Lady night offers her generosity
as the stars twinkle in syncopation for me.
Shadow-clad silhouettes...
Their gaits mysterious.
The night lights trail into the depths of my eyes.
Burning away the seconds, so effortless.

The quietness...
Willing forth dishevelled reflections...
Of unkempt emotions.
Allowing a barrage...
Of thoughts and notions that span
over night and day.

So that they could...
Be conveyed through paper and screen.
So that I could...
Share with you what I intimately mean.
The unforgiving onslaught of ideas and feelings
I bravely conjured...
But too afraid to say.

the silence of the room feels forgiving
so i wrap myself up in its comforting warmth
hold out with trembling fingers a bittersweet morsel
a few cautious words of beautiful lament
an emotional plea of constructed images to find
my grace in the arms of a long lost love
to find the forgiveness all men need from the
past no matter distance or time
for all men without
exception must find meaning in their lives
mine has been what loves i sought in the darkness and light
what palaces of strange beauty
discovered in the wild heat of human jungle
discovered in the barren expanse of the sea's wild desert
that love i have found at the very edge of humanity's dark world
a small flame of tenderness cupped in my hearts hand
nourished it
give it hope and future
but still i seek
half blind with age
i still ferry across the expanse
at the edge of humanity's plight
seeking the forgiveness of my first love
seeking the hope of tomorrows lover

Nightfall slowly fades away
    The sun rise takes its place
Clouds of smoke float
             through the air
And the glare from the tv reflects it
      in perfect patterns of white and gray
The sight of the light sends shocks
            through the unrested body
The mind slowly escapes through a dream
         of the sun
written with poetry

Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Run...Now
Don’t...stop
Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Dreams
Long ago, there was a little black boy with a dream
A dream to one day be free of all the chaos in society
Long ago, there was a little white boy who held a gun up to his head
All because he became fed up with the injustices that trapped him within his own body
They were eight
Since when did the playground for eight year olds become the life that not even us adults wish to live
Since when did eight year olds cry so many crimson tears that they form a river big enough to swim in
Better yet, drown in
Back then this was unheard of
Back then it was war against color
You know those as white as snow against those as black as dirt
Now it is just pure ignorance
You know black lives, white lives, all lives matter
WELL ***** THAT!
The children’s lives are what matter
You know the future of our very existence on this earth
But it seems no one really notice that the children are suffering from our stupidity
Which leaves only one question
Does anybody really care
Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Say goodbye...to the dreams...that have been lost

i came to you for a straight path
with no crossroads and walls at the sides
to lock in my free mind as best one can;

but you built my dreams back up instead
like collapsed buildings after a war
(which, in a way, they were);
you restored me at the start.

for pocket change, you took my soul
and folded it until it was an origami crane
that soared over mountaintops and deep blue seas
and lived off hopes and wishes and dreams;
a tiny piece of paper, flower print
that came to life to watch the foxtail valleys
and toblerone mountains of my mind
and it watched the memories of me riding among the clouds
and swimming in clear turquoise waters
and crying over friendships lost.
we will always remain that way
you form me, fold me, throw me into the air
while I remain, just cellulose, pliant, never my own -
yours to be ripped apart.

it was what i came for, after all.


cs

someone is probably
in love with you right now -
even though
you think you're boring
and stupid
and weigh too much
and sometimes smell bad;
someone probably
saw you last week and
wiped their sweaty hands
on the insides of their pockets
and thought about
your body under your
favourite sweater
(that you think everyone hates)
and about
how you would look
asleep in their bed.

Cold rain pelting on my skin,
city lights reflected in the wet black tar of
a road almost too narrow for the cars racing by -
all this I saw last when you were standing by my side,
feeling the nighttime city live and breathe around us
as we watched people scurry by and call for taxis in the cold.
It has never felt lonely to me before, I never saw
how isolated you are in a city when you're standing in its heart,
watching the blood pump through veins around you
and yet not moving, stagnancy amidst torrents.
A neon light flickers across the street from me
and I am ripped out of my dream to realise
you are not with me this time.
I see you in every street lamp;
around every corner I expect to see your face
to face only myself in the mirror of a dark shop window.
My face looks unexpectedly hollow,
my shape unfamiliar without you next to it,
and I wonder when my life became about you.
I do not belong here, into this city where
lights gleam bright even in the darkest hours
and sirens scream agony all night long.
I am from a different world, one where
dogs run free across wide fields and along rivers
and the air smells of fresh-cut grass in spring.
I am from a world where nobody locks their door
and stone-and-wood houses are made to live in,
not concrete boxes where numbers rule lives.  
All this was once foreign to me, and is again;
I do not belong with the neon lights and cinemas,
the glass facades and cold black tar,
I do not belong with the flashing ads and loud sirens,
the people who don't smile as they walk by.
All these things remind me of you.
I was one of them, one of the souls that made up this city
but I cannot live in it when you are not here.
I do not belong here anymore,
among the thousand lights that remind me of your eyes
and the constant noise that sounds like your breath.
All this reminds me too much of you.

i see you across the bar and i know you're like me,
an actor in the play of genuine happiness,
and when you buy me a drink i don't refuse
because we understand each other, and,
at least for a few hours, i can be what you need.

tonight we will be swearing love to each other
in rhymed couplets and the touch of sweaty skin,
because that is how we lie, you and me,
and we have grown so accustomed to this way of
never telling the truth that we convinced ourselves
we were meant to be actors, that we feel the truth.

tonight i will swear to be yours, and you mine
while we both wish for someone else's hands on our skin
and their lips on our mouth, sighing iloveyou.
we are the same, you and me, buried 10 feet under
the hard concrete of a love that will never be
and all we can do some nights to lessen the pain
is find others like us, and pretend to love them.