A grizzly man just sunk a stripe in the corner pocket
Another bought himself company in a glass
One pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips
Soon a spark ignites and a spirit starts to rise

Over head the hum of jets fly by

Across the street sits an old rusty park
Two kids are there, who knows from where
They look happy to be free
A dog squatting just behind a tree

The flying angels left their halo

A block down the street
People gather to watch the lighting of the Christmas tree
Some in the coffee shop
Sipping on sugar and caffeine

The halo starts to whistle

The town is lit up as to say thanks to our lord
Instruments take the stage
Rock around the Christmas tree begins to play
Children yawn and parents laugh as it’s getting late

The whistle shows his face

The festivities stop
Screams of panic fill the night
Kisses and hugs, loved ones holding tight
The smoke in the bar has risen ceiling high

The face opens his mouth and laughs out loud

Silence overtakes the night
Just for a split second before a column of bright
Cauterizes the flesh and melts the bones
Once a joyful town, now is gone

This was the third one tonight

What does a painter do? A painter paints.
Of paintings inspired by the universe;
Of legends luminous as pious saints.
But people like me work to fill my purse.
Not artisan by trade nor rich merchant,
With rough and stubby fingers callused palms,
I'll starve if I were the master's servant
And soon to take the streets to beg for alms.
I paint for sake of commerce not for art;
I paint all kinds of buildings, houses, schools.
None enters, jobs can't start till I depart;
Scrappers, ladders, paints, brushes are my tools.
Do what I'm commissioned to do. To paint.
But Leonardo or Angelo I ain't.

Who understands poets like us?
We see the universe in a person
We see sadness as a plus
We see the good when times worsen

Who can understand us?

We sit back and daydream
When others would despair
We grasp the magic of the moonbeam
Our hearts awaken to the fair

Who can understand us?

We put words to the artist's soul
We write the songs of bards
To voice the immortal is our goal
Of ancient legends we are guards

Who can understand poets like us?
Who can understand our hopes, our loves, or dreams except...
Each other

Time in and time out, always in a rush trying to do everything all at one time, never slowing down to see the smoke and fire they are starting. The signs always pointing in the right direction, but you always want to go the wrong opposite way. Trying to prove that your way is always right, but is sadly wrong!
With smoke riseing like a cigarette burning, as I watch, I wonder how much more it will take before, like all sparks in a dry forest, set into flames and the end will leave destruction and pain.

I came, saw, and conquered bunt in the end had second thoughts.
Through all that time I lost friends and family, but many of those hands kept me afloat. As I came, I lived like there was no tomorrow, but tomorrow came.
I saw, a want to be heroine but just a plain Jane.
I conquered, as it was an outcast pick last, surprised them all.
But with all the fame and fortune, in the back of my mind said,” it was worth it I think?”
For I was and now I am not