why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

I dreamt things that could never be possible, I am blameworthy
But as time passed the line I drew became blurry
I thought I could carry the weight of your world on my shoulders
But who knew the time would make us colder

There I lay beneath the swaying limb, with birds singing on every tree
Sun shimmering above me, you and the kids is what I could see
How happy I am, I thought to myself
As the watch clicked twelve
Only if this dream would never end
But this time I couldn’t fend
Laughter of my family chiming, a distant sound
As I lay on the soft ground
I dreamt of two little angels, the ones I would coddle
A boy with your hazel brown eyes, a girl with my soft curls
As my dream slowly unfurls
Chasing the ball, feeding the ducks
We played, as the little ones squeezed through the ruck
Laughter, giggles was all I heard
As my dream slowly blurred

Woke up, I lay defunct
So many thoughts that I couldn’t shut
I pick myself up, grabbing a tea
I look at the endless sea.
All that I wanted was just you and me

Forever whispered in depth it arises
between the meaning on the horizon
I catch a glimpse of history and fate within a breath and heaven's gate
For which it denies the spirit that is alive
inside the mind
between the eyes
mastery within another with limitless bounds
it dances it sings alive in hollowed ground

Can not wait, can not take, another sigh, another taste

Within these walls I feel the scream
aching
breathing
eternity
and so mote it be that with each breath it takes
It cannot deliver, the promise it cannot make.  
So nature will take what is rightfully hers, no longer asking to confer with the dancer on the river of the moon.


Will the stone ever speak of me?  Of dreams, of life, of possibilities?  Will it convey my song, my smile, my dance, my style?  
Will it whisper, will it scream?
Will it stay silent, no truth gleaned?

Brother and brother, lover and lover, creating another, over and over
its haunted dreams of fate exist within every take.  
Can not be,
let it go,
let another reap and sow.
Blazing alive in eternity's sigh so that it may peacefully lie within the reach of the Oneiroi's sleep.

So nature will take what is rightfully hers, no longer asking to confer with the dancer on the river of the moon.

Pushing forward for another me,
Pushing through the pain,
Towards the goal i see,
Refuse to remain the same.

Enough of the cutting,
Enough of the hurt,
Enough rebuffing,
Its time to be alert.

I decided to change,
I'm sure that i can,
Sick of feeling strange,
I have a new plan.

Mind over matter,
Push to the edge,
Don't be a slacker,
Just breathe and stretch.