Stardust shimmers in night's darkest hour,
Constellations gleam across dreamscapes unseen,
Bask in the moonlight child,
Revitalize.

Will a Phoenix doused in water reignite?
Should the Sun ever disturb the night?
As my eyes take their rest my mind takes flight
Then quickly plummets straight into blight
Straight into sorrow; reigniting my rage
And keeps me awake as if it were day
Awake to write my story/Awake to dwell on the last page
How dare I wallow over someone engaged?
Great Leviathan, Demon God of water and life
Lend me your strength as I overcome this strife
Baptize me in your waters and revitalize my sight
Clear away all the salt and callus to turn my scleras white
Drown the anger in my heart; cease its return!
**** the Phoenix, for its presence burns!
Drown the Sun so that the moon may take its turn
Allow my brain to rest so that I may have the capacity learn
How to fully move on…

In twists & curls winding down her curves,
skin, sweet flesh; drink in life,
revitalize me in her night;
held captive by the way the ebb & flows undulate
sneak a glimpse of love's pure bliss
in a kiss, tranquil and light.

(c)KF03

To the best thing that's ever happened to me:
My mother told me that any serious relationship at my age isn't healthy.
And despite what I've experienced in my past,
I couldn't disagree more
When it comes to you.
Until my mother said that,
I couldn't find the words that could describe how you make me feel.
But now I know.
I know that
No matter if you're by my side
or out pursuing your greatness in the mountains,
Your smile reflects the light in my life that I've been yearning for,
Your words rekindle the warmth inside of my aching heart, and
Your lips revitalize my body every time they meet mine.
I have never felt healthier.
I have never felt more alive.

When the end of eternity arrives, you shall be by my side awaiting the dawn.
The Sun rises bringing newfound hope to the denizens of a light and airy realm,
Our spirits reanimate, rejuvenate, resurrect; intercept weariness of heart.
Doves above the high plains carry our love across the infinite sea of the Universe.

Stars and twinkling celestial bodies swirl around the center of all creation.
Pianos, my threnody has become a source of lament and bemoaning but in time a love song will revitalize a deadened soul with a deprivation of cosmic oxygen.
I want you to breathe newfound air into my nostrils, fill me to the brim with your breath of life, toxicity to the bones.
Being able to stand in your midst will be an impossibility.

My knees will give out and as I fall to ground you will tightly grasp my hand and pull my body into yours.
“Amplify my heartbeat with the sound waves of your voice.”
“Ensconce within the warmth of my body, feel the heat rise when we begin to caress each other softly.”
My blood becomes frigid smoke when I’m in your midst.

Nothing but cold heat courses through my body.
I’m frozen, stuck in a cube of time and space where you and I reside in comfort and abysmal enamorment.
-Ardent passion-
This is where my heat lies.

The inferno that burns beneath my wary skin is a tempest of sequestered affection.
“I’m afraid to be touched.”
You are the element of freedom.
You are the most sought after and desired material in all creation.

The materialistic nature of this world has accosted me with a cannonade of ****** bullets, pleasing in a forbidden way…
Gazing upon you with my eyes is a sin.
A transgression.
But the platinum heart in your possession is my desire.

Daffodils and roses surround us in a floral sphere; a yellow tinged bubble..
We transcend gravity and float above the ground.
-Fragrance-
An aromatic barrage of iridescent fumes intoxicates us as we rise past the stratosphere, mesosphere, troposphere, and conscious- sphere.

Being with you is a higher plane of existence where your every breath is vital to my survival.
Magic courses through my veins when I hold your arms around me.
Aqueous bombs descend from my eyelashes when you depart.
A deluge of tears has accosted me.

My body contorts and I crawl into a corner; this is my cloister of trials.

Those seemingly eternal eons during which I endure the withdrawal symptoms of your narcotic love…
Maybe you’re a hallucinogenic?
Lying on the cold and sobering concrete floor beneath me, I **** my thumbs in the fetal position.
I’m an infant after you vanish in the thick and noxious puff of smoke that lingers long after you are gone.

You are a master of the arcane.
You are nothing short of extraordinary.
Even when you disappear it is nothing short of awe-inspiring.
I feel the love spells from your tome of seduction blast my fragile spirit till’ I begin to lose my sight.

I clench my forehead with the back of my skull pressed against, being caressed by these sanguine reds walls that seem to cave in.
I can’t hold my head up any longer.
I lie in darkness as chaos consumes my soul.
The murky and dank ambushes me from the corners of an unknown dimension.

I’ve slipped into an unknown land.
A myriad of ravens with ebony wings surround me until I am no longer visible to another human soul.
They latch onto my skin, grapple onto my thighs, weigh me down with despair and push me six feet under.
When all is dim and lost?

I realize this is figment of the imagination, a fabrication…
I realize this is all a dream.
A dream of what could be.
A dream of a narcotic love.

I have yet to jostle that unknown creature who lurks at the threshold of the limitless skies.
When I reach the stars in my spaceship of galactic love then I will find you.
Obscurity runs amuck in the dimension that I now reside in.
Dark clouds loom above the skies…

The sun is nowhere in sight.
A storm is brewing as lightning begins to crash.
In those brief seconds of illumination I am bombarded with visions of your face.
The complexion of your skin, the feel of your flesh beneath my fingertips.

I hope that your touch will unbind me, loose me from the disillusionment that I’ve been threatened by all my life.
I beseech the heavens to shackle me with iridescent chains to the stars so that gravity will never pull me away from my dreams.
I will hang above the terrene never plummeting down the sea of the skies, never being incinerated by the blaze of freefalling down the atmosphere.
You will be my reward.

That glowing gift box with a celestial wrapping.
A diadem with the most extravagant gems and diamonds shall be waiting for me beneath the cosmic plastic wrapping and the golden ivory box that surround this gift.
When I open it, this crown shall begin to levitate and a human silhouette made of light shall begin to transfigure itself from naught beneath it.
Skin will slowly attach to your luminescent body.

Your metacarpals and phalanges will appear.
Your ribcage will expand and a platinum heart will begin beating within it’s confines.
-The heart that I’ve always wished for-
I will finally be able to gaze upon your face.

I will hold onto and never let you go.
We will grow old together and when we near the end of our lifetime, we shall become nebular gases.
We will then become one with the Universe.
The remnants of our love will last everlastingly even after the spark of passion is long gone, when our corporeal vessels no longer exist in a physical form.

“I don’t…I have nothing else to say but that I will be waiting.”
“I will wait for you to materialize in my midst.”
“My heart ails for you but my malady will dissipate once you arrive.”
“Every heartbeat leads you and I one step closer to one another.”

“You will be my remedy, my panacea of love.”
“I love you but I don’t even know who you are!”
“The reason why is unknown to me.”
“I will be waiting darling.”

“I will be waiting for your earth-shattering kiss.”
When the ground beneath us begins to crumble, we shall plummet beneath the lithosphere and asthenosphere till’ we reach the core of the planet.
We shall become the inferno beneath the ground.
Our passion will burn so brightly, so fervently, that an eruption will take place above the surface of the ground.

The world will know that when we make love, the air will be ignited.
Our passion shall heat up the Universe.
You will be in my Universe  and you will be my Universe…
Maybe then?

-I’ll become yours-

To my Future Lover, to my moon, sun, and stars, to my Universe,
By, Iridescently Efflorescent

The plan was
(Perfect)
To grow up,
(Ideal)
Find love,
(Dreamy)
Settle down,
(Hopeful)
Have kids,
(Heartwarming)
Grow old,
(Long-term)
Still love,
(Perfect)
Die happy.

But life happens and
Plans become
(Unexpected)
Survive,
(Guarded)
Rebuild,
(Solitary)
Relearn,
(Stressful)
Reconstruct,  
(Sacrificing)
Revitalize,
(Inspiring)
Thrive,
(Satisfying)
Live.

The heart has four chambers running in conjunction with one another pulsing -- The blood’s pressure alternates consistently and swiftly and is just enough to allow for our survival.

it does very little else but allow for our survival.
This is interesting to note as the heart has been known to break.
If a heart is broken is death the result or can it be repaired?

...a question which few will ask but many feel
Perhaps the surgeons can fix your broken heart.  Go ask them.
Perhaps a defibrillator can revitalize what has shattered within your chest.
anything is worth a try...

The heart has four chambers running in conjunction with one another pulsing -- The blood’s pressure alternates consistently and swiftly and is just enough to allow for our survival.

it does very little else but allow for our survival.
This is interesting to note as the heart has been known to break.
If a heart is broken is death the result or can it be repaired?

...a question which few will ask but many feel
Perhaps the surgeons can fix your broken heart.  Go ask them.
Perhaps a defibrillator can revitalize what has shattered within your chest.
anything is worth a try...

I woke up at six
Feeling nauseous and sick
Didn't like moving
As if the bed is embracing

But I had to rise
To cook food and eat rice
Prep for work and revitalize
Practice smiling and be nice

Wake up little sunshine
Make your dream beam with lines
Get up and realize
The goal you have in mind

tHEY PASS ON BY..
hIGH IN THE NIGHT SKY..
eVER SO SLOWLY AND YET EVEN FASTER..

sHINING LIKE A STAR..
tHEY CAN SEE ME FROM AFAR..
aT ANY MOMENT IN TIME..
rISING OR FALLING..
dIVING AND SHINING..
iNTERGALACTIC STARES..
vISIONS OF STARLIGHT..
eRASE ALL OF MY FEARS AND DOUBTS..
rEVITALIZE ALL MY BELIEFS..
sUPERNOVA OF TRUE LIFE UNIVERSE AND BEYOND..

I need a vacation.

Maybe a trip to Italy.

I gotta revitalize.

Maybe, Pompeii.

I am feeling starved of my vim and vigor.
My words are lukewarm.

There is only one option:
rekindling my virility.

I could vivify myself vicariously:
the sensuality of the city's verve,
all the daily livings of people,
venerated in an intense blaze;
might make me vivacious again.

Input daily routine.
Output socially valued norms.

My vivid, vermillion passion
has been layered with ashes.

I am desperate for veracity.
Did my igneous, poetic life temper
to an obsidian verse?

The beat in my heart
has felt industrialized,
monotonous,
a steady assembly line of chaste gray;
a vexing variance of my vitals.
Revive me: my virtuosity
will ventilate me with
venereal voraciousness.

What is left to me,
a choice of perspective:
a plunge in to the devouring,
a dive in to the radiant;
both, a swim through a viscous sea of wildfire
in Mount Vesuvius.

Step 1: Legalize all drugs and treat their possession as a public health issue, as is practiced in Portugal

Step 2: Get all nonviolent drug offenders out of prison and (A) into treatment when dealing with harder drugs like ****/coke/****** (B) get the *** growers some jobs doing what they're good at, and watch as the extra tax revenues progressively revitalize both local and national economies. (1)

Step 3: Fill the new vacancies in the nation's prison system with the entire US government and the top 1% of income earners as  punishment for their hubristic crimes against nature and humanity.

Step 4: Forgive all debts and redistribute all of the assets of the aforementioned parties among the entire population, but especially the impoverished classes, to create socioeconomic balance.

Step 5: Decentralize the economy and rebuild it along the lines of federated, autonomous municipalities, based on common ownership of economic resources, free education and healthcare, and participatory democracy. Once this is done, we can let the former government and 1% out of prison. (2)

**Brought To You By: Homunculus For President (but not for very long, because being an authority figure would sort of contradict the entire essence of the society I just described) 2016

the art of war has been written
in our skin since the first day
we tasted air.
our bodies knew what to do
without instruction, the manual
was ingrained in our systems
before history was even a term.
we knew what struggling was and
the viciousness we'd follow to
feel satisfied within this
paper-hungry, corrupt involving,
power revolving circle of
soil and H2O.
green paper values beyond
human experience, holding its
own wealth above the truths
and acts of kindness.
we are lost now.
our journey to create solutions
and deflate violence, pollution,
and terrorism is counterproductive
when we are only trying to gain
access to fossil fuels,
advanced technology and
easy living.
the art of war is unavoidable with
its nuclear power reaching new
heights and alarming increases
in neighboring countries with
alternative motives.
people are not perfect, but yet
it is hard to use intelligence
towards innovated, structured
education and trying to revitalize
our dying environment or restoring
it to the way our ancestors knew it.
we are too curious now.
the devices we use daily are
hand held miniature and superficial
to honest thoughts even if you may
have the universe at your fingertips.
the art of war is within ourselves, with
the growing population of overweight
eight year olds - instead of gaining
knowledge about life by learning how
to use the imagination, creative
engineers are mass producing game
consoles and virtual worlds for the young
to push past the reality.
we want to be lost now.
society takes tragedies and sensationalizes
so there is just another portal to dig up
the fresh and uncover something bigger
than ourselves.
the art of war has been finalized with
456,495 troops estimated stationed overseas,
leaving at home their families.
our state of mind is grasping, like the hardworking
fathers in search for american made products,
yet can only find poor industry made objects
for $5.00 on the shelf of the local monopolized
superstore.
the art of war was born in us
with airtight top secret plans to defeat
another continent, but we all
swallow the voice to bring back
compassion for starving children and
focusing on the here and now.
the art of war is all around us,
the art we will never escape.

I've yet to meet another human such as yourself,
All other that I came to love at some point in time came a dime a dozen. I knew it then, I know it now.

But those days where you held my hand sparks did not fly, no. Tectonic plates crashed within my veins, sending quakes straight into my aorta and stopped my heart until the day you kissed my nose, my innards grew from bone, skin, muscle. To bark, leaves, and flowers.
Not only did you revitalize the heart you stopped but made it something so much more beautiful, a bleeding heart, just like the ones that grew outside my window when I was little.

And when I learned the kind of person you chose over me after months of gentle sun and careful watering I felt my lungs collapse and all I want to do with these useless sacks is drown them with rocks and try to relive the rumbling you once put in them with the smallest of gestures that obviously meant so much more than meant, because to sleep at night I need to tell myself my love for you is a **** and will consume all if gone unrequited. But when our skin touches or when my eyes meet the gleaming grin of such a work of art I feel a black hole in my chest for this desire will swallow up my stars and I want to never love again because you are the end game, my end game.

Too hungover to sleep,
Third eye too clouded to see into my dreams.
More broken glass from the night that's passed,
Dealing with questionable decisions that amounted up pretty fast.
Soreness to adorn my body with more colors that can be observed
Health withering and so I head to Mother's nature preserve.

I wonder what I do to my nerve endings,
While I take on all that's mind-bending,
To eventually open it back up.
Seeing a world through more than just squinted eyes
Situations shed light the more you try.
My body is hurtin' but in the woods I come alive,
revitalize, and realize where I'm meant to be through what I can perceive.
The beauty I capture with my scopes on the daily makes think I'm living a dream.

Time to show my wildflower,
Outside with the fresh oxygen that I will devour.
I've given myself signs that point to my true power.
Now, no time to sit,
Gotta make the most of what could be my last hour

Its hard to say goodbye
When I see you every night
Every time I close my eyes
When darkness consumes the light

Its hard to say goodbye
When my memories come knockin'
As I place more nails
In my hearts fated coffin

Its hard to say goodbye
When you were once hello
The very best of me
I do not wish to let you go

Its hard to say goodbye
To the angel that graced my life
The one who once said yes..
When I asked her to be my wife

Its hard to say goodbye
I fumble on the symbols
My palms are shaking violetly
As all I know comes to a close

Its hard to say goodbye
When your world is falling apart
When your left out in the rain
Trying to revitalize your heart

Yes its hard to say goodbye..
When you don't want it to end
When your perfect fairy-tale
Turns out to be pretend..

Your God is nothing but a figment of your creative imagination!
You're nothing but the art of planetary destination,
Destined to return to the dirt that you first were birthed.
Chance had its way with our molecular structure
When one small ball exploded me and you in an atomic conjuncture.
You and I have no God!

Excuse me, excuse me!
No winds or waves
Or night or day
Or time or space
Came from a God that you praise!
We were born to decay, then let our particles die
Until they fertilize and revitalize all the green grass that runs dry.
We were born for the advancement of technology!
We were born to work until someone finds the secret of immortality!

God?
Ha!
What a lonely life of living and loving some imaginary image of a God.
You waste your life with all your "do good" ways
When you could enjoy the pleasures that flaunt in your face!
Woe to you who sit and dream of some God who
Lives to tell you what to do
And cares nothing about me or you!
If God was alive than I have arrived at the conclusion that he's a menace!
He waits for my days to end just to send me to hell to pay my penance.

If your God exists and is so good, than why does he hate me?
Why does he exist to smite me from his sight.
If your God is so good, than why am I the target of his burning eyes!
Why am I the one who's losing life!
Why am I the one that has to die!
Why do I have to die!

Now, if you think I am the only writer or poet of my kind in this New Age Millennium, you are mistaken

There is me that is, Sammy Kendricks and my crew of reject ragtag writers extraordinaire who are going to change this world

First on the roster we have Haden Zanders, a poet who tackles topics from a humorous but  intelligent and eloquent way

Then there's Zach Nichols my personal shaman, he's into paganism, mysticism, alchemy and spirituality as a whole
His writing is out of this world, literally and add to it he's a musician who is single handedly innovating the neo tribal music genre

Next In Derek Neman, a poet and musican close to my heart, a bit younger than the rest of us but still hold his own
He is loving, caring and has a strong spirit that I know will take him wherever he goes
His words can make mountains weep

Then there are Kaspar and Otto
Kaspar is a poet of the romantic variety, hopelessly devoted to love
Otto is a writer who can sum up any topic in a matter of a few lines
But powerful lines they be
Short, sweet and to the point

Up next is my good friend Jeeves, Jeeves isn't his real name
His real name is Nat but that was too boring so we all call him Jeeves
He is one of the mad ones, stricken with a severe case of wanderlust and wonderment
He served in the navy for three years
Now he's back and writes of his travels and his loves and losses
He paint, plays bass and philosophizes the human condition

Of course how could I forget Pete, a clean cut good 'ol boy
Always down to meet woman and have a drink and make a night out of a day
He writes rhymes like I've never seen
So vibrant and addicting

We all have that friend we **** heads with and Sonny is that friend for me
We're opposites in every sense of the word
You all know me so imagine the reverse
But his writing is political, realistic, stoic, emotional and completely him
I love him to death, there will come a day where we throw down

Now finally last but not least
You know him
You love him
You hate him
It's the Don Juan of Dumont
The one and only
Quincy Valero
His writing reads as fast as he lives
A mile a minute
Girls, cars, drugs, food, parties
Excess and excitement
Memories and mistakes
Highs and lows
Yes

But of course we have other non writing friends
Zeik Adams my engineering friend whos gonna be rich someday
Nyal Jensen our dancing friend who always brings it to the floor in every club we hit
Ahio Rikashi our best bud from the far east, romantic and deep
Kyle Filmore my trippy drummer
And Mike Neman, Derek's younger brother and one of my closest friends

We've all shared pain and laughter
Trips, drunken evenings
Road trips, meals
Quarrels and misunderstandings
But we all care about each other
And all of our writing and our goal to always be there to check the pulse of this world
Hell, even start it up when it wains off every now and then
We're here to give this generation a kick start
A reminder of what we can and will do
We can revitalize our world with knowledge, understanding and unity
We are the pulse generation

don’t know what you call this,
it’s labeled a whatever thing.
you’re leading me,
to inconsistency.
tired of your mystery,
this isn’t suppose to be a puzzle piece,
can’t you see that i’m falling apart without you?
call it emotional dependence,
but if you cared just as you say you do,
you’d prove who and what you are,
instead of eluding to the truth.
burning through these possibilities,
how about you,
light a match, and,
guide us to the direction of nevermeanttobe.
do I have to remind you again?
how to act,
and listen.
just listen,
you make me feel like i’m high above,
the clouds of doubt that fill your mind at the worst of night,
causing me to lose track of time.
when it’s time to go,
we pack our bags,
forget to say goodbye.
if you were truly what i gained,
you wouldn’t mind tiring or lying to me.
i’ll accept it for what it is,
cause you’ll reminisce,
leave me to guess,
then wrap me all up in your head;
not as a present,
but to mark the esssence of having the nerve to speak to me.
i shouldn’t have to open the door,
place the keys on your front lawn,
just to see you move on from me again.
advice runs around my mind,
telling me things that i do not like,
how you like to lick your lips,
to marinate a thousand more lies and excuses,
feeling unashamed and inveterate every time.
shamelessly you make me yours and I make you mine;
oh, i don’t know what to call this.
memories of you and me,
raid through these homemade remedies,
for once and for all, trying to forget you;
for the love of Christ, why do I feel inclined to you?
you’ll call me once,
or maybe twice,
and i’ll pick up,
just to hear you cry, and whine,
about the things you can’t achieve in life.
because this life is like a marathon to you,
don’t race along when you feel rushed,
you’ll just forget to pace yourself.
my innocence is wearing thin,
you’re wearing me all across her chest,
and neck,
tell me you’re numb and can’t go through it again,
don’t feel nothing.
i’ll convince myself that you are here,
that you are here to hear what i feel is true and finally listen.
as the days go by,
i allow time to slip through fingertips,
time after time,
you make me out to be the biggest fool.
when i brag about you to them,
they suggest i don’t get too fond of you,
nevertheless, i’ll drift and float to dizziness;
disregard the past conversation,
while actively pursuing to revitalize the old one again.
these perpexlexing parts are hard to find,
i look around, note one to none,
and none to suffice;
there it goes, so i, lose track of you.

The rain fell like
a widow's veil that day
with storming and darkness
but delicately enough
for the exquisite beauty
of grief to be realized
by those pulled off
to the side of the interstate
photographing Mother Nature's
personal heartbreak

I was one of those
who watched as the sky
poured out it's bleeding black
heart onto the world.
No sun. No joy.
Only misty eyed misery
Concealed by the notion
That we pray for this
For the pain of another
To revitalize ouselves

Pain is life when life is sane
and a rainstorm is no different
The blackest of clouds
brings the most vibrant yellow flower
And the steely gray blanket
that surrounds the earth
is shrugged off by some
as nothing but bad weather
I smile and seem to think I know better
as I continue to *pray for this

Gazing through the looking glass, and attempting to reminisce, he lets go, relieves, and perceives.Colossi of raindrops subtly fall through sky’s shadows , violently battling the grey in great amounts, failing to come anywhere near the threshold of one’s most sensitive ear. Nature’s children appear to tremble as dark forebodings of a dreary future pervade the air. The danger and annoyances of such rarities is always given priority and significance. He misunderstands it; he believes in its false infinity.

Unable to stabilize, unable to achieve a desired normality. From every pitter, he regrets; from every patter he forgets. Forcefully drudging through the thick swamp of his mind, struggling to understand what and why, diminishing his hopes of any change, any desire. Suddenly, several elements collide against his one-way mirror in his cell and revitalize his consciousness. Looking through the droplet, his face pressed against, his mentality momentarily produces quick successions of thoughts and random impulses of recovering memory.  

Every snowflake understands its place as sui generis; every raindrop understands its place as trite. The beauty of a snowflake with death, the dullness of rain with life. It’s uniformity and strict nature are necessary to sustain life, but somehow it places a bittersweet piece of an unusual feeling inside him. Its unexplainable transparency, disguising itself as invisible, but not untouchable, stimulates a sense of deep nostalgic hopelessness within him. As he discovers the profound pulchritude, and simultaneous incomprehensibility, of the paradoxical elements of natural and artificial state cooperating to achieve more of the same, he realizes more in this moment. The monotonous, repetitive beat of rain seems to harmonize in an odd manner with some contrasting presence.

A new rhythm to this sound, a new color to this sight. A particular emotion of gradually diminishing despair comes about as he observes little rain boots composing a sort of  rhythmic song with the catchy beat of the rain’s clashing, the continuous flow of the tree’s trembling, the back-up percussion of the thunder’s loud suddenness, the sight of lightning's exciting flash, and the cheerful singing from their voices.Upon this feat, he accepts the shadow’s tears; no longer must he endure the pain of the past’s ******* of the future, now he begins to savor the varied colors of newfound harmony.

Silence is deafening
Waking from a cacophony of sounds much like "A Day in the Life"
Only to find that silence is greater than any voluminous discord imagined
Feeling like a superhuman, the world is now illuminated
With choirs of percolating atoms spinning
Pure harmonious energy that goes under the human threshold

Silence is actualizing
Awakening to the potentialities and nuances lost in the clutter of prepositions and pronouns
Experiencing how momentous each rise and fall of breath erupts to revitalize the whole world
Perceptions externalized and internalized merge as one truth
Tangibly existing as a universe within a boundless wave of sensations

Silence is beautiful
Silence is breathtaking
Silence is humble
Silence is abundant

Silence is the world
Silence is the body
Silence is the mind
Silence is the soul

Silent I am

ONE STAR
lifted mast high
how it dolls up
the lonely sky
as i lumber over my terrace
while the dusk breeze in
envisage some analogy
between that single star
and this forlorn lover
waiting since forever
for a mere touch
of his mere fingertip
just how this luminary
waits to be embraced
by the angelic moon
so i close my eyes
let my hand
run over my hair
while the flashes
of an uncelebrated goodbye
make me unair them
and look up to find
TWO STARS
lingering in the sky
alone, yet not so alone
cherishing the entity of other
more than its own
i shut my eyes again
a gentle wind
vibrates through my veins
as i beseech
for their togetherness
THREE STARS
i look up and find
FOUR STARS
FIVE STARS
and all at once
about a THOUSAND STARS
gets the sky
a fresh lease of life
and gets me into
the swing of moment
now when i look back on
the blank sky
much like my barren life
this eventuality somehow
aids my hope.
#Stars #Brokendreams #revitalize

Ive taken a deep breath
And a few steps back.
Ive taken a good look at myself
And want to revive
And revitalize
All that I am to you.

Born again might be the term
Used to describe all that Ive been
Through.

I want to be with you
Oh so bad.
I want to be your happy
And he who rids you of your sad.

I want that to be me.

Ants march to their empire
With the crumbs of giants
Along a riverine path
Sinuous like the forest nymphs.
The leaves gossip with winds
From Earth’s four corners,
Tales of how the mighty have
Fallen to the tides of change.
Fate sisters are dead, no longer
Can they tickle the fickle threads
Which orderly suspend the universe.
Streams of chance revitalize
The mundane gray horizons
That blanket industrial visions,
Where nails and hammers make
Love to each other, the mechanical
Euphoria erecting shanty towers
Bending to the gravity of need.
Pallid faces are mass produced
In the land of milk and honey.
They said this is where dreams
Were born from black ashes,
Yet only meek weeds were able
To sprout in such parched air.
An awakening is imminent,
Whispered the winds to the leaves.
The youth will fertilize the scorched
Earth with soft, tolerant hands.
Callouses will peel off with the
Soothing touch of promise, as
The old dead skin rides the dust.

I think I slept in a spot of your blood last night
Waking up in the morning next to you,
I handed you tissues to mop up your ****** nose
My bed stained with you, me, and us.

On the hunt, with a bow and arrow
We power play, instigate
Baby, we went from dancing in a crowded room
Barely able to move
To me trying to keep up in my heavy snow shoes
Dancing with you, our ending
In an empty room.

I've gotten to where when I reference us as a "we"
I immediately change it to "I" or "Me"
Making plans to try and decrease the tension
You told me that in moments its crippling
To be without me.

Whispering your love in my ear as we ride the blue line
Here is this song or that song
Eggs taste so good covered in mustard
Your hand on my leg
Running around the city
With our invisible weapons
That we aim at
Each others forehead.

I would send you this poem
Like I once use to
With what seems like eons ago
But I'll save a secret place
Store in the capsule of my heart
Along with what fulfills me, drives me
As we like or ignore
Each other on social media.

In a lot of ways I tell our story
My story
His story
A love story
Surrounded with what needs to be done
In the world, my eyes tired these past two days
But I know running in my neighborhood
Even if it is 4pm
And the sky darkens
Will revitalize me.

"Small doses"
I chime, as if creating a cynical hallmark card
You should have been there
But you weren't
Not because of hatred or lack of love
But because you weren't meant to stand next to me.

I love you still.
My heart aches for you still
But the aching decreases, as you come around the bar
Call me your sweet nickname
And tell me how glad for me you are
My tattoos peeking out of my shirt
Whispering you want me to be yours again
But its just because of the liquor baby
You so calmly say the next day
But thats okay
Because you weren't meant to stand next to me
For all of "eternity" in that sweet devoted way
Because my path hovers above the ground
You dance in.

Fade away
into the next day
so the sun can warm your icy skin
so the light can revitalize you
so you can live to breathe
another day*
it's raining today
it's teardrops and gray
i can't breathe
when the sun is drowning in the raindrops
i drown in this puddle of tears
i fell down the rabbit hole,
i drank too much of the Drink Me
i shrank down, teeny-teeny-tiny
i'm drowing in my tears
i'm drowning, i can't be saved.*
"Wake up, child, wake up
'Tis naught but a dream, see,"
Aye, but my dreams reflect my soul.

I think of last cigarettes

They last in anticipation of what?
Death? Better health?
To quit smoking or quit living
I have tried and failed at  both
Won't you trust me to inhale your carcinogens when I return? Will my return revitalize my feelings for you?
Or will what has become a smoothed-over ceremony in my lungs turn to a harsh fit of coughing that tears us apart?
Either way, sooner, later, an end will come.
But that makes it all the more intimate.
Maybe that's the idea of last cigarettes.
to stare the cancer of doubt in the eyes
and bathe in sparks of vitality-
to take part in a comforting regiment
and forget for a few breaths that the end is eminent

The first lines are always the hardest to cross
For they're unbroken segments of a beginning;
A new story to tell/ told from a different perspective
Intended to refresh and revitalize your eyes
And your Heart
Starting with your desire to live free
Oppositely of a stand/ a quick wash in the rain
As crazy as it sounds all lines can break
Pulled taught to the point tensions snap
Our bridge and one becomes two
The real value of the lines we cross
Is they're crossed with you

I know your soul is drenched and the water keeps rising inside of you.
I know you're worried about your lungs filling up and your veins exploding from the pressure and your brain floating around in your skull.
But I know the worst pain is still in your heart, the only part that's dry, cracking and swelling and pumping too hard.
But you're not the flood, you're not the cause of it, and you're definitely not the destruction caused by it.
You're a great swimmer, with long flowing red hair, eyes like the ocean and a smile like the sun, rising beautifully and brightly at the end of a long storm.
You're the help, the relief, the last bit of hope.
Let the water wash away the heartbreak, the anxiety, the sorrow.
Let it revitalize you.
Let it be the end of an exhausting era, and the start of a serene one.

It's sometimes hard to realize,
Then ensure time to revitalize
Oneself.