lights but one and then just purposely luxuriate in the soft amber glow it
Provides set the rudder to take you to sweet wonder as you drift to unspoken destinations these are
Truly simple joys where the need to be careful comes in we know even creation and all its splendors are
Fragile a great rush of water with four feet of foam froth and power charges down it has a twin that is
Separated by this mass of rock that rises upwards of fifty feet the water falls over it in a different way
These strings of water that cover the face from one side to the other and they are accompanied with the
Sweetest mist so you have this forked water show on both sides of powerful water all this glory of white
Power rushing then falling and then the center piece contrasted to this sense such power and mass and
The water is shear as it tenderly descends the mist is truly natures kiss the sound is the embrace the
Engulfing privilege we possess and own as humans but this could be harmed and ruined in so many sad
Ways thats why we are extraordinarily careful we want to preserve it for all times as human beings my
Friends we also can by indifference and lack of understating can harm friends that in their own right
Are spiritual streams that come from great spiritual head waters that were pristine and then one greater
Than all of us caused such harm and destruction in the purist place a garden I wrote and posted Fertile
Ground the great mind of Lincoln said in his day and he meant it for all of our history a nation as great as
Ours can and must be sustained yes our armies and navy are a part but in his speech He says if
“Destruction be our lot we must ourselves be its author and finisher as a nation of freemen we must
Must live through all time or die by suicide what constitutes the bulwark of our liberty and
Independence it is not our frowning battlements our bristling sea coasts the guns of our war steamers
Or the strength of our gallant and disciplined army these are not our reliance against the resumption of
Tyranny in our fair land all of them may be turned against our liberties without making us stronger
Or weaker for the struggle our reliance is in the love of liberty which God has planted in our bosoms our
Defense is in the preservation of the spirit that prizes liberty as the heritage of all men in all lands
Everywhere destroy this spirit and you have planted the seeds of despotism around you own doors
Familiarize yourselves with the chains of ******* and you are preparing your own limbs to wear them
Accustomed to trample on the right of those around you you become the fit subjects of the first cunning
Tyrant who rises” sound words of wisdom that benefit all men we can’t release our responsibility and
Expect a continuance of our freedom this is careful part of this piece Thomas Jefferson had this to say “I
Tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just and his justice cannot sleep foe ever” what more
Prized possessions do you own than family and friends but if we deny and ignore our duty to be men
And women of righteousness how can we complain when civil authority in all manners deteriorates it
Can stand on no higher moral ground than we the people ourselves maintain we are the streaming
Waters of good or bad that flows through relationships ungodliness is a reproach to any nation by their
Fruits they will be known like it or not eat sins treats fine but know this the soul that sins it shall surely
Die it is a law an all living and loving father died to make sure no one could be a tyrant over you only
Yourselves hold that power every devil in hell can assault you but never can he claim victory until he
Sees the white flag of righteousness flying and it is saying I surrender my life of freedom bought by the
Pure sacrificial lamb God’s own son you could practically tell he was human they whipped him with a cat
Of nine tales with metal and bone he struggled down the Via Dolorosa each step declared your freedom
The song says He could have called ten thousand angels and it wasn’t nails that held your Savior to that
Cruel cross he had the ability to see everyone of us he knew how bitter and hard life would be if you
Walk it without him He said my burden is light and my yoke is easy it might sound obscure today but it is
Just as real walk beyond his love in disobedience and you will be punished by the god of this world and
Then he will take you to his fiery home as his subject I wrote before you are his greatest trophy he has
You on display in his lair because you are the greatest treasure God has not golden streets
You fist loved me and my brothers and sisters the tears that I cry in private it says this is doing the work
Of the savior increase my tears and sorrow because too many of them are hurting and know not your
Comfort lost in a savage world not any longer their own a usurper took them captive love replaced by
Cruelty is their lot if they could only see your painful longing as you look for them to come home every
Day they would truly break ties to this fallen world and fly to your presence they believe the lie that they
Have it figured out what sadness they are left with and they never have tasted your sweet spirit they
Mistake the boundless love they feel as if it were your spirit of intimacy outward love doesn’t reach
Inner depths satisfying to the point one person who cried stop no more I will die his love is truly deeper
Than the sea even the universe and Carl Sagan a man of science he was an American astronomer
Astrophysicist cosmologist author science popularizer science communicator sounds impressive but the
Reality he had an assistant and she had to be brilliant to a degree to be working with him but she was
More she was a born again Christian many were the years she loved and sought to help him not to just
Love the Cosmos but love the one who made them her persistence was to no avail you can make a god
Of many things even science how tragic he can be a warning guard your heart and you will preserve your
Soul

Going to include Fertile Ground that includes Streaks of Jefferson and Most Hated Twins I put on there
Lincoln said we should read such things

This important if you haven’t read it

Fertile Ground
O thou great Jefferson in whom dwelled the fidelity of a nation of free men.
Thy secretes can be viewed as we watch you live and breathe the life of a grand Virginia planter
When one is a student of nature and observes its subtle lessons becomes its master and ally. The next
Step of going to lead men is reasonable when taken into count the natural gifts that were refined in
Quiet fields and hills in lengthy times of treasured solitude that is not to say there won’t be difficulties
But to a merchandiser of lofty thoughts this is of little consequence. There are issues that must be
Divined through the protracted business of hard arduous study. Man’s soul drifts in and out of the valley
And hills taking unconsciously truths that exist they are everywhere but can be buried in life’s clamor.
To purposely walk across a field with your with your senses open will usher you into a place quiet
Unsettling if you are one who is uneasy in your own thoughts because the vistas will allow your mind to
Extend it to the far reaches ordinary thoughts will jump over conventional restraints and give you
Profound insights Jefferson graduated from this school of higher learning for this very important time
This man of stature arose he flung freedom’s door wide open walked through set down at his desk and
Masterfully penned immortal words, to this day time hasn’t diminished any of their importance or there
Revered excellence this document would go unparalleled in type and execution, in forming the basis for
Human conduct it would forever alter the landscape that that had existed before its grand arrival.
The stinginess of former centuries were at long last over the mind had finally
Liberated the body the willingness to do for one’s self had taken the lead there was no
Turning back, these actions would recommend them as a people. Their credentials intact now they were
Ready for the world stage a new birth of nobility walked into the human condition and it wasn’t
In the least bit hesitant to speak thoughts that had long been silenced.
The trouble today stems from the lack of understanding we have about the truth,
Of what oppression would be unleashed if our form of government would be allowed to be dissolved we
Love the dream but deplore the reality. That this system will only work when we are involved. It has a
Built in detection device, you can’t use its rewards without paying it back with service.
The results will be contagious you will be left with a weak sickly government.
The remedy simple everyone has to be its central guardian.
This does not mean that it is weak this was the way it was created it is as strong as you
Are willing to have it know this it will always be dependent on human involvement.
We might not like it but we are making a choice freedom will be loosed or bound by our decision.
The product that we deal with is very supple and ever changeable it becomes whatever form you pour it
Into this is in accordance with its nature it also is a gauge of those that handle its virtues and shows if
You have had reverence or contempt. You will be left with honor or disgrace did you carry forth the gift
Or allow it to waver the children of the next generation are watching.
Streaks of Jefferson
In freedom’s blessed glorified sky through streaks of immortal gold his visage we behold
He looks upon the fields of liberty that he and the founding fathers sowed he sees the
Richness America has become he also beheld her struggles catastrophic wars abroad
And the most painful the one that divided the nation marred it with southern and northern
Blood saw the affable the sad giant Lincoln take the reins of discontent hold them by
Shear will and with uncommon sagacity guided it back in line to fulfill its destiny as the
Powerful fount that would always pour forth waters of freedom for all of earths peoples
Total unconditional acceptance of liberty and all the fruit it bears to establish a
Government like no other this golden grain has waved under bluest skies and brightest
Sun light its rich harvest has gone to darkest prison cells Mandela was sustained by it
For twenty nine years and by its moral purity it fed the lives of those that over threw
Apartied and Mandela finally freed by principals it avows rose from prison clothes
To wear the mantle of president of his country and the honor of the man instilled
Quality that transcended political office Jefferson not to be disrespectful to his progeny
Whispers today’s politicians could do well to look on this African model of good
Stewardship of public trust with that Jefferson faded back into the mist pray that’s
Not the fate of this country
Most hated twins
Who are these two desperate characters revered but feared by all
To make their acutance few will volunteer those who know them well
All can tell by the drawn face and the tears that swell the pool where wisdom has her rule
Achievers welcome them as honored guest they withstood the test now they the richest blest
At mornings first blade of light they strike with all their might they the quickest to fight
Timorous to afraid how many have dwelt by waters undying well only to die unfulfilled
But others tried and they fell the well is to deep its where darkest shadows creep
We will be lost in these new surroundings the familiar there will be water there too
Yes stagnant unmoved guarded for naught its benefit was for the traveler going places
For you it will be your grave marker he talked and talked but venture on never
He said he was the clever one as his countenance slowly turned to stone killed by apathy
Green pastures call to find them in yourself health you will install
Few are they that were meant and born to reside in the same place you must go
If you stay rebuild the common and ordinary your monument then they will admire
Who stood to long and with all intention he gave it only words action was the wonder that was missing
Treading a narrow path in the end if you buried or squandered your talent divine wrath you will face
Cast your seed far and wide how can you not see the need sorrow has them tied
Push back the encircling darkness with the light in your heart that God did endow
Go and answer the door your guides are here I want you to meet two friends Pain and Adversity
Two finer companions you will never know Washington and his men befriended them at Valley Forge Concord, York town. Lincoln met them first at Bull Run Antietam I think he gave a little speech at Gettysburg. One birthed a nation the other saved a divided one.

close girl, you gang leader, take the lead
the question put fake strength to you
and your city pants
to death and times unseen
and documents of forceful
*******, violent steel
but picking vegetables
she lets the cat destroy the hamster
cousin, sister, grandmother haunt
vascillate your color, unhuman hue
find the home of dying friends
and family forgotten
only a spell of eyes can see you close again.

Dogs take new friends abruptly and by smell,
Cats' meetings are neat, tactual, caressive.
Monkeys exchange their fleas before they speak.
Snakes, no doubt, coil by coil reach mutual knowledge.

We then, at first encounter, should be silent;
Not court the cortex but the epidermis;
Not work from inside out but outside in;
Discover each other's flesh, its scent and texture;
Familiarize the sinews and the nerve-ends,
The hands, the hair - before the inept lips open.

Instead of which we are resonant, explicit.
Our words like windows intercept our meaning.
Our four eyes fence and flinch and awkwardly
Wince into shadow, slide oblique to ambush.
Hands stir, retract. The pulse is insulated.
Blood is turned inwards, lonely; skin unhappy ...
While always under all, but interrupted,
Antennae stretch ... waver ... and almost ... touch.

So familiarize what having to swallow this pill is like
It happens all the time, they take your heart and steal your life
And it's as though you feel you've died because you've been killed inside
But yet you're still alive which means you will survive
Although today you may weep because you're weak and
Everything seems so bleek and hopeless
The life that you're seeking, it begins to seep in
That's the only thing keeping you from leaping off the motherfreaking deep end

And I'm pulling for you to push through this feeling
And with a little time that should do the healing
And by tomorrow you may even feel so good that you're willing
To forgive them even after all that **** you been put through.
This feeling of resilience is building.
And the flames are burning quick as fire would.
Through this building. you're sealed in
But you're fireproof, flame retardant, you withstood it.
And as you climb up to the roof, you're just chillin' and you look down
'Cause you're so over them you could put the heel of your foot through the ceiling.

As time passes, things change everyday
But wounds, wounds heal
But scars still remain the same
But tomorrow today's goin' down in flames
Throw the match, set the past ablaze

So feel the fire beneath your feet
As you barely even perspire from the heat
Exhale deep and breathe a sigh of relief
And as you say goodbye to the grief
It's like watching the walls melt in your prison cell
But you've extinguished this living hell
Still a little piece of you dies, you scream..

I thought, "holy **** man, look at yourself". The only change I ever witnessed for 3 years was the scrapings left ringing out on the bar rail. Always reaching out to a pocket for god and finding nothing. "I guess you can't refund the drinks, right?" She didn't laugh. I watched my circle get smaller, tired of the antics and my drinking became the **** of a joke. I watched my circle get smaller, my vision blurred like the future lining with a black viginette and with every drink I watched the bartender familiarize. Another? tap tap an empty bottle uses its manners and mine, with a painted smile. Until close she would become my therapist, and the salary was almost the same for the two after I left. After close the cooks offered sympathetic invites and lackluster conversations at the ******* next door. They laughed and drank and like ***** hawks watched their prey scale a poll like the fire they were fighting was inside. I saw no spark, no love given, no love received. I found it hard to love, when hating myself was the only thing I loved to feel. The grease stained fries were tickling the back of my throat on the last night I went. I found myself puking next to a coke head doing key bumps and I asked through hiccups "does the smell back here not bother you?" he said "what smell?". I wiped my mouth and stumbled home somehow. I kicked broken pieces of pavement and scoffed at the curb-sides hugging garbage. I realized through the streetlights that my shadow wasn't the only darkness following me at night. Out of cigarettes and out of my mind I resented this city for having so many bridges. The screaming trucks below gave some sort of comfort with my feet tangling with the breeze. The stretching hands from out-of-place highway trees grabbed at me and I felt the world rotating. The night that changed me, a three am crosswalk flashed its hand at me, but I kept walking.

Here's my plan
I've thought of it long and hard:

First I'll collect every beautiful word on the planet
listen to every song that contains you
and photographically memorize every child's eyes
every mothers' warmth
every cool breeze
and every single scent of every single field of every newly cut blade of grass
basically, everything that captures the way your fingers feel
when they're wrapped around mine
and I'll take all these and fit them into one cardboard box which I will wrap and prettify
and morph into a poem
which I will end
with stars.

I will then give it to the mailman, who'll read it and know
that it's all about you
and he'll travel the world
searching, going into the places where I failed to go
and find you sitting
the way you do
with both feet up
on the stool
your knees bent
and your face contorted the way only your face can ever be contorted.

He will hand you the poem and you will read it
and know that I am still here,
and you will be moved
and fall in love with me again.

Then you'd begin searching for me though I already told you where I'd always be
and once you remember, you'll find me
and tell me that you've read my poem about mothers and their tender hands
and children with their bright eyes
and the grass which already says it all in itself
and also,
stars
and most importantly you'll tell me that you want me to write the rest of it
because there is so much more we can do together beyond the stars
and I will look at you as you tell me this
and try to familiarize myself with the face I've never had to familiarize myself with before
and I'll stand there watching your lips move
your chest heaving from each breath
and notice that they've changed and somehow I will seem to know that my mouth would not know how to fit into yours
and my head will have to move about a bit to find that nook on your chest it used to be glued too

and I will read that poem back
and then I'll see that just like your lips and your chest, all the words have changed
and that the person that I actually wrote it for
has already failed to exist the moment I penned
the last word

and so I end this poem
with stars.

I familiarize myself with the feeling
Because home never felt so distant
I will familiarize myself with my body
And hug the tight curves
And soft imperfect flesh walls
Scarred bruised burned and cratered
This is what home is
This is where I will live
It shouldn’t feel like I’m moving in all over again
But I’ve wanted to move out so many times
I will listen to my arm
It whispers sweet nothings into the holes
Scattered across my body
I live in the walls that cover my eyes
I do leave often though
Not forever

Passionate
The image of you is engraved in my mind
Each piece is essential to your being
I wouldn't compromise a thing  
Obsessive*

Observant
I will familiarize myself with your likes and dislikes
Push your buttons just right,
In order for you to hate me just as much as you love me
Manipulative

Misunderstood
Mystery and suspicion thrive within my tense bones
I just want your love
And your tears
*Self-destructive

hey. the morning skies looked like they held the secret ingredient for a perfect day. should have taken that as a bad sign. harmless mornings don't always translate into lenient nights. i think i'll never get over this hurdle that keeps appearing on my chest. i'm always anticipating that the ship we're on is bound to crash and sink even when the seas are calm. i'm tired of looking for handkerchiefs in the places we cried in, or in waiting for an embrace after falling off a cliff. i knew that it would hurt, but you were supposed to make the impact a little less painful. i think i'll always long for that reassurance that never came. you made me familiarize abandonment. who wouldn't? when you always sailed away every time i needed an anchor. this was supposed to be another apology letter, you know. even if you should be the one doing the apologizing. well, here goes my apology. but only because this turned out to be a confession. and... **** it, i admit, i, too, have failed to do right by you.

Rock me gently
to the memories
of yester-past
as they leave your mouth
with nostalgic melodies
that tuned my days
with smiles

Run your hand through my hair
and untangle all sense of doubt
it won't be easy, my hair is curly
knotted and messy
and your fingers will have to smooth
them, to make their way to the end

Slide your hand up my spine
and enjoy the ups and downs
of every vertebrae, leading all the way
to my shoulders, broad and standing tall
they had to be, always.. for you
but sometimes, they did sway

Silhouette my curve
and familiarize yourself
with my body, the one that screams
"woman", and not "just for fun"

Cup my face
with hands whose past
vandalized your image
with graffitis of hate
and feel as my cheeks
burst with heat, the kind
that warms the coldest of moments

Lock your eyes on mine
and drown in the well of feelings
I have held for so long
I have circled it with beautiful blue hue
just to cover, what's been there

Slowly slide your fingers
down my neck, where my nerves
would melt for your lips
they would shut down their impulses
and bask under the soft feeling of your kiss

Rest your hand on my chest
and tame my heart that's gone wild
unsure of reality, it just reverted to insanity
my ribcage can only hold so much
my heart remembers, my heart feels
rest your hand on my chest
and feel the cracking noises of a once broken heart
glued together for someone special
maybe with potential, but this heart
was always careful
and beat for no one the way it once did


Make your way to my belly
who was starving for attention
days and nights alcohol infused
hoping you'd tell me I look pretty

Embrace my waist
pull me closer,
a big bang is in the making
I feel the energy burning
the stars are shooting
everyone's wishes are coming true
the world is anew
there's unexplainable energy
in your finger tips
on my skin
in our eyes
I feel it
going in circles,
orbiting ....

"I love you"
it slipped, you said

Open your eyes
look at the skies
a new universe
has been created

We've built a house like we recognize each other's walls, we felt safe on every corner where we familiarize ourselves too well; it's the anatomy of us. Our limbs where we cling to were as fragile as the heart I sculpt its own cracks, This body is malleable, it just grew mimicking what the others have— the fragments of what I love, my flesh, my soul and my curve haven't left untouched.

I shouldn't have grown into you, like this body doesn't belong to myself anymore.

The thing about inseparability is that you spend so many sleepless nights trying to familiarize yourself with each and every reason he named the arrangement of those walls "home" and when you finally leave (the candy bowl, the green Christmas lights, the keyboard, the twin size mattress, the bathroom cabinet),
Kenopsia lies in the forgotten combination code and you're left blankly staring at your front door and the splinter in your foot from the plywood floor and the unexpectedly obnoxious ding of the microwave and the look on your moms face when you have to ask which forks are in which drawer and when your cat paws at your tangled headphones but runs when you try to pet her and you remember that she is actually a he and you had to change his name because Matilda wasn't unisex enough for your niece, who's been making all A's in school, no thanks to you, even after the help you promised her was never provided, much like the bowling nights and painting mornings you once planned with her.
And you can't sleep at night because your arms aren't flexible enough to wrap themselves around your torso and rest beneath your neck like his did and your bed makes an unfamiliar screech each time you toss or turn or stretch, or blink, or take a breath and the light can't be turned off with a click of a button and the room is too cold without a radiating body next to you to fill the frigid air with warm words about running toward city lights, and you realize that you've dreamed of a home your entire life and you thought you'd never found it and maybe you still haven't but you've built a structure with his bones and use his curls as blankets,
but what the three little pigs didn't warn you of was that all it takes is a cloudy day to birth a storm strong enough to rip the ribs off their hinges.
The storm hasn't hit home yet, but it's almost hurricane season, and you can't remember where your dad always hid the flashlights from your niece; and light is shed on the fact that darkness houses vulnerability.

your'e learning to live out the reflection you see as if your only audience were the mirror, pointing out your third degree burns just to say you’re not the only one with bones melting in trust issues,
God is wondering why he set flame to things that gave a ****,
then he wonders why you ran up to him without introducing yourself first, screaming, shouting; questioning his existence like we question our own. we found answers underneath our skin like metal, you said we build homes in ourselves but that isnt what I found, not close
you’ve been knocking on god’s door and theres no answer, 7 years later and your heel is tapping against the table so violently driven by sole anxiety, your eyes are drawn straight ahead of you, the whiskey bottle on the table remains out of focus, the liquid nearly gone but it has a presence, its there, its shaking too. its then that you realize home was wet pavement, humid august days and cigarette smoke, maybe it wasn’t so chemical but maybe i was just addicted to sharing one with you. am i not supposed to question the reason behind my principal telling my i'm schizophrenic? was i not supposed to confide in my pen to teach me how to let go? i’m sorry i thought the bible was unnerving, i wasn’t meant for unclenched fists. i’m sorry for taking love for granted, im sorry im so numb now, i wasn’t meant for paralysis, or self diagnosis, i’m memorizing facts about myself because i’ve forgotten who i was. theres a reason why the phrase goes “god awful” and theres a reason i’ve always wanted to match thunder’s harmonies, why i’ve wanted to uproot my soul and plant a new one, why love hit like you slamming down your bedroom door at the thought of me with someone new.
you want to know why the clock stopped ticking? i dropped it. the weight you lost from not eating for a week became a new weight of burden on my shoulders, my headache convulsed itself into a full on, blood-pulsing, body-ache. why could you never pronounce the name of the abandoned building you chose to explore?
i don’t want to speak in metaphorical tones any longer, stop telling me i speak poetry, because tomorrow night when i’ve far too finished my bottle of ***** the creases of my bed sheets will be shouting and whispering your name all at once, something i cant tolerate, my back is too broken from sleeping on the floor too frequently, already. my mind is every burnt out match you've ever used, i want to send postcards to every person who ever thought i had a chance. every contraction of silence, i feel it, every movement of living its overwhelming, i see it, i hear it, there is no end. there's no resemblance to the way i should be living. i’m trying to familiarize myself with the way i used to breathe without the effort, it’s not like that anymore.
you're an alcoholic, living in a ghost town of who you used to be. i'm walking the dusted roads finding recollections of things you used to care about, i still haven't found myself, i question if i ever will. you’ve shattered all the street lamps, you’ve smashed windows of buildings you’ve built, you’ve personally kicked over mailboxes and ran through redlights and you’ve deleted the word hope from your limited vocabulary and i’m sick of mediocre people who think writing is for the weak.
next time you notice my ghost, **** it.
the other night i watched you sit down at an old piano, it refused to play, you began to cry, it reminded me of the way you loved me, it’s too late for me to turn the lights back on, don’t you see i’m dead? i’m navigating my way without eyesight, i’ve stumbled on two too many tables and now my poetry is only available in the form of bashing my head against the walls until they begin to speak.
our love was clockwork. silly, time-ticking abomination of something that fizzled out beneath itself, we said it wouldn’t happen, i pretended like i didn't see it coming, we wouldn’t let it, we did. i’ve spent too much time checking your astrological sign's forecast, predicting you, but how interesting to think i’m not even guaranteed another hour-
do i want to be?

take heart.

be strong.

be still.


hold on to

that spark

they call hope


hold on

and

never.

let.

go.


familiarize your eyes

with freedom.


make your heart known

to all that is pleasing and pure


be strong and courageous.

it's not over yet.


take heart.


it's

not.

over.

yet.

Pain is nothing but a series of ever-growing rooms. We all start off in a small room, sometimes a broom closet or maybe even the crawl space. It’s in room one where we learn about scraped knees, broken bones, bruises, and illness. Once we've learned about the beginning of pain we move forward into the next room.
It’s a lot like the last room, only bigger and harsher. Again the process is repeated but with heartbreak, betrayal, depression, self-harm, and anxiety as the key wounds of room two.
Once those have been conquered room three becomes available. Theft, ****, attempted suicide, and addiction reside in its musty corners. And again we familiarize and learn about these mounting pains broadening our empathy.
Of course not everyone follows the same linear path. People end up jumping from room one to room three before even setting foot in room two. Others might find themselves having to double back to the same room over and over again.  
The furthest I've ventured is room three. Every day I find myself pacing within its four walls trying to make sense of my hurt so I can move onward to room four. I’m not even sure I want to though. One room leads to another larger room. The only difference is the severity of the pain.

Falling freely has become a specialty.
A long, painstaking journey from the top has become routine.
Almost as routine as tying your shoes.
Just think about it.
You take a pair of shoes out of a closet daily.
You place your left foot in the left shoe, and mirror that with your right.
Your feet familiarize themselves with the rubber insole within.
You take both laces in your hand, both possibly resembling a small, hairy animal going around a tree.
Now, instead of tying those laces, take them and make a noose.
Fixate said noose around your neck and tie it.
And whenever someone asks what the most important piece of advice you learned during your fall from the top,
Tell them this:
“If the shoe fits, wear it.”

Funerals for him is killing loneliness
He sets the alarm clocks in time for the announcements:
If familiarize with the names of the dearly departed:
he lights up like the light on Broadway:

The dearly departed is at rest: his struggles with reality,
of how the world runs: is unsettling:

the funerals arrangements is always the same:
The tone of the announcers : slow and gloomy,

Black and white would always be the traditional attires,
and the hymn ash to ashes will echo in ones ears,
so long as the tears flow slowly throughout the services:

As they lower the leveler into the ground,
they are gone but not forgotten:  R.I.P

Poet and death titles,
Death shall have no hold on me,
Death shall not make me sad,
I refused to mourn death: and that's the truth about me

Drinking and eating after the services: Is it a good gesture?
From soak tissues to soggy appetizers: the crowd pleasers
From the wet cemetery: to the living rooms floors

Poets feel and see the irony:
As they sat in their black and white attire, eating and drinking
Mount Gay or cold Banks beers:

The colorful graveyard welcomes another tenant:
Funeral for him is killing loneliness
He set the alarm in time for the announcements.
Fear man, not the dead: we two are so incompatible

**Regardless of whom you are or where you’ve been
You can be what you want to be. W. cement

Filled out the empty spaces
to almost but never
Never been enough of almost
As closed as we face each other
but too far away
I can't even get your name
nor I don't know
how could I get closer to you?
I'm such a loser
I'm such a desperate
But I'm a coward afterall
All I know is to stare at you
All I know is to examined
the unfamiliar face
I see everyday
to be familiarize.
By the look of your eyes
It's all in the ocean, somehow
drowned me that maybe I could
fall at any moment or any time
Not possible. It's hard to believe
I just can't even get over it,
It's written on my head.

Hidden behind transparent looking glasses,
she chases red rabbits with ticking hands.

When she nears them,
she feels the wings beneath her bones awakening from their chronic slumber and her hands suddenly burn with the memory of what it’s like to familiarize.

Empty mailboxes and ink stained fingers;
her eyes furiously avoid the image of her palms.
One pair will never be enough.

The door to her conscious transforms into an empty battlefield.
Listen close and hear only the tangled whispers of her former lovers,
for it was they who birthed this war beneath her skin.

Angst trickles slowly into her chest,
filling the new found void.

She had learned to love her temple.
Saw a friendly face every time she encountered her reflection;
understood why it was important to reach this nirvana first.

But like the fostered youth,
there are only so many times one can take back their unwanted pieces without losing them all entirely.

Blue heart beating silently,
she awaits the season where all her colours will change.
Fall.

listen to me.
a gathering of words to entrap a moment
that cannot be
otherwise enveloped into something
comprehensible
obtainable
something to last you forever
it will not fade or disappear or leave you
empty again.
you take to the hearts desire
though you can barely understand your own
for what you truly want is deep within you
dying to be noticed
crumbling against the locked walls
you hear it calling in your sleepless dreams
burning your breath
blowing smoke rings into your eyes.
see through the mirror of your heartache
and into
a wondrous feeling of undeniable beauty
one that will lift you from this carefully
placed void of uncomfortable drought
into a greater wanting
a meaningful desire for something
pure, radiant and enamored.
it flows through the sounds that caress your
staggering thoughts
caught in the undertow of your minds
machine
they play relentlessly, over and over
until you’ve uncovered them in a moment of
clarity and perspective
suddenly the words you’re saying seem to
have
the same intention your heart follows
a mutual moment of everlasting truth.
and maybe if you release the feeling through
your body,
more.
soon your heart will lift itself from the burden
you’ve placed
against it, the burden risen
recognize it, familiarize it and set it free.
an inhaled sensation of weightlessness
as the person that surrounds you in the
smoke comes to you
a guided light, harboring your love
and only yours
and the words you speak will be kindly and
breathable
for a moment you will have what you’ve
always needed
you will feel it overtake you with an eager
electricity

(This is not mine but i felt the need to share it)

I want to retreat
To my warm childhood home

But like a boy at sea                                                    
I seek adventure.
I want to bend without breaking
To take risks with consequence
I need to meddle my way
Into hard places
Then learn how to worm
My way out once again.
I need to fail a few tests
Crack a few bones
Get into a scuffle or two.  

Today,
I'm just a Robin bird
Suffocating securely
Under a mother's wing.
I familiarize myself
With only mild discomfort
And synthetic tears
Anything more would be classified as living
And living seem a terrible fate.

it is getting to the point where  I am going to die
because with each step we take farther from each other
I feel my hear strings draw taut
they will not snap, the ties that we had a stronger than twine
they must be spider webs
1,000 times stronger than steel

and I'm stuck here, I've stopped running away from you

so each step you will not cut our ties
only tear my heart
and I understand that you can't stand to associate with me anymore
but just keep a steady pace
so I can familiarize myself with the rhythm
of a breaking heart

i saw the results of an amateur study claiming to measure which religion cares the most about the homeless by the amount of money dropped into a variety of bowls with each religion labeled and laid out in front of a beggar.

i propose that money is not an accurate measurement of caring in this situation.  the following points could also be applied to raising children and/or running our education system... here is my argument:

----------

money is not the most accurate measure of caring in this situation.

for example, if a child has not yet learned to walk, and you want the child to walk (you care) you have these options:

1. use money to pay someone to manipulate the child's legs or build an expensive apparatus that performs the task of walking for the child

2. use knowledge and training to encourage the child to familiarize themselves with the mechanics of walking.

3. do nothing, just observe.

each method may have a different result..

1. the child walks, although this stops when the manipulator stops.  this is a solution, although the child probably didn't learn anything. he may have made a new friend, but he is dependent on that friend... payments must be made perpetually to achieve the goal we care about.. alot of money is needed to maintain this type of caring... it may never end because skills may never be learned.

2. the child struggles. the child gets frustrated. the child gets motivated to overcome the frustration. the child's learns how to follow instructions.  eventually the child acclimates himself to the mechanics of walking. the child walks.  the goal we care about is achieved. we no longer have to concern ourselves with the goal in any way, shape, or form.

3.  the child struggles.  the child gets frustrated.  the child gets motivated to overcome the frustration.  the child either falls into desperation and gives up or learns how to be innovative and resourceful.. discovering the mechanics of walking by trial and error.

scenario 1
the throw money at it scenario may be the most commonly accepted form of caring, although it is often the worst at achieving the goals we care about.

scenario 2
the structured training scenario can be good at achieving the goals we care about, although there could still be a level of dependency here if/when new problems are encountered that aren't covered by the training.

scenario 3
the hands off scenario has both the greatest and the worst potential.  the goals we care about may be achieved or the subject may be lost entirely.  if the goals are achieved, the subject is likely to be very prepared to take on any new or unexpected problems encountered.

the most appropriate approach may be in the form of a combination of scenario 2 and scenario 3...  providing knowledge/training to overcome a problem only when the subject is leaning towards desperation/giving up... one must determine, however, whether the subject that has given up can be remotivated.

so you see, lack of monetary donation does not equate to a lack of caring.  and i do realize that "training" involves money although it's not money put directly in a beggars bowl.

the measurement depicted seems to be more of an inverse representation of the wisdom and problem solving capabilities of the average followers of said groups

I didn't want to go out last night but here I am with my best friend and her man.

It was interesting to watch them.
Even from far away you could see it.
They were just drunk.
And this was before any beverage had been had.
They were drunk off each other.

The way they laughed.
The way they kept sneaking glances at each other.
It was so obvious.

The way theyd get so close to each other, with a nervousness hidden behind some kind of subtle excitement.

Even if I had been blind I could see that they found each other utterly intoxicating.

I knew they'd had been trying to tone it down because of me, what divorcing the love of my life and being simply bitter. But the look in their eyes brought tears to my eyes as I could familiarize when I too felt the same way.

Prone to the darkness,guess
That's why my heart succumbed
To the shadow. I thought giving in was fated,yielding to the blackness was all
I needed to do!now its provin to be detrimental.
The destructive forces have become my warders. I curl up wth my hands tight around my stomach,tormented by the placebo effect.
Day & Night I feel my soul slowly escaping
from the cage that I once called my body
I like it though here
The deserted corners of fear street
Have become sweet home to me
Forged to accept these demons as cousins
I no longer fight it
Guess they were right
Familiarize yourself with the devils and the devil shall not scare u

You know sometimes I need to re-familiarize exactly what was so present i have realized.
Correlating between these eyes.
A delicate beautiful world arises upon a soul you became to adore.
May wield caution with a heart I pour.
Her atmosphere  tends to bewilder you,
Be wary of her fragile nature.
As I construct  this sentence  to construe.
As I trace the portraiture of her.
The subtle silence of her breaths resonates  unspoken words you are face upon.
Its a tragedy of the death of such expressions that belong.
As they seem to lose there authenticity.
Admittedly  i confess she may be just a mystery.
Along with the nights that transmute to day, except  ill never stray.
Time lost in the conjuction ..
Just can't help to notice the foreign Construction of her essence.
As it may appear as a pleasance.
Don't get to entranced.
Cause you just may miss the chance.  
As appealing as her resonation seems.
A composure  to redeem as I drift upon her dream.