The people you love
(A poem from my teenage years)

Why is it always the people you love the most,
Are the ones to Hurt you the most?
Do they mean it?
Do you ask for it somehow?
Do you deserve it?
Everyone i love and hold dearest to my heart,
Has somehow hurt me deep down.
From friends, boyfriends, and,
Even those who are closer, family.
Why do we allow our selves to get close to one another?
We know that one day what ever we have will come to an end.
Words will be exchanged,
Threats will be made,
Tears will be cried and,
Fights will be fought.
Revenge will be planed and,
Names will be called.
Why do we put our selves through this?
Sometimes I just don’t understand.
But to not experience this and,
To never know what it's like to be close to someone,
To have friendships,
To be loved and to love in return,
To not know love or hate.
What would life be like?
Lonely?
Depressing?
Maybe,
 But unhurt by the ones you hold close in your heart at least
A pain I’d rather spare

Love on disguise
fair dinkum in my eyes
across the ocean
learning to fly
watch the wings, soar up high
Free as a bird, singing in the sky
Looking for a place to live
For it is feign or may not,
who could tell,
two lovers
may not be
Love in his eyes, or in mine
does it look even real?

Heaven knows
how high they can reach
aureate time,
waiting to ignite

My body my soul faded into
What everyone wanted me to be
Life got hard I became distracted
So I forgot about me...

I faded into the background
Left dusty and forgotten
Erased memories and time
Nothing remained
but this vessel who liked to rhyme

Slowly and surely
A metamorphosis begun
I laid out all my fears and
took them on one by one

I bereaved that lost part of me
Waves washed away the doubt to sea
Tore down the jaded gates
Knocked down the shackled walls

I emerged from my cocoon
This reinvigorated butterfly
~
No more walls need built
In this new becoming of I

Tunnel vision
The camera eye lens
Blind sighted
The directions
We're in
Manipulation
Of the press
Who's point of view
Do you like best?
What do you
Suffer from less
Social or economical
Unrest?

Blindfolded
But never blind
The one percent
Are on my mind
...

If you're writing from your heart...
Is it art?

What could be less harmful to me
Than the humble bumble of the bumbling bee?

Today I saw a bumblebee but he had lost his bumble, it lay upon the concrete path
      And I instead was humbled.