Poised quill in hand,
Tip in the ink-well dipped,
Page by turned page,
Words paint a picture,
Stories unfold,
Imagination unleashed.

Cleaned brush in hand,
Bristles mixing colors,
Hues emerge upon the palette,
Strokes create a story,
An image takes shape,
Imagination into a masterpiece.

Sharpened pencil in hand,
Sketching upon the tablet,
Circles and lines create form,
Fingers smudge lines,
Subject unveiled,
Imagination into portrait.

Ink pen in hand,
Page filled with lines,
Time and key,
Notes create a melody,
Score of emotion,
Imagination of music.

The artists are unbound,
Author of fueled stories,
Painter of fueled images,
Illustrator of fueled portraits,
Composer of fueled music,
Artists with one commonality,
Fueled by the Power of Imagination.

Sometimes I catch myself feeling guilty for not wishing you a happy birthday.

But then I remember all the years that I waited for you on my birthday. Too drunk, too high, too careless to remember.

Somehow I still feel guilty. But I swallow it down and move on with my life.

A haggard angel
Stands behind my back.
Is it me or you?
For three decades
She had graced me
With words of love
And fits of anger.
I helped create her
And yet hurt her .
And suddenly, she turns
Away from me,
Still loving me, I think.
But all she wants,
She tells me bitterly,
Is to be alone.
She leaves and I wonder
If she will ever return.
I stand on a garish train,
Thunderstruck, unmoving,
As I watch her storm away.
Suddenly, I feel what she does—
The pain and sadness.
I created her long ago
And know why she is livid.
And now she returns the hurt,
Leaving me as the empty one,
My insides vacuum up sorrow.
Am I now the angel,
Fallen and haggard?

An ill-built wall
of stone and brick words poorly joined , not motared but plastered with white wash and held together by precarious tension .

Cross my heart
And I hope to die
Our Love is intertwined

Rips My heart
And I won't survive
Our love is ugly lies

Cannot bare
And I cannot strive
Our love is undefined

Cannot stare
Yet I cannot hide
Our love's a beauty mine

Cannot run
Yet I cannot fight
Our love explodes on sight

Cannot breathe
Yet I cannot die
Our love keeps me alive

Hard to breathe
Hard to see
Hard to speak
Hard for me

Cannot breathe
Cannot see
Cannot hear
Drowning deep

Don't know where
I could be
I feel fear
In the sea

I look above
Bubbles leave
I hit the ground
Here I sleep

My oxygen
Now deplete
Here I lie
Under the Sea

I’m always forgotten because I’m never known.
They see me and my concept,
what they believe it is,
but they do not take the time to know me,
my insides and fillings,
my laughs and tears,
my thoughts and words.
I’m always forgotten because they never care enough to notice my light,
or my lack of one.
Superficial gifts and smiles
all at once in one Christmas night.
I’m always forgotten in their brains,
like tasks that no one wants to do,
a person no one wants to know.

Closer to new years now.
I’m always forgotten over the summer.
I exist,
lax and blurry,
because they don’t remember me if they don’t see me.
Every person creates a different image,
except no one actually knows me.
They just see.
They watch.
They imagine.
And they create.
Me,
in their brains.
But its not me anymore,
because a me doesn’t exist in anyone’s mind.
Not even mine.

There's oak
there's main
there's 1st and second
and so many more
as i watch them fly by
i wonder when they will stop moveing
then i remember they already did
It me I'm the on that keeps moveing
i keep loosing
i keep bruising
i try to open the door
and say no more
told them to stop
stop stop stop  
finally as
I'm yelling
and crying
and hurting
they stop the car but they still wont let me out
so know i sit and stare at  all the street signs
begging to be let out

Big beautiful face
Bursting with color
Earth's shining star captured in a flower
spreading smiles in alI directions
Gently waving in the slight summer breeze
With warmth and invitation
To enjoy this moment in the sun