I know it's hard to belive because I can't really belive it myself and I know I've been in love before but it's never been quite like this and it must be strange because we've never kissed but it feels as if I know the sting of your kiss and it feels like a dream that's already come true but in reality I never was brave enough to admit that I love you and I know how ridiculous and illogical that must sound but I can't deny it was at first sight and I can still see you walking past and it feels as if I turned around you would still be there and it seems cliche to say and even more foolish to belive... Love and first sight?
Love at first sight...
Love at first sight!
That's what happened to me

Yea... it hurts sometimes
Yea..  it even makes me miserable sometimes
Don't worry about that

Because thats love
Even at its best
Its always going to hurt
And make us miserable

From time to time

When we're miles apart
Or sleeping in the same bed

Love is so good sometimes
That it makes us sick
Until our chest hurts
And our souls are miserable
And thats when we know
We have love
At its very best

So when I'm hurt and miserable
From thinking
And longing
And dreaming
About you
Its only because
I have found love
*Love at its very best

I stare out to the blanket of stars
painted across the night
and I feel the calling of home
somewhere out in the distance
beyond the reach
and touch of my fingertips
but so deeply rooted
into the beat and rhythm
of my heart
and to what distant glimmering light
have i been torn
from what star was my blood born
and how long before I return

and I have had my homes here on earth
in the faces and names
that I have found love
on the beds and the couches
I have slept and crashed
as a king
and a peasant
and lover and friend
I have lived in houses
made of wood
and hearts made of blood and soul

and yet it is always the stars
that leave me longing
for the home that is away
and inside my bones

What do we know but nothing about anything
and everything about nothing
we continually perpetuate the lie
our fathers father told him
and his father before that

the only old religion everyone still prays to
is hate while ignoring
the oldest religions of love
and love is too kind or too caring or too nice
to complain that we never call anymore
except to complain about
the things and people and work we hate
and as soon as we get
a more important distraction we hang up
making hollow promises to call back

we never do until the **** hits the fan
and someone cheated on someone
and someone lied to someone
and someone lost their job
and someone lost their mind
and someone wants to die
and someone went through with it
and now they are dead

love does what it can
and says what we need to hear
but we drift off from the conversation
because we weren't listening in the first place
and we push love aside again

because we hate how much it hurts
and we hate everything about anything
and anything about nothing
and we hate ourselves most of all
but we do our best to deny it
as we paint plastic pill coated smiles on the mirror
and repeat our daily mantra of "I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm ok.."
as we ignore the tears of our reflection

we don't answer the phone
because we know who's calling
but we're late to church
and an angry god is a hateful god
so we better hurry
and get down on our knees
and kiss his ***
for all the beautiful hatred
we use to keep ourselves apart
from each other
and most importantly
to keep ourselves away from love

She was small like a bird and more beautiful than all the stars stretched out across time soft pink dreams curled and nested in her head and tinted her hair with the colors of a cloud streaked sky at sunset
He felt like a wish walked through the center of his heart the first time he saw her walk past and was sure that she had the smile that had lived in his dreams of love since before he had been born into this life
She was lovely and kind and sweet
He was dull and boring and shy
She was young and vibrant
He was old and grey
Two hearts so close they could see into the others dreams
But he sat quietly
The temptation of perfection would have to be lost to the years of later regret and he folded the paper and the wish that read like a poem and instead of leaving it on the table for her to find he placed it in his pocket and walked away leaving a gentle whisper outside the door in the cool night air hoping she might hear him when she walked out and smile so the stars could see how beautiful and lovely it is to fall in love with a dream

I wish...

I wish I could share this with you...
I wish I could tell you how absolutely miserable I have become...
how wonderfully painful it has been...
and that I hope I will never quite be as intoxicated as I am now...

how strange a thing love can be...
to fill our hearts with such a melancholy joy...
to make us feel so wonderful in our chests
that we cry because we are
overburdened with happiness...

what a strange creatures we are...
how absolutely absurd of a species...
to sometimes find ourselves so in love that we become afraid...
afraid of something that feels so beautiful...
sounds so sweet humming in our hearts...
how can we fear a thing that can turn silence
into an orchestra within our blood and marrow...
that we would deny the majestic paradise
and heavenly garden it causes to bloom within our bones...

how is it that we can pray to an empty sky for redemption
in hopes of some eternal bliss in another life...
that we can pray to an unknown god
to treat us kindly after death...
yet waste our true potential while we are here
breathing for such a short and insignificant time
within the living moments of eternity...

that we fail to give our all to love...
our all to each other...
that we too often find ourselves barely able to whisper...
to softly utter under our breathes...
or say a single thing...
about the love we know is beating wildly
and carefree inside our very pulse...

I wish...

I wish I could share this with you...
that I have become a small boy inside again...
so perfectly and shyly obsessed with your beauty...
so curious of the warmth and light of your kindness...
so mesmerized by the humming of your heart...
heaven must be made from the sounds
echoing from within the light of your soul...
how hypnotic the music of your footsteps...
how elegant the harmony of your silence...
and what of the cosmic opera that plays so softly
from the caramel swirls of your eyes...
what a lovely song you are...

i wish...

i wish I could be the reason and inspiration
for your heart to feel this kind of misery...
this kind of wonderful pain...
to make it wish it would never be this intoxicated again...
to know love in all its strange bewildering beautiful truths...
for our hearts to be mirrors reflecting
the same endless love to each other...
for each other...

how kind has fate already been...
to have let my path cross with yours...
to let my heart feel such

a wonderful

miserable

painful love...
that I find myself wishing myself brave...
wishing myself young again...
wishing that I could share this with you...

A page entry from A.Z.H.'s "Thought Book"

  "Through the pages of this journal is the paper that contains the ink made from the cloudy gas called dream.  The dream is from me.  My thoughts are written inside this journal.  But I must warn you that it won't always carry good thoughts.  Some can be scary or sad, exciting or angering.  But it all depends on how you read it."

A.Z.H.

It was one of those bad days that followed me as my heavy weary eyes fell to slumber.  Soon nightmares had wrapped their blanket of fear and doubts around my heart and lungs.  My bed turned to a turbulent  ocean soaked with tears and silent screams echoing in the lighting streaking between thunderous clouds.  I tried to scream back but only silence slithered and slid out of my throat.  My sweat collected into thick crimson red puddles and claws reached out and strapped me down farther into the darkness.  I knew it was a nightmare but everything was eating away at my senses and no amount of struggle could wake me.  Arguments and memories haunting me and dragging away the joy in my heart.  My eyes held open as I was forced to watch another dream die as this nightmare unfolded its dark corners.  
I would have started crying but I had died with the dream... turned into a ghost to wander aimlessly through its death.

My eyes creaked open but my mind was still lost in the nightmare.  My heart beat slow and cold in my chest and pulsed a living numb through my bones and marrow.  I had no urge to get out from under the blanket the nightmares had tangled me in.  All I wanted to do was let the misery wash over me and drown me... I couldn't even start crying, I just didn't have the will to do anything.  I layed there in dark, staring off towards the void... just wanting to be swallowed out of existence.

I start to move subconsciously as my hand reaches blindly for my phone and my fingers strech out across its surface.  I'm not aware of what is happening... and then your picture appears in front of my dreary eyes and the words just fall out in a hushed whisper... "i love you.. "
In an instant, the blanket disappears and warmth resurges within my heart.  The dream resurrects itself and puts the nightmare in the noose.  I press my lips to your picture and repeat the words again... "I love you"
Somedays thats the only thing that can get me through another day

Bad Poetry...
It's a nasty habit
Its ***** and filthy
Words crawling under
  your skin like roaches
   scavenging in the night
Ink splatters into the Illusion
  of sanity and clarity on the pages
    of chaos and confusion
We all think we know what we're
  doing we all think we're in control
Clicking our pens, dipping our nibs
  in ink, scratching out letters to form
   thoughts to describe dreams to take us
     away
Away to our secret little corners
Our coffee shops, our street side cafés
Hiding in plain sight
Being nasty and ***** and filthy
Just waiting to feel our habit start to
  crawl in and out and all over
So we can write some more
   bad poetry

And here we are, a bunch of
  bad poets writing bad poetry
   liking each others thoughts while
    hating our own words, trying to
     keep ourselves open and free in
      a world full of cages and traps, pens
       full of ink, thoughts full of rage, a blank
        white surface being turned into a stage and
          we're yelling and screaming in vain as another
            bad poem dies on the page...

The fresh new day
of school has come
and for some children
in the days ahead
oh what fun


until...

BANG!BANG!

Your kid is dead
oh why oh why
didn’t we listen
to the dead

why oh why
didn’t we do anything
but think and pray

oh how oh how
didn’t this problem
go away

no more bobby
no more sue
as we throw our hands
in the air again
pretending there is nothing
we can do

but hope and hope
it doesn’t happen
at our kids school

BANG!BANG!

money beats on its drum
while the greedy dance
on the graves
of the futures
they stole away

politicians giving
hollow speeches
while shaking hands
with morticians
who give the dead ones
a pretty smile
and dress them
in their dead days best

and cheat the live ones
of a good education
one plus one is two
and if you
make enough money
you can get away
with ****** too

BANG!BANG!

we watch in
horror and disbelief
at parents stricken
down with grief
because their child’s heart
no longer beats

we just cant believe
its true
surely this didn’t happen

again

at a school

No, no...

I could have sworn
just the other day
I heard my neighbors say
these can of things
DON’T
happen here

my neighbors over there
standing above the grave
of their child
they never imagined
would die this way

BANG!BANG!

the time has come
to teach ourselves
a better solution
than the letting
those with money
control the violence
of the gun

Maybe there was a poem waiting in the empty barstool
but I missed the opportunity to hear it whisper itself in my ear
because I was too busy making myself cower in the corner
wishing I hadn’t skipped out the day life
was suppose to teach me how to start a conversation
and I ended up with a double dose of awkwardly shy
so the back table and the corner is my usual nesting hole
and silence is my most constant companion
and it really is quite comfortable
and there isn’t anything to complain about
I don’t get lonely very often
unless I’m stuck in a crowd of small talk
I’ve grown rather found of being alone
and the endless hours of solitude it provides
and I have had a rather good life
and it’s still has some road left to it
and friends and love
have been an intricate part of the journey so far
with more of both than maybe I deserved
but still every now and then
there is a new pair of eyes
and a kind voice and a smile behind a counter
that makes me wonder if I couldn’t do something more
than write fictional love poems to imaginary girls
and women who don’t exist
and the barstool is still empty
and I can hear a kind voice
and picture the eyes that spin wildly above a gentle smile
but then again maybe it’s all just an illusion
and the whole scene is made up
by my companion of silence
in the hours of solitude I seem to be so fond of

How many times must a man fall in love
Before he accepts he's just a fool
And how many times can he drown in loves sea
Before he knows he can't swim
How many forevers can he find the end to
Before he realizes it just isn't for him
The answer my friend
Is beating in his heart
The answer is beating in his heart
How many loves can his heart bare to lose
Before it gives up all hope
And how many hearts will his hands fail to mend
Before he puts down the needle and thread
How many lives can he pull from the dark
And then be helpless to stop them from running back in
The answer my friend
Is beating in his heart
The answer is beating in his heart
How many wings will he mend and then watch break
Over and over again
And how many lost broken hearts can he save
Before he sees their number will just never end
How many souls will he scrub free of pain
Before he finds pain is all he knows
The answer my friend
Is beating in his heart
The answer is beating in his heart
And if you had the chance to ask him
Would you do it all again
He would quietly smile
And hum
For her I would do it
Until my heart can no longer beat
Over and over again

Standing naked in her dreams
Chest ripped open
Ribs split apart
All the broken hearts inside
Scared and stiched
And grown black wings
Fluttered round lungs and spleen
Then one by one flew away
Until empty was the pain
That once danced inside
Then gentle fingertips
Sewed back bone and flesh
And left a beating seed beneath
With a hopeful rythm
And a heart shaped sound

There's fire in her footsteps
  and she would swallow you whole
She would crush your heart
  and leave you with nowhere to go
    but you would still call her
      beautiful
The tranquillity of her smile
  is matched by the devil in her hips
And you are dying to know
the depth of her bliss
  and sting of her kiss
And you would sell your soul
  if you could just tell her she's
     beautiful

I had planned on going out
To drink a little too much
To bury sense and love
Between the legs of lust and sin
I stopped at the bookstore
In between home and my night of debauchery
Drinking money in my wallet
Words in my hand

I nearly cried

Reminded of the injustice
That spreads its ugly colors
Throughout our human history
Just the thought of what so many had no choice but to endure
Just to survive day to day
The lives lost to hate and ignorance
Mothers grieving their children
Killed over nothing other than their color
The death toll only outweighed by the  burning blood of racism
Poets writing greater truths than lawmakers and politicians
Words filled with more love and compassion
Than the man wearing his false robes of god
Preaching condemnation while committing crimes against our children
Our ***** history at our fingertips
Sitting on the shelf
So much horror
So many more disgusting stories crammed and pressed between the pages
Not enough time in one life to read it all
My heart not big enough to forgive it all
And the only thing more haunting than the past
As I sit and look over these books
These lives
These minds
These hearts
Pages bleeding with pain and grief
As I look out the window on the second floor
Of this store

I nearly cry again

I see a world still stained
Still betrayed by hate
I see a world that hasn't
******* changed

I leave the store
My wallet empty
My heart heavy
Tears crawling out
And I drive back home

There was a slow naivete to her smile
And a smooth wink hiding in her eyes
Her hair framed her face with an innocent grace
And it all seemed simple enough
The magic dancing in the air
The soft hues of the midnight sky
The gentle push of fate
But he was far too shy
And she never knew
Never knew
How close
He came
He came to falling
Falling in love
Slow and naive
For her
Beautiful grace

Its not the skin beneath your clothes
But the vibrance of your soul
That makes your heart so beautiful

Death stops by to remind us
how beautifully fragile life is
and with her
you have gone away
and yet you are still here
in the quite moments
between my heart beat
and the silent space
between the tears falling
and I can still feel the warmth
of your laughter
and still hear the comfort
of your voice
I know not where you have gone
or if we will meet again
so what luck it was
what a privilege it has been
to have had you in it
my beautiful friend

I still remember our first kiss
it was all of eternity
passing between our lips
it was wild flowers
blooming behind closed eyes

it was a field of dandelions
exploding in a windstorm
and then becoming
all the stars in the sky
and every star
becoming a wish come true

it was the first time I realized
heaven wasn’t a place
for the dead to go
it is a place for the living
it is here on earth
heaven is the sound
of a heart that stops beating
because it has
learned how to sing

that it is a moment
that goes by too fast
that stays forever
in our blood

and there it was
waiting on your lips
a lifetime of love
quite and trembling
in a single kiss

it is still there on my mouth
even though it has been years
since we last kissed
said our goodbyes
gone to our separate lives

I can still smell
the wildflowers that bloomed
in your eyes that night
I can still feel
your hand on my heart
I can still hear
you whisper “it's ok...”

it hurts a little now though
but it is still ok
it was a once in
a lifetime love
a fairy tale
my heart still sings

a dream time ago
that is still as fresh
as the sunshine
of your song

and I can’t help but smile
through the pain
because it was and is
the most beautiful pain of all

You are
Breathtaking
Heart racing
Dream filling
Beautiful
And I'm mad
With love
Foaming
With lust
Raging
In oceans
Of dream
After dream
For your
Dream filling
Heart racing
Breathtaking
Beauty

This can not be the first time
I have fallen madly in love with You
Is that not our names
Already written in the stars
Have our souls not danced
Before the dying of the sun
A thousand fates ago
Have our bodies not
Crashed into each other
In passions warm embrace
Time and time again
I know that I've been
Lost in those endless ocean eyes
Every new morning
As time begins
This is not the first time
Our love was oceans
And seas and mountains
And years apart
I will always
Find you
The madmans smile will
Light the way

Let me say thank you
Thank you to all the cold faces
  without a home to sleep in
To all the stray cats wandering dark alleys
  empty of everything but our trash
Thank you  to a world that would rather
  be blind than compassionate
Thank you to all the intelligent, god fearing
  men who refuse to give up on war
To all our children who will die out in the
  battlefield just to keep grave diggers
    and empty promises in business
Thank you to a world that sees more value
  in profits than in lives
After all the earth is overpopulated and the
  rich could never be too rich
Thank you for the illusion of freedom
Thank you for hiding slavery in plain sight
Thank you for throwing out more than
  enough food to feed the hungry
Thank you for all the empty houses and
  overcrowded shelters
Thank you for this world full of ****...

Thank you...

Because out there somewhere, hiding in all
the cracks and crevices of all your filth
Beauty is hiding and it is not alone
Hope is planting its seeds and they are all
  trying to save you  children
And teach them a better way to live.
To take the blinders off their heads and let
  them see you for the monster you truly
     are
A world gone mad with greed, a world that
  has  replaced its hearts blood with cold
     steel and bank notes
Thank you to a world that is running out of
  time while perpetuating the lie that
     everything will be fine
Thank you to the end we cannot know
Will there be money in the bank with no
   one to spend it
Or will there be poor people with beautiful
  hearts and more than enough love to
     share

Behind the curtain
of closed doors
and words dressed
in gowns of metaphors
what of love is found
in flesh of lust
and what of lust is found
in raging blod of love

Under sheets of starlight
and blankets woven
from fresh flowers
bloomed from sin  
and why should
we wear this skin
if not to indulge in things
made from fire

In beds of verse and silk
and words of flame
burning your image in the night
I find your name painted
in the sound
and beating of my heart

In a dreamers grave
my bones will dry and fade
where my love died
buried under metaphors
for I could not find my way
behind the curtain
of closed doors

Falling in love with you
I imagine...
was a lot like being born

that is to say
it was like I wasn’t
and then suddenly I was

as if before you I didn’t even exist
as if life didn’t begin until I saw you

that the sting of my first breath
didn’t happen until you breathed
love into my lungs

then suddenly I became
painfully aware of just
how beautiful life could be

It was a late saturday night
and you had fallen asleep
on the couch with your head
in my lap
I was watching something on tv
and then it happened...

you farted...

and I smiled...

and I wondered
how did you fit an entire choir
of angels into your ***
because it was
the most beautiful sound
I had ever heard in my entire life

Bending natute to our will
something not right?  
here we got a pill
to chase away your cough
your sneeze
your will
prozac painted plastic smile
go ahead and swim down to the bottom of the bottle
there aint' nothing we can't cure
just ask that model
dressed up as the doc
not one line is rehearsed
it's all real
the disease inside your head
the monster in your bed
the cancer in your heart
the pills might make you **** your pants
or think of suicide more clearly with more conviction
but not to worry we got that covered too
just add another bottled cure to the list
you'll make it out alive
as long as you keep our stocks up high
the American dream dressed up to the nines
the peddler pusher on his leash
made of solid gold
and diamond bottomed shoes
keep' em high on their lows
keep' em coming back
keep' em sick
with that carrot on a stick
there's no profit in the cure
keep bending nature back
no free will
no free pills

"If you give that to me, I will only break it!" she warned
He replied "Better to have a broken heart than no heart at all"

Don't our children have better things to do than be nothing more than coins exchanging hands for the continued industrialization of profit from death
Are they not worth more than being living pawns on an out dated board of chest that becomes nothing more than another military grave
Are their bones only meant to end up crushed and broken within the jaws and teeth of the old blind dog of war
Are their dreams worth less than this old perpetuated hate and unnecessary fear
What will become of us if we continue to value a false idea of national pride over the lives of our children and their children and on and on
What will become of us when we betray the hearts we were meant to protect and the minds we were meant to teach
What will we become when we protect oil over blood
When we choose machine over flesh
When we can't see the only future we give them by repeating the same mistake time and time again is an early and unneeded death
What can become of us if we handle our children's lives so cruel
Is it not time to give them something better than the endless circle and cycle that has brought us nothing more than unending grief
Is it not time to give life and love back to those to who it should belong
Is it not time to trust our children with better things to do

She lives on the other side of dreams spending most of her time sitting on the bottom side of rainbows and every night locks of her hair paint each star in the sky and she always carries food for lost caterpillars and hummingbirds and knows the secret language of honey bees and butterflies and her favorite color is only known to the first leaf of the first branch of a tree older than time and life and she only ever shares it with those who know the truth and magic of love and if you ever get lost between dreaming and Oceans End all you have to do is close your eyes and reach out into the dark and she will pull you to the other side and dream you a pair of wings and some food and teach you how to speak to the bees and a butterfly will give you directions to not necessarily home but to the place your heart needs to go