what would i give
to wake up next to you
fingertips dancing on hips
as curtains give way to sunlight;
the world,
a wonder of sight?

what would i give
to drown...
in the crook of your neck
or the streams of your laughter
as you lurched your body forward
and laughed
with all your might?

what would i give
for our souls to entwine
the raggedness of your breath
spilling into mine?

what would i give
to be given a gift;
to weave another reality;
craft a different mentality;
build a sanctuary;
one with you and me
our confined souls broken free?

just what would i give
just what should i find
to redraw the line
for this silly popstar love of mine?

In the beginning,
We were Pangea.
Combined as one
Breathing
Living
Loving as one.
Fingers drew rivers
Across our valleys
As quick breaths
Blew in like
Monsoon storms.

In the middle,
We shook. Splintered
Valleys became chasms
Rivers ran dry
Mountains sprang up
Where our bodies
Crashed and crumpled
Attempting to redraw
And redefine boundaries.

In the end,
We were broken.
Pieces of ourselves
Flung to distant
Corners of our
Subconscious
Separated by oceans
Of tears and
Silence, which swallowed
Everything.

I would like to mulligan the hand life dealt me.

Let’s play a game of pretend
Where I don’t have to acknowledge our end
When heartbreak was a distant stranger
When loving too fast was the only danger
When the walls were non-existent, and we ignored the suggested lines
I’ll go back to when I didn’t have to lie by calling you mine
Then I could hug you one more time, and I’ll get to say all the things that I wanted to say
Like I did, I’d always remind you of my undying love. I’d acknowledge your perfection every day
I wouldn’t mind getting the chance to fall in love with you again
For you, I’ll take every rule possible, and find a way to make it bend
I’d make you sing your favorite songs, again, and again for me. Just because I can
Every day I’d remind you that even if the world is against you, I’d still be your biggest fan
I’d be able to say your name, and keep my eyes dry because I’m pretending you're still my world
No one could ever compare. No competition, you’d always be my favorite girl
I’d take the chance to love, and know you all over again, while admitting you’re my blessing, and curse
I’d still love you more than what’s good for me. And I’ll pretend it’s better, not worse
I’d learn all your favorite fruits, and bagels again, and squeeze your hand a little tighter
I’d introduce you to the war of love, and especially to its two newest fighters
I’d make you retell your secrets. Watch you redraw all the flowers, and hearts you drew
I’d gladly go through all the first awkwardness of our love again, and my bad attempts to explain how much I love you
This game of pretend scares me into thinking of what I could’ve done better
Now all I can do is remember, and try to keep my eyes from getting wetter
I’d look deeper in your eyes. I’d look longer for one last time, but don't call me crazy
Maybe I’d redo all these things, and more, if I got the privilege to get you back. If, and maybe
But in the meantime, I’ll stay daydream of the days that I got to call you my baby

I’m an elaborate drawing
Sketched ebony gray
Simple and smooth
Lines drawn only one way
Erase and redraw
Start it over again
But each time it’s the same
Only endless in pen

To all music morons
Glued to their earphones
The look-alike clones
Sunk in the dune of tunes
In the crowded buses
In public places
With drooping eyes like a yogi
Cracking heads and bursting ears
Thinking it the only escape
Salvation’s gateway
Balm for boredom
Pleasure’s pinnacle,
Don’t just fritter away
The one chance to be here
For a brief while
And leave with a blind existence
And a blasted hearing,
And before it’s late
Redraw your fate
Take off the headset
Open the yogic eyes
And in the yogi’s spirit
Give the world a good look
Recreate in her beauties
Make her melody your pastime
Her rhythm your heart’s rhyme,
So you don’t regret
When your time comes along
That you never could tell a bird from her song!

we were in the bed
of your truck,
the two of us so close
but not close enough,
just two mismatched hearts
trying to get along.
i was trying to memorize the stars,
so i’d be able to redraw the constellations
we looked at that night  
for when i get lonely,
for when you’re not longer here.
and it was like
you could hear all my
over-thinking-this thoughts
buzzing around in my too-full head,
it was like you could see me
bleeding poetry out of
a borrowed heart;
it was like you could tell
that i was already preoccupied
with months from now,
too worried about
what comes next to even
be here right now
because you turned to me,
and you said,
“i’m right here. you’re right here.
so just… be here.”
because i’m the kind of person
who’s always waiting for the fall out,
i’m the kind of person
who’s got all
the escape routes mapped out
before we’ve even started driving.
because i’m the kind of person
who just kind of expects things to have
an expiration date,  
expects things to crash and burn
instead of fly,
expects things to fall apart.
because you of all people know how
easy it is for those of us with the
dreamer’s disease
to get caught up in all the lights.
and when you smile at me
with your not quite crooked teeth,
sometimes it can be so bright
it’s blinding.
there are a thousand unwritten poems
hiding in my shaking hands,
there are whole universes
hiding underneath my skin,
and i swear,
i would give you
the ******* grand tour
if you only asked me to.
you of all people know i don’t
believe in much.
and maybe i could believe in the way
the stars looked that night
with a little persuasion,
but i already know
i believe in the way your eyes
looked that night.
darling, no bible needs to
convince me of that.

For now I know I must -
Tame the timidity,
Of my mind.

Channelize the kinetics;
Into a beam of energy,
Directional and definite!

Cutting the crap,
Of unnecessary detail;
Delivering a crisper form!

For now I know I must -
Sharpen the vision,
Of my mind.

Seeing beyond the clutter,
And the shown;
Into a picture,
I know and want to admire!

For now I know I must -
Delve into the depths,
Of my mind.

Revealing the chaos of the form,
Organizing it in symmetry;
Pleasant to trace and redraw,
A canvass of memory;
That shall adorn,
The museum of my life!

If I go to a party, and see at least one girls ***, that day will be my best day of that season.

I’d drink myself to the point where the toilet could be advertised as a painkiller. But **** standing up, It’s not that I don’t trust my aim, I just like to keep things as clean as possible.

I often find myself apologizing for actions the morning after inebriation. It’s weird. I’ve grown old enough for understand consequences but not enough to try and and avoid them.
Old enough to regret the relationships I’ve destroyed then still find time, to break down a few more.

I’m still scared of commitment. I’ll spend 2 years learning to love all of your facets and flaws, but spend so much more of that time looking for a cause.
Exploring why I bother to love anyone when I feel so insecure. You’re affection may grow but I’ll never feel sure. It all becomes a chore. Asking you to outline whatever good in me you thought you saw. But sometime or later I’ll be asking for a redraw.

It’s a funny word ‘insecure’. It’s funny that even with all the nightmares we’ve been through. The experiences we’ve accrued. The places we’ve had to get to, Your deepest fears will always be about you.
You and your expectations you feel you must attain.
You and your image you present to those who judge.
You and your aptitude for keeping those you love happy.

Even now. I’m only saying this because I’m scared I’m far too immature for life I lead,
and I know anyone else in my position would want to hear these words.


Mistakes are as natural as breathing.
With both it is imperative that at some point you must let go. You must exhale and exorcize what is unnecessary from your body. You must learn to forgive yourself.

2. Unsurity is the siamese twin of certainty.
Before you come to a decision you must be comfortable in the knowledge you will never know what the future holds  but if you ever want to move forward, it requires that all important first step... so put your best foot forward.

and 3. Bolster yourself. Be proud in the understanding that your 2 feet hold a place in this world that no else can fill. That everyday you live is your opportunity to bend the universes will. That live may not be a continuous thrill but boy is it scary!
You have a lifetime of wishes to fulfill.
So settle down. Life is a series of small discoveries. No one expects you to find everything.
All we ask is that you don’t ever stop looking.

Strange place, even stranger times,
Every unfit thing, strangely finds its place,
But in kleptopia strangers become bedfellows,
The strangeness all the more welcoming;

Outside the uneven lines, weeping, wailing,
Many complaining, more agonising,
But within the cesspit of gluttonous philandering,
Merriment upon merriment, endless mirthing;

So they negotiate a rollback,
Of the misaligned circumference of the perimeter,
Try to redraw this untidy arrangement,
Only still at it, many lifetimes after.

For now I know I must -
Tame the timidity,
Of my mind.

Channelize the kinetics;
Into a beam of energy,
Directional and definite!

Cutting the crap,
Of unnecessary detail;
Delivering a crisper form!

For now I know I must -
Sharpen the vision,
Of my mind.

Seeing beyond the clutter,
And the shown;
Into a picture,
I know and want to admire!

For now I know I must -
Delve into the depths,
Of my mind.

Revealing the chaos of the form,
Organizing it in symmetry;
Pleasant to trace and redraw,
A canvass of memory;
That shall adorn,
The museum of my life!

Despite my painting skills and the passion ,
Upon which my fate rests .
They have rejected me in a regular fashion !
It's life with its horrible tests .

I will redraw borders and the world map !
My motherland will no longer put up with crap !

Lines drawn.
               Erasers
kept tucked in back pockets.
I'm circled. I'm shaded.
Smudged out,
separated.
You'll redraw the floorplan
schematics are changing
and I've
               got the handbook.
     regulations tossed out windward.
               Wearing out
all the reasons for more sensible feelings.
The seasons change fast here,
I'm sure you'll be leaving again.

               And you'll go
any place
that the latest squall takes you,
expecting I'm waiting.
But I've got blueprints of my own.

"Go anywhere you choose.
I won't care about the news."
The headline that I'm writing
and I wish that it were true.

So roll me up with the rest
of the shabby, used up trash.
Emptied cups and smoked-out butts.
All that's good has been unwrapped.
               I'm cellophane.

Life spans.
               Placeholders.
Not even a memory.
It's notched up. It's useless.
Refused
and ablated.
I'll toss out these blueprints.
**** all these schematics.
And you
               wrote the last word
     scrawled out in constructed language.
               Wearing out
every patience for these senseless intentions.
I'm fenced off. You flatter
yourself and you're leaving again.

               And I'll go
right back home
to my tiny apartment
where four walls await me.
But I still don't want you to leave...

...'cuz it's easy to believe
that you're beautiful beneath
these buzzy, dimming bar lights,
squinting through this hazy scene.

I've seen
               this one before.

I know the script
like the way to my front door.

But, with constructed language,
our meaning will languish.
And I'll fade back to static.
                                   Again.

my knees and ******* protrude
from the still water
like mountains in countries I've never seen
I have always hated
since the time I surpassed the length of the tub
that I could not stretch out
my body looks alien
I don't recognize
the bends and angles
I'm disconnected from my finger tips
as they make ripples
break the surface tension that
holds my brain
holds my soul
the blue ribbon holding me in this porcelain box
I am washed with all my thoughts
my plans I have not made
and when I stand
dripping and cold
I am *****

and as I towel myself
I drain and redraw the tub

again
and again

until I am clean.

tell me the stories past, dear one
I want to cover lies and redraw the sun,
the swelling globe of our love
I'm your neighbour, not your pillar
we're dependent on the paradigm

different emerging locus,
different bare portrait for this montage of mine
I want to retreat into the heart of your house,
into the middle, just us two
I'm your neighbour, not your shield, and
we're dependent on the paradigm
I'll go the risky route
we'll make it beautifully chaotic, to return to square one
don't hesitate, let's make this now

-c.j.

As humankind evolves in time
What used to be primitive tribes
Guarding territory, people, progeny
And food, have mutated into
Governments flaunting flags and political
Agendas to fulfil, within four years,
Drafted on greed, implemented
By concocting fear.

Rulers hence redraw, imaginary lines
Based solely on war, and conquest
Fostering survival of the fittest,
The law of the jungle established
In allegedly civilised societies,
Lobotomised by technologies,
PCs and mobiles made of black
Sands, from Congo with love.

Four million people killed by war,
For tantalite to be mined,
Purchased and transformed
In modern gadgets we all own.
Other resources elsewhere up
For bids by unbidding forces,
‘Take what you like and as you please’
The silent motto composing our wellbeing.

Gold, blood diamonds, petrol and water
Conflicts, justifying decades of ******
Worldwide, from Middle East unrest
To Rwandan genocide, passing through
Sudanese Darfur to cross the ocean
Fight for land, tear down forests,
Grow soybeans for vegans,
Pastor sheep for jumpers.

Now modern times have come
New notions are ****** to hypnotise,
Overpopulation for minds to criticise,
Though calculations unable to mystify
Grant eleven thousand square meters
Of inhabitable land per person. Space
Thus not being the issue rather, resources
Are deliberately unevenly distributed.

When twenty percent of the people
In developed nations consume
Eighty-six percent of the world’s goods
Leaving an average of thirty thousand
Humans die of hunger and malnutrition
Daily, there is no morality. When consequently
The remainder, comes knocking for survival
On closed doors, there is no humanity.

When we hide behind phantomatic
Risk-like borders and fake needs,
For two phones a PS4 and three TVs,
As we throw our dinner leftovers
In the garbage and let water
Run warm for 5’ before we shower,
Neglecting collective guilt, responsibility,
Laying fresh sheets on king-size beds,

Turning blind eyes to the news
And deaf ears to the door bell,

How on Earth can anyone sleep?

Until the day we shall all wake up
Notice NASA photos of our planet
Taken from above show no lines
Of separation, and that Earth is
Home to all, in equal measure.

It is there,
Under the splendid sun unweathered,
The moon lights Kindle and rekindle,
Under the stars stuck in repentance,
Unlike their perpetuality,
It is there,
The urge to redraw myself,
Into the reflection of others perfection,
To be spun in accordance to what lies,
behind those shallow eyes,
My complexity beyond compare,
Not sincere,
Am I the art or the painter?
Because I destroy myself so beautifully,
A symphony sung and unsung all at once,
Broken cords that heal themselves whole.

I sit here now typing away at my beloved laptop
that I got for Christmas.
Something I never in a million years thought I would have.
I sit here because I was assigned to write.
Write about what? I'm not sure.
There wasn't a prompt,
just some Langston Hughes poem.
But I'm not thinking about that poem.
I'm thinking about other schoolwork and tomorrow
and faded memories of an old friend
leading me down a cold, black street.
I'm thinking about the burger I ate that night and
about how I'll never wake up on time at this rate.
My high school career in a nutshell I guess.
Being assigned things and half-assing them.
Then painting or writing poetry afterward
when the papers have already been turned in.
Rarely able to put myself into my assignments.
I tucked my mother in ten minutes ago and I should be asleep but
this assignment matters
even though it does not.
It does not matter to me
in it's original form
as a microscopic detail
in my big portrait of life.
Assignment-
grade-
percentage-
GPA-
graduation-
college-
gr­aduation again-
more college-
career-
money-
food-
survival-
.
Of course I have passions,
but my teachers do not see them
do not experience them
because they cannot assign me to
do what I want
express what I want
learn what I want
for a grade like
I am doing here.
So I cannot bring my passions to high school
but who cares?
All I have ever cared about
since kindergarten
when I decided not to drop out
was getting to a university.
I have dealt with
busy work and bullies
stress and standardized tests
and missing six hours, five days a week
of my life
to try and get to this place.
A place where
I wouldn't have to ask for a pink crayon
to draw an udder
on my udderless cow.
I could just go buy a pink crayon
and redraw the whole cow myself if I wanted to.
College for me was
the place where I could finally learn
information relevant to what I wanted to pursue in life.
The things that I am learning in high school
are fine I guess...
intriguing most of the time.
But I know deep down I know
that for twelve years I've just been
moseying along.
Getting average grades only so I could reach
this place
where I could be free to learn about things that obtain to me.
Where I digested information
and didn't spit it back out for a grade.
Where education is optional and
my assignments would lead me
to something more.
More.
I don't think I did this assignment right,
but this assignment doesn't matter
even though
it does.

Stay a little while with me
And let your lips redraw my contours
Like the greatest cartographer
Working at his craft

Stay a little while with me
And let my hands retrace your bruises
As if to wish away the wrong done
To your beautiful skin

Stay a little while with me
And swear on stars alone
That when daybreaks comes
You won't disappear with the transitory moon

Stay a little while with me
And stay a little while longer?

I'd like to talk electricity,
chemicals,
living better through

I take medication
and when I don't
I feel
effortlessly
lost

thoreau would be so proud
I cry at provocations
that I would sneer at
in better days

waiting for better days
I can imagine them coming
warm and sweet
sunny fall days
nippy but still safe

even winter seems like
it could be all right
in better days

but they aren't here yet
I want to burn myself on them
push myself nearer their fire
than I can stand

I cannot bear to run away
the ink runs off my maps
staining my fingers
till everything tastes bitter

trying to redraw in charcoal
the places I know must be there
but all the familiar landmarks
are dragons now

and even when I do
even when I remember
and I even eat
and sleep
like I did when I was
ok
years ago, in a country I can't find
now
that might never have been there in the first place

even then
I'm maybe not drowning
but the air quality
is a little suspect

the cities
redraw their borders and
fragment their spaces
into small cubes:
apartments,
studios,
and duplex houses.
and you,
with a thousand windows open
in windows,
your emoji hands,
and your microphone muted.

Don’t you dare cross the line
What line see here this line
I am warning you nicely
Crossing it isn’t fine

Don’t you take a step further
You are getting far too close
Any more movement this way
You’ll be treading on my toes

Don’t you take any more inches
That suddenly turn into miles
That makes me uncomfortable
My face has lost all its smiles

Don’t you breach the boundary
Or knock a hole in the wall
I built it up for a reason
It’s solid it won’t fall

Don’t you dare cross the line
The one I’ve drawn right here
If you stay on your side
I’ll have nothing to fear

Don’t you take a step further
Move back go on move back
Don’t you get any nearer
I feel like I’m under attack

Don’t you take any more inches
That I am unwilling to give
I will be always unhappy
And that is no way to live

Don’t you breach the boundary
The one I so carefully set
Keeping right back from the edge
I think is my safest bet

Oh dear you crossed the line
That movement was very slick
Well I’ll redraw the boundary
A well learned coping trick

"Go to your heart,
Don't speak from your head.
I heard that once
From a wise man" she said.

"Once I was shy
And I wanted to change,
So I was brave and spoke
And found my own voice again."

"So I like to be me,
I like to be honest and true
And live my own life
From a place of virtue."

"I stay in my heart
Or I try to at least!
I find there my faith
Finds its place to release."

"I learned to love " she said
"And live my life from this space,
I am here... right here,
And you can see my true face"

"And I will stay here" she said,
"I won't hide who I am
And if others don't like it
Well that speaks of them"

So she looked at me with
Her big, open eyes,
Which reflected to me
How I felt inside

And because she was there
And so honest and true,
It made me feel like
I could be too.

So I sat and spoke,
At how she had moved me
And how over the years
I have tried to redraw me

And we spoke and connected
And there was some magic there
And a softness inside
That was lovely to share.

So we finished our cake,
Hugged and walked in the air
And I wondered a little
If we'd be a pair?

If we'd discover something special
If we tried to learn together
Or if it's better to just enjoy
And not think of forever

Because meetings can be awesome
If you can let them go
And your life can be fuller
If you go with the flow.

So we parted... and met
And spoke a bit more,
About how magic can be
Just behind the door.

How life can be awesome
And full of holy mystery,
If you let your self be open
And guided by destiny.

So we parted - as friends,
Her heart felt like a feather;
Gentle and soft
But blown around by the weather

Perhaps we'll meet soon,
Perhaps not for a while
But it's been great to connect
If just with a smile.

If found her beauty, then have found my eyes:
As painter's draw their muse, do mine of hers;
That when in blink her lovely youths apprise
Depicting truth as tho' by glass transfers;
No dreaming brush omits the slightest curve
Nor other light bestow that grace increase;
That artistry does best by mind preserve
So she through time bare not of time's decrease.
Yet could the years by force of cruel age,
Redraw by season's pen what I had drawed?
No! Art's the soldier 'gainst what time can wage;
Whilst skin may crease, by heart is none withdrawn!

But when her portrait's gaze outlasts my time
This canvas shall replace her frame with rhyme.

Wretched hate leads any person to darkness
Only the courageous can overcome any demons they've harnessed
Push them back, redraw your strength and do not let it fall
Whatever the odds may be, no matter if big or small
When the time comes, release all of your frustrations
So you may finally find peace and make a declaration
Stating you're strong enough to break the bond of negative emotion
And are completely able to put your life back into motion

i figure everything can see me
fluids​ moving up inside me
it cracks the code inside my atoms
chest is hurting heart is pumping
connect my flesh to the embryo
stitch into my genes
ya know
i wasn't born just yesterday
i was not born just any way
my talents knows it when they sieze it
make ya go ya cant believe it
projected light of consciousness
splits comb-strikes and leads it
have it here inside my pockets
little life and little rockets
pull my glow in my transceiver
data cosmos diamond lockets
redraw my lines in my own dimensions lies a
cruel unjust infinity's just
a tenth of my reality
born of one and two in one
in life we die in death
we shall remain
where the hall's externals walls us back out of a duality
to be a nothing once again
there is no synthesis to my thesis
once was lost but now im easeless
take my own life cuz i own it
cuts a hole into my recess
i am recklessly disurbed at what i am
where im at and im just not quite sick of it yet.

Right now is never ending
Because when it is done,
Surprise of all surprises,
It is once more begun.

Because it never ceases,
And never goes away,
The precious present moment
Is where Love tends to stay.

We review our phony past
Based on how we saw it.
But we add, change, and forget
So we can redraw it.

The future's only fiction
Based on an altered past.
Is it any wonder then
Most memories don't last?

This present very moment
Is all that's really Real.
Live in the past or future,
And make up what you feel.