Liberties Undying Flame
I’m going to write in the shadow and stream of Abe Lincoln we can’t be our hero but we can strive to be like them. First and foremost honesty they say it is refreshing. Well I was kept from writing all day went thirty miles to go out to eat. Finally at eleven I was too tired to write well actually I didn’t have anything to write. So I took a fifteen minute nap then set in the chair until five forty five first finally coming up with this then writing it in my head now to put it down. It has to do as the title says with streams those that stream into your life from others. When trying to find a story that could be the jumping off place I got out the book pedaling to Hawaii. Sub title a human powered Odyssey. Stevie Smith a Paris bureaucrat decides there has to be more to life so he chucks everything and begins his quest to use only human power to circle the globe by pedaling no sails or motors just human exertion. Richard Branson writes this on the front of the book.”If you believe, as I do that we all have something extraordinary within us, this wonderful book will inspire you to begin your dream and follow it through”
In life’s constant free every flowing tide these mentors come in timeless rhythm they surmount all obstacles carry back with them to the sea the waste the debris you unwisely collected not knowing this collection the enemy has brought to seal your life against God given streams that are the very substance of life changing dreams. They were found in neighborhoods and streets the common paths but these were fixed by divine design he was adding mental and physical attributes that fit perfect into the mosaic he had envisioned when he thought of you. One neighbor scruffy mean hostile your first thoughts what a sad waste but then you saw the beautiful daughters and the upstanding sons. Then your question Willard why have you tried so hard to perpetrate this effective lie your lesson don’t look on the outward but be perceptive take the time in this harden shell you can find beautiful secrets to tell he was just a dark color in the whole it blends to form the richest hues for in you mercy will ensue the lost and forgotten who have long trodden a chilled and lonely path among stone and thorn will once again know the clear air and paths bathed in warm sunshine. There are rarest finds if you’re willing to walk the extra mile your own life you will enrich so many others so carefree have come to find waste and spoil
Then the farmer who held on to the past long had the tractor replaced the team of horses but remember the harmony living flesh man and horses when he spoke talked to them they willing obeyed leaned into the harness how there magnificence gave a thrill to your heart then the silver plow knifed the earth black soil rolled over the side of the plow how did common earth transform into a black wave even more compelling than the grassy sod that moments before ruled with a quiet flare. The leather creaked against the strain I could swear it was singing. In this moment retold jack and that team are again in fields wide made with straightest furrows the golden seed to be laid in this temporal grave tomorrow rich harvest the families table spread labors highest honor paid.
The mothers the fathers along these thoroughfares coursed humans greatest gift they with ordinary means rearmed a nation with bloodlines and lifelines to continue a way bought for from blood spilled on sea and land to keep us free. The truth if you could remove lies deadly snare from people’s minds the religion they practice is the contrivance of slavery to make the few rule the weaker with this blight abolished they could see we are the same as them we only desire good for family and the larger world.
This is the strong hold of any nation Brother G.T. Haywood a black pastor in Indianapolis went to his church locked the door for twenty one days he sought God for black and white people his city and nation the benefactors of his love and devotion at the end of this prayer and fast he emerged and penned this immortal song. I see a stream of crimson it flows from Calvary its waves is washing over me. The city fathers credited this man’s influence for saving the city when Detroit was in ashes he had long gone to his reward but his life and spirit lived on. Mr. President you could learn a lot from this man your aid using the foulest language isn’t funny you have a sacred trust live up to it.

they shut her eyes, sewed them up
told her the truth was never love
wove dreams in her hair, such pretty little lies
that blossomed into flowers, under summer skies
taught her to walk in the straightest line
and that being obedient would make her fine
to never think, no thoughts of her own
the greatest failure would be being alone
so she steps quiety and quickly, into the night
walking and walking until it's light
free, so free, alive at last
trying to outrun the past
and be who she was meant to be
the girl that they never chose to see
the one with passion in her heart, fire in her soul
all the feelings that made her whole
and she laughs and laughs, her life misspent
and then cries for all it ever meant
she is alone and running, falling, afraid
but never looking back on the decision she made
she is quick and beautiful, never again to be tame
because she knows this, from where she came

I tend to follow the key notion of something that balances on a single harmless 'tightrope.' Something that can't look down (even in the slightest of quick 'desirable' glimpses). Because if you do...then you will pay the price of simply having then seen something that has yet to make proper sense. This idea, hints at a single notion...that had yet to fully introduce itself to the main issue at hand...that starts with one thing and one single thing, only... You become entirely something that you’re not, when and only when...you have seen what that single notion truly speaks about. And what the very idea truly speaks of (once you know this...), you can then fully begin to not feel scared anymore. Because being scared when up high on a single piece of material (that definitely, regardless of what it looks, or seems like, fully resembles without a doubt… A harmless…tightrope.) Now, you all the sudden start randomly walking forward on that seemingly harmless tightrope, and suddenly as by no far-stretch of the imagination to handle, properly, and appropriately), you start immediately using your incredible creativity to simply imagine the straightest line, imaginable. All so that very creativity could then of course help you align a single (properly hopeful) imaginary linear line (for your own line of sight to slow down your own pace of everything in your entire self). Slow down concentration (to help you see more visuals and the insights that piece together faster, where you'd find the pattern a lot quicker, then before). Even going as far as to simply (also) slow-down your own focus (where that will fully determine the very readiness in itself, you reacted upon), just so you could then better prepare yourself accordingly (ahead of time). While now VASTLY concentrating on not single-handedly falling for your dear life! Then you have yet to properly read between the lines. If you succeed in doing that very thing... You will see (not just why 'I write'...) But how you succeed in finding the missing key (inside your very self), that actually makes you witness the very dynamic meaning simply as too... ‘Why Do You Write?’”

Sins of the father,
Wrought perfection among the world,
In ways I feel farther,
From where the rest unfurled,
Colors are more vivid,
Life is now peak experience,
The people are livid,
But men will take chances,
Among rolling hills,
And steep cliffs,
Into the nine hells,
Just to procure these gifts,
To create the song of progress,
And sing it from their peaks,
Where parasites arrest,
But with knives and leeches the hosts will leak.
The sunlight warms our skin,
And generates life,
And blights are gems we force to glint,
The straightest of diamonds are forged in strife,
Cut in sharp language,
Originating in the furnace of others,
Whether in joy or anguish,
The culmination of lovers,
The poets of life,
The artists of death,
Photographers of honor,
And authors of theft,
The illustrators of ethics,
Profanity’s architects,
Gaia’s ventriloquists,
And the firstborn’s defects.
Formulated impressions have no need to advance,
The darkness of these times,
Warrant no more than slight glance,
If mimes have nothing to say,
We’ll burn the sky as they dance.
This is the letter home from the warrior,
And the drunken hubris of a poet,
The weathered steps of the courier,
And those he had met in his journey,
Whether or not they knew it.

The last time she meekily made love,
she painted woad on her arms
and bemoaned the children she never bore.
She summoned their  names as  "Iso" and "Tope",
to her bemused lover she retorted
"I want to make Roar, not  Love".
She bode on the straightest longitude
to Banyas  and bathed in its spring,
fortified by Tennessee Honey,
to  Quneitra, she bore wire cutters
having already wept for a town
destroyed by un-love,
where she could simply set up a commune,
To grow Kohl Rabi and learn new days.
Instead Apache helicopters and glints of Uzis
Cast the spectre of World War Three

Mes mains : ses minuscules trous, par lesquels tout passe à travers,

les anciens déchets oubliés se ramassent autour de mes pieds,

et montrent les plus belles cendres d’une fablière ratée

-

sous la mer, à des milliers de pas, parmi des feus brûlants noyés

cette langue (jamais entendue) me ramène très **** du moment donné,

entre-temps, l’anti-temps et ses camarades se réveillent battus et épuisés

-

la ligne droite vient de s’exprimer en courbes,

faut se plier en deux, en trois, même en quatre

pour aller jusqu’au bout du monde encore

-

puis, le retour.

-

l’horloge sonne.

l’air pèse une tonne
-
english translation

*Tiny holes in my hands,  through which everything slips

the former, forgotten waste collects around my feet,

showcasing the breathtaking ashes of a failed storyteller

-

under the sea, at a thousand paces, among the burning, drowned fires

a stranger’s unknown word takes me to places far from this instant,

Whilst Anti-time et his mates awake battered & dead on their feet

-

the straightest line sings its song in curves,

bend yourself in two, in three, even four

to reach the end of the world once more

-

& then, the return.
-

the clock strikes

the air is thick as hell.

One half of a crying moon sat in the June sky
An uncertain state of silence that I hate
A swarm of red lights from some farm device
Blink fiercely with a hive like intensity
Miles of metal fences leaning lazily
Held together by sandbag security
Could have been knocked over by a summer breeze
Unplanted fields yearning to be tilled and seeded
Punctuated by bare bones buildings and
Stark steel structures pulsing with electricity
Armies of insect swarm the tall lamp lights
Highways become rocky roads
Rocky roads ride out into dirt paths
Then circle back to the gravel covered tracks
Becoming the grey running highways
Nature and industry the strongest cycle
The strangest and straightest signifiers
Of nature’s outliers we call humanity

the straightest path
to understanding if
its real love is to
offer up power

and while you
sit there
tiger in lambs clothing,

watch, watch, watch

for although you
can weather all storms
and battles, hunters
and terrain on your solo

your choice of comrade
is that of wisdom
not love, for quickly
can a beast change
its tune when
offered freedom with
your heart.

for Marshall, the straightest arrow, that when airborne,
ebbs and flows, with air currents that take him to where he was intended to go*


Old Son

you call me that,
semi-factually correct.

though technically,
now an orphan.

perhaps
you meant,
old soul?

semi-factually correct.
the old part.

Proposition:
He is an Old Soul

the soul part,
t'is yet debated
back n' forth,
in the Senate of

every breath

every word

every stray thought.

numerous amendments
to the "bill" proposed,
but afraid of failure,
the sole sponsor of said
proposition,
does not call the House
"to order,"
for a final vote

the endless debate,
he pontificates,
is way too pleasurable....
and no passage, failure,
way too displeasurable,
a likely outcome

There is no home to go to;
there are cigarettes still burning
in the ashtray we made
out of a Folger's can,
and you have forgotten
to put them out.

Forgive me,
I'm bitter now,
and I think it'll be hard for me
to love again,
because you are my teacher.

Do you believe in heaven?

I still think about five years ago,
and I know you do to.

I still think about
being horrific
and you getting red in the face
and crying
over the past.

I remember pregnant anger,
and you hitting me,
and me
hitting you,
because I said I hated you.

I think there are good things that last.

Sometimes I mow lawns
and try to make the straightest lines possible;
I am afraid you will see them
and be angry with me.

Sometimes I have nightmares
about not being able to fix things.

I have kissed you tenderly on the cheek,
but because I'm not young anymore,
it seems stupid
and
wrong.

But there's a bigger question:
Do you even like me?
Do I
even like you?

And we manufacture love,
because you are always sad and hurt
and
I am shy
and scared;
afraid
that you will say something
that will make me leave
and be scared
for a lifetime.

Because of *******,
  the straightest path bends

Because of *******,
  confusion befriends

Because of *******,
  all smiles a frown

Because of *******,
  up is now down

Because of *******,
  the truth is a lie

Because of *******,
  a pig seeks to fly

Because of *******,
  all evil portends

Because of *******
—this world will soon end

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

Her misshapen ******* were the straightest things about her.
Unlike her personality which corkscrewed wine going out of fashion.
We met on the other side.
In the dead of night.
I was dead, I said goodnight.
She was living on vampires delight.
Do you want me to go down.
Go down, are you nuts.
Go down and get more wine.
Yeah you go down and drink yourself to death.
I’ll do that, see you in the a.m.
Great, tell me how I did.
I will.
Seems I did great.
Don’t remember you being naked the last drink I saw you.
I came back for your promise, you made me work for it.
This ****’s been violated, hope you didn’t work to hard.
It was worth it, wine and frustration and ******* lead to come-sation.
Wish I was there.
You were to a point, we shared a joint.
Talking about joints, don’t you have one to get back to.
Do you know, you can tell a lot about a man from his wine collection.
You would know, you drank most of it.
Do you fancy doing it in the shower.
Did you see ******.
I’ll get us a refill, goodbye *** is so hot.
Goodbye would be hotter.
Is this a good wine, I’ve poured it on my *******.
What, that’s a hundred pounds a bottle, put it back.
Double pleasure for you when you lick it off.
You don't lick wine like that, you savour it.
Well savour it then, fifty pounds a breast.
Would be cheaper killing her, nobody would miss her anyway.
Is wine a good investment.
It was till I met you.
My dad’s left me some money, he was an oil baron, you know.
When you say oil baron, do you mean he delivered oil.
No, he owned wells in Texas
You’re winding me up.
No, I’m worth a fortune.
Wine is a good investment. We should go back to bed and discuss our future. Things are finally looking up.

There's some stories old men tell
Just so they can hear themselves
Always holds a certain ring
With their own brand of embellishing

Around the stove in the old country store
If they've told it once, they've told it more
Look you straight in the eye
Before their pants are set on fire

They'll have you staring in belief
That what you see is reality
Look at you with the straightest face
So as not to give themselves away

Listening to all the old men
Toss out the line to reel it back in again
Like a Salty dog on a fishing boat
Keeping the tall tales they tell afloat

There's some stories old men tell
Fooling you as they fool themselves
Always holds a certain ring
With their own brand of embellishing

The music wasn’t too loud and the band played only instrumental music.
Music that I found rather pleasant as it drifted its way above the senseless conversation and obnoxious laughter of one particular group of young drunk ladies .

Tall potted plastic plants stood stone silent next to cheap pressed wood tables filled with used paper plates ,plastic forks, wadded up napkins and half full clear plastic cups.
The floral arrangements had been set at each table with care for the guest to admire. The flowers  had all began to droop as the air became more stale with the sweat and the breath of the drunken people.

I overheard conversations about money and addicted daughters, ******* bosses and good deals on tires.
I heard about how stiff the drinks were and how long the ladies room line was.
I heard them admire the fact there was no traffic on the way here and how the food was ok.
I purposely listened for any comment made about the dying young flowers whose time was cut short in order to be at their table.
I listened the whole night .
I heard no such thing.

A pair of huge ******* brushed against my bad shoulder as a large woman with dyed black hair and too much jewelry on began to speak into my ear.
She spilled a splash of her drink on my only good pair of shoes.
She knew what she had done but never bothered to apologize.

The cheap faux wooden dance floor laid there like a minefield devoid of the swaying bodies and sweaty torsos.
Yet for some reason the music still played on.

I noticed she had a strange need to be as close to you as possible as she spoke.
Her conversation was about as cheap as my shoes and the empty linoleum dance floor.

The party balloons began to lose their ability to float above the senseless conversation,
cheap cologne ,dying young flowers, plastic plants and plastic *******.
I smiled as they began to slowly fall to the floor.

For the third time that night I cursed my decision to come here and mill about with the rest of the cattle.
I went to the bar and got another drink.

Overweight women with undersized clothing stood in line to the single stalled ladies room like needy mothers in a well fare line.

This pair of ******* kept themselves snug against my bad shoulder as the lip stick painted mouth with the tobacco stained teeth kept on about what she did and where she went, who she knew and where she wanted to be and how badly she wanted to smoke.

I downed my drink, the drinks were strong, the drinks were good.
I stopped her in mid sentence and said.
“The trees they all die in silence in the forest’.

I made my way towards the exit passed the dying flowers and the sweaty men.
I hit the double doors with all I had and stepped out into the welcoming night.
I took in the scents of the salt water and the burning fuel, the taco truck across the street and the ***** still on my lips.

Before I left I went back in and tipped the Mexican bartender a 20 dollar bill.
He took the 20 then offered me one on the house which I gladly accepted. It was the strongest drink I had ever had outside my home .
He smiled as I thanked him , his smile held a row of Gold capped teeth the rest were the straightest set of teeth I had ever seen .

I pulled out a extra 10 and left it on the bar.
The Gold toothed bar tender and his stiff drinks were obviously the life of the party and the only real reason I was glad I came.

Even the brightest day
Vades into the ebony veil—night.
Even the straightest way,
At length, a bend doth await.

Though mighty is the sun,
At dusk, into the sky doth sink.
Though pure be the fun,
Canst vade in a single wink.

Look how the sea wave
Races unto the shore with delight,
As though she'll rove, and rove,
But unto the sea returnest with fright.

Even the fastest stream,
At length, vades into the sea.
Though how sweet be the dream
At length, thou dost awake.

Look how drops of rain
Plummet from yonder sky,
But the earth's crust, her drain,
No matter how heavens dost cry.  

Though pleasant be the life
As sweet as heaven's nectar,
Though a life be marred with strife,
At length, all could be vice versa.

By eternal law of nature
In books of life, whether good or bad,
Naught lasts forever, even the future
Come morrow—it’s just remembered.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros.
Evergreen State, 29th/Dec/2020.

N.W.O.-owned corporations promote the freshest of youthful faces
having Hillary F. Clinton lesbian relations in crowded public places
Moral citizens must subdue these shrub-scouts with military maces
then bind them together with cheap lamp cord, twine & shoe laces,
before scrubbing the scene clean to obliterate all ****-diving traces
from mobs bleeding the white-funded black & sallow yellow races,
they take up  phony causes in nine of ten clinically-disproven cases
running Manchurian patsies & *** kittens through menticidal paces
A rosy future belongs to normal people, the more normal the better,
folks who appreciate normal things: normal pets like an Irish setter
and paying a street ***** with cash because she's a chronic debtor,
and yet her ****'s an amiable fellow: truly a self-starting go-getter
who crochets booties for newborns & obeys some laws to the letter
How many movies in Maine feature a crapped-out Joan Fontaine?
How much glucosamine does a diseased cow's leg bone contain?
There were no gregarious bean bakers in Hooterville's Green Acres
nor big queen Quakers, fatuous lean takers, spliced spleen shakers,
seldom-seen fakers, farmers as keen rakers, men called teen takers
Low sugar metabolism makes a chick act like Portland Hoffa Allen
in that she'll scarf like a starved pig, piggishly hogging water melon
or muskmelon or any melon that Montreal-melon sellers are sellin'
to your average Trenton mobster, fugitive or romantic paroled felon
who'd **** with depleted uranium Arab babies by incessant shellin'
& get away with it because America's corporate media ain't a-tellin'
just like they didn't tell when 1-dollar milk sold for 1 buck a gallon
and Americans wondered if Michael Jackson & Billy Jean'd marry
civilly in Dominica even though he was a pæderastic-gay-bait fairy
preferring to make it with some 11-year-old paper boy named Gary
in the ***** fields of Michael Landon's Little House on the Prairie
where S.A.G. cows grazed to produce cream for N.B.C'.s T.V. dairy
that made Victor French's fancy ice cream: French vanilla & cherry
that even Melissa Gilbert couldn't resist, who was so often contrary
on the set 'cause her adolescent mood swings did menstrually vary
in the '70's when broads were sexier as they were much more hairy
than “Johnny B. Goode” singer & women's room spy Chuck Berry,
who married a cousin who was flittier than Heinz queer John Kerry
& 6 points stupider than the porcupine stooge: old anti-Christ Larry
who chose his sister-in-law's sister as the bride most likely to marry
whose dipsomania meant that she'd imbibe fortified wine & sherry
as one could be subbed for the other when all choices ain't arbitrary
within fashion statements decrying the sci-fi of Gene Roddenberry  
while taking pseudo-fictive writings as celestially lunar and literary
masterminded by T.V. cockroach from Hogan's Heroes: Bob Clary
Give to me the possession of my hormones back for full absorption
as I'm keen on resuming the bony splinter means of bone resorption
while admixed by neo-commixed protocols of bio-ecleptic sorption
Let's stomp sun-burnt faces 'cause J. Edgar Hoover was the riddled
manufacturer of Malcolm X from a ***** mulatto known by Little
who scrounged while Jersey burned its cheap, girly skirts for a tittle
No one plays guitar more melodically than does cuchi cuchi Charo
whose passion for nature out-natures that of the lovely Al Malinaro
& the crapped-out juvenile actor who was known as Frankie Darro
whom all Californians knew was as straight as the straightest arrow
unafraid to stay the course & to keep righteously straight & narrow
under the same moral code that's served so well María Mia Farrow
who has sworn off the making of stew using vole, llama or sparrow
yet not excluding the animal delicacies of pancreas & bone marrow  
enjoyed by robbers Bonnie Parker, Buck, Clyde & Blanche Barrow
who, as bandidos Mexicanos, were obliged to steal Mexican dinero
☹ A wild man's on the loose who's hurting tourism as a tourist ******
☹ He's tall & menacing like the guy on T.V.'s F Troop, Forrest Tucker
☹ A ****** is on the prowl and he's ******* tourists as a tourist ******
☹ He looks like that F Troop sergeant O'Rourke, actor Forrest Tucker
☹ A wild ******'s escaped from ******* prison & he's a tourist ******
☹ He is a bad ******* **** like the ****** on F Troop, Forrest Tucker

I hurt when I see you with him.
Is this jealousy I'm feeling?
My thoughts of you two together.
Ha! That's my dark place.
I'm really greedy when it comes to you.
I want you all to myself.
But I'm scared I might ruin things between us.
All I want is for these painful feelings to go away.
I'm tired and I just want to sleep.
Should I tell you my feelings?
No.
I'll just sit quietly in the background and watch over you like I always do.
Can I be happy with you by my side and no one else?
I guess not...
Will you ever notice my feelings?
Not a chance.
You're too busy thinking only of your fiancee.
It's a sin for me to be who I am.
Falling in love with my big sisters best friend... a girl at that.
Why am I even here?
I'll just be pulled blindly by my love.
Maybe I should just give up.
Tried that.
Maybe I should just branch off from you.
You won't let me do that again.
Why do you keep me so close when you know I'm not the straightest person on earth?
Is there more meaning to us acting our couples?
Surely not.
It's just for fun...
I hurt.
I'm tired.
I'm jealous.
I cant let you know.
I'll just suffer alone like normal.
When I'm with you I feel happy and myself.
But when he comes along my world fades to blacks and grays.
I've never felt like this about anyone before.
I may say that alot about the people I'm with but this is different.
I'm sure.
Please.
Please help me escape these suffocating feelings.
My chest hurts all the time.
I play it off as an anxiety attack.
Or I'll just say I'm fine.
I feel numb and shaky at the same time.
All I can do is cry to myself.
I'm done.
I cant deal with it anymore.
I want it to stop.
You'll never return my feelings.
For one you are straight.
For two you are engaged.
For three you only see me as my sisters little sister...
I know I'm being selfish when I think of these things...
But I cant help it.
I dont want to help it.
Dont look at me like that.
Like that of a little sister.
It hurts.
Dont act the couples with me and not mean it.
It hurts.
Please stop talking about him around me.
It hurts.
I dont want to hear of the family you'll make with him...
It hurts... alot.
When I see you two together... I see a perfect couple.
It makes me tear up.
I will never have that with you.
I told you I cut for a different reason than what I really do it for.
I cut because of my pain I feel about you two.
Please dont hold that against me.
Dont hate me for these sinful thoughts.
It's what I feel.
It confuses me.
Why you?
Why someone who is meant to be married to her lover?
Why was I born to be sinful?
I question my life all the time
What are you doing right now?
Probably "spending time" with him before work.
Being lovers.
I'll just stay in your shadow.
Forever unnoticed.
I have wishful thinking that someday you'll turn your beautiful eyes towards me with love.
chuckles Like I said.
Wishful thinking.
I always get my hopes up.
When we act and you breathe next to my face... my heart stops.
When you cuddle into me or the other way around... I feel like its natural.
This could all be my heart yearning for love so young.
I'm not surprised.
More like I hate it.
I dont want to be like this.
Maybe I should end it?
No... I could never really do it.
I'm happy just being close to you when I can.
I'll wait for the day when I'm not needed anymore.
Waiting...
Waiting..
Waiting.
When?
Why won't you let me be how I was?
Am I really important to you like how I want it to be? Or is it because I'm your friend and best friends little sister?
When I look through your eyes... I see a deep hidden pain from your past.
All the things you tell me is just a small portion of how you really feel.
I may not have gone through what you have but I can relate to a degree.
I love the feeling of you close to me.
Man I sound like a freak.
But it's who I am.
A freak.
A walking sin.
A nobody.
Whatever.
I'm used to these alien feelings.
Or I should be.
I used to be numb all the time and in my own world.
But that all changed when we grew closer.
Why did we have to get closer?
Why?!
I knew from the first time we really hung out just the two of us that my world would change.
I would change.
Now I want to change back.
For good.
I'll be fine.
I'm always fine.
I'll be fine till the day I end my own life.
Then I'll be free from the pain I feel in my heart.
When you have a family of your own will you forget about me?
I'm scared.
I dont want to be alone.
I want you hear with me.
Promise?
Haha people always promise things.
They never keep them.
Dont get my hopes up.
Remember how I always say you look fine?
I love everything about you.
The way you look.
The way you speak.
The way you walk.
How smart you are.
How you have goals for yourself.
How even though you say you're not a nice person you still are there for me...
How is that not nice?
It makes me feel loved.
Believe it or not.
When you cut I get ******.
I have no room to talk because I do it too.
But I wish you wouldn't hurt yourself...
I will say.
I'll love you even when you are scarred or you hate me.
I want to be there for you.
When you are happy.
Sad.
******.
Alone.
Confused.
In your own world.
I may not be able to talk about it well but I'll listen.
I love watching every face you make.
Or how you feel when you play the guitar.
I want to be that person that is there for you when you need someone.
But you already have him...
That won't stop me from helping in the background.
I dont want you to feel alone when people aren't around.
I'll be there by your side.
I want to do anything that I can to get your attention but I must be silent.
Is this Gods way of testing me?
Is this his way of punishing me for sinning?
Will he make it worse the closer we get?
Please dont take her laugh away from me.
Please dont take her smile away from me.
I dont understand what he has in store but I dont know if I have the strength.
Will you be my strength?
Or will you be my downfall?
I guess time will only tell.
I'll leave it off with one more thing to say...

I love you.

We'd referred to it as The Avenue,
Not because it had any pretense of being
Some major thoroughfare
(Indeed it ran for no more than a half-dozen blocks
From the traffic circle at the school building,
Itself de-commissioned for some years now,
To the small bluff at the end of the village
Where buildings ended and trees and fields began,
The view, in our childlike perspective,
What we assumed belonged to the birds and angels)
But because every other roadway
Had been christened with the more plebian "street",
And as the longest and straightest pavement
It was the venue for racing bicycles, skateboards
And anything else with wheels,
(As we later discovered, much to our parents' chagrin)
And certainly we had sent any number of bugs and beetles
To their makers in our mad rush
To reach the road's crest,
And on one horrific occasion, a tiny bird,
Barely past the point of being nurtured in the nest,
Somehow became enmeshed in my spokes
To be flung unceremoniously to the roadside,
It's wings splayed out in a manner
At once almost seraphim-like, yet clearly signaling
That the hatchling in question
(Its species not fully apparent--a pigeon, perhaps,
Or a mourning dove not destined to be part of a pair)
Would never take flight.
I'd looked at it, stunned beyond word or action,
When Nicky Gesters pulled up next to me,
Whispering into my left ear, Nothing to be done, kid.
Happens all the time.  If it wasn't you, woulda been some cat.
And, bereft of any rationale of my own,
I simply nodded, riding back down the *****
Not to return to the high end of the road for some days,
And when the time comes where some errant wheel,
Something rapacious and feline, or some other tool
Of life's winds and wuthering take me to my rest,
I hope to retain sufficient grace to seek out that bird
To proffer my regrets for my all too extant humanity,
My sad and insufficient pentinence.

This lonely road that I walk today.....I know in my heart that you and I will be ok
Life throws us lots of curves....my love the path that we both must travel  is a long one......and along the way I know we can have some fun....but in life we must face all kinds of trials.....and to know that we are not alone ......I must step up and give you more than what I have shown
Sometimes I feel like that one lonely star .....now I have come to realize that together we are one......and that star is you and I and like that star we have traveled very far........not in distance but in space......the path chosen might not have been the straightest but it is the right on in our case
As long as that star continues to shine bright......we shall be together in this fight.....for our souls will be joined as one......and we will love each other forever under the sun.....so on this path of the lonely star you will always know I will never be far...late at night just look to the sky.....you will see that lonely star .....and never again will you ask why

It's the chaos that makes the orderly
And this I tell you solemnly
It's the crooked man that draws the straightest
The crazy eyes that make the greatest.
Beauty is from ugly spawned
The frog prince in a wild pond
The genius with his untamed hair
Wright Brothers with their crazy dare
An artist with a broken mind
Led out of chaos by this kind

They hate me,
Why do they hate me?
The circus is contagious
Contrivance is a theme here.

They hate me so much,
And don't I hate myself?
No, I hate when it gets hard.

I am not perverted,
I am straight as an arrow.

But gravity bends me
Bends me into the straightest line there ever was
But a line is too brave a thing,
And you hate it.

Then why do you change?
I do not change,
I just continue
You do not hate me,
You can not hate me,
You only love me or you're neutral.

I am not excessively proud of what I am,
Just aware that it could not be wrong.
I have never made a mistake,
And my challengers all tend to fall away.

You will never defeat me
I can not be wrong
You can not hate me
I am straight as an arrow.

Cigarettes alcohol cannabis
******* ******* MDMA
LSD selfishness disdain
Resentment rage
Lust and greed
Psilocybin judgment morality pride
Gluttony hatred complacency
Intentional ignorance
Recklessness DUI love
Lying theft suboxone
Apathy neglect

Up from the soil, from a Womb, out of the darkness
Some came to be Hitlers
And some came to be Buddhas:
The idea of responsibility is the knife you press to my throat
And my own awareness is the wooden handle

How is it my fault, what happened here?
How can you blame me, how?
This is a chain reaction
This is a dream
This is running out of life

You are the wasted sides of me
Don't you think I want to save you?
But I can't, I love you so much, we are always stuck like this, I CAN'T

MY DEAR AND BELOVED CHILD-- WHEN YOU SEE THE THING YOU ARE JEALOUS OF PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE RICH

I KNOW YOU HATE IT, WE ONLY HAVE SO MUCH TIME
IT'S A DESPERATE MESSAGE I'M SENDING TO MYSELF

But I can't save you
We were
We were rich, so rich and vibrant