If I Was God I'd Cry Too

Old Friend

2011-12-20T21:34:00.001-08:00

Old friend

do you remember me

I wonder, I truly do

If you remember the moments

that pieced together this conscience

and called out to a shattered night

Old friend

I am sorry for my betrayal

and any pain that may have erupted

from the earth and the arrows

as they buried themselves into your cheek

Old friend

anger is the most cunning of devils

twisted, black, and desperate

to cloak us all in shadows

playing a game that was lost

the moment venom took root

Phantom

2011-08-22T21:35:00.001-07:00

The moon is a siren
and the siren is a serpent
in wolves clothing
looking to eat sheep and shark alike

We look to it for answers
but the answers don't exist
just a phantom fairy tale
told to the weary and the meek

Until the fairy tale is exposed
as a lie of such tranquil tragedies
that anger boils to fever
and revolution bursts into the street

Lashes

2011-05-24T21:46:00.000-07:00

Rivers welted into the Earth
pouring sorrows over rounded stones
recalling that money doesn't wash in
with the tide, emboldened by the moon

Wax on and then wash it off
feeling the sting of honeybees
and the lashes of angry slavers
trying to break our backs

But whips don't shake the faith
of the mute, the deaf, and the dumb
cuts left in the flesh worn as wounds
that scab and heal into deeper crevices

Canyons flogged into the Earth
ancient lands once inhabited
by natives and nativity packaged
into stories found on splintered land

Mysteries

2011-04-21T19:15:00.001-07:00

Mysteries stretched across a burning canvas
a fire that has ravaged a once tranquil forest
filled with slumbering birds and bees
awake and curious to solve such a riddle

Mysteries playing a trombone
with deep bass lines and lenient guidelines
coloring outside the box in an act
of premeditated defiance

Mysteries unsolved and unsalvageable
resting on the bottom of deep ocean trenches
covered in fine dust created as silver hearts
crumble in the face of such a riddle

Creatures

2011-03-23T22:49:00.001-07:00

Quite moments
and the shattering of a fragile mind
aged with wonders and intoxicated
with the finest of wines

a symbol carved into creatures
dictating extinctions
and exclamations from the youth
that perhaps freedom isn't free

Quite moments
in remembrance of the dead
and a recognition of children
starving while they bury their beds

a tear drop ever reaching
across the horizon in horror
of the senseless bloodshed
and the unworthy who are blessed

Choir Songs

2011-02-17T21:31:00.001-08:00

Moving towards something rugged
a tear in the skyline
trickling a dim light into the periphery
of the visions induced
by dreams whispered in choir songs
but refused in the depths of church

I am having severe writers block...

Flesh and Blood

2010-11-03T20:30:00.000-07:00

She sits there and she trembles
sadness sweeps her as she pushes
emotions under the rug and past shadows
of a face oh so familiar, but no longer
animated flesh and blood

He watches eyes filled with pain
glass holding the memories
beneath confusion and sober chaos
whispering for one more chance at
a coherent conversation between men

A familiar pain across a threshold
perhaps not one in the same
but a pain nonetheless
that trickles from teary eyes
swells and then bursts from the chest

Marjan

2010-09-30T23:12:00.001-07:00

Marjan the one eyed lion
blinded by despair
Marjan the one eyed lion
filled with pain and prayer

a mighty beast
withered to the bone
blinded and bullied all his life
behind bars built of timber

a tired beast
each day a reminder
of the mother his mind
could no longer remember

but a flame lived in his throat
one last roar, a tribute
to those who were once his kin
hunted for their furs and skins

Marjan the one eyed lion
chin resting on graying paws
Marjan the one eyed lion
dreaming of Africa and the dead

Violin

2010-07-31T02:46:00.001-07:00

I have fingers that tremble
and a taste for fine gold
hidden beneath the bleachers
while my feet tap to the rhythm
that echoes across empty fields
as I play the violin like a prodigy

These sounds are for the angels
and the demons that sit
in the space between
both shoulders bickering
back and forth; an eternal struggle

I have fingers that unravel
and the tongue of a serpent
hidden in poetic verses
and the reflection of the moon
as it waxes and wanes

These shivers are unsuspected
although pleasantly welcome
on the floor of the coliseum
and the warm waters
of tropical lagoons and leaks

Red

2010-06-03T22:09:00.001-07:00

It has been written that God favors no man
but the man that takes care of his fellow man,
does not degrade or oppress his fellow man,
that loves his fellow man as an equal,
that does not wage war against his fellow man,
that respects the sanctity of mankind

Simple...

Maybe the scripture has it wrong,
but maybe the scripture speaks a truth
Moses, Jesus, Muhammad
they came, they preached, they left
this earth hoping for a better tomorrow
documented in sacred books and stories
leaving us the tools to continue on

Compassion...

In the end a blow for a blow
is an eye for an eye, blood for blood
and despite where we kneel and pray,
and the way we choose to pave our paths
to divine recognition and holy devotion
we all bleed the same color

Red...

2010-05-21T01:03:00.000-07:00

who actually reads my blog? i am thinking about doing a collection. Is this a good idea?

The Anthem

2010-05-05T22:15:00.001-07:00

Through a fluorescent archway we follow
and we climb onto the back of a pegasus
and descend into the underbelly of madness

in the darkness there is light
pulsing, flashing, changing
that thrives from tens of thousands
of flawed mortals breathing

here we climb off the back of such a fantasy
and dive straight into the insanity
The sounds of pulsing music and musicians

we are lost now for an eternity
that has broken free from barriers
of our own minds
and the rules of father time

we dream for the dreamers
for the healers, the preachers
the seekers, the weepers,
the teachers, the fighters, the lovers
the sons, the daughters,
the fathers, the mothers
the nomads, the strangers
under the madness we are together

We are the darkness where there is dawn
we are the dawn where there is dark
we are the desired and the despaired
we are the dreamers

The definition of this chaotic perfection
rattles us from the chains wrapped
around our spines
and they snap
with the force of our movements
intertwined with the presence
of wind whispered beauty

No longer innocent,
but no longer corrupt
We are free of the ocean’s depths
and trapped in the pools of amber;
an energy that has unleashed its silhouette
upon the faces of twin moons

We are the Greek tragedies
we are the mental warriors
we are the mortals
we are the musicians
we are the poets

this is simply a moment
a single droplet out of an anthem
that resides deep in our dreams
that has defined us
in the faces of gentle giants
and surreal lullabies

When shall we return?

The (Un)Just City

2010-05-05T22:13:00.001-07:00

It is a city hidden in the hills
a city of justice and just souls
created from the labor of the rich and educated
to serve the people and better their lives

Founded on morality and the truth
This city is a beacon of hope
For those who have lost their way
Thriving under the combined efforts
Of all who reside within her walls

Ruled by the philosopher king
tutored under the Socratic way
this city is run to create a perfect order
that the tragedies would call an illusion
but Socrates would call the truth

Or so they say

Because although this city seems just
It is indeed corrupt, and crippled
hidden behind a veil of power
And control, that seeks to destroy
The passions of those who built it

The Dionysian

2010-05-05T22:08:00.002-07:00

She is seductive and insane
the goddess of chaotic art
found behind the veil of her
violent opposition; Apollo
trying to upset and topple the illusion
we have created for ourselves

She is the breakdown of our artificial order
The pure rush of intoxicating senses
and scents that originate from the
wildest of flowers thriving in fields
of chaos, and violent unpredictability
that no gardener can ever tame

She is the laughter that echoes in our hearts
And in our minds, that we have no choice
but to exist amidst the battle between artistic endeavors
and that although we can choose to die soon
that we must resist such an urge, and live

She is the vixen who hides herself within music
sneaking into the Apollonian to give us a taste
of the fruits she has to offer, so that we may be
seduced by the feeling of ecstasy and excitement
as we are embraced into her warmth unaware
that it is she who conducts the sounds of surrender

She is the knowledge that the world cannot be mastered
the understanding that she cannot be destroyed nor can she
be tamed with human hands and heart
and any moment created to attempt to control her
will do her no harm, for she is powerful

The Apollonian

2010-05-05T22:08:00.001-07:00

There is a mighty god of art
wandering the fabric of our realities
clashing consistently with his fellow
God Dionysus, always battling
a construct, a portrait, a dream
an illusion born out of the chaos
born out of the fragile pieces that we have glued
together around ourselves to define ourselves

Some call him the principle of individuality
a single man, in a rackety boat
fighting the waves of the turbulent seas
trying to stay alive, and adrift
amongst a chaos that seeks to tear him apart
yet he fights on, knowing that at any moment
the waves may swallow him whole,
but despite that he will not succumb to the terrors
of the storm and the deep underneath

Some call him a necessity
a structure needed to maintain
our sanities in a world without meaning
a creation man made, but understood
as being a joyful necessity
that allows man to create beauty
in a world that inherently has none

Some call him the master illusion
the great veil thrown over the world
so that it shimmers with rational and reason
so that our day to day lives may continue
so we do not break and shatter
with nothing left in our hearts and our minds

Some call him dangerous
a force of artistic expression that many
find to be real and true once they cross
the threshold of creation and believe
that indeed the illusion cannot be false

Rage and Redemption

2010-04-20T13:16:00.000-07:00

I felt it once
the breeze that bore worlds
caught between a rock
and a crystal chandelier
she erupted through
moving, wailing, an explosion
of an assumption that she knew
that life was fair, and painted as a folklore
and the weather would never bring snow

She is the Shiva of these mountain passes
riding the black trails at night on her tiger
a beast and a beauty, a destroyer, a toiler
a mother, a slave, and a broken spirit

Did she know? Was she aware?
That the road was always broken
I wonder, and I ponder as grave robbers
plunder in wonder hoping to recover
something from down under
the chasm, the ravine, the promised
scent of a new haven, safe and sorry

She is the goddess, and she dances
she beckons and entrances
so that anyone who glimpses her
is drenched in her shower and shivers
wrapped up in a moment
of savage rage and redemption

Vivify

2010-03-17T16:29:00.001-07:00

God gave us the sound of thunder
and Lucifer gave us the privilege of
misapprehensions and blunders
so we sit back in old rocking chairs
watching wilted flowers vivify
in the glory of Earth's natural wonders
waiting for pirates to pillage
and plunder the halls of crimson
that we have abandoned in hope that
it is seen as a sacrifice instead of a surrender

I am Nietzsche

2010-03-01T20:27:00.001-08:00

I am Nietzsche

I see the tragedy of the Greeks as true beauty within
the written poetry and plays meant to illuminate
their world views as an artistic representation
mirrored in the worship of a pantheon of invention

I am Nietzsche

I see the earth as simply a planet in space
existing on its own axis, above and beyond
human terms given to it, restricting it, attempting to tame it
through language and meaning that the universe ignores

I am Nietzsche

I see society crumbling and corrupted by a beast,
the three headed dragon of philosophy, religion, and science
attempting to spew falsehoods and foolishness
trying to define a truth that can never truly exist

I am Nietzsche

I see the struggles of our inner and outer selves
as a war within the mind to understand and decode
the mundane and insignificant as something true
and so we accept the labels given to us as absolutes

I am Nietzsche

I see this as simply one story out of many stories
a tale woven through careful reflection and gradual
madness into the depths of a web woven of deceit
realizing that the ancient world laughs at our ignorance

I am Nietzsche

I see these things as I write, flickering pen to paper
wondering if any of you have the strength to break free
of these shackles and live a lifestyle worthy of heroic praise
until we face the only thing that is certain; our mortality as men

I am Nietzsche

The Old Country

2010-02-10T15:01:00.000-08:00

What ever happened to the old country?
the scents, and the sounds of foxes
moving through the fields?

Did it just fall off a cliff and into the sea
while we watched with horror
twinkling in our eyes and laughter
escaping our loose lips?

How did we fail to see it coming
despite the rumbling earthquakes
that shook the earth in warning?

What ever happened to the old country?
remember? they use to say diligently
that it would be alright after the fact
but I guess it was just a lie after all

Heart Shaped Box

2010-01-19T22:10:00.000-08:00

So sentimental
with her eyes so detrimental
to the walls that I built around
my heart shaped box
now shattered into pieces

oh the way I melt, flame to the wax
like the last candle
when her eyes meet the sky
in an explosion strewn across time

So beautiful, so superb
the terrain of the safe and the sane
and the curves of her waves
in the presence of such perfection
it is only natural to gaze

Kings and Crowns

2009-12-11T21:53:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I can't sleep
and it's during those fragile moments
that I find myself counting sheep
and sins I may have committed

I ask for forgiveness naturally
but wonder if forgiveness
will naturally find me
somewhere down the road

Or maybe it already has?
Hidden at the bottom of the bottle
after the night breaks and the booze
are washed away without remorse

Sometimes I can't think
and its during those solitary moments
that I find myself painting the skyline
with a vision meant for kings and crowns

Thump

2009-11-05T19:19:00.000-08:00

Thump! Thump!
in the dark their is a sound
rattling off the edges of your soul
booming, beating

Thump! Thump!
is it a heartbeat or is it a bomb
is it the wind or the lyrics
to a deadly song?

Thump! Thump!
you feel it, but you can't
reach it with either hand
so you wonder
and then you wonder some more
until you end up wandering
blind and rotten to the core

Champagne Rivers

2009-09-16T22:24:00.001-07:00

I see long alleyways, and simple sidewalks
with cracks that extend to the edge of the earth
and bears popping champagne bottles
spraying the white canvases left behind
on forest trails for pelicans to find

I see champagne rivers and glass ponds
broken with the stones thrown by toddlers
watching the moon set on the other side
of fragile dreams held together by yarn

I see the wolves, and hear their howls
piercing the tranquility of foggy nights
creating storm clouds that drench us all
in champagne downpours and silver scenes
written by aging writers sitting on barstools

Martyrs

2009-09-09T22:26:00.000-07:00

The tables are burning
alongside the ports of Athens
I am calling I am yearning
For a revolution
a whisper of change and chance
an unfiltered solution

I cry for the children
I cry for the ants
I cry for the veterans
wearing wounds of prosperity

Dare we summon the dragons
that once lived in the Buddha
and the brave sheltering
the guidance of the martyrs
and those who never lived

Ancient

2009-08-12T15:12:00.000-07:00

You are something more
than the dreams ever described
You are something permanent
etched into my mind
as a perfect painting of bliss

There are moments when I wonder
if I have somehow gotten lost
in an eternal slumber
with you as my guide
trying to bring me home

I watch sunsets on fire
and the skyline smoking
while the voices of the hidden
choke on emotions trapped
within my heart and throat
that whisper your name

You are indeed majestic
like the queens of the ancient world
beckoning to stone kings
to take their place beside beauty
in dance halls paved with gold

The Circus

2009-06-16T14:52:00.001-07:00

Do you enjoy the circus
the barks and the boos
coming from the audience
and the birds that watch
from their perch high above
the tents and the tantrums

I've seen the riddles they've created
and read the books they've written
stories of aging golden geese
and the genius of chickens
pecking at yarn and silver
in the cages of comprehensive fears

The circus is holding open auditions
for the part of entertaining slaves
as the public pays to watch
using currency carved out of rocks
only to shatter when traded
for trivial treasures invented
by the genius of selfish demons

Aphrodite

2009-06-14T14:43:00.000-07:00

Did you find yourself
beneath the shadow of the moon
amongst the coral and the current
the tides of fortune swept us
past the pillars of prosperity
and the honesty that we once shared

Soldiers wear their wounds proudly
despite the pain built into such scars
fighting for a better tomorrow
and tomorrow has bloomed into today
and today has reached for the stars
washed in with the rains that followed

Beauty hiding in the trees of the jungle
crushed underneath dead leaves
searching for the goddess Aphrodite
and other mysterious deities
that once gave man fire for warmth
and knowledge to gain worn freedoms

Ghosts don't stop haunting
the people who wronged them
when they were alive and able
to smell the scent of roses
made into fine perfumes
only to be worn by wolves

Did you finally find yourself
on the beaches of the Mediterranean
as you crashed into crystal clear waves
and toasted with finest wines
once given to the goddess herself
as a token of her treacheries

Empty Clips

2009-05-12T01:52:00.000-07:00

Can you hear the drip?
That thunderous drip
that rips from the mists
and trickles from parched lips
the drip, the drip, the random hits
of power, pills, and prophecy

Can you see the drip?
the warriors, and the pimps
the homeless and their limps
that sit at the bottom of sunken ships
pieces of golden triangles
and the fragments of parchments ripped
from the headlines, head cases
and the God we all miss

Can you paint the drip?
the eagles and the empty clips
that belonged to guns and sons
that ran so far, and came up so short
the drip, the drip, the winnings and the chips
while angels and demons continued to flip

Can you hear the drip?
the gifted and the hearts of wimps
blasted into the atmosphere on the backs
of space shuttles and personal troubles
reflected in ancient herbs and surreal trips
built into fossilized bone and plastic hips

The drip, the drip, the legacies we have equipped

Fin

A Song For Our Fathers

2009-05-04T00:14:00.000-07:00

Give me a dusty pencil, I beg you
and black rocks from the bottom of the sea
and a night to sit and ponder
the song that trails on the tip of the wind
a tribute to the truth and the troubled

this is a song for our fathers
a melody born in the hallways
of simple folk and simple kings
fishing nets placed around their necks
never filled, but never quite empty

lost trails and something a bit more complex
lives painted and processed again and again
this is a song for the snapshots of the past
and the ripples reaching for the future
written in fables and fragile moments
whispered from the tips of our tongues

Fool's Song

2009-04-01T22:11:00.001-07:00

I could walk a million miles
only to stumble upon such a wreck
half hidden in the blackest of sand

I could swim a million strokes
only to discover an island of blue
guarded by poisonous sea snakes

I could strum a million tunes
only to write a song fit for a fool
whistled by the simple hearted

I could do all this and more
trying to find a pot of lucky gold
that manifests itself inside us all

Eden

2009-03-30T22:24:00.000-07:00

Amber, where would I be without you today?
I often stop and ponder the past and the future
scribbling away onto a tablet that resides
behind the touch of these trembling fingers
and the poetry that escapes my lips

My heart was broken, my spirit was crushed
and you found me as the dawn breached
the horizons of such bittersweet melodies
reflecting the pains of Greece and her tragedies
written for the ones who never made it home

Piece by piece you put me back together
until I could clearly see with my own two eyes
the reflections of the hidden rivers that run
when your lips touch me the way they do
causing frozen lakes to melt into warm streams

Love is just a word; isn't that what some say?
But, they haven't ever crossed your path
hewn out of the sides of dark mountains
guiding tired travels away from treachery
and into the green filled valleys of Eden

Revolution

2009-03-09T21:40:00.000-07:00

Start a revolution with my pain
I dare you to do such a thing
ignite the fires of change and chance
scattered through the country
like hidden pieces to a shattered crown

Indeed she's got what we came for
from across the atlantic only to end up
at the edge of the pacific staring
off into the distance watching cannons
fire into the crashing waves as they taunt us

The engine seems to be a bit rusty to me
so lets fire up the pistons one by one
and watch the warmth melt away
frost to reveal forgotten fingers
that once pointed at evil shamans

Start a revolution with my pain
I bet you don't know where to start
but luckily for you I have the answer
so let me guide you to the brink
of her surreal smile and her gentle touch

A Moment of Silence

2009-02-11T10:07:00.001-08:00

Well here it is
a moment of silence
and then an eruption of sonic booms
coming from within the walls of sonic rooms
drum beats and drumming fingers
itchy emotions and bomb triggers
paint peeling off the walls
and dreams plastered inside garages
mirrored poems and old books
scattered pages and burning trees
old friends and shaking knees
little wonders and violent scenes
from movies that haven't been written
dribbling from the mouths and moods
of trapped slaves who have been bitten
by dusty journals and journeys
repeated in dj sets and sports bets

Pressed Lips

2009-02-06T00:36:00.000-08:00

Who am I really?
I am the son of a poor farmer
and the son of a working mother
a storybook written in the ashes
of many forest fires and burnt journals
letting ink loose into the world

I am a brother to a soldier fighting
for his very survival in an urban jungle
and to two shining stars; the artist
and the mad scientist and her experiments
that circle the gas giants at the edge
of rocky cliffs and colorful tropical reefs

Memories made on matteresses
and hot meals sitting on a table
waiting for a king to take his seat
and dig into such a fine feast
only to sail away into the distance
with his sails at half mast

Who am I really?
I am the simple silence you hold
between pressed lips and in pockets
where you might find crumpled bills
and the sound of loose change
that can be used to buy paper kites

Something Beautiful

2009-02-05T21:05:00.000-08:00

Something beautiful is happening
right here, right now, right in front of us
like a plant growing through thin cracks
trying to survive amongst the ants
and the dead leaves that litter the floor

Something beautiful is transforming
right here, right now, right in front of us
a moonrise on the other side of the earth
sprinkling the shadows with drops of light
just like a kiss on a loved ones face

Something beautiful is singing
right here, right now, right in front of us
a performance for gods and demons alike
a flute being played in perfect harmony
by the pied piper of stormy nights

Something beautiful is living
right here, right now, right in front of us
set in the souls of perfect definitions
reaching out across the depths
of what we believe and how we live

Simple Things

2009-02-01T10:04:00.000-08:00

I want to hold you
I want to show you
that the sun lives behind your eyes

I want to protect you
I want to adore you
until the day the moon finally dies

I want to touch you
I want to love you
watching the heavens collide in the sky

Dear Destiny

2009-01-25T22:19:00.000-08:00

Is it warranted, is it necessary?
what is the question, and what is the answer?
shaking boots and laughing buffalo
stampeding the grasslands for water
and to find the perfect spot of sun
to lay down and feel that perfect warmth

Is it your laughter, is it the story inside us all?
is it the fall of evil, or the collapse of the walls?
a thousand scarecrows marching to the drums
played from the farmers empty barn
and the barnacles attached to the bottom
of such old ships out at sea

Is it love, is it some sort of powder?
where is the conductor, and where is the choir?
a tortoise and a hare racing for the shore
the birds and the bees, and the conversations
between them and the earth's oldest trees
a sudden signature flicked onto empty pages

Dear destiny,
where have you taken me
and why do you record history
love,
simple necessities

Is it the simple mind, or the deep scars?
is it the toxic pollen, or the drinks at the bar?
a movement to find something different
maybe a mix of tragedy and triumph
so we take the wheel and we drive
to find destiny so that she may be revived

Silver Dishes

2009-01-03T10:23:00.001-08:00

Silver fiends, and silver teams
silver rivers and silver fish
looking at their reflections
in silver lakes and broken roads
silver dreams, minus silver screams
silver thoughts, and silver tears
escaping tired eyes and childhood fears
silver thoughts hidden in silver rocks
guarded by silver chests and silver locks
silver kisses amongst silver wishes
cooked into exotic silver dishes

Five Fingers

2009-01-03T10:03:00.000-08:00

A flash, a whisper of a fragile moment
leading into a sudden single kiss
that could last an eternity if given the chance
and fill broken hearts and homes with bliss
unseen by the majority of those who crave
the love that resides behind those brown eyes
that have the ability to melt the thickest of ice
and freeze fallen stars and molten metal
into elegant sculptures and colored petals
this is a song sung when my five fingers
grasp onto five more, only then can you listen
to such a pure pulse and a slow breath
that escapes the sweetest of lips
as a sigh is let loose into the world
like a newly born white rose come alive
pushing through winter's first snow

Twin Crowns

2008-11-26T00:10:00.000-08:00

I ask you; take a moment
reach out and try to grasp the frozen
fog condensed from the fragments
of my maddened mind and the visions
dragged out in the sands of black beaches
volcanic rock and albino birds
nesting between the tree trunks
of giant fossils and failures

You have asked me one too many times
for the keys to a treasure chest
I no longer can find or even claim as my own
but under the tattered umbrella even the rain
sounds like music being written
by the stars and their slaves: to the children
that took it upon themselves
to name the zodiac for the rest of us

There is poetry, and there is prose,
and then there is the fable
being composed between the orbits
belonging to twin crowns

I am neither of these two
simply something that was born
as I slept on that mattress
in a room of painful moments
that forged personal philosophies
once shared by Socrates and his pupils

God knows, I have bowed to the memory
of my heritage and my own heart,
the land of densely populated
ideas and ideologies; ever expanding

I have walked into the thick of the ash
stepping to the flickering beat
pulsing through the flames
to retrieve parchments
written in the blackest of ink
as ransom notes addressed
to the spirit of the fire itself

So ask your father; what's a dream to a vision?
blind eyes and mute mules conversing
about the proper answer to the human condition
ripped from headlines and textbooks
written by the privelaged in a language
spoken by cunning thieves and crooks
yet to be mastered by the common folk

There may indeed be enough love to go around,
but not enough lifetimes to truly show it
so its dished out in careful rations
devoured by the wilted northern winds
circling wasted youths and potent passions
collecting the scraps into makeshift moments
and foundations used to build empty mansions

Wild Tigers

2008-11-11T22:57:00.000-08:00

We may be going to hell but at least it will be warm
and we'll know plenty of people to keep us company,
but if we somehow make it to the gates of heaven
who will be waiting in line behind us
and who will have entered the kingdom of eternity
before we even grace its doorsteps?

We all deserve the fire, and we all have wronged
ourselves, our friends, family, strangers,
and the beggars who need change
whether it is to feed themselves
or their hungry tormented demons
all have crossed our paths in the streets of this city
as it burns to its bones, engulfed in purple flames

Although this may be true; how many of us
have repented for the actions of inaction
against the railroad that has yet to be built
only found in blueprints and the blues itself?

We may be a bit insane, but nobody is perfect
and nobody is really without a few nuts and bolts
loose upstairs, trickling down our spines
and right back up again, just to confuse us
all over again, while we paint with dirty fingers

Some call us the poets: obscure metaphors
and images ripped straight from the weird
some call us the dreamers: vivid pictures
cut from canvases of our bittersweet memories
but if this is the nature of the beast
then we are guilty as charged by the court
and the jury of our peers; new and old

So let us recite the poems that are embedded
deep within the dreams that are rooted under
our ribcages and behind stained glass eyes
that have stared out into the urban wilderness
searching for a lost city said to be guarded
by deadly tigers and intricate ancient traps

Blood and Ink, Ink and Blood

2008-11-10T23:51:00.001-08:00

The flutter of eagle wings
and crayons of many colors scratched into
wet pavement absolving our sins
wiping the slate clean yet again

misty mornings greeted by a brew
and a thousand candles lit to illuminate
the view over the edge of an ancient canyon
greeted by the sound of flowers blooming

the blood of a scholar or the ink of a martyr?
or perhaps its the other way around
and the violin cries for failed marriages
and doomed engagements
between the politics, policies,
and subtle banter we all took for granted

the rhythm of a newborn's heart
beating to the sound of a newly
discovered fish living in tropic waters
as it swims neither here nor there
but in a steady stream of circles
orchestrated by a wooden guitar

the blood of a martyr or the ink of a scholar?
we ponder this question; such a waste
as a guardian loosens the tie around his collar
watching a little girl place flowers on a grave
now a permanent home to the love
memories, and legacy of her dead father

Blackened Lagoons

2008-10-08T21:48:00.000-07:00

I am no evil spirit
soaked in the taste of fine wine
and tattered letters
written to long lost lovers

but,

If I am the poet
then you are my verse
If I am the dreamer
then you are my dream

Here in the hallways
of such utter confusion
the verse and the dream
meet in a head on collision
shaking the sky from its roots
and blinding the sun of its visions

and,

My pain translates into your pleasures
and my heart releases its sacred treasures
into the depths of blackened lagoons
channeled out from the mouth of a salty river
sweetened by the tears of forgotten feelings

so,

If I am the poet
then you are the inspiration
from which all the words flow
If I am the dreamer
you help me paint the pictures
of better human natures

thus,

The poet and the dreamer
locked in a battle with desert lions
and fire breathing dragons
each trying to gain the upper hand
pouring blood, sweat, and tears
onto shimmering sand and stone
fighting for a place to call home

The Stairway

2008-09-18T22:55:00.002-07:00

We've been slow dancing through the pain
as it ripples from the makeshift pond
the two of us created to hold swans and sorrows
Have you forgotten the rivers of ruby red
and the emerald that sparkled from dusty jewels
found in the most desolate of locations
tucked into a corner waiting for someone to find
the secrets of the past and the prophecies
of such wind battered futures etched into stones
so let me give you the only gift I can
a promise of something ancient and epic
if tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane,
I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again
past the den of slumbering black bears
and the castles made of sand and soap
to the doorstep of your own voice
as it echoes the only song that brought peace
to the farthest reaches of outer space
reflected in the fiery sunsets
and pure sunrises that reside within perfect eyes...

Wingless

2008-09-18T22:55:00.001-07:00

I have been chasing wingless angels
through the tunnels of my dreams
trying to grasp onto burning halos
that are neither here nor there

Angels in a city, or so it was named
the city of movie scenes and scripts
written with a freehand and mind

I have been chasing wingless angels
trying to save my sins with the grace
of the immortal who have fallen
and are neither here nor there

Red Dress Dreams

2008-09-18T22:55:00.000-07:00

A red dress, that's how this movie's opening scene starts
now the question is where does the story go from here?
do these moments linger for a few fragile seconds?
recycled amongst strange lullabies and pick up lines
every kiss jump starting surreal moments that have yet to fade
a woman whose footprints can be found in random writings

Where did it start, this furious fire behind brown eyes?
maybe I have somehow wandered down the wrong rabbit's hole?
now I find myself in a wonderland consisting of laughter
that dribbles from your lips, that swings from your hips
frozen suns, and melting lakes, here I find a piece of peace
truly when others watch you walk, I watch you delicately dance

Be true to the current in the ocean of many faces, and places
isn't that the point of paddling out into the depths of the ocean?
thoughts find me resting on humble moments and shy smiles
as art is streaked onto the walls of holy temples and tombs
reminding me of the vivid dreams I once lost, but have now found

Blue Moons

2008-08-15T12:21:00.001-07:00

I've been trying to reach you
with one hand calling you over
and the other blocking the sun
I've got a guitar made of dreams
and lyrics that can bend the trees
with a dance that defies the devil
but, I wonder, can you hear me?

I've got a story perfectly suited
to be written for a children's book
your face moves me in the dark
and your pictures remind me
of driveways and innocent drives
past blue moons and sunset lights
but, I wonder, will you read it?

I've been scribbling into a pad
mixing letters like twisted riddles
trying to weave myself a basket
made of brittle ideas and threads
bouncing from A to Z, back to A
forgetting the lines from a script
but, I wonder, will you write back?

The Fence

2008-08-05T19:28:00.001-07:00

The edge of the fence
is a desolate place
amongst the pain and pleasure
Sometimes we may peer out
over the edge to a neighbor
and wonder who they are
and if they have the answers
to the riddles that plague
us every night in our slumber
and those that find us
as we go about our day

But the edge is indeed
where we choose to rest
teetering on the brink
of such fiery madness
like needles diving
deep deep into our minds
solitary movements
and the shuffles of old feet
moving to the edge
closer and closer

If you remain long enough
past the hidden songs
and the hallowed sorrows
you might just find
a lonely stranger
writing his memoirs
in a battered old book
made of tattered parchment
flicking his wrists
into such elegant script

So here at the fence's edge
peering over the shoulders
of weathered stones and sticks
one may trace dust
into cracked sidewalks
as they read aloud
a story untold, unborn
of the hopeless, the hopefull
and those that have fallen
between widening gaps

Aesop's Fables

2008-08-03T16:19:00.001-07:00

What drives me to be who I have become
stuck in the purest of fires that reside
in the waves that splash the surface
of the reddest moons and the bluest suns
I feel it like a steady drum roll
building to the beat as my fingers
point to the edge of the earth
where you can find the devil chained
next to versions of my former self

What compels me to believe in fables
written by Aesop himself decades ago
with a stone pencil and burnt paper
talking animals and mute blind men
standing guard over table scraps
moving against the flow of the winds
sinking to the top of Mt. Everest
only to fall back up all over again

What has me struck like a young child
building a castle in the wet sand
watching the makeshift rivers fill up
with salty promises and blooming flowers
taken from a garden belonging to no one
I feel the seed split and take root
as human philosophies are debated
amongst scholars and the common folk
only to be proven wrong by beggars

Little One

2008-08-03T16:12:00.000-07:00

You've been floating down the river
such a small fish
released from such a shallow pond
a little one in the deep
being beaten on by the current
but with a heart so very big
and a smile that lights up
the city blocks
as if it were on fire

Your style is wiser, a bit grander
then those that swim around you
screaming out such frustration
to fellow prophets and poets
to wake up and blink

Floating down the river
is never as easy as stories tell you
but you already get that
as you scribble away
into the tablet you hold
so very close to your heart

Don't forget you are something
perhaps a bit special
a lovely rare mortal
who dares to defy the devil
with musical notes
written behind open eyes

Pain follows pleasure
and vice versa
and like many others you scream
deep inside, hurting
but here in the river
it is always darkest
just before the dawn

So don't falter
in the moments of the present
fish do swim
further down the life stream
as one by one
we come to recognize
personal truths and freedoms
as we float down the river

-For P

Windy Cities

2008-08-03T16:10:00.000-07:00

There's my life, then there's my pain
through windy cities, and the sugar canes
I've been sitting on a broken throne
an aging king with a shattered crown
pondering the pieces of peace
that shriek out to me
but they are so far beyond my reach
that they evaporate without a trace

There's something about this chasm
that is consuming me, oh so slowly
like a flesh eating illness
stripping away at my body to the bone within
exposing my evils thoughts and the sins
I've been trying to make up for
since the day I danced with angels

There's my love, then there's my hate
for whatever this has become
the things it has forced me to face
the nightmares filled with lost ghosts
the faces and places that I set on fire
with my own bare hands
sitting there somberly as ashes
sprinkle my tear stained face

There's something about my emotions
that erupt from within the depths
of a polluted ocean of moments
dirtied by the deeds of such disdain
as the better angels of my nature
try to fend off the tide of the predestined
as it brutally quakes beneath me

Day Through Night

2008-08-03T16:09:00.001-07:00

I am having daymares
as I walk through the hours
with this pressure pushing me down

I am having nightmares
when I close my eyes
and drift off into unrest

Like anchors on my shoulders
and weights tied to my feet
I am shuffling
oh so very slowly
I tried to run, but I can't
as I trip over the obstacles
that have risen up
to challenge my peace of mind

I am having daymares
as I sit underneath the sun
trying to catch my breath

I am having nightmares
with my face in the pillow
as my memories burn

This is not a place to be
this is not a state of mind
this is something
that needs to end; now...

Pockets

2008-07-07T12:07:00.001-07:00

Big fish, little fish
such a sudden wish
dribbling from the bottom
of such parched lips

One day, two days
three ways the game is played
sinking with sand castles
that rest on the cracks

Small rock, big rock
the iron gate is locked
rusted over while knights
in armor stand saluting

One trick, two tricks
the radio releases the hits
a true tribute to the lost
treasures hidden in our pockets

Save a Breath

2008-07-07T12:06:00.001-07:00

save a breath
grasp it between frozen fingers
the warmth melts the ice
and something twists
deep within the earth

save a breath
place it away
feel the fire within your chest
burning the trees to ash
as air and water clash

Star Gazing

2008-05-26T12:20:00.000-07:00

He's been gazing into the cosmos
with a finger pointed straight up
watching shooting stars
flashing in the primordial soup
With an eye to the future
but his steps are cemented
in the fragments of the present

He's been gazing out at the stars
with a naked eye that sees past
the flaws that chain bodies
to the gravity of gas giants
he has released the shackles
that threaten the dark space
in between the sighs of planets

He's been gazing into a sun
watching as it swells and bursts
from the pain of a thousand
worlds stripped of their light
and forced to bow before false love
the cosmic circle is ever eternal
but in the moment; he does gaze

-For GM

Holy Mountains

2008-05-23T01:34:00.001-07:00

Can you see the path to the peak
of this mighty beast that stands
here mocking you, taunting you
to climb to the top of self-reflection?

This here is a holy mountain
hidden in the thickness of the fog
for ten thousand years or more
only to be found when needed

Can you see the fireflowers
that grow up the snow covered slopes
pushing through the fresh powder
to the reach out to the world?

This here is a holy mountain
cared for by mystical monks
that have not spoken a word
waiting for their slavation

Can you see the falcon as he climbs
the updraft, towards the top
so that he may clear triple peaks
of anger, hurt, and perilous situations?

This here is a holy mountain
raised from the ocean bed by titans
who ruled over men with iron fists
forged through ancient legends

Can you see the top of the world
as you stand at the highest point
before being thrown out into empty space
so that you may respect, and understand?

Amber

2008-05-20T16:16:00.000-07:00

I've been siting on the fence
long enough to understand
the pain, the fear, the tears
the doubt pouring from years
of personal dissapointments

In the dark, there must always be light
and so you say you're scared daily
a bit disturbed, a bit confused
asking yourself that question;
where do I go from here?

The answer is simple
follow your gut, your heart
and let the dream guide you
to the talent that resides
behind those amber eyes

You say you got played
but players only get played
when they are playing
and satan only laughs
when you let him

I got poetry tattoed up my sleeves
and scars to carry a hundred souls
past whatever elegant illusions
the people of this world
have come to believe

I've been fighting with words
with the fury of a thousand suns
feeling stuck in the mud
of my mind, unsatisfied, unmoved
but, the ice has melted
and once again I can breath

Amber, is the color I see
reflecting off the diamond
hidden in the rough
Don't get it twisted or tangled
Just because you say it isn't so
doesn't mean I can't appreciate
the beauty of your energy

A Mess

2008-05-11T10:58:00.000-07:00

she is playful
yet there is a sting in her words
she is a speaker of bitter sweet truths
yet her candor causes many to flee

a mess of mindful thoughts
that direct insights to the science of the soul
she is the wisest
deserving of a grand audience

beautiful eyes, a golden smile
that capture the sun and the moon
the very essences of the light and the dark
she is powerful

she is the eldest of trees
growing from the youngest of roots
she has captured the forest's creatures
as they seek refuge

a mess of words that flow from rivers of the heart
and churn at the base of a torrential waterfall
that smash against rounded rocks
of rhetoric and deep seeded reasons

she is shy like the wild fox
scurrying when caught in the winter
but so very breathtaking
that leaves those who hunt for her so shaken

This is a re-post of an older piece.

Coastline Swells

2008-05-05T12:22:00.000-07:00

Rocky roads; this what I see
the movement of the masses capture me
life, love, living in steps so small
but etched into the fabric of infinity

swells hit me like bittersweet waves
ravaging the coastline of who I am
carving away to the core
of the better man that sleeps within

here I see eyes that shine so bright
they have me in their grasp
but, it's ok, I accept it with a smile
something is changing; I feel a shift

I've been moving to the sounds; studying
the beauty slumbering on the horizon
I've been waiting for a muse, but here
on such chaotic cliffs she sits

Sublime Stories

2008-04-24T22:17:00.001-07:00

when are you going to wake up
shake up what you baked
in the trenches of necessity
and the garden of misery

when are you going to realize
that time is truly precious
and you only live once
despite what they tell you

when are you going to find karma
as an inspiration to live fully
and wake up next to something real
that doesn't leave you in tears

when are you going to smile
and call home once again
so much time has passed
you deserve something greater

when are you going to wake up
walk the path of laughter
consisting of sublime smiles
and write your own stories

Flipping Stones

2008-04-23T23:59:00.000-07:00

I hold steady in the face of distraction
moving mood music past the so called factions
I got them smiling with such satisfaction,
within the walls and within the words,
at the obscurity of my abstractions

flipping stones and gliding with birds
I got eyes tearing along with the poets
like prophets having an allergic reaction
pain don't come in timed contractions
but like a sudden slug to the heart
connecting urges and mutual attractions

shivering in a bubbling brook; I stand ready
manipulating thought through deep interaction
with my mind racing and my pen steady
I continue scribbling vivid mental extractions
using my pain to paint pictures of human action

Paradise Lost

2008-04-23T12:02:00.001-07:00

I got a soul to squeeze
through the barren trees
walk the beggars, on dirt roads
who promised to fullfill prophecies
that the meek shall inherit earth

or so it was written

in deep caverns lie carvings
of lost cities, and black holes
the sins of our forefathers remain
to remind us of biblical scrolls
we have broken upon our backs

or so it was written

I got a soul to squeeze
through perilous misty mountains
on the road to a paradise lost
to sip from the mythical fountain
so that we may all live forever

or so it was written

The Hidden City

2008-04-19T17:11:00.001-07:00

I can take you to the city of lights
unforgettable moments, eternal nights
the hidden city that rages
to the musical waves crashing
against such astounding sights

So here it is
the crossroads of twilight
and the fireflies that fly in between
the realm of the norm
and the realm of the strange

I got one hand to hold yours
and one hand to point the way
through the maze of banter
bouncing off your chest
like you spoke for the first time

I can guide you
if your mind is willing
to partake in the unusual
and the unexplored
in an adventure like nothing
that has come before it

The people dance to the sounds
of such sonic solutions
moving with the mood music
like a dream that dances
like its got two legs of its own

There is nothing wrong here
simply the waterfall at work
the drops of mist are simply
part of the beautiful chaos
that flashes before you

If life is indeed the fall
then this gathering is the climax
between human kindness
and a deeper understanding
of the river we must return to

I am simply holding the lantern
that can lead you through
the unfamiliar fog
as we move underneath
such stellar lights

The choice is yours
the well is waiting
I see that your mind is thirsty
so let me relinquish you
of its mental drought

The Bedouin

2008-04-14T00:26:00.000-07:00

On a hot summer night
a bedouin did travel
across the dunes of Damascus
and into the valley of kings
riding a camel with one eye

peace be onto you
the pyramids whispered
to a star filled abyss
as the bedouin wandered by

the nights grew warmer
and the sun seemed to play
hide and seek with the moon
dancing with the winds
whispering scripture to God

peace be onto you
said the shepherd to the sheep
while they grazed diligently
as the bedouin wandered by

Wings of Hope

2008-03-26T16:40:00.000-07:00

Hope is the fuel of optimistic campaigns
fear is the artillery of maddened warships
clashing together to wage open conflict
our thoughts shall not become a victim
to this pessimistic cancer that has struck

The future is laid out in the bricks of today
cemented with past and present congregations
of troubled teenage wonderlands sung in songs
sketching sad stories on abandoned houses
covered with newly grown flowers of fortune

Simple moments immortalize the histories
written between friends and distant travelers
bravely going where our hearts and minds
dared not to take us despite nature's will
gracing us with her freshly rooted grasses

Hesitation to accept newly acquired destinies
in an ocean of savage serpent shaped rivalries
that have self-destructed our inner saints
who sacrificed their blood, sweat, and tears
to empower birds who carried wings of hope

Train to Tomorrow

2008-03-26T16:28:00.000-07:00

There are reasons to love you
mixed with thoughts to hate you
I stand at these crossroads
with my tears held in my hand
and my heart locked in a briefcase
waiting for the train to tomorrow

It never comes to stop; its late
simply passing me by as I stand
day by day, dusk to dawn; I wait

There are words to praise you
mixed with arguments to debate you
I am being tested by father time
with no lifelines to find me at sea
just muddled watercolor paintings
holding the better angels of my nature

Forgiveness, it is slowly fleeting
as the ice storms grow ever so cold
under the fluorescent lights; I wait

There are pictures to celebrate you
mixed with messages to denounce you
I stand with my back to the wall
with eyes open to my defined purpose
that you continue to try and reason
through this selfish love of yourself

Hearts and Heads

2008-03-18T23:41:00.000-07:00

Everything has a price in life
and we prioritize the worthless
before whats truly worthwhile
so love erodes and crumbles
and demons take to the skies

whats more important; a question
loving yourself or loving others?
as we move objects like lost coins
hard to answer; maybe, maybe not

aged books tell us one thing
but the music tells us another
in between the linen and lovers
lie such deceptive fighters
bickering about what should be

yearning the rubbish isn't life
gathering the scraps helps no one
so we need to prioritize for real
measuring hearts and heads to size

reasons don't change bitter seasons
new suns don't rise with the tide
but what we do know to be true is
a hand being held is better suited
or is it really? what says winter?

Night Riddles

2008-03-08T00:16:00.000-08:00

What is daring love?
is it the sight of her face,
the infection of her laugh
how about when she holds his hand
and flips the world upside down?

what is this ache?
is it the sting of a bee
the scent of lingering flowers
the splash of ocean mist
raining down to stain the sand?

what is really here?
is it what we find real
something to be held onto
something we can feel
between the streams of fish?

what is fear?
is it the loss of comfort
and the joy deep inside
like a blind man smiling
as his hands touch her face?

what is the dream?
is it fragments of puzzles
missing the center pieces
just like an empty vessel
missing a heart from a chest?

Warnings

2008-02-22T19:03:00.000-08:00

lets pretend for a moment
that life is just a dream
that the tears of the fallen
are just phony products
of the mental machines

lets just assume for a moment
that the two of us; you and I
are nothing special, nothing more
than childish silhouettes
chasing shadows under the sky

nothing is what they tell you
this is truth; so it seems
the things that should last
end up crashing into the rocks
before reaching the fiends

lets just sit for a moment
bask in the sudden silence
as it wraps its arms around
the base of the earth
to shield us from the violence

lets just dream for a moment
that we could command and create
watching the darkness bloom
into the most fertile of light
waltzing with destiny and fate

lights, cameras, time to wake up
somehow, we fight off the morning
to continue with closed eyes
savoring the sudden realities
that aren't dreams, but warnings

Bus Stop Benches

2008-02-10T03:57:00.001-08:00

Don't stop the music
let it bump through all eternity
blaring through small speakers
as the words echo in my ear drums

don't stop the message
as it bounces off the mind
twisting through old memories
of faces that once meant something

listen to the lyrics
of mortal angels on earth
telling their sad tales
so that our hearts may heal

at bus stop benches
I do sit and ponder
the meaning behind many
memories that refuse to leave

those eyes they follow me
that laugh still rings inside
the hug that use to set me free
days that seemed to stretch forever

life is rough, and we all must learn
to laugh, love, learn, and live
through the music
as it pounds across the pavement

sitting and wishing
that the turns in the road
had come at us sooner
or maybe later, when we were wiser

the singing continues
as the strings of my mind
keep melding together
to such perfect musical notes

The Sickness

2008-02-10T03:25:00.001-08:00

Creeping and crawling
it is the sickness
infecting the soul with a quickness
unrivaled and unmatched
dark and deceptive

moving and evolving
to each new scenario
molding new shapes to a puzzle
that has no real pieces

seeping and weeping
the sickness is deceiving
it isn't what you think
and you realize this as it sinks
under the skin of newborn thoughts

rowing and growing
this is the fruit we are reaping
from the fields of disaster
that has no true master
just the calling of numerous demons

moving and taking root
underneath fragile trees
being transfered by the breeze
that flows from a breath
that leads to the twisted test

but the code can be cracked
and the sickness can be sacked
if proper percautions are taken
and proper mixtures are shaken
chemistry is the answer
as we add truth and thought

the sickness of us all
mankind and its sins
that smile at us knowingly
as the innocent die tragically
their faces frozen with a final grin

this is simply the mission
portrayed through the words
given to us all
so we may recognize and remember
the sickness that grips us all
as it pouring down our throats

Dead flowers need not take root
as we fight back with something better
hidden through time
in the visions of dead leaders
who left us their messages
in bloodstained letters

No Key, No Escape

2008-01-29T19:28:00.000-08:00

My father doesn't move
silent, and still
he lies in that bed staring
out the window
like he knows he's in a prison
that has no key
or clever escape route

I watch his eyes dart about
swim in the pain
that sits in his eyes
as he stares out the window

birds chirp and sometimes he blinks
and throws a quick glance my way
then come his tears
and i feel my fears
rise to the top of my mind

My father always loved me
there was no doubt about that
but we didn't see
the same picture
but vivid random colors
splattered about

I watch my father unable to move
and I take his hand
and whisper the things
I never really said enough
"I love you dad, I am sorry"
Please let yourself
come back home...

You

2008-01-29T11:46:00.000-08:00

Your eyes- they melt ice around my heart
Your lips- gently pressed up to mine
Your touch- telling me everything is fine
Your hair- soft- strands on my face
The things that I loved...
And you want me forget? Impossible...

Your skin- my hand against your breast
Your fingers- treading lines across my chest
Your body- as I hold you, while you sleep
Your smile- a simple thing- beautiful
Please- always hold me close...

Your tears- growing flowers in my heart
Your kindness- makes me weep so deep
Your spirit- fully fierce and fiery
Your soul- the definition of perfection
I feel it everywhere...
That presence- floating in the air...

Your silence- sometimes words can't relay
Your thoughts- truly epic and eternal
Your laughter- an angel's perfect song
Your love- keeping me safe and sane
The things I somehow lost...
That I failed to fully retain...

You- Your sadness- Your madness
Oh, those watery stares- playful glares
Your happiness- something I missed
You- Your everything and anything
Your hand- holding mine...
When our paths were intertwined...
You- oh, simply put- gracefully divine...

Old poem inspired by another poem I read on a fellow poet's blog. Originally written 7/23/07.

The Rain

2008-01-28T00:44:00.000-08:00

Cough, choke, breathe...
smoke rising to the setting sun
the sun dancing with flocks of birds
birds beating wings to the sound
the sounds listening to the grass grow

Blink, squint, open...
people are the power, truth
truths are sometimes blatant lies
the lies that can pierce shields
shields that protect the simple mind

Cry, weep, sigh...
the grass is drying and dying
the dying music of bold visionaries
visionaries that changed the world
the world kneeling to the oldest trees

Chuckle, smile, laugh...
smelling fumes spill out toxic eyes
eyes that fall upon swollen wounds
wounds that burn with hardened games
the games that bring about the rain

The Eternal Myth

2008-01-16T01:01:00.000-08:00

Sit back, with eyes alert, and crush it down
into fine diamonds that taunt you
with delirious dreams
of robotic kings and colorful kites
floating so freely

Light it up, light it up
while you throw it up
and swig back to quench the thirst
that burns your throat
creeping its way up into your brain

Lie there, silent, feeling soothed
oh, feel the slumber
in your veins
slithering like a serpent
of superb serenity

A bed becomes a garden
with sweet smelling flowers
and fresh cut grass
that you can run through
without even getting up

Dance, just dance
with the songs of an eternal myth
that the Gods are giants amongst men
who play mortal instruments
from within their twinkling eyes

Deep Coral

2008-01-13T00:32:00.001-08:00

Truth is
that you are stunning
like a coral reef deep below
under foamy, salt laden waves
filled with life and wonder
fishes darting from the deep
of various colors
like the paint that pours
from the depths of your brown eyes
onto a canvas depicting earth

I can't forget your face
no, my heart refuses
I tried so many times
truth is
you find me always vulnerable
in the corridors
of my distinct dreams

You are burned
into a permanent imprint
upon my troubled mind
truth is
I am a product
of something so surreal
and something unanswered

Truth is
you live in my work
like a star burning ever bright
from a galaxies beating heart
born into a simple man
who tries to heal himself
with your grace
breathing through verses
that sometimes wish
our time could be erased

As We Slumber, As We Rise

2008-01-07T01:57:00.000-08:00

I remember,
and I ponder as I paint pictures
with the words
that come to mind
I remember
so tell me my dearest friend
When...?
When was it the beginning of the end?

Solitude causes you to seek solutions
to the puzzles that plague us
each night
as we slumber
and each morning
as we rise

I remember
words exchanged
I became a better person
Did we not change?
Did we not learn?

You were significant,
but were you special?
What was the purpose
of such a promise
made during the night?

Differences-
no doubt they exist,
but this isn't about attraction,
but the friendship that caused
true satisfaction

I remember
powerful moments
that define the ocean
of my thoughts and life's teachings
tell me;
tell me my dearest friend...

Can the sun be caught in the eyes of
a flying falcon?
Can fireflowers be frozen?
Can shades of black
be filled with pure colors?

Was it all a test?
A trial?
Or was it
a chance to learn and evolve..

Just because a flower has been plucked
doesn't mean that the others
who watched it
should be forgotten

The song is still the same,
but perhaps misunderstood
as waves soak into the wetsand
absorbing something profound
created from a friends bond

The Maze

2008-01-04T00:26:00.000-08:00

If you close your eyes
you could breathe fire
while remembering mind over matter
and the insanity that dwells inside you

You could catch shooting stars on your tongue
and whisper into the winds
all your terrible secrets
so that you may dream once again

The greatest romance
is that you would eat bullets
to save the ones you love
so that they may never have to face judgment

Such are the twists and turns in the maze
of struggling spirits and ghosts
cut loose by the strings attached
to the axe you play like a possessed guitar

Then perhaps you can wash your hair in the rain
ridding yourself of the dirt and grime
left by the sins of bittersweet moments
that you somehow trapped inside

Scar Tissue Isn't Just a Song

2007-12-27T22:12:00.000-08:00

Waves churn and crash into the edge of the earth
hammering away at the sand, changing the face of the land
leaving eternal scars, that can be seen a million years
after the first wave surges forward

these are the scars of time
scars that shall not be forgotten
like a wolf biting into a sheep
tearing out a chunk of it's rear,
but losing its prey

hurricanes ravage the coasts
tearing out trees and destroying homes
displacing monuments and memories
leaving eternal scars covered by the media

scars tissue on page one of the book
friends, enemies, lovers, and haters
the women you loved always
even though.. in the end they betrayed you

the bleeding from wounds struggling to seal themselves
like a spider re-building a torn web
ripped apart by devious human fingers

scars of love..
scars of hate..
scars of seeded sorrow..
they shall always remain
tattered tattoos on the mind
permanent pictures on the heart

buried skeletons deep beneath the dirt
waiting for someone to unearth them,
and display them somewhere
for someone to marvel over

these are the scars of the earth,
and the spirit
scars that remain on the body
to remind us
of the battles we have fought
few won, many lost

a volcano erupting and covering the earth
hardening liquid rock into twisted statues
that stand proudly battered by time;
a reminder that God works in mysterious ways

these are the scars inked into the book
the wounds left by the fierce winds
that leave even the mightest of warriors
so vulnerable and so shook...

Supernova

2007-12-24T15:17:00.000-08:00

Supernova, the sun just exploded
damn, where were we this entire time?
these moments they feel so profound
retracing steps in the sand
to the edge of our promises
put forth to protect
shades of gray

Moments are powerful when we pay heed
the search for new born stars
sifting through a bowl of petty change
looking for that shiny penny
sparkling between dirty fingers

Supernova, the sun just exploded
but, why should we let ourselves go blind?
so throw on some dark shades
and look out into the orange sky
to see a moon weeping
for the answers to love's test
that can only be answered with time

Darling, study salty tears
as they trickle into old and new wounds
rifts between roses are simply poison
and all poisons have an antitode
even if you got to find it yourself

Thank you Geeg, for inspiring me to write this. My first poem in quite some time. I don't even know what it truly means.

Trials Seen Through Black and White Pictures

2007-12-13T21:34:00.000-08:00

We all got heartache, but this is something new
a strain on my heart
caused by this test God is putting me through.
Bring it on I say
we all got to feel this sort of pain one day
I guess I am sort of blessed
to get it out of the way a bit earlier
than I had originally planned.

So all I can do is sit back and listen
to the music as it weeps alongside me, freely
I watch open eyes, burning bright like a bulb about to burst,
but they are lost there is no recognition
of the familiar face
that sits in the fields of vision, gently praying.

These are the trials of the deepest kind,
a test of devotion in what life has to offer.
So we count our blessings like chickens in the yard
pecking away at shattered bits
of burning lovers as they are reduced to embers.

Open windows to the chambers of a childlike questioning.
It will be okay in the end,
at least that’s what the movies teach us.
That’s what the music yearns for us to hear
Introspection, in the most painful of ways,
Isn't the healthiest of cards sometimes found
in a deck of disastrous decay?

I’d have to nod with the beat to this one,
and channel the pain
into some sort of extensive understanding.
Walk with me my friends,
try and feel the mist of the ocean rise to the moon
give you that vision of aged promises,
and sought out paradises
that have left it all bittersweetly divine.

Such an old piece, but so relevant to my life at the moment.

Thorns

2007-11-03T22:56:00.000-07:00

Only i am to blame
for the thorns that have nestled in my heart
it throbs with each beat
pain pulses through me as i walk
the empty corridors of camelot

sing with me
perhaps it will go away
this pain in my heart
perhaps it will fade away with time

see the lights, those were real
now witness the tears on my face as they run
this is a pain i have never felt
the permanent splinter
covered by soft scar tissue

beware of the thorns
they are dangerous
a never ending maze of nature's needles
surrounded by the petals of paradise

Unhealthy

2007-10-31T01:10:00.000-07:00

if it is my caring
if it is the sharing of my soul
then yes, perhaps I am unhealthy
but, i am no dangerous disease

if it is my meaning
if it is the things i am dreaming
then maybe i am the unwanted flu
but, i never made you deathly sick

if it is my smile
if it is my helping hand
then the unseen fever is true
but, i never felt your forehead burn

what's unhealthy
is the sickness of such an indifference
the impurity of such misunderstood minds
unable to comprehend the code

if it is my love
if it is my words
then i am the cause of your blackened lungs
but, where was the chronic cough

if it is my face
if it is my moral tastes
then i understand the abuse
but, where were the heroin loaded needles

if it is my world
if it is the way i feel
then i see the blood trickle from cut wrists
but, where were the blades hidden

what's unhealthy
is the separation of a friend who meant the world
the dying fuel of my current expression
that has led to such deep hurt

A Mess

2007-10-30T23:12:00.001-07:00

The Lady of the Lake

2007-10-30T22:58:00.001-07:00

the lady of the lake
at the shores of the white sea does she wait
for the boat to take her home

her heart is heavy
oh, so heavy
with the hope of a million voices
with the strength of God's nations

she waits in silence
with the occasional trickle of a tear
that waters tiny flowers that spring at her feet

her mind is poetic
like the ancients spread thin through time
it is powerful, beautiful, but misunderstood
Oh, the lady of the lake

her eyes reflect the waves as they sing
a tribute to the wise
She waits for the hand of fate

her feet caked by the wetsand
her tears grow warm in the light of the sun
the shore croons alongside such a queen
who romances the visions she has forseen

-For B.

Secrets

2007-10-30T22:27:00.000-07:00

across the barren sky
there lies a place of wonder
powerful truths
loose convictions of deep secrets

the stars have fled in fear
a fear of you, dare I be so bold
leaving the sacred keep so barren

the desert of disaster, she was named
a place of saddened lullabies for the brave
oh, the sky rained a thousand pains
to forget such permanent evils

the child wanders the dunes
searching for the well that holds the answer
or the key to the engine of reason

across the barren sky
did the angels of eternity choose to die
such a tribute
to the secrets you have taken

Why

2007-10-26T23:49:00.000-07:00

why so much pain
why the hurting of the heart

why did we forget the start
why is it that i am not afraid to die
but i am afraid to cry

why the dreams
why the voices who scream
why can no one tell us what it means

why the story at all
why build such thick walls

why the dances
why the empowering chances
mirrored off bittersweet romances

why do i feel so little
why does the world feel so brittle
why the hopes of the crippled

why the fragile thoughts
why the wars that are fought

why the hunger of the thirsty souls
why the warmth after the cold

why the cool breeze that whispers
why the silent moments
that have left mental pictures

why do I feel the hope of angels
why the sudden love
why no action when push comes to shove

why the cold fear through my veins
why the rush when changing lanes
why the ache as it rains

why do the stars make my heart sigh
why do i get the greatest lie

why the bubbling of a gentle brook
why the hurricane winds that have me shook
inking scars into the book

why is life a drug and we the addicted
why is a poet's heart inflicted

why are there tears in my eyes
why the bitter highs
As i listen to the children cry

If I Was God I'd Cry Too

2007-10-17T02:16:00.001-07:00

If I was God I'd cry too
Shedding tears that turn to comets
And wash the world with painful tears
To see these beings, so capable of greatness
And the destruction they have brought instead

If I was God I'd bleed so deep
To see one man destroy another in hate
Like a waterfall of pure astonishment
Why do you not see what is here for you all?
Respect what has been placed here for you to cherish

If I was God I'd pray for the world
So that change may one day actually occur
So that man loves beast, and this gift of a world
And nature is a heavenly garden, like Eden on Earth
And one may walk beneath the stars, and look up

If I was God I'd cry too
And my tears would turn to smiles
To see a few struggle in such a corrupted well
Trapped, but still fighting fully to reach the top
And show the world that there is hope for mankind

And older poem that I have tweaked. I am much more satisfied with this version.

Acknowledge

2007-10-12T02:23:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you something, a little something something
The constant buzz of uneasiness that continues to ring
Inside my chest, inside my head, pumping from my heart
Give me a paintbrush, give me a palette, let me create art
Of lyrical nonsense that actually might just make sense
And get past your thick head, that has left you so dense

So you take these tools and build your gargantuan walls
Day in and day out- they stand impenetrable- so tall
But you got these defenses as a test for the best
Building layers upon layers without a moment's rest
Will I stand still, in silence, and let them get taller?
Or will I tear them down and make them much smaller?

I got news for you darling, my dearest pretty eyes
The tall wall is just a transparent disgusting disguise
A layer of truths, you yourself buried under such dull lies
I'll tear them down and show you, your inner bright skies
This isn't about wanting you to feel for me and be mine
But for you to acknowledge the patterns of your own design

So here I weep deep within, walking alongside my shadow
As the progress once made starts to crawl and creep oh so slow
As we journey this path, the rivers of life continue to flow
So, friend- run alongside the riverbed- trying to catch yourself
Just remember, karma, these moments will return themselves
This is one book you can’t ignore no matter where it’s shelved

At War

2007-10-11T00:28:00.000-07:00

Destructive forces of chaos- with the tide they ride
The inferno of hatred and confusion residing inside
The piercing eyes of warrior spirits on both sides
Unfortunate armies- both of whom listened to lies

The fire rains from the skies- a shower of death
Loose limbs scattered on stone roads- houses burning
The cries of children hovering over their dead mothers
A soldier patrolling the dirt road- in his heart he bleeds

Explosions of shrapnel- weapons of unnecessary doom
Human flaws and errors- villages mercilessly slaughtered
Civil unrest- hatred for so called saviors- religious war

Firefights by the mosque- firefights by the schools
Soldiers just doing their jobs- supported by public fools
Acts of war- torture- policies that break the rules
Blood swirls through cracks in the dry dirt- stained

So many things happening- at war for foreign oil
To support the addiction needed to fill empty tanks
Those in charge sit at home behind global corporations

At war with too many enemies to name and recognize
While we bleed away- the world begins to despise us
How we have come to self police and plunder the world
Peace is needed- in the lands where the winds whip sand

Peace in the middle east goddamnit. I love the troops. I support them fully. I just don't support our policies and the current war itself. Bring the troops home!

Revelations

2007-10-04T01:18:00.000-07:00

In a dream I did stand, with you traveling by my side
Calmed by such sweet voices of those who had died
The first person I saw was the last I had wanted near me
It’s funny how we dance, the strings of change and chance

I close my eyes, and then shed wicked tears

Under the pillars of light, closed windows that shined bright
Revelations came from within, creeping through my skin
From a place I had tried to bury, I guess a shovel was found

I whisper words, and then sing to the winds

I lost something; I did not tread carefully around glass shrines
I did not wade carefully through thick mud and deadly mines
I forgot, the feeling of calmness, simple happiness, I smiled

I know this is my road, who are you in relation?

Still you are laughing by my side, both enjoying the ride
Revelations creeping by me, like cold fogs from yesterday
As we ride the desert on a blind horse that has no name
Now the bright dream is over, once again I feel my pains

Sad Sirens of Lost Children

2007-10-04T01:16:00.000-07:00

The soft cries, the tears that trickle- see them fall off faces
Of the innocent- born into a ravaged world of hate and spite
Who shall teach these children what’s wrong from what’s right?

Babes crying out in discomfort and discontent- unaware of flames
That have burnt away all human and moral tolerance- left to burn
The turn of tides- the tricks of the time- leaving us all blind

Sad sirens- lullabies that can not give you the feeling of slumber
Hear the pain in the lyrics of sadistic sinners- the hypocrisy of people
Tattooed temples holding onto the new generation- born so innocent

The lost children who were born and never even found- is that fair?
Sad sirens fill the skies with the melodies of singing black roses
Thorns and treachery- cradling cribs and tucking newborns in to bed

They are the innocent- we are corrupters straying from soul makers
We were suppose to raise them strong, moral, aware and awake
Have we failed? This feeling in the gut we can no longer shake

Sad sirens of lost children- building castles in the soft sands
Watch as the walls crumble and cave- crooning simple serenades
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard if we had opened our eyes and prayed

Colored Anthems

2007-10-01T00:30:00.001-07:00

We tiptoe with fallen angels, soothed by beating bass
Causing reckless mental chases and emotional races
But we travel amongst the moment with slow paces
Recalling colored anthems and all the flashing faces

If I am the earth, then you are the moon
If I am hungry, you are the hand holding the spoon
If I am the universe, you are the eternal room
So sit back, and listen to the DJ’s spinning their tunes

We run with the sweet devils, eyes open in wonder
Hear the true laughs and the roars of glorious thunder
No sun, but the warmth of lights, and you feel so right
Watching a dream dance like it’s got legs of it’s own

If I am the raging river, then you are monsoons
If I am the unborn child, you are the womb
If I am the deep bass, you are the resulting boom
So rock back, and dance to the DJ’s spinning their tunes

Let The Children Play

2007-09-27T01:45:00.001-07:00

Let the children play, just let them be today
Innocence, in a little soul, always asking questions
Simple moments of clean joy, untouched by worries
Dancing with small bubbles, laughing at words spoken
So many deep questions asked- how do you answer?

Hear their laughter...

Why did he die? Why did you sit there and softly cry?
Curious minds, unspoiled by the harshness of the world
Repetitive tales that close little eyes in the middle of a day
Indifferent with gender and race- any child can hold hands
Any child can chase each other in circles- duck duck goose

Hear their wonder...

Let the children play, just let them be today
Unaware of stress and the deep messes we have left
No clue to the meanings of world war- despair and death
No knowledge of addictions from shopping to smoking meth
So many smiling faces- so pure- how can you not remember?

Dig

2007-09-23T00:07:00.000-07:00

This is a different sort of post. I was listening to Dig by the band Incubus. And I just felt like throwing a quick view out their. This is one of my favorite songs of all time.

We all have a weakness
But some of ours are easy to identify.
Look me in the eye
And ask for forgiveness
We'll make a pact to never speak that word again.
Yes, you are my friend.

We all have something that digs at us
At least we dig each other.
So when weakness turns my ego up
I know you'll count on the me from yesterday.

If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song
Remind me that we'll always have each other
When everything else is gone.

We all have a sickness
That cleverly attaches and multiplies
No matter how we try.

We all have someone that digs at us
At least we dig each other.
So when sickness turns my ego up
I know you'll act as a clever medicine.

If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song
Remind me that we'll always have each other
When everything else is gone.
Oh, each other
When everything else is gone

Ohh...

Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, ohhhh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, ohhhhh

If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song
Remind me that we'll always have each other
When everything else is gone.
Oh, each other
When everything else is gone.
Ohhh, each other
When everything else is gone.

A great song. Beautifully constructed. What is he saying here? What is he talking about? Friendship? Love? Both? Is this to anyone? A guy? A girl? It's one of those. It's all of those. That's why music is so important. Everyone connects in their own way, and no one is wrong. As far out there as they might get. He's talking about love (all sorts). We are all human. Emotional. But deep down, deep down there is a bond, an open hand. Dig down past the superficial bullshit and status. It's a reminder when a loved one is acting in ways that isn't really them. Dig. Dig. I just like the word. Digging past the shells and shelters. To the core, the soul if you want to see it that way. Buried hidden truths and treasures. A beautiful song indeed.

An Interview: Conducted by angrybarcode

2007-09-22T16:47:00.001-07:00

So this is my first interview. I really enjoyed this. I'd like to thank Angrybarcode for taking the time to ask these questions. And I am happy to have another reader.

Please check her blog out at the link right below this, it is a very good read if I say so myself.

angrybarcode

Ok, here's your five questions and instructions to post with your answers.
Instructions First:
1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the
questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the
questions. And a link to my profile or blog as your interviewer.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone
else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five
questions.

Now Questions:

1. I have to start by saying that I am a fairly new reader and I really have enjoyed your blog thus far. You describe your blog as "pure emotion." Staying on that train of thought, which emotion do you think is stronger, love or anger? Which one is easier to write about?

Love and anger are two incredibly strong emotions, no doubt. But, I’d have to say that love is definitely stronger than anger. The problem however isn’t that people don’t know which is stronger, but knowing how to recognize and utilize love. If one can do that with respect and even a bit of blind faith, love is strong enough to change the world for the better (not saying that anger can’t change the world, it definitely can, but in a negative way and who’d want that?). As for the second part to this question, love is definitely easier to write about whether it is love of life or a person. All of my writing flows from a loved source. If you read my entry titles Sweet Inspiration, you may realize I am acknowledging the love that I have for my creative source and that it makes my mental gears move smoothly. Didn’t someone once say that behind every artist there is the love for a woman? It is a half-truth perhaps, but one that feels very true to the core.

2. While perusing some of your older posts, I got the strong sense that you are a very empathetic person. Have you always been naturally concerned and involved with others, or is this a reflection of your understanding of pain due to your own struggles?

I’d have to say it’s both. I have always been someone people talked to, but I never always really related it to my own pain and struggles. That is something that has surfaced within the past 3 years. My life has been incredibly painful, and I think understanding that pain has elevated my empathy to a whole other level. Pain can be a beautiful thing is understood correctly. Instead of cursing my pain I understand that there are people out there who have it worse. So I use the pain to drive myself. I could cry rivers into oceans, but I take my tears and feed them into good vibes. I have learned to dance in the rain and this is a great understanding of life in general.

3. From personal experience, I know that being an idealist in the modern world can break your heart many times over. What keeps you from being crushed by the gravity of disappointment and sadness?

I was sitting down with some friends over some drinks and we were discussing this very matter. It boils down to this, “I plant the seeds in your soul. Then I tend to the garden.” The world is an ugly place, a very ugly cruel place. But, one can’t lose faith in the people around them. Gandhi said you must be the change you wish to see in the world. So I take this change and I simply try to surround myself with good people and people who are trying to better themselves through positive progression. Mankind is sick, very sick, but there are good people, if you make it a priority to link up with these good people then nothing will ever crush you. All we have is each other, we are all brothers. Besides, it’s like they say, there is beauty even amongst the ugliest of things. For all the disappointment and sadness there is hope and happiness. One just needs to know where to look. It all ties back into one of my favorite sayings, “Learn how to dance in the rain.”

4. Sometimes, in order to get to a place of evolution, especially in personal relationships, we have to make huge mistakes. Unfortunately, they are usually at the expense of lovers we wrong, or people we hurt. Being such an empathetic person, was there a time where you were careless with someone? What did/would you say to that person?

Definitely, I have hurt people, recently I make an effort not to do it on purpose, we are all human. As for your second question I am simply going to quote an older entry (It’s a bit long so forgive me). It was written for a situation where I had hurt actually not one, but two loved ones. I actually posted this on my blog and they happened to read it and called me as soon as they did, so it must have struck a chord.

“I have come to realize that the connection between human beings is a very powerful and profound thing. Especially the connections I feel towards those I love. Which is why I fight for what is right. That is why I am trying to right the wrongs of my recent past. Because the people who I have been torn from are beautiful in themselves. And I know in my heart that we met for a reason. People come and go, but every so often I feel a tug on some invisible string. Like we were meant to have a friendship. Like my conscience is telling me. Treasure them, because they are good people, which is a rare thing in today's world of selfishness and swollen egos. And so right now. I fight. Stripping away my pride and taking whatever humiliation comes with these battles. I am sure I am thought annoying, persistent, arrogant, and crazy. But I do it because I believe. All we have is each other. And if we abandon each other at the first sign of trouble then all is lost. Whatever tears us apart can only make us stronger in the end. If we forgive and realize. We are all humans. Driven by uncontrollable emotions. Driven by needs and other basic desires. But we must not forget. Even amongst the uneasiness, the moments of cold emotions, and hatred, once there was respect, friendship, and most importantly love on a certain level. And I am willing to face the harshness of these other people who are blinded by these dark emotions. Who do not want anything to do with me whether it is my fault, their fault, or a collection of the two. I will continue to fight, and attempt to reestablish what once was and is no more. Before it fully fades into the shadows of time. That is my mission. That is my pledge. To all I love. God bless those who are still with me. And those who have left me. I can only hope and pray. That we all see that it is simply a poison. Deep within. That prohibits the forgiveness and reunion of good people.”

5. Do you think God cries, or do you think there’s something (s)he sees that we're not aware of? Do you think it's possible that suffering has a purpose, or is it more like a disease?

First I must say that I believe in God, but not in religion. I believe we were created in some way shape or form. Maybe it was intentional (in the biblical sense) or maybe it was an accident (evolution), but something started it all. However, I also believe that God does not meddle in our everyday affairs and is not here to favor any one religious ideal. They say God is great, so if that is the case then God should be greater than anyone belief, because at the core of it all, they all follow basic human moral principles. Now, to actually answer the question, I think that God cries. I think he weeps daily. I mean wouldn’t you? To see this creation, this beautiful creation (mankind), sit here and destroy not only ourselves, but the planet upon which we were placed. We as a species are capable of so many great things, and yes, we have done great things, but the negatives far outweigh the bad. Look at the world today. I think God cries with a deep seeded sorrow for a failed creation that continues to blind itself instead of enlighten. I think suffering is of our own creation. I think that mankind created suffering, and maybe it was a necessary creation so that we would understand each other and the beauty of the world we live in. However, I think it was simply ignored instead of addressed, and it was altered from something that should have helped us better ourselves, into a disease that is everywhere you look. I mean I see all this unnecessary suffering and I simply hear John Lennon singing Imagine. Maybe one day the dream will become reality, but until then… I have no idea…

I'd once again like to thank angrybarcode for taking the time to ask the questions. I enjoyed answering them. God bless, and peace and respect.

We Are...

2007-09-10T16:04:00.001-07:00

We are the poets weaving reality from fragile threads
Creating intricate quilts out of tears shed by the world
The hallowed hearts sheltering the innocent boys and girls
Sprinkled dust of whole dreams now shattered and broken

Feel the lump in your throat, that's the inner truths
Trying to escape from the cage of foolish deceptions
We are the waves of much needed change and chance
That beat against the thick skulls of blind followers

We are bright suns, and we chase away darkened clouds
That shiver when we release such fragile trailing thoughts
That ripple in time caused by the stones we have cast

We are high on the fumes of the unknown eternity
Cry or laugh- despair or repair- destroy or create
A mosaic of beautiful faces created from man's hate
Writing it better than you have ever felt it or seen it

We are the poets cut loose from our puppet strings
Abstract artists sketching circles that end where they begin
Carving sculptures of change from mortal marble blocks

We are deep rooted trees, that dance with hurricanes
Open hands catching comets and turning them to crystal
That shine from our eyes reflecting respectful wonder
As we try and satisfy the infernoes of never-ending hunger

Born Beautiful

2007-09-08T09:11:00.000-07:00

Born with brown hair,
She turned it blond
She's already perfect,
But she got it all so wrong

Piercing eyes that melt
She's already got it
Her mind works perfectly
Guys love her figure too

But somewhere it went bad
She went from being content
To incredibly sad
And from incredibly sad to just mad
Like the world is a slaver
And she's the slave
Of impossible standards
And immoral odds

She's got to powder the face,
She's got to straighten the hair
Useless gesture really
No beauty is being added
Just ripped and taken away
Like waves stripping the shore

False images of hope
Dead identities of the self
Wise up and love yourself
And maybe then
Someone will love you
For you, and just that

The first poem I ever wrote, re-posted and tweaked.

The Muse

2007-09-07T15:43:00.000-07:00

My heart bleeds for her to fully understand
The methods put forth so her mind will expand
A beautiful obscured potential that needs a hand
To cut the chains that securely wrap around her

She started the inferno and resurrected the calling
Somehow kept me upright when I started falling
She woke up a buried voice- gave me the choice
To accept these words or ignore them for good

Poetry flows from my mind to the tip of my tongue
Like a faultless ode to life and love yet to be sung
As I saunter these streets of dense dreams- it drips
From pen to paper- stories flowing from fingertips

How the paths were paved- that can’t be controlled
She was the start of this gift inside of my guise
Her shell of false profiles fits the unnecessary mold
It is not how her mind thinks or her heart truly beats

So I thank her for what she has unintentionally done
It was her and her alone who gave me my voice
As she mumbled through hers- but her soul is not lost
It lies with brittle roads- waiting- on a path yet crossed

It may be bold to say this- but ask those around her
To honestly evaluate her immediate points of view
Be surprised to find- those closest to her will agree
With the buried truths I have always been able to see

2007-09-07T14:12:00.001-07:00

“We come to love not by finding a perfect person but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.”

-Sam Keen