Come queen of months in company
Wi all thy merry minstrelsy
The restless cuckoo absent long
And twittering swallows chimney song
And hedge row crickets notes that run
From every bank that fronts the sun
And swathy bees about the grass
That stops wi every bloom they pass
And every minute every hour
Keep teazing weeds that wear a flower
And toil and childhoods humming joys
For there is music in the noise
The village childern mad for sport
In school times leisure ever short
That crick and catch the bouncing ball
And run along the church yard wall
Capt wi rude figured slabs whose claims
In times bad memory hath no names
Oft racing round the nookey church
Or calling ecchos in the porch
And jilting oer the weather ****
Viewing wi jealous eyes the clock
Oft leaping grave stones leaning hights
Uncheckt wi mellancholy sights
The green grass swelld in many a heap
Where kin and friends and parents sleep
Unthinking in their jovial cry
That time shall come when they shall lye
As lowly and as still as they
While other boys above them play
Heedless as they do now to know
The unconcious dust that lies below
The shepherd goes wi happy stride
Wi moms long shadow by his side
Down the dryd lanes neath blooming may
That once was over shoes in clay
While martins twitter neath his eves
Which he at early morning leaves
The driving boy beside his team
Will oer the may month beauty dream
And **** his hat and turn his eye
On flower and tree and deepning skye
And oft bursts loud in fits of song
And whistles as he reels along
Cracking his whip in starts of joy
A happy ***** driving boy
The youth who leaves his corner stool
Betimes for neighbouring village school
While as a mark to urge him right
The church spires all the way in sight
Wi cheerings from his parents given
Starts neath the joyous smiles of heaven
And sawns wi many an idle stand
Wi bookbag swinging in his hand
And gazes as he passes bye
On every thing that meets his eye
Young lambs seem tempting him to play
Dancing and bleating in his way
Wi trembling tails and pointed ears
They follow him and loose their fears
He smiles upon their sunny faces
And feign woud join their happy races
The birds that sing on bush and tree
Seem chirping for his company
And all in fancys idle whim
Seem keeping holiday but him
He lolls upon each resting stile
To see the fields so sweetly smile
To see the wheat grow green and long
And list the weeders toiling song
Or short note of the changing thrush
Above him in the white thorn bush
That oer the leaning stile bends low
Loaded wi mockery of snow
Mozzld wi many a lushing thread
Of crab tree blossoms delicate red
He often bends wi many a wish
Oer the brig rail to view the fish
Go sturting by in sunny gleams
And chucks in the eye dazzld streams
Crumbs from his pocket oft to watch
The swarming struttle come to catch
Them where they to the bottom sile
Sighing in fancys joy the while
Hes cautiond not to stand so nigh
By rosey milkmaid tripping bye
Where he admires wi fond delight
And longs to be there mute till night
He often ventures thro the day
At truant now and then to play
Rambling about the field and plain
Seeking larks nests in the grain
And picking flowers and boughs of may
To hurd awhile and throw away
Lurking neath bushes from the sight
Of tell tale eyes till schools noon night
Listing each hour for church clocks hum
To know the hour to wander home
That parents may not think him long
Nor dream of his rude doing wrong
Dreading thro the night wi dreaming pain
To meet his masters wand again
Each hedge is loaded thick wi green
And where the hedger late hath been
Tender shoots begin to grow
From the mossy stumps below
While sheep and cow that teaze the grain
will nip them to the root again
They lay their bill and mittens bye
And on to other labours hie
While wood men still on spring intrudes
And thins the shadow solitudes
Wi sharpend axes felling down
The oak trees budding into brown
Where as they crash upon the ground
A crowd of labourers gather round
And mix among the shadows dark
To rip the crackling staining bark
From off the tree and lay when done
The rolls in lares to meet the sun
Depriving yearly where they come
The green wood pecker of its home
That early in the spring began
Far from the sight of troubling man
And bord their round holes in each tree
In fancys sweet security
Till startld wi the woodmans noise
It wakes from all its dreaming joys
The blue bells too that thickly bloom
Where man was never feared to come
And smell smocks that from view retires
**** rustling leaves and bowing briars
And stooping lilys of the valley
That comes wi shades and dews to dally
White beady drops on slender threads
Wi broad hood leaves above their heads
Like white robd maids in summer hours
Neath umberellas shunning showers
These neath the barkmens crushing treads
Oft perish in their blooming beds
Thus stript of boughs and bark in white
Their trunks shine in the mellow light
Beneath the green surviving trees
That wave above them in the breeze
And waking whispers slowly bends
As if they mournd their fallen friends
Each morning now the weeders meet
To cut the thistle from the wheat
And ruin in the sunny hours
Full many wild weeds of their flowers
Corn poppys that in crimson dwell
Calld ‘head achs’ from their sickly smell
And carlock yellow as the sun
That oer the may fields thickly run
And ‘iron ****’ content to share
The meanest spot that spring can spare
Een roads where danger hourly comes
Is not wi out its purple blooms
And leaves wi points like thistles round
Thickset that have no strength to wound
That shrink to childhoods eager hold
Like hair—and with its eye of gold
And scarlet starry points of flowers
Pimpernel dreading nights and showers
Oft calld ‘the shepherds weather glass’
That sleep till suns have dyd the grass
Then wakes and spreads its creeping bloom
Till clouds or threatning shadows come
Then close it shuts to sleep again
Which weeders see and talk of rain
And boys that mark them shut so soon
will call them ‘John go bed at noon
And fumitory too a name
That superstition holds to fame
Whose red and purple mottled flowers
Are cropt by maids in weeding hours
To boil in water milk and way1
For washes on an holiday
To make their beauty fair and sleak
And scour the tan from summers cheek
And simple small forget me not
Eyd wi a pinshead yellow spot
I’th’ middle of its tender blue
That gains from poets notice due
These flowers the toil by crowds destroys
And robs them of their lowly joys
That met the may wi hopes as sweet
As those her suns in gardens meet
And oft the dame will feel inclind
As childhoods memory comes to mind
To turn her hook away and spare
The blooms it lovd to gather there
My wild field catalogue of flowers
Grows in my ryhmes as thick as showers
Tedious and long as they may be
To some, they never weary me
The wood and mead and field of grain
I coud hunt oer and oer again
And talk to every blossom wild
Fond as a parent to a child
And cull them in my childish joy
By swarms and swarms and never cloy
When their lank shades oer morning pearls
Shrink from their lengths to little girls
And like the clock hand pointing one
Is turnd and tells the morning gone
They leave their toils for dinners hour
Beneath some hedges bramble bower
And season sweet their savory meals
Wi joke and tale and merry peals
Of ancient tunes from happy tongues
While linnets join their fitful songs
Perchd oer their heads in frolic play
Among the tufts of motling may
The young girls whisper things of love
And from the old dames hearing move
Oft making ‘love knotts’ in the shade
Of blue green oat or wheaten blade
And trying simple charms and spells
That rural superstition tells
They pull the little blossom threads
From out the knapweeds button heads
And put the husk wi many a smile
In their white bosoms for awhile
Who if they guess aright the swain
That loves sweet fancys trys to gain
Tis said that ere its lain an hour
Twill blossom wi a second flower
And from her white ******* hankerchief
Bloom as they ne’er had lost a leaf
When signs appear that token wet
As they are neath the bushes met
The girls are glad wi hopes of play
And harping of the holiday
A hugh blue bird will often swim
Along the wheat when skys grow dim
Wi clouds—slow as the gales of spring
In motion wi dark shadowd wing
Beneath the coming storm it sails
And lonly chirps the wheat hid quails
That came to live wi spring again
And start when summer browns the grain
They start the young girls joys afloat
Wi ‘wet my foot’ its yearly note
So fancy doth the sound explain
And proves it oft a sign of rain
About the moor ‘**** sheep and cow
The boy or old man wanders now
Hunting all day wi hopful pace
Each thick sown rushy thistly place
For plover eggs while oer them flye
The fearful birds wi teazing cry
Trying to lead their steps astray
And coying him another way
And be the weather chill or warm
Wi brown hats truckd beneath his arm
Holding each prize their search has won
They plod bare headed to the sun
Now dames oft bustle from their wheels
Wi childern scampering at their heels
To watch the bees that hang and swive
In clumps about each thronging hive
And flit and thicken in the light
While the old dame enjoys the sight
And raps the while their warming pans
A spell that superstition plans
To coax them in the garden bounds
As if they lovd the tinkling sounds
And oft one hears the dinning noise
Which dames believe each swarm decoys
Around each village day by day
Mingling in the warmth of may
Sweet scented herbs her skill contrives
To rub the bramble platted hives
Fennels thread leaves and crimpld balm
To scent the new house of the swarm
The thresher dull as winter days
And lost to all that spring displays
Still mid his barn dust forcd to stand
Swings his frail round wi weary hand
While oer his head shades thickly creep
And hides the blinking owl asleep
And bats in cobweb corners bred
Sharing till night their murky bed
The sunshine trickles on the floor
Thro every crevice of the door
And makes his barn where shadows dwell
As irksome as a prisoners cell
And as he seeks his daily meal
As schoolboys from their tasks will steal
ile often stands in fond delay
To see the daisy in his way
And wild weeds flowering on the wall
That will his childish sports recall
Of all the joys that came wi spring
The twirling top the marble ring
The gingling halfpence hussld up
At pitch and toss the eager stoop
To pick up heads, the smuggeld plays
Neath hovels upon sabbath days
When parson he is safe from view
And clerk sings amen in his pew
The sitting down when school was oer
Upon the threshold by his door
Picking from mallows sport to please
Each crumpld seed he calld a cheese
And hunting from the stackyard sod
The stinking hen banes belted pod
By youths vain fancys sweetly fed
Christning them his loaves of bread
He sees while rocking down the street
Wi weary hands and crimpling feet
Young childern at the self same games
And hears the self same simple names
Still floating on each happy tongue
Touchd wi the simple scene so strong
Tears almost start and many a sigh
Regrets the happiness gone bye
And in sweet natures holiday
His heart is sad while all is gay
How lovly now are lanes and balks
For toils and lovers sunday walks
The daisey and the buttercup
For which the laughing childern stoop
A hundred times throughout the day
In their rude ramping summer play
So thickly now the pasture crowds
In gold and silver sheeted clouds
As if the drops in april showers
Had woo’d the sun and swoond to flowers
The brook resumes its summer dresses
Purling neath grass and water cresses
And mint and flag leaf swording high
Their blooms to the unheeding eye
And taper bowbent hanging rushes
And horse tail childerns bottle brushes
And summer tracks about its brink
Is fresh again where cattle drink
And on its sunny bank the swain
Stretches his idle length again
Soon as the sun forgets the day
The moon looks down on the lovly may
And the little star his friend and guide
Travelling together side by side
And the seven stars and charleses wain
Hangs smiling oer green woods agen
The heaven rekindles all alive
Wi light the may bees round the hive
Swarm not so thick in mornings eye
As stars do in the evening skye
All all are nestling in their joys
The flowers and birds and pasture boys
The firetail, long a stranger, comes
To his last summer haunts and homes
To hollow tree and crevisd wall
And in the grass the rails odd call
That featherd spirit stops the swain
To listen to his note again
And school boy still in vain retraces
The secrets of his hiding places
In the black thorns crowded copse
Thro its varied turns and stops
The nightingale its ditty weaves
Hid in a multitude of leaves
The boy stops short to hear the strain
And ’sweet jug jug’ he mocks again
The yellow hammer builds its nest
By banks where sun beams earliest rest
That drys the dews from off the grass
Shading it from all that pass
Save the rude boy wi ferret gaze
That hunts thro evry secret maze
He finds its pencild eggs agen
All streakd wi lines as if a pen
By natures freakish hand was took
To scrawl them over like a book
And from these many mozzling marks
The school boy names them ‘writing larks’
*** barrels twit on bush and tree
Scarse bigger then a bumble bee
And in a white thorns leafy rest
It builds its curious pudding-nest
Wi hole beside as if a mouse
Had built the little barrel house
Toiling full many a lining feather
And bits of grey tree moss together
Amid the noisey rooky park
Beneath the firdales branches dark
The little golden crested wren
Hangs up his glowing nest agen
And sticks it to the furry leaves
As martins theirs beneath the eaves
The old hens leave the roost betimes
And oer the garden pailing climbs
To scrat the gardens fresh turnd soil
And if unwatchd his crops to spoil
Oft cackling from the prison yard
To peck about the houseclose sward
Catching at butterflys and things
Ere they have time to try their wings
The cattle feels the breath of may
And kick and toss their heads in play
The *** beneath his bags of sand
Oft jerks the string from leaders hand
And on the road will eager stoop
To pick the sprouting thistle up
Oft answering on his weary way
Some distant neighbours sobbing bray
Dining the ears of driving boy
As if he felt a fit of joy
Wi in its pinfold circle left
Of all its company bereft
Starvd stock no longer noising round
Lone in the nooks of foddering ground
Each skeleton of lingering stack
By winters tempests beaten black
Nodds upon props or bolt upright
Stands swarthy in the summer light
And oer the green grass seems to lower
Like stump of old time wasted tower
All that in winter lookd for hay
Spread from their batterd haunts away
To pick the grass or lye at lare
Beneath the mild hedge shadows there
Sweet month that gives a welcome call
To toil and nature and to all
Yet one day mid thy many joys
Is dead to all its sport and noise
Old may day where’s thy glorys gone
All fled and left thee every one
Thou comst to thy old haunts and homes
Unnoticd as a stranger comes
No flowers are pluckt to hail the now
Nor cotter seeks a single bough
The maids no more on thy sweet morn
Awake their thresholds to adorn
Wi dewey flowers—May locks new come
And princifeathers cluttering bloom
And blue bells from the woodland moss
And cowslip cucking ***** to toss
Above the garlands swinging hight
Hang in the soft eves sober light
These maid and child did yearly pull
By many a folded apron full
But all is past the merry song
Of maidens hurrying along
To crown at eve the earliest cow
Is gone and dead and silent now
The laugh raisd at the mocking thorn
Tyd to the cows tail last that morn
The kerchief at arms length displayd
Held up by pairs of swain and maid
While others bolted underneath
Bawling loud wi panting breath
‘Duck under water’ as they ran
Alls ended as they ne’er began
While the new thing that took thy place
Wears faded smiles upon its face
And where enclosure has its birth
It spreads a mildew oer her mirth
The herd no longer one by one
Goes plodding on her morning way
And garlands lost and sports nigh gone
Leaves her like thee a common day
Yet summer smiles upon thee still
Wi natures sweet unalterd will
And at thy births unworshipd hours
Fills her green lap wi swarms of flowers
To crown thee still as thou hast been
Of spring and summer months the queen

Many chances i got in my life,
But my stubbornness kept me lonly in my life,
How can i promise my life with anyone,
As i will be turning soon into no one.

looking
across the waters
as you stood
upon the shore,

a warm feeling
your only comfort.

shadows of
a distant past
so long before.

memories
now fresh
of love undone,
the mingling
of two hearts
that beat as one.

sights
and sounds
and vague imaginings
that passed so long ago,

a time of love
so seldom had
that few have come to know.

me,
i was fine
up to the time
that you gathered me aside,
speaking of matters
so far from thought,

of how
your mind
and spirit fought,

and how you cannot
accept the time
although your heart
has recieved a sign.

why
do you
unplug my ears
and open my eyes

if not
selfishly
to console your fears
and subdue your sighs.

were
you tired
of being lonly
standing in spirit
by the sea,

are you
crying out
for you only
or are you
calling out for me.

what purpose served
in judging so quickly,
so swiftly,
so much.

why
make us
within arms reach
when you remain
so out of touch.

you run
at the sound
of love's
unfinished call,

then turn
on your heel
and unsure
of your direction,
you stall.

hiding
in your craft
to appease your muse,

the oils
they dry so slow.

creating visions
of what you choose,
still,
not always
of what you know.

ships and bluffs
and the face of love,
the canvas
again and again will change.

images of
a sea so rough
and a love
determined to remain.

paint me
out of the picture,
paint another man over me,

it will not change
that it was me
that stood aboard
that ship
below the cliff
that you stood upon.

behind you
the rolling highlands
of our beloved scotland,

while below you
the thickness of mist
hides that we list
and are going down.

then waves crashing
and men thrashing,
don't you know
that i have drowned.

your
tears add
to the
vastness
of the sea,

i know
that although
you cry for you
you also cry for me.

paint dries faster
than the tears
you have shed,

for a heart
cannot master
a love
that is not dead.

i wish
that you had
been spared
the wait,

knowing what
it is to grieve.

you felt you only
standing at the gate
though hand in hand with me.

if
i could have
kissed your cheek
to take away your pain.

for i
would do
anything for you,
even die again...

© 2000
© 2000

Why is it every time you live somewhere it feels like your not wanted. Even with your parents or parent you feel like your not wanted. Even if you try your best to make everyone happy and accept you still dont feel wanted. I guess when you let go of people that do hurt you you feel even lonlier because u dont have them hurting alot.Its like an empty space in your life which i guess would be good because its not any pain but your so use to it it feels like your missing a big piece in your life.Because your so use to taking the blame and dealing with the hurt. You want it back so you dont feel lonly but you dont want it back because it is nice not having everything be blamed on you even if you didnt do it. Guess what i really am missing is church god in mylife and feeling is love and appearence in mylife. Knowing that he is with me each and every step of the way. Knowing and feeling the love and appearence of him. I need christian friends people that can show me a good path and how to be in control of mylife. To show me how to guide my siblings the way my mom wants to guide them. Show my siblings that i can be obediant with them and my parents. Not to yell or stomp my feet when i get mad or fusterasted. Not to get annoyed when my littles sibs say something over and over to acknowledge them calmly and not yell. To be able to give them adivce and love them when they want to be loved. I want that for them because I never had it so I am going to try and be calm with them and be nicer to them. I want them to be able to be close to them and love them unconditionally.  Even when they tell my parents about every little thing i have to deal with it and know they are doing because they care. I didnt know how much caring would be so hard to except even when it doesnt annoy you. I know deep down in my heart i love it and i am smiling trying to hide it because i love it . Even if it is something that i love i still like it in the end. But it still ***** that its gone. end the end i know its because they love me. They wouldnt of taken me in if they didnt.

Interesting! The heart is caged, behind so many bony bars. Yet still it can be cut and slashed, then left so full of scars. We all have our turn left bleeding, our souls pouring on the floor. As the one we loved so much, passes through our door. The tears go rolling down our face, dripping off our chin. Every thought inside our head, saying it's the end. The joy in life forever gone, how can love be again? Is there anybody anywhere, who has a heart to lend? Every time I show it, it gets another burn. Why do I refuse to see, why is it I can't learn? Lost upon these desolate shores, I forever sail alone. A very very lonly soul, a heart that knows no home. A tall and raging water fall, seething emotions foam. Not a single drop of love, can to my heart be shone. As the emotion we most live for, strains through endless sands, a sun that lights our sky above, departs for distant lands. I'm now left standing by myself, a lonely broken man. Giving love to someone else, I no longer think I can. My heart broken to many times, now lost forever more. A sweet old man that lives alone, a bachelor to the core. Copyright ©2007 Rew

You rid yourself of the pain...
*************
• By drowning your sorrows in alcohol.
• By burning your misery in a blunt.
• By cutting yourself.
————————————————————
But guess what?
At the end of the day you still feel empty            & lonly inside, because the temporary
relief is well temporary. So you just can't quite get rid of the feelings of pain but you can learn to live with it
               & keep on walking down your road of life where you will one day heal with time.

That art of fuge
Let bach rise in
The grass the neihbor
And I are mad for.
The top of my longues.
Every inch in my gut the air
Escapes with the scream
I saw this morning.
The lonly seagull flying
Over blue waves
Moves to fast to paint
The muse on sail boats
Searching fornwind.
The wind to go north.
Towards the border
Of new places.
The heart im told
Explains my metaphoric soul.
But from the angle I saw
Captured me with music.
How mad was john clare
When he saw the whole entire world.
He wasnt crazy
Im crazy to ingore
The muse.
The moonlite sonnata
And day breaking dawn.
Where the trees dead rings
Tell me thirty years ago
My mother saw six feet of snow
And she was glad.
Wennever can get tired
When we act like children.
The liberation hears every
Seed in a pink lady apple.
We were born to feel
The colors of art.
We were born to die in
The irony of death.
We came out with the ego
Of a thousand parrots
Repeat what youve learned and
Heard.  Give it to the universal
Brahma of creation.

I'm tired of these lonely nights.
I just want it to end.
Simple words, or complacaited.
cannot describe how I'm feeling.
There is no one who understands.
No one shares this pain, this absenceof happiness, this great devoid loneliness.
And no one knows that I'm feeling this.
No one realizes that i'm slipping into my madness.
What would happen?
If people knew. What if i tell someone?
Would they listen? No.
It wouldn't matter anyway. You, sheet of paper, white with such straight blue lines, are my only friend.
I spill myself onto you.
You know all of my pain and sorrow and heartache.
You, you are the only thing fit to judge me.
And that is too fine.
As harsh as i judge myself.
I can't imagine me from the outside.
I cannot imagine the brutality that could only come from you, my love.
My only true love, my true savior.
And still there is another.
There is another who has shown me her love.
But I could not, without great repercussions,
Write hondreds of thousands of millions of words upon her flesh.
And i miss her, For her absence
Must be (What could it be?) the source of this loneliness.
Not this everlasting agony and in my soul,
no.
She is the only one to come close to you.
She is the only one with the capabilities, the patience to east my hurt.
And now i must go, for she has to come to relieve this lonly feeling.
Farewell, my true outlet.

beat the drum,
it stands for something to those who hear,
the echoes of his footsteps call,
pain clings,

the frozen darkness ****** my skin,
beating heart,

hushed voices echo the reapers song,
this hell of mine,

holding back,
fighting back,
screaming,

lost inside this emptiness,
lonly,
a ghostly shadow before me,
only brings on misery,

this be the end,
blood and tears run through the walls,

softly hit the drum,
loudly hit the drum,

the midnight cold is creeping in,
the reapers song echos through the darkness

by scarlet rose

sitting in traffic staring
at a horizon of red
thinking of her unintentionally

i dyed my hair again
taking comfort in being able to look different
looking different than when i fell for people that were just shells
of bad decisions and ****
people that gave me goosebumps because they were so cold
but i used to mistake the chills for butterflies

i've been worried about repeating myself
cycling around my bad habits
like i'm on a ferris wheel that doubles as a perpetual motion machine
but i haven't texted her in a few weeks so
that must be a good sign
still

i listen the playlists i made when i was so busy over thinking i didn't have time to do my fvcking laundry
i wore her sweater for days on end and i hummed those songs under my breath
and now the melodies just remind me of how starving i was
laying in the bed of nails i made for myself
and they remind me of her. always her. and how she never gave a **** about me, but somehow taught me to give a **** about myself.
these stupid, beautiful songs remind me of how much i pretend to hate her. and they make me want to write poems about the idea of her again
even though i swore i wouldn't. on several occasions.
and so this poem isn't about her, or the idea of her, or the stupid playlists i was obsessed with when i called her mine

this one is about the horizon of red
as i sit stuck in traffic, staring
blurring my vision on purpose
as the crimson lights move at the speed of my slowing heart
trying. trying. trying.
trying to forget about her, as i think of her unintentionally.
trying to live in a world where people don't always mean the 'i love you's that so carelessly drip from their open mouths.
trying to care about those people anyway and pretend that i don't.
trying to love.
trying to love myself.
trying to write more poems in the first person as a form of self care.
trying to figure out if that counts.

trying to not be so fvcking lonly all the time.

I picked up my old powerless staff.. I had little strength left in my old body.  Even my staff seem to age with me. It felt brittle and dry. I looked up at the beautiful night sky. I knew I had been gone for to long.  Even the stars looked down on me waiting for me to awaken.  
I still remember the chant.. I can still hear my young voice shout it out..  Time truly does heal.  I was broken and defeated.  My soul shattered and left at this lonly planet on the otherside of my galaxy.  But the cracks are filled and healed.  My light is glowing once again in the darkness. I stand in the star light with my staff over my head and whisper out the chant.  

                                     !!!!Naidraug nogard esir!!!!
I felt all the life return to me.  I felt all the warmness around me. My glowing light had turned into a blue shining light.. I was me again.. My youth returned and my power stronger than before. I was the blue mage, sky priest of the sky oceans, Blue light of the North star.. I floated above the ground with my staff spinning above me..  I called forth the Dragon in me.  Secalos, Star serpent of the blue inferno.  I flew into the skies and released my blue inferno.  I lit up the night as a false blue sun.. I flew to the stars toward the nearest sun. There I will gather my energy to defeat the destroyer that nearly destroyed me..

until presence awake beneath hallow Moons
Purify water tis waken moore' hind
Anglo sea seep, teeth mark O'er only lions
marshes set ablaze twined looks clock kist mind
bellows hours come rise sepent vagabong kind
hello thee waken lonly tusks thrash and throb
member BA distain radius girth see'th cob

what do you think about a poet who writes
about how depressed they are
about how lonly they are
about how heart broken they are

but yet has,
two kids
two dogs
a beautiful husband
drives a Lexus
goes to soccer pratice

has a very large checking account
forget their savings and retierment
thats beyond belief

eats caviar
has diamond ear rings
a rolex
travels
and lives a great life

whats up with that ****

why I am just writing about sadness
about the things you did
lie's, hating life and so much more
I seen to not see the way out
years of pain of it all
so that is just same old time
nothing you say is going right in my life
I thinking that I made the wrong mistake  
why can I run from you
this is no fun when I am trying to see the future
but nothing I said is getting through
I just started on with the power of hopefulness
then there to begin with on this lonly road
of pain and just being the saying the less  
relevant to nothing you say nor do
Im through with you
but still I have a question?

I wait upon the morning star
Beneath the sullen trees
And from the lonly wind I hear
A bittersweet melody

Well, it was a voice, truth be told,
A maiden dressed in black
And as she turned, and stood I saw
The tears fall down her back

I knew she was crying for the star,
The new one in the sky
Perhaps hers would keep mine well,
Though old, it shone nearby

Beneath the trees I met her,
The willows weeping too,
Side by side, she and I cried
While the world carried on its tune

Beneath my feet
Lys green grass
A ball approaching from a distance
hesitating, thinking should I catch or ignore it but I think fast and react
just before it passes my vision
I look up and there lyes  a child smiling with joy
Her mother following closly behind like a fumble at a football game
She smiles  and thanks me for my unheroic deed
As she walks away my heart beggs me to ask her stay
So I reacted quickly "saying" please mistress would please join me on my lonly read in the park
She answers well I would hate to intrude but I will if you insist
She sits closely enough to where her hair brushes my face
The suns beautiful rays of sunshine brings out her beautiful eyes
Dark and brown where the color of her eyes
Her skin so soft like sleeping on air suspended by nothing but love........

Part 2 Coming soon

im happy to day.
its such a beatiful day today '
the sun brings a smile to me .
the world would end up dead if ever one never had a smile .
now if i rains everone is sad cause it gets dark in lonly

I'd splinter you with kisses
Unbound by fear and ingnorant with
The lonly bee keeper alone.  

I'd wish endless wells erupteted to
My  wishes all  alone spare my own penny

I'd dive under cars and sing until you
Gave into my rusty note and lunged for my life  and levy under my unarmed seranade until the cops sing he's a menace who never had to change.

I'd go endless and naked pools of wealthy under brick until we bunker in the warm beds cloth of clear blue water and kiss like nature opening her ponds of endless algae

I'd say my words forever until your dying truth goes past failure to suceed.

That month again where it all goes wrong
Sitting here with only a sad song
Words of encouragement like just stay strong
While my thoughts keep screaming move along
The pain of the past creap more this time
Looking at pictures of families drink wine
But I don't have that I don't have fun
I wake up alone just another lonly one
Merry Christmas and Happy New year
Every one happy full if cheer
But I sit and wait for the months end to draw near

Yes sometimes me, myself, and I make bad company and yes sometimes it ***** being lonly but it means I know who I am it means I know who I can be. I see all these people with their cliques and cliches and I know I fit into it but I'm okay with being myself and being by myself. That I am okay with being myself around others and I don't care what they think or say because I know who I am. I'm okay with being who I am so I don't care if everyone else is. Because no one else could ever be me. And that is who I will always be.

I just keep telling Me. "Its only getting better" -"3x"- when its not.

     Every day i tell myself.........i will finnaly find my soul.

Such a lonly ****** up place, where the women carry mase..

Deep inside this box somewhere, i finnaly found my soul.

   I dust it off, an use it up, what ealse must i do.

With a lonely ****** up soul like you, its the only thing to do.

   Maybe wright these ****** up words i say. Become something more one day?

Ha what a joke i say, with a lonely soul he may, Never be nothing more they say.
just a ****** that will pay, what ever comes his way.

just another ****** up day.. why cant it go away? Because i stuck to my soul, guns an all i roll.

Blacked out, hear me laugh out. "Im just another fool."

I can Not pay myself, much less me or you. If i could, i would.

beat myself away from you. just to save you two, from the struggle that i go threw just another fail.

  What more can i give an take, when i have nothing more to make? Such an angry soul i tired to give it way

  Take it back or let me pay. just to give it way.

I felt anxiety walking up to the doors
I wanted to cry when i saw the familiar faces
Faces of the people who break me down
Faces of the people who don't care about me
Faces of people who hurt me emotionally
Faces of people who make me cry
Walking up to the doors i felt anger
I felt the stress
I felt the frustration
I felt the feelings that were inevitable
Walking up to that place i realised ill be lonly
My closest friend has a girlfriend
And she tries to make him ignore me
All my friends have found love
And im the one alone
The depression i get from that place is the ruler
While im the throne

The Hanged Man

Too much noise, too much noise around me,
Too many contradictions that creates confusion inside me.
As the noose slips around the branch of this secular oak and rests upon my shoulders.
I wonder how many lovers laid their passions at the roots of this lonly observer of unrelinquished desires.
In a way he is my only companion in my pursuit of inner peace that no longer makes me a hermit of my own desires.
For I fear that I shall be no more than a spec of dust in the light of the ever changing fate.
For that I alone am responsible of this apocalypse of regrets.
For I know that my noose will forever stay as a collar of remembrance.
This will be the only step that I will never regret for not taking it.
The shadows will have to wait for me, before I will embrace their calling.

it's night
and there are only
two sounds
in the room.

a staggered, humming,
wipe
of running cars,
and a plastic fan
who's chipped blades
struggle for breath
in a wall facing window.

thoughts echo,
take your hand, and
lead you places
you know you don't want to go.

it's quiet
but at times
overwhelming.
night rushes in on all sides
only to stop at the window,
held back by a single shaded bulb.
the childhood nightmares that
hold the sill
drool, grind their teeth,
wait for the inevitable dark.

a train passes
somewhere far off.
blowing a lonly note,
proving to the world
that it still exists and
is hard at work.

it sparks the mind
to chew nervously on
bitter retellings
of histories half remebered.

the bed,
blood,
and heart have run cold,
while the two beers by the bedside
have gone warm.

time stretches out into forever,
yet somehow still maintains
the very real threat
of swallowing things whole,
and coughing everything up into
a dreadful tomorrow.

im screaming inside dont just sit there and watch me fall, just be there to catch me before i hit the ground. dont just sore with me when i fly high on top of the world but run away when we have a rough landing. dont turn your back when i have nothing, but be there to collect my all, and give me nothing when ive given u my all.
how do i find the light when my light has dimmed to the point of non iexistance. unflammable. darkness clenched its rough grip around my soft heart, betrayel begins to harden this once loving vessel,broken trust slows down the rythm of my beating heart, lies and deciet slowly clogs my main artery,a layer of ice from dishonesty and unloyalty glazes over my beating ***** of existance. can this same vessel that beats life into my own being ever beat the emotion of giving and feeling real love to and from another being?trying to fight the incoming feelings  recieved from these new found beating hearts..they speak all the things my mind warns me about, i fight, but my beats continue to weaken as i listen to the rythem of theirs. they try to ignite this flame that i used to beat so strongly just to keep lit, but i fight their attempts at softening my hardened icy sheild, i have tunnel vision.. only seeing... hurt! mind is now trying to stay alert! telling the heart dont go there u been here before! dont love again.. u know what ur in for! sleepless nights and silent tears, broken hearted and wasted years. broken promises and bonds broken, seperation of emotion no more promising words spoken, alot of damage i had to help u repair, ask ur self heart do unreally wanna go there, to you pumping your agape love thru your very own veins,to only recieve aches and pain? i would hate to mend you all over again, but as strong as i am you always win. beat cautiously friend, soften slowly, love with precaution. listen for an idemtical beat, a heart worthy enough to coincide and colide with your beat of life! tread lightly for you are my dear friend but also my worst enemy! when u fail we all have to tend to you, we zap you back to life when you allow your teammate slash apponant ,well call it,to  seize you and squeeze you into a threatening stroke, draining all feeling to the rest of us, i,yes i,your mind had to find the time to quickly analize and decide to ressesitate you one last time, to gather the rest of this being to work togeter to get u up and beating... again... we are so very tired, so again frenemy.. think of u but think of me, u break and seiZe again, im officially done, next time a triplr bispass will need to get done, when that massive attack of heart break happens again then again my friend youll be on your own then. this excitement of recipricated emotion and hopefullness at a paralell beating of two hearts is only pumping this damage vessell harder while the fear that the mind instilled , reminded me still ,to continue to beat at a slow, careful, steady, lonly pace... so do i love again and let my heart race or keep this whole being safe and beat at a lonely, regretful, but safe pace.. to be continued..

I am not alone but lonely,
Yet I wanna be
Not lonly but alone.

My dear teacher’s left for Peking,
And another for Seul,
Now no one’s here to guide me, my heart’s gone.
My friend’s left for Peking,
My lover’s almost always busy.
Tokyo, now you are not home.

Sakuras are now all in bloom.
All people go to see them, every one takes selfies.
My phone’s feed’s overflowing with their bloom.
I play flute and I write haikus in my native language,
But not a line, not a note did I get out of my self about the bloom.

And now In my home,
I don’t have room of my own own,
And grandma’s tv is far to loud unless it’s mute.
Help me, please, please let me put a futon
underneath tatami,
Please let me beneneath the floar,
And let me break my flute.

When get out home, I scream in parks’ directiona,
“Wait for me to get better, you ******* Sakuras, don’t bloom”
I am now 17, I wanna die before I’m 50,
Don’t wanna waste a single season.
But I am a sick man a I cursse in front of elders,
And scream (people can hear me) “Sakuras, don’t bloom”.

life is N0t always just, nor whaat you'd tcepxe          
                                                 Ski! oftenthimes it just looks like a mses!    
              As late as you thinnk you h--e it non        
                                                                                                 fIgyerred out                                                      
                                            Y u learn thares a upside-up?, and                  
                                                                                                    inside–in?!                                                                      
               sAdly, their's no knitting asquare kit.          
         It'll suhck eVVery time.                                          
  Buht, it lonly ladds to the swEEtniss                      
of ife wh n it..                                              
                                  is what you'd expect.