I am the unnoticed, the unnoticable man:
The man who sat on your right in the morning train:
The man who looked through like a windowpane:
The man who was the colour of the carriage, the colour of the mounting
Morning pipe smoke.
I am the man too busy with a living to live,
Too hurried and worried to see and smell and touch:
The man who is patient too long and obeys too much
And wishes too softly and seldom.

I am the man they call the nation's backbone,
Who am boneless - playable castgut, pliable clay:
The Man they label Little lest one day
I dare to grow.

I am the rails on which the moment passes,
The megaphone for many words and voices:
I am the graph diagram,
Composite face.

I am the led, the easily-fed,
The tool, the not-quite-fool,
The would-be-safe-and-sound,
The uncomplaining, bound,
The dust fine-ground,
Stone-for-a-statue waveworn pebble-round

being poetic sometimes just comes to you naturally. the words flow through you onto the paper in a beautiful rythmic way and they paint an emotional landscape of thoughts and feelings but then someone sees it finds all the flaws all the things that made you feel it was yours that made you feel unique ruined. you feel exposed, hurt, scared. you hide from yourself you won't let your muse out for fear of having your art distroyed altered and corrupted. so you change you pick up a brush you dip it in the paint and you let the flow begin again. your strokes are thrown at the canvas where you feel the anger, your strokes become detailed and gentle when you feel happiness or calm emotions. but then someone sees it they see only the flaws they tear it apart and you along with it. where the lines are jagged from your anger and disappointment they only see uneveness and imperfection. where the shading is uneven from the sadness and the pain they only see imperfection they can't see what precious beauty lay deep inside the painting and the use there words to hurt you to make you feel like you were wrong like your not doing good enough. so you swear never to touch a brush again you will never let yourself flow with emotions like that ever again you tell yourself. but then you change you learn to play the piano you learn to make your fingers glide across the keys in the same was a figure skater glides across the ice. and with each key stroke you heart beats a note that flows out through the piano like blood through your vains. it feels natual it feels good it makes you feel alive you let go. everything comes out everything you feel and think flows through your fingers the notes of your heart beat expressed through the notes of the piano. the feel of the ivory on your finger tips becomes unnoticable you beome one with the flow of the music your heart beats in time with the rhythm of you soul of your music. and then someone hears it they come in and they take a seat and for a while they listen then they stand up and without a word they leave the room and you continue to play you let your flow continue you pay no mind to the person who just left the room. they return they have brought people with them and they sit quitely and say nothing. you stop playing you stand nod to each aknowlegeing their presense and then leave because the music wasn't for them it wasn't for them to judge even though as you leave you hear the people talk about how amazing they felt you were you no longer care they approval or disapproval means nothing its no longer about your art being good or being acceptable its about being...

Blue rings of smoke and
Stop.
Ending further
Stop.
Mechanical drones but
Stop.
Thought process abruptly
Stop.
Nothing has
Stop.
For my
Stop.
. . .
You may now begin.
The millions of
personal malfuctions
scrape and sing with a  
hideous tune, but none
could be better to
soothe filthy thoughts.
They begin as tiny
blue rings of smoke and
are soon ****** in through
unsightly painted vents.
A waft of sickly sweet
confusion crosses the
outer borderline,
ending further along
private hallways.
An unnoticable
tinker of raspy tools
buzz with
mechanical drones, but
it becomes easier
with children's time
and deaf ears.
It satisfies every
thought process, abruptly
ending in tasteful rainbows
and inspirational copper print.  
Nothing has
to make sense here,
and only I would know better.
This was strictly
for my
own entertainment.
*End.

She stands there in the corner
hunched and scared
Looking like she is standing at the edge of a crevasse
and something evil is getting closer to pull
her little confidence apart

Does she not see?
She is beautiful
Every pound that she hates
Is unnoticable
When she smiles the room lights up
When she talks everything seems good

Come and join us
and do not be afraid
No one judges here

Your smile is brighter
You get that look on your eye
The almost unnoticable tilts of your head

You look at peace
You look content
Almost life a breath of fresh air
Leaving your body

But the reality sets back in
The thorns of truth strangle your lungs
But that hope

That tiny hope in your eye
Still longs for that thing
You both called love

Look at me in the mirror.
Help me see a little clearer.
Draw me just a little nearer.
Like me a bit more dearer.

Look at me and love me.
Love who I want to be.
Just squeeze your eyes and try to see.
The unnoticable beauty.

But it's no use.
The girl in the mirror dissaproves anyway.

Life is lots of chances and risks.we realize it when  we are decision makers of our life.its too tough why these four letters words too confusing love,life,hate,like...what we hate we tend to love!! what we love we tend to hate.They say live life to the fullest take risks,twists,turns but we always want life to be simple risky,twisty without danger.'N' number of turns towards success why is it so??. Water drops are so small, so unnoticable yet they treasure a beauty.I meant to say ignorance is never bliss.Its high time we understand everything is easy if you want it to be.Its person's firm impression that makes winter cold,summer hot,iron heavy and aluminium lite,A lion dangerous and rabbit harmless-you can change it all if you want,don't change according to you!!just be imaginative :)

A coffee over the buzzing watches
Did once urge me feelings of grace.

Then they ticked and tocked away;
And was dumped down with all the
Documents and filed signatures in
Unnoticable pile.

Only sundials non-stop on a frozen
Lake, and I internally ache.
Maybe twas a neuronal longing
For un single pause -

Then watch the unmoving objects on the ice,
And with scrutiny, the glint of one smiling
Droplet…and the next… until a smooth and
Tranquil blanket encompasses you,

Then resume.