Dead trees,
White snow,
Green pines,
And a long way to go.

What do you want for yourself, future wise?
I want a future in literature,
A doctorate in English arts,
And a lineup of books for people to read.
No, what do you really want?
Okay, I want a loving wife,
A happy home somewhere warm,
And a pair of kids, daughter and son.

What's better than a summer day?
Not a whole lot,
But there are a few things.
There's love for one,
After all, any day with love makes summer look glum.
Some argue for money,
But I just don't know,
Money doesn't feed my soul.
Family is up there,
But the sun can set even on that,
Guess a legacy isn't as immortal as they say.

I                                                                ­                                       Up
Used                                                          ­                                  Me
       To                                                               ­                 Picked
          Live                           ­                                         And
                On  ­                                                   Around
                   One                                        Came
                         Big                               You
                             *****                Until
                                     Downward

For young/new writers,

                                                  The best draft of your poem is the first.

              Self doubt is the number one cause of death in poets,

                                                               So don't drown in worry.

         Swim in it calmly,
                                                      
                                                            Like a swimming pool.

I guess you can't really have a haven anymore,
These days everyone is angry,
They want to rip it up into internet war.

Can we lay down arms?
Can we still find peace in places like these,
I don't remember this much random slander in 2024,
But I guess things can change fast in three months.

Hold your fire!
Stop the rounds,
Artist are dropping dead all around,
Rodger is an Echo, silent in the wind.
Someone dropped by,
Just to attack Hall and Truth.
When did the keyboard war reach these recesses?

You can't have jack anymore!
Not true, you could have it,
Had you not thrown it at the wall.
I never thought I'd be the one begging for calm,
Critique turned from a reward,
To an assault on anything on a page.

Paying an arm and a leg,
To get a political letter to the front page,
Just to ridicule any feedback you receive.
This went from an escape,
To a constant shock and turn around.
So can we just drop weapons please,
And focus on every ounce of love we pour into hp.

We're two different people,
But in similar ways.

We both like chewing gum,
A pack in our pocket at all times.
But mine's watermelon,
Yours is nicotine.

You got your nails done yesterday,
They look so pretty.
Black with white swirls,
Sleek shiny paint.
They're kind of blurry,
Maybe if you held my hand,
I could see them better.

A calm day,
Former agent Trevor Maximus rested,
Bathing in the sun of summer on his front porch,
A Coke can perched in his hand.
His eyes traced the flight pattern of a humming bird,
Flying silently through the warm summer breeze,
Hovering above the plastic bird feeder, drinking in it's refreshing reward.
Trevor let out a great sigh,
He always thought the artificial red color of the plastic bruised the beauty of the countryside,
Still, he refused to take it down, his late mother loved seeing those strange winged creatures drink from it.

It was then when he got the call,
A ring like screaming compared to the quiet of the country.
Trevor reached to answer the call, but hesitated,
What if he just let it ring? He could go right back to his cold Coke,
And the beautiful touch of the summer winds.
But he decided against it, he didn't have many friends so whoever was trying to reach him must need him desperately.
So he set down his drink and picked up his phone,
Though when he checked the caller ID, he didn't recognize it.
(276)-435-9009, a Virginia area code,
He looked around in a panic, when he had moved out he made a point of avoiding people,
Scared of making any ties.
Trevor took a deep breath and composed himself,
Swiping up the answer button.
"Hello? Trevor Maximus speaking?"
"Hello agent, you have three hours to make your way to the Goslting Square where I and my team will meet you. If you do not show up in the allotted time, we will come to you. Timer starts now."
Silence.

A soft snow scurries across the town,
Drowning out the bright lights.
A soft darkness descends,
And the day stretches in slivers,
From the clouds.

And I see none of it,
I'm too focused on you.

You want to know the poet?
You want to know the man?
You can call him Hardison,
He's going for the grand throne,
In that hall of fame.
There's nothing that will halt him,
Till his name's carved in the sky.

I learned to spar with my stray thoughts,
Every ounce of fear or anxiety,
Becomes a battle of wit.

Though that may not work for everyone,
Some just build lanterns,
A way to see through the night.

Others learn to silence their worries,
Utilizing weapons to wipe away their nightmares,
Burning holes where there once was doubt.

Blank canvas,
A bucket of paint,
I took that bucket,
And I chucked it.
Green blues until,
I had a landscape of Nantucket.
I threw the paint,
And just said '---- --'

A place where I feel safe,
Where my art is noticed,
Where I am somebody.

Raise your cup for a toast,
"I love HP!"

I used to cry when I was alone,
I was scared of people leaving me,
I was more scared of getting used to it,
I have to thank you though because now,
I have no reason to worry all of that because,
I have you to stay with me and you have me too.

You fill me up,
You break me down.
Then scatter the broken pieces of my body all around,
A grim load of seed,
From which sprouts a wicker tree.

You seek foreclosure,
You'll find none from me.
I will be an angry spirit,
Lying amongst the wicker trees.

When asked about how to earn confidence and respect,
An old rail monopolist answered the following;

'When in interest and pursuit of respect,
A peaceful man must learn how to wield a sword.
Whether or not that may be figuratively or literally,
The quietest must teach themselves to yell the loudest.
Then once they are fit to chase away the thunder storms,
To slaughter the lightning and winds,
They have earned confidence and respect within.'

Every single sunny day,
There's a magic place,
A brown bench by the baseball fields.

Such a basic grace,
When the sun shines down,
You and I walk the way.

Right on down to our favorite seat,
Whether its summer, whether its spring,
I can hold you all the same.

Who decided it was crazy,
To capture yourself in a poem?
I must have missed that part,
When I read the rulebook you wrote.

The fact is I am a defacto poet,
So when I write poems that you read,
Don't slander me like you could do it better.
So hold your tongue,
Till it's your poem you read with it.

You look tasty in every shade,
So divine in reds,
So savory in blacks.

A sweet treat,
I love you,
In every little fantasy.

Love will write poems,
Long cold fall, poet days.
Remember publisher?
Find things, turn music,
Work years, empty morning, keep winter Christmas light(s).
Poets' song told,
Tonight, bed black walk(s) poetry.
Sea winds missing,
Men hurt, dark hold, coming hand(s).
Someday stopped walking, "Friends mind Mexico,"
Listen, staring, wonder, wait.
Silent waves, "Guess sad friend," asked Boy,
"Sand Lake."
"Save ocean sing?"
"Sing, slip, wishing diamonds shine! Silver Green tells, "Care   forever, pretty face."
Alas wind fingers,
Salty message!
Memories spite,
"Learn, Angel, young children fade."

Single sentences happen.

73 drafts,
73 finished poems,
73 pieces I can't post,
73 plus instances of 502,
Bad Gateway.

Deck of cards,
Pictured scenes,
Pastel backs.

Just have to remember,
In order to play memory,
But no one will remember me.

MON

!yeH
!meop ym s'tahT
,krow ym s'tahT
.ti elots uoy timda tsael tA

It's time to settle down,
To buckle up.
Focus on school and your future,
But they can never drag out the memories,
Of when we were wild and free.

Betting on everything,
Life in the dead of night.
But I guess the sun came up,
Because nothing's the same as it was,
When we were wild and free.

November comes in waves,
First, the leaves turn orange,
And fall from the trees.
Second, the last summer bird flies away,
And the city is left lonely,
With the haunting song of the crows.
Third, the winds turn bitter and cold,
And those who walk the streets dwindle,
Till I’m walking the city and find I’m alone.

The snow melts,
Trickles onto the roads,
Freezes into ice,
Right at my shoes.

And the water rolling off the roofs,
Forms spiked icicles,
Falling from the ledges,
Stabs my arm.

I waited for hours in an office lobby,
Just for them to tell me there was no cure for what I was suffering.
I walked a mile,
In another man’s shoes.
So I walked to  another,
To the next doctor,
Just to be told again, that there was no cure.

Wendy; My shadow is too heavy, can you fix it?
Doctor; Shadows don’t weigh anything.
Wendy; Mine does.
And it’s getting bigger.

I waited again,
Yet still the answer was the same.
That there was no cure,
For the sad music I hear in my ear,
That makes me age hundreds of years.
It makes it seem like my mind is run by rusted gears,
It must be from storing the salt for my tears.

Mother; I thought you were sleeping.
Wendy: I was being sad.
…
Wendy; I’m not always sad.

I didn’t go to another office,
I ran out of ones to walk to.
Running is a concept I never understood,
Why are you always running from, or to?
Why can’t I just run,
Away from nothing, for I have nothing to run from.
To nothing, because I have no more things to run to.

Detective; Can you fly?
Wendy; I could,
I don’t think I can anymore.
Detective; That sounds dangerous.
Wendy; It is.
Was
Detective; What can you tell me about him?

Why can’t they make a medicine,
That makes you forget?
I don’t mean alcohol,
I just asked to forget, not to destroy the place in my mind where the memory was.
Why can’t they make a syrup,
It could taste like peppermint.
That you take at night,
And wake up and forget.

Wendy; I asked you to stay.
Peter; Did you?

If the planet woke up,
And we had all disappeared,
Would it mourn our memory?

It depends on the way we go,
Somebody snapping their fingers, we fade away,
Or a blinding ball of light as nuclear weapons implode.

If God revoked our presence today,
What would happen with all the factories,
There's a chance they run until Earth runs out of fuel.

It seems that if that happened,
Then all these countries would sink into the sea,
With our glory and memory.

Mortality is a beautiful thing,
This one life we've got,
This one chance to live it big.

I want more,
I want less,
I want it all.

"Marry me."
If I could I would,
You have no idea,

So devoted to you,
The single men heckle in their cliques,
But they don't understand,

What this is to me.

I dream of days
Where worry passes by
Replaced by the soft caress of warm winds
Where I trust myself to make big decisions
Without falling apart
Someday I know
I’ll feel your touch
With love alone
No worry, no fear
My thoughts will be clear and pure
Barred away from the darkness
For now I struggle
Too human to not worry
Too non-organic to feel

Can you hold my hand so I don't fall?
Even though happiness pays me,
Like she owes me debt,
Sadness still comes a'knocking,
Looking for little bills and floor pennies.
Because I didn't put money,
In his street jam cup.
Though he'd just buy bottles of melancholy with it.

If it’s not love it’s poison,
If it’s not good, then it’s evil.
If you’re not warm, you’re freezing.
And if you leave you’re cruel,
And if you stay clinging on for too long, you are nothing.
So, if it’s not love, it’s poison,
And if you’re not surrounded you’re alone,
And if you're not full you're starved.
If you break you’re nothing,
You’re alone,
So if it’s not love, then it is poison.

The weather is important when writing a play,
Such is when Romeo and Juliet was shown,
It was a cold and raining day.

So the audience would forget about the heat,
Off in fair Verona had Shakespeare failed,
To keep mention of the begrudging summer.

I sat on the rock,
With the statue of Robert Frost,
And thought.

I laid on the stone,
With the metal cutout of Emily Dickenson,
And cried.

No more Monsters,
Sorry RedBull but you lost my brand loyalty.
I will no longer be drinking tartine,
All this caffeine makes me forget,
It causes problems with my life and love.
So I'll save my pennies,
To afford a moment of clarity.

What shadow am I,
Lurking on this page,
This blocked out feeling,
I need to go away.

I don't read,
I don't write,
Cut at my roots,
Neither ink or water comes through.

We pray in the garden,
For peace to take the ache away.
We pray in the garden,
For the light of God,
To guide us to better days.
We pray in the garden,
Guardian sanctum of our hope.

Alone sits the tower's bell,
In the glow of lantern light.
Looking out at the town,
Silently gazing upon the night-fell streets.
Every day, the elders yearn to hear it ring again,
They want to hear the sound they know.
From their childhood, they remember,
What it was like to hear the bronze ring echo.
Yet, the children,
Don't have a chance to forget.

Read the newspaper,
Read a book.

Scrolling through these videos,
Gives my soul a headache.

I'm just gonna make some chicken n' noodle soup,
And use a paper, or as a modern stance, pauper cook book.

A top theme of poems,
Is loneliness.
Are we as poets destined to be alone?
Or is there a chance for some of us to pull away,
I hope there is.
What if being accompanied now,
Means I'll sit by myself tomorrow,
Please don't let this leave.

How do I beat writers block?
How do I scale a wall,
Google won't give me answers at all.

How do I fix a broken star?
How do I mend a shattered dream,
Is the answer hidden in the stream?

I want to escape,
To leave this cloudy place,
Where the rain freezes over,
Leaving a layer of ice,
Wrapped tight around our hands.

I want to leave,
Will you come with me?
The north is bitter,
Rich men plaster their homes with soulless things,
Leaving the poor man's mouth frothing.

I am leaving this place,
Please come with me,
The trail is cold,
Your embrace is warm.
If you say no,
I will stay.

I can make a career out of this,
Right?
I can do this for a living,
So many people do.
I'm paranoid,
But I think it's reasonable.
I've done this for so long,
Who will I even be,
Without it?