It is grey and snowy here
And I kinda miss the sun
She said

Woman
I am wishing you the warmth only a lover can offer
Via breathy nothings into your ear

Fills you like a balloon
And stands you so still
That your shadow on the snow
Looks more like a stain

I know you
Like the snowy backdrop of my foggy thoughts
When poetry is all that is left
To know who we are
And what we’ve become

It is us trapped in the porcelain distance
Between scalding hot coffee
And your shaking palm

So this is me
Wishing you warmth
And love
And burning belly cinderblock butterflies
The kind that don’t make you tremble
Just settle
Into the comfiest spot you know

Still cold?
I didn’t think so

I have seen boys with heavy eyelids
and hair on their toes,
heavy promises and haunting pasts,
loaded guns and a feel for the
supernatural.

I have seen
enough of

them.

good luck with online dating
i'm eternally painfully, patiently waiting.

occupy your mind
be aware of your soul
and take care of your heart
only after these three things:
help those loved ones close
to you with the same problems.

maybe if we preached this
in churches and schools,
we'd have less greed,
less corruption,
a real sense of humanity
and a sense of brotherhood.

maybe we wouldn't need to
numb ourselves with botox,
a bigger television set, and
the feeling that we have a bigger
**** than our neighbors.

maybe we could all just progress,
advance, evolve, and invent. such
a bright future! such great dreams
and hope!

no, if they read this
(they won't by the way)
if they read this,
the people who could change
this system,
they would say i'm a socialist
twenty year old, who was too
educated in the university or
wasted it by smoking dope or
that i was a hippie and needed
to get a ******* job like your sell
out fathers did. repeat their mistaken
histories! get back in line! back into
the system son! who the **** did you
think you were? Hemingway? Voltaire?
they never ******* changed anything either.
words never ran a country or built a bridge.
your hands would be better used for tilling the land.
if you won't stop we'll have to remove you from those keys
by force. he's not moving. get ready men. take aim now soldiers.
fire.

love,
        a fruit,
                   never tastes
                                       the same,
                                                  yet no different.

Lost in the woods,
I was lost before:
but I already escaped,
now, I'm already free;
riding on my steed
to go back home,
it takes an hour
to feel complete again,
but these winding roads
took me quite certain;
lost in the woods,
I am lost again,
a place for wilderness,
a place for nothingness:
finding my way out
my steed is dead,
loneliness covered my heart
now, walking so alone
wait for me. someday
I'll be coming home.

A piece, a place, a part of me
The inner side you never see
My hidden strength and bouyancy
Set for the eyes of only she.