colorful paint
on a blue canvas
runs down in strings

crossing borders & languages
flowing into hearts and minds
slowly
at ease

the bottom end
of the canvas
is not the end
of the message

you look back at the school
and see your tantalizer standing in the doorway
and realize they have been telling you lies about your self and criticizing you by your size
When you look up at the sky
And realize how bright the sun is in your eyes
you look around and see that the world is so much
more fuller and beautiful than they tell you it is
you see the fluttering the butterflies
and hear the chirping of the chickadees hopping around in the grass
you hear the running of water from the creek behind your home

Like seeing the ghosts of the people I loved
I scan through crowds and avoid their faces
Faces as magnets attract my eyes
My vision is blurry, it's time to go
I stumble through hallways
My head hangs low,
Avoiding those faces as magnets.

The girl with the piercings
The guy with tattoos
That person whose hair is a dark grayish blue

Those people have faces as magnets.

Your
Sultry
Eyes speak of
Impulsive thoughts.
Combine together
As one, our lust and love.
I hear my name unspoken
In your warm unwavering gaze.
Pressing kisses taste of surging need;
Awakening wild passion within me.

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

Midst the mountains, sitting so high
Gazing down at a turquoise sea
Nature recites love songs to me
As I release contented sighs
Crickets chirp, sparrows sing, my spirits rise
This is a world to be relished and prized
Midst the mountains

Imagine Earth in perfect harmony
Forgetting war, strife, victim's tortured cries
Escaping all life's pain and lies
Resting here where my heart is free
Midst the mountains

Amidst the smoke and light and laughter
Along the smiles and cheers thereafter

A sound is bled, wrung free from strings
It bounds and treads and wholly sings
Inside each song, a secret’s moved
Not right nor wrong or frequent proved
The message dances from bow to ear;
A coded trance of love and fear
From left to right the story rings
Of death and light the Cello brings
The covert tale engulfs the room
It vibrates truth to those who loom
The Cello knows for why it’s played
Its secret lost, both gone and stayed

In the smoke and light and laughter
Music lies and cries thereafter

tired because of the things he does,
always remembering where i was.

these fickle things nostalgia brings,
icicle fingers touching ribs—stings.

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

You are tea,
serene in your surroundings.

                                                               ­                                        I am coffee,
                                                                ­           attention always bounding.

Your colour milkish pale,
creamy optimism.

                                                               ­                              I am taken black,
                                                                ­                                bitter cynicism.


Two sugars,
to match your disposition.

                                                               ­                                     None for me,
                                                             ­       I'll maintain my grim affliction.


                                               We differ so much,
                                                     it's obscene.
                                                  
     ­                                              But in the end
                                               we're both caffeine.

It is so beautiful to see
In the memories we'd be.

Amazing
how the day spins
There are chains in
All entwined in

Amazing
How little my life means
To those I give my everything
it is humbling, to know your meaning

Amazing
In the scope of greens
I am a tiny speck of red
a very lonely feeling

Amazing
Cannot say anything
Without meaning other things
Deciding against it
The purpose defeating

Amazing
It is so small and beautiful
I am noticing the life beyond my life
I cannot help dreaming

Amazing
Every good thing
That happens after bad ones
That helps us forget
The last thing

Amazing
I am still living breathing
It is gratifying
How human is still a thing

Amazing
is my heart still beating
And it always for me.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)