I missed it...I missed it.All the minutes,ganged up on me in ambush,crushing me in an instant.Slipping by,In plain sight and in darkness,they mounted their assault,with a relentless, compassionlessdetermination.And I missed it.Sure, I saw the hourspass by like cars in traffic.I saw the days,flow through light and dark.And yes, the months,that came and went with the seasons.But I missed the minutes,the magical momentsthat held the keys of true happiness,the gift of God we often overlook,until they’re gone.I missed it,but not as muchas I miss her.
can't never could doi feel a needto Cum-mings again.if i everwasn't not goingto do it,now is not the time.why would ican't do nothingi shouldn't beable to do?even as i writethis, my hair graysas the wordsfade.
PerspectiveThe sky was perplexedwith the idea of blackand white and blueand gray.But the sea didn't mind,it had seen worseand betterand all points in between.But the moon just laughed,observing,with a perfect smile,above all.And I,I stood alone,watching, obliviousto all the fervor.Thinking,about my pitiful lifeas the worldleft me behind.
Future-Present-PastII would ask youto be my sunburn,not so my skin crawls,but to feel the warmth. in my bones, I feel the earth moveI would ask youto cut my throat,so I can feel my bloodflow. (emo I know) a wet smooch of rain drops
Tsunami and Cherryreborn-in a tsunamiof sakura
DichotomyWar,a battle we all fight,with one demon or another,a person,a thing,a drug,a vice,ourselves
War,a necessary thing,to truly be alive,we must fight,to live,to fight.War,without it there is no love,no joy,no peace,for without a fight,what is a thing worth?War,it gives us everything we need,to survive,to prosper,to be alive.
Some feathered haiku...`silencefrom the night skytalons, then beak--feathersfluttering in the windof a passing car`
Haiku - 11-28-10`my haikushattered- winter wind`
CloudLife is a cloudShapeless unless captured,Quite unpredictable,And temporary.Fly while you can.
Yesterday.You used to show me yourskeleton, the secrets insideof you, your marrow. Yourun, you shut your eyes, now.You shut your eyes at the colorof the flowers, the leaves, everythingis orange. I am gatheringacorns. I am wearing your mask.
dragonsA creature of myth,Or so many believe-They fill fairytales,Novels,And haunts the past.It's fierce eyes,Gazing upon you,staring into your being-It's fiery breath,The stench of lost souls-Dried blood upon its talons,A victim of the past-The dragon's burning heart,Driving his wings-To spread his will-To soar through the sky,claiming it as his own-The creatures driven,By they're own being.
SuicideI wish you happinessAs I point the gun at my headAs I tighten my finger over the triggerI wish you loveAs I shed my last tearsAs I think my last thoughtsI wish you peaceAs I feel my heart beat quickenAs I feel the chaos still around meI wish you hopeAs I see my dreams shatterAs I feel the despair of my heartI wish you lifeAs I give in to my painAs I greet death
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.Write about wars and victory.Be the hero.Save yourself.
Dream OnA dream can bea passing thought;a passionate ambition.A dream can bea battle fought;a superficial mission.A dream can bea driving force;a forgiving comfort.A dream can bea thriving source;a deceitful consort.A dream can thrill you;drive you or kill you.Beware of this, dreamersand Dream On.
absencesbut this isn't just distanceas in space, not just distance as inwhispers of,"i can't believe how far youare from me, i miss you" -this isn't just distancein the waythat roads seem to spill overhilltops for years,stretching like skin across knucklesbut never ending, no.this is the kind of distancethat isn't seen but instead felt,that isn't marked by milesor gas money and can't be pinned in twospots on a map with red thumbtacks:this is not hearing from youfor daysand knowing you haven't noticed.this is wanting to have youbeside meand knowing you're just fine alone.this is the kind of distancethat knows broken bridges, that hurtsmorebecause it feelslike it can't be mended, and becauseyoufeel distantact distanced from me.
sunday thoughtsyou are glowbraceletsand fireflies and oatmeal raisin cookies.you are thunderstormsand comic books and afternoons on the bleachers.you are constellationsand crinkled denim and nights spent on the park bridge.you are the best thingi could ever hope for and i love you more than should be allowed.
Power of wordsYou have now gained a level.
Sublime-RhymeI lie in bed,red streams,beams, into tired eyes.Why's, run through my head,dead, to an 'outside' world,hurled, from my dreams.Seems that I wake,break, into a day,way off center.Winter is near,here to freeze,seize, my soul.