there was a boy with a racecar bed who never liked vanilla, but chocolate instead.

there was a boy who liked to climb trees, who watched cartoons, & ate his peas.

there was a boy who liked to run fast, who was too fearless, who was never in last.

there was a boy with big blue eyes, who liked reading books, & stormy skies.

there was a boy with long brown hair, with a piercing here & pink scar there.

there was a boy with cigarette breath, who liked fast cars, & wrote about death.


there was a boy with a deep glassy stare, who cried at night, because life isn't fair.

I need you to wake me up
To hold me near
To tell me that you never left
And you're still right here

"Want something beautiful? Make yourself beautiful first."

If I could,
I would,
But I can't,
So I won't.

If I could say it,
Say sorry,
I would, 
But it's impossible.

I'd say sorry, 
For my insecurities,
For my pain,
For my sorrow.

For the trouble,
For what we did,
For me,
For everything.

For telling you my fears,
For trying to hide my tears,
For every message that you and I sent,
For every lie you told,
For every lie I believed, 
But I can't.

For how I was torn,
For how I could've sworn,
That you were the truth,
But I can't.

For my cries,
For the words of discontent,
I wish so much to say sorry,
But I can't.

For the dreams,
For your heart that is hollow,
For my wants,
For what I see,
In forever,
It will take a never-ending apology,
For now I wish I could, but I can't.

You are song,
Rain dropping on still pond.
You are sky,
I see Heaven in your eyes.
Your are peace,
A garden above the world.
Your are grace,
The gentle path of the swan.
You are knowing,
The wind that whispers alone.
You are star shine,
The dust that lights the plains.
You are vast ocean,
Mother to the Fathering atmosphere.
You are dancing light  .  .  .

it is in the way she smiles
that makes every part of me believe in the sunlight
even though i have always been clouded by darkness  
even the angels are envious of her walk
the way she flirts with gravity leaves nothing,
but footprints which make the existence of a flawless soul
i look into her brown eyes
trying to understand her thoughts
but words are could never explain
the depth of her perfection
as long as my heart beats
she will always be the reason for its rhythm
and i just hope these words
are adequate to put a smile on her face
because just the thought of her name
brings a euphoric presence to me.

poems written on faded skin
blow across the rim-
of a distant horizon
where all things are different
and nothing is the same-
except the stories of warriors-
who fought, and then lost-
to the fragile wonders of life

When you're little, you look up to your father;
A man who's always there for his little daughter.
He supposed to be there to dance and play,
and, maybe, even sing with you all day.
Your dad is the man to push you on the swings,
so high you feel like you have wings.

My father always had the whitest smile,
just like my dress will be when I walk down the aisle.
He always put his hands on his hips,
and flashed a smile yet not on his lips.
His eyes would twinkle when they met mine,
no matter the situation, he make you laugh every time.

My fantasy world was shattered at age five,
when my father stopped breathing and wasn't alive.
My mom cried and our family shared hugs,
yet there's still something on my heart that tugs.
That constant reminder of what my life was,
some people say it hurts, and I'll tell you it does.

But don't feel too bad, my life is truly great;
I promise this experience didn't fill me full of hate.
I love my dad and my step-father too,
some people say, "That's impossible to do".
So my life continues and he's still dearly, I miss,
How I said goodbye -- it was with a kiss.

My motto? Be kind to everyone for if you read their story their isn't a person you wouldn't like a character you wouldn't find compassion for. Because we don't truly know the every details of someone's life, we only know what we see. But if we were to read their story, if we were to learn all their secrets and regrets and struggles, we would love them, the way we admire our fictional characters in books.

the arms of a woman
is the closest
to Heaven

( by Elizabeth Squires and SilverSilkenTongue in Collaboration)


In an idle ilk the poet
Did **** precious time
Non pursuant twas he
Of that haunting rhyme

The Tap tap tap of his Thumbs
In pulse to the Anxiety that Comes
Resistant and Hesitant this Choice of Word
Like crows on a wire flitting to and fro
Simply to be Assured who is top Bird

He mulled in thought
On his composition
Yet not acting on it
Due to a stalling disposition

Caught in a Web, of Websters Dictionary
Assonance and Consanace Fundimentaly
He Chews each Syllable to Spit out
The Misconstrued Vowels that he Shouts!

By Elizabeth Squires and Silver Silken Tongue
Special Thanks to Ann who suggested Elizabeth and I should Collaborate