They thought that they could keep me down
None of those mother-******* could make me wear a frown
Here he comes..the insanity
The defined profanity
Without vanity...
He tried to care for you.
You failed to see how deeply he was true
So now there is that empty place
where that forsaken ******* took up that space
Now cry to the heavens and beg for a miracle
For this vanilla survivor
Is better than a fantasy or a poorly earned nickel
Or fancy property or autos
Here he'll pass you by
He rises higher than at the level that you are on
He is now full of the light with his no motos
"Get stung once, fine..Get stung twice...Never nice...
Stung three times? Will not happen.... maybe to you.
On this evil trick, you tried to hang me by.
Now it is you that shall get stung by the actions you thought you could freeze me in captivity until I die."
Now freeze in the cold without me there
The forsaken man that brought laughs to your day
Now that I'm the sane one
where are they gonna commit you?
When the loneliness causes your insanity...
When I was there and I never got warmth from you...
now your skies are dark instead of blue.
Understand that this Vanilla Wonder shall never fold or fall
to the pointing of fingers or false promises
Broken trust and crazy actions...
No more interactions.....
Now define my vulgarity through better reactions
then what we had between each other.
Find someone to bring down and keep as your puppet.
For you are going to regret.
The day you lost your brother.

I awoke in the evening
Sweat gleaming  on my face
in the bedroom sunlight
Dreams sweet like wine
I wish to become more intoxicated
So I day dream
People silently stare at me as I walk through this space
I have to be tough to have died five times over
I cheated death
The technicians resuscitated my nearly silent breath
I battled through wars in nasty places
where sane people would not dare to roam
There I thrived, smiled, as my brain sparked and my mouth started to foam
I might be older
Never colder
Youthful inside
Like wine, I sweeten with age
I'm worth my weight in gold
People stand by my side
With pride
Even through tornados  of  the hater's storms
I never hide my face
With war paint on
I stomp down all these "false" "norms."

I bore through the rough tides.
I swam to the land.
A deserted and tropical Island.
Where one needs to keep stronger paced  strides..
To Survive.
To keep sane.
Even when this hectic and unfamiliar   land tries you...
Until it kills your soul due to the empty rains.
Falling upon  the single one.
That's you...
on this land.
A deserted and tropic island.
Making tools out of rocks and sticks.
Creating A life boat..
to float you back to familiar shores.
Where you were not left a castaway alone....
to be left by yourself
In order  to remain alive.
Hope keeps you going.That's the trick...
Knowing you will make it back
To  home,once again, the thought of such
causes you to thrive.
Now you've set assail on your wooden craft.
Days on the waves rock you heavy and long.
Until the shores of your city are seen.....
You protect your supplies, hold your sail up high, and you remain strong.
Now the impossible has been beat.
Now comes the hard part...
Not to set back into the motions...
The ways that set you on a destination...as a castaway
on the seas to the Deserted and tropical Island in A Drift.
In thoughts that governed you to a hasty and quick run.
Thinking that not one
from which you had left behind
Back in your city
Had wanted you there.
Now, back into the city  lights you walk.
Where hands,all too  familiar, reach to grab and to hold onto you quit swiftly...
Now, you hold your wooden craft, as a masterpiece on display.
To mark the beginning to the ending of your journey.
To which your mind remains clear.
Avoids another lost trip...
Due to you seeing more than what your clouded and angry mind wished for you to see....
to open up your eyes and to see, so much more clearer...
The sun you have had all along....
Instead of making rains, in your soul, you keep in the rays of the sun.
To bask in a warmer and a much more gift-filled way.

My nerve endings feel as if acid is poured

Upon them eating through

Like rains on ice

My pain sours.

I crap so hard that my ******* feels like concrete trucks

Trying to dump solid concrete

By letting time fly and the mixture hardens

What did I say?

I beg your Pardon?

I wish for this storm to leave

For the Sun to shine…

Until then…

Alone with this pain

This drama is all mine.

The leaves turn red another year.

Hunger for someone near

The heart beats sick of the same old routine….Deep Future Fear.

The old routine eats at the soul like acid.

A necessary evil? How to reinvent such?

Your mind fights to come up with the start of the engines…Still placid.

Throwing water on your face..you wash away last night’s dream.

“When will I be loved? When will this lone and quiet disease called ‘loneliness

be vanquished? How does one find the crowd in which to do his creative works with?”

A team instead of a solo soul feeling the aches of Oneness.

Give me the sword and answer to fight the waves of bitter winds that play on like old home videos.

Music is to be heard and shared.

Creativity is best expressed within groups.

I’m not on a desert island? Where are all the Human Beings?

Concern for their own needs is natural. Not too much.

Too much of anything can make one drunk with feeling.

How to stop the cattle from stampeding or bypassing your moments to shine and to share gifts of plenty.

Not just a gift for you..For them.

Maybe after I win this lonely end to my solo days

People will peer into me and see the true bright and giving light.

Instead of being in plain sight, however, oblivious they are. I need to break society’s irresponsible and selfish ways.

The only mend to hurt and sorrow.

Maybe tomorrow, a piece of their time I can borrow.

Together, we can piece the puzzle back together.

Finding out that the most amazing occurrences are best when viewed as a bonded group.

Instead of avoiding the newcomers, making friends, and ending lone ways, forever.

Age makes us more experienced

Youth is what makes one innocent

In Between Such Lines

Lie Rebellion, Toxic Experimentation, and Developing Personas

Our souls grow weary

We question our place

We bask in a Meditation sauna

Finding strength to regain our grip on sanity

Eyes now wide open

We quickly fix our broken pieces

In our lives

Catching up to make up for lost years

Are we too late?

To outrun obsolescence fears?

Trailing us like a bad thunderstorm

Clouds seen lurking on the horizon

This is where strength and true bravery are found

From that last bit of strength within ourselves

We will fight back

Walking through the rains

Enduring a hail of critics and inner doubts

“Is this all that you’ve got?!”

Our voice echoes in our minds….

In our most critical moments…

A cheerful and warrior-like shout.

He was the toughest fighter.
In and out of the ring.
He fought for his title and for his fight to stay alive.
If I had to be In Ali's shoes
I would appreciate the cost of a Hit.
Especially if one landed me in "Life's Pit."
Blocking the blows that hit not just my face
However, also hitting my heart....
I can truly admire the man who made it as a boxer from his humble start.
A family man.
A believer in "equal" crowds....
His dying wish made me look back at a legend
Feeling for him and his journey, quite proud.
He was a great fighter in and out of the ring.
Mohammad Ali......
I still hear your bells ring.

I like to window shop

Try on the best outfits and pretend to be Brad Pitt.

Laughing, I go from actor to real as I place a jacket back on the mannequin.

I like to go to ice cream shops and have a taste of many flavors.

Is there a flavor of me?

A question arises.

You see that you wish to be

Are you in the gallery?

As the negativity passes

you smile and somehow feel grateful  that you are not.

You say a “Hello”

You sing a song

Then you wish to grow. Music..Poetry…

Great.

Hard Work Pays off in heart.

One is a stranger until they are invited guests.

Where’s your letter?

Not this time.

I’m just a ghost. The cloud of displaced energy
A soul never allowed to be free.
A shadow of a man…It is seen only by those who need from it’s last remaining power.
I’m a drifter. Barely proving himself through the hard toils of creativity…. Caring for others.
Now this once real and youthful rose is but a pitiful and wilted flower.
They say ,“I’m too old to care for those I yearn for due to my aging..”
Does not wine get sweeter and more valuable if sat around long enough to break out it’s contents?
I fail to see how I have a reason not to float away.
To the areas where days are warmer and the lands are open.
For this unwanted spirit haunting those neglectful eyes
His presence is needed where he is beaneth more hospitable skies.
He has tried to show his strength and beauty in a world where his allies fail to team with him or be truly supportive and helpful to his talented cause.
Debt and medical burden weigh down his will. He fights through these nights of silence.
However, no matter how much he suffers, the ones who claim to be there seem to have better people and events to enjoy.
Than to stick with this lone one and invest in the arts and music that all can enjoy.
He has paid his dues and held back his words.
As he had been disciplined and pushed to be numb to wishing to be real or successful past what they feel is his true potential.
He falls , harder, as his soul Festers and chills.
So, to not be the outcast, placing all I need , asside , is the only true credential?
To being a true friend, to even deserve love?
To even deserve investment into the beautiful artistic functions that he does?
He is unable to sleep at night…Feeling his fate has been sealed.
Now, he needs to build up the courage and fly away.
To where the truer spirits in distant lands shall welcome him and help him, for true hearts nurture the dying souls.
Abandoned and directed by those who don’t appreciate
The beauty he could shine if they let his true nature’s of creation and light, become rightfully revealed.

Freedom of speech is a gift Uncle Sam gave to everyone.
This beautiful gift allows equal expressions and something even grander..
Having a choice...
To learn from what is being taught
To speak up for yourself in defense for  yourself  and your loved ones.
To write beautiful poetry and written novels for the masses...
Having the power to use this gift in ways that benefit...
Never loosely spilling words of hate ....
Nor advocated violence in twisted cult classes.
Beauty is in everyone.
Such I love to see shared.
Not just silently.....to the world around them.
For one selflessly well guided and helpful word can
mean a violent act, to a community, can be spared.
Words can hurt. So I believe.
We were given a gift..... let us  share such for the greater good.
Let the hearts that need such a voice be spoken for and be mended...
Through a kind message, all the violence will end.
Simply by using Uncle Sam's gift by giving gifted and helpful speech back to our communities, instead of remaining quiet, and simply receiving.

I walked through a rainy day
Looking for a rainbow.
During an epic week that never seemed to have the sunshine.
I found some Wonka Bars in a store display.
I ran in for a few bars and never won a thing.
However, keeping my mind on the prize kept my distraction from the storms.
Then, as the sun peered out
Just when  I had lost interest in the sweepstakes...
I had gotten lost in the flavor
I found, in that last bar, the "Golden Ticket..."
As the sun started to shine and I felt my heartbeat
of the gratefulness of a sweet and silly moment...
I won the jackpot...
A prize of happiness
A moment of victory which I shall, forever, savor.

The Heart Invisible
The love signal's radio sent to her went unheard
For the glasses, she had worn
Were too dark for visibility.
Wrong choices of a "checkmate" can lead to another
"bump of a queen."
However harsh as this situation has been to me..
I'm the opposing "king" playing on the chessboard
Waiting and growing, stronger, for her
As I wait, patiently wait for her.
My kingdom might not be made of solid gold hills
Diamond Mountains
or Houses of Credit Cards...
I might not seem like nothing more than the "player"
as in chess, elegance is the game
Never arrogance...
I might have a kingdom made of wood buildings
Green grassed mountains
and modest paved streets
In the long run..she shall see the light and run too...
The place where our hearts shall united and forever greet.
I have never wished ill faded definitions as to why I care so much
so much for her...
It was never anything made of insanity...
Just complimentary...
What made her characteristics that shone from her heart
and beautiful smile and personality
Caught my attraction...
More than lust or crazy blind notions which lead to obsession
My true avoidance as it is true relation's profanity
That breaks the bonds of hearts apart
It cheats one another of true Human Connections
and hearts beating for the better wishes for one another
This is the light which shines from truer and more beautifully
minded
Heartfelt
Candy Store Sweet Intentions...Definitions...
The sweet future of matrimony institution.

Her gentle  life ended in Violence.
A part of me me that has been stripped, from my life, forever.
She sang like a rare kind of hummingbird.
She flew upon gentle wings.
Looking up to the best composers
Her vocals celebrated the songs which they sing.
A friend, a spiritual family member, and an artistic contender.
Original and true to   the end.
Her visions I shall remember, forever.
This "Blue-Hummer" was a bird who sang true from her heart.
Respectfully, I sing out , for her in remembrance.
I keep my work flowing. As she would want me to do.
To the evil who took her from the world.
Stripped, of a gift.
Her empty spot fills my heart.
That's where evil shall never make a start.

“I miss her! I miss her!”

I fall to the ground..as well does heavy tears

“The Hummingbird IS Gone!”

“I miss it’s visit and song”

where does one fill these empty halls

where this girl made her voice boom for so long?!

Even though it was not yesterday that the evil ones took her from the world

I became the Joker… My anarchy and laughs

Were forces ,now, to unfurl .

He reminds himself to spread her legacy through your own artistic hand

True love filled a once empty heart.

As well as music’s wedding band.

I must do my best to spread my words, her messages, from her songs

In my pages of Photos,Sketches, and Poetic Verse

As her spirit smiles, next to me, arms around my neck…

She hears my soul and heart perform in every moment

of my artistic strength that my pen or music starts to rehearse.




Dedicated to two fallen angels. Selena Quintanilla-Perez and My Sweet Christina Grimmie

I look out into the rains falling
from Mother Nature's Tears.
My heart pounds
Sweat pours from my body as my soul is terrorized
By the lack of tools to climb to a successful future
remain out of touch and out cries my fears.
There is no guide up this mountain to my destination
A country full of obstacles, monsters, and money hungry "healers."
I try and force myself to a calm place
However my "Happy Place" is recovering from a recent blast
Of shards of attacking memories of the past.
Dreams of a blackened future and I'm still on the run
from these monsters chasing me since I was a child.
Now they are not as peaceful...
They are the predators, in my waking hours, that haunt me in the wild.
I run like a cheetah and hunt for my needs like a lion.
I have no "Pride" or "herd" to rejoin after my hunts.
I am but a lone wolf...
Misunderstood by my own kind
to another pack leader...They are now the weak ones
following their leader
who is now blind.

The Iron Will
So how strong and Long it endures.
The Universe Welded such
together by the sun.
Forged by Metals from Above
The soul is a force
Strengthened by the fellowship
Of this one.
A Brighter toll
Riches, from such, that shall never die.
It never remains cold
It might grow older...
However, it shall last forever.
For as one
The brighter suns
The Iron Wills
Are forged, together.
Stay with me
Until the end.
This is just the beginning of the journeys
Of the soul
As eternity
We are flames that fire up
The steel factories
That, with such energies, it shall always mend.

Where does the heart find a more loving way....
When rowing it's boat to destiny with only one oar?
A crooked rudder that "rusts into a mind of his own."
Where do the answers lie upon a half a map, torn in the center where "c marks this island's spot?"
Half of getting to the heart's needed destination is factual, yet, with missing facts, the fun of improvisation and imagination of your arrival thrill the soul to energies triple above another human heart's
"Seemingly" a rush to get to love's paradise first.
Neither of the sort, rather a tasty mixture, such ways of love's sail clenche even the most seemingly untamable thirst.
An anchor that refuses to raise to full mark your mistakes with others.
Yet, the weight of others expecting more than the "norm"
Such strengthen the beating muscle. Pumping oar and multitasking as one stears to shores makes a work out which proves one's strength even through the most questioning of lonely times.
You are made of stronger stuff.
A forgiving nature, thrills of looks of the opposers as you beat their lies down, and your determination  to never quit, sink to the bottom, and share eternity with "Davy jones,"
As lonely as he must be,"Davy, I have to take raincheck. I promised my spirit to strong "will"
You shall never give in to the doubts of the "singing bones."
As heard from their forgotten and caved in graves. " I drink of my cask and cheer" as the scenery marks the closeness to finding "love's paradise island."
"Stories shall be told of an unprepared and mostly misunderstood love pirate who made waves.
Discovering himself through every flash through bumps into other ships along the way.....
I never fail to earn a bigger laugh, a smile, or other clearly redirected days.....
To when I'll set anchor at the island's port.
Through all my legends of being a more "evil and selfish love bandit, "
this " passionate pirate" shall see his love and meet her after docking.
Earning both her hand and marriage.
After reaching these beautiful and sometimes thought of "fictional folk lore,"
Upon entrance to the "perfect landing place and society."
I'll read to her my logs.
Our additional beauty (as told by the warm fires as written for and to one another.)
These Stories our children shall pass, the likes of embellished life's tales, (their own earned editions to the family book)to their children's children.
All gained through determination, belief in something grander than myself, and travels inspired by pure caring wisdom.

The quiet hours stack like parts of blocks in "Tetris."
The one they took less "seriously" as the "dying Joker"
Has a powerful and energetic heart
What it has shared was out of beauty and loving creation...
Every time he stood back up to start creating "Interruption"
His fists are clenched with rage and anger
The "Chernobyl" ready for it's "Fatal Nuclear Eruption."
Right at the most inconvenient of moments..
"I want this and you are not getting that"
"You are spoiled and without a conscious"
That's not it..
"Where are you at?"
If a question is asked to the days interrupted
You get the punishment and are forced to fore fill to their "fall"
as they wish for their "rules to be iron clad"
Not based upon Rational "Movement"
Universal "treatment" scars rather than heals..
and you are the Joker "rising" who they refuse to listen to or fail to see that he does "Feel"
Trying to be "real"
He returns to this moment of thought and quiet
where he yet "fights onward" for what he knows is truly what he needs
"can these people meet you half way"
before forcing you into their music
like a broken reed
on a wind piper
can't this world see that this is far from what is right..
it's too far down "wrong"
I cannot say
For I've been silenced
I laugh to myself in my silence
waiting for their next movement to force...me to have to become more insane and fight
all due to to their "beliefs" and "works" in which they force in "vain?"
I know..it's insane.
As I put this pen down.."At least my voice is the stain..."
Maybe another face will come along
that will walk with me instead of in front
and we both can live with each other
"in equal confidence?"

I fell for a heart from another land.
A country of Peace and Martial Arts.
Green grasses and Banzai  trees... sweet smiles and hard workers.
Her smile melted my soul as her words she had written me
They made my heart smile.
I smile every time I look at her beautiful picture
Class,friendly times, and love for a family full of honor.
I long to fly to her
On tin wings.. To my lady from another land.
To bask in the native surroundings and molding within one another.
My heart longs for her
Even if I haven't told her such..
I know she feels my yearning to honorably be one with her spirit.
Truthiness...
In a world where lust seems to be the only expressed reward.
I value this smile and to learn of her "other land."
The orient where souls are free to be what they were design to be.

He has been the joke
Until the card was dealt.
You wanted from me but never gave back
Now the joker is rising. Sick as hell.
He'll cut the laughs with a "whack!"
They claim to enjoy my company.
Was it money, the laughs at my failing life?
Or the times you told me to finish suicide as I held a sharp knife?
Never again. My trust and care is dwindling away
Lies can only be believed a few times
Before your routines are figured out
And this Joker kills his situation with some whack rimes.
I have seldom to be taken seriously.
All that I loved was blown off.
So here is the Joker's Card and a *******
To those who thought they could keep me there like a controlled puppet.
To those "strings attached.." "You are cut off."
I don't need to hear your moral speeches or how you think I've failed to care for you
when I've done so all these years
so you failed to understand the reasoning behind my fears and dropping tears.
As you failed to give back to me, equally..
In feeling and funds....
I share fill the void in you...
The unseen pit of your undisclosed fears
As you think you can control me
and I do not know how to fend for myself.
Just try me.
All the Joker shall leave you is the shell, that has been emptying me, as I shall you. Leaving your bleeding heart
In the space where you once left mine, the same, on your greedy shelf.

My efforts are strong and faithful.
I await for my spotlight.
To shine upon me and end the skeptic's rant.
On how "I cannot do everything" and often ignore my "delightful"
Ways to entertain and to brighten "their ways out of the darkness of failure"
to the bright light of success'  care?!"
What is the key to open up a door to be an equal part of "their life?"
Instead of a loner in a "non-conformer's" quiet realm?
While Working His Tools, from his inventive ideas...
as so too, the name  and his works......
Made into babbling loonie created poppycock..
The "Normal's" tagged just "humor"  of the  likes  of  Leonardo Da-vinchi
As I bang my creations, part by part, together to a miracle....
as this "hero of mine" inspires me through  my dark and present unseen "creativity."
Must it always be an art form as defined by those "Eccentric Critiques" so well known for what is to be, "Amazing?!"
Wasn't it my other hero, "Andy Warhol," who placed Soda Cans in piles to reveal his defining vision of our beloved "Marylin Monroe?!"
Yes!!!
It wasn't until  "out of the ashes of the end of his existence" that finally defined him the right as a new "form" of "art" that has now,justly been defined, as a "Must-show?!"
My Uniqueness is a way of life.
I'm no "Copy-Cat."
Inside my work shop, don't I need a view or a peer from "someone?!"
To inwardly show to the world...
a glass of wine,  "  a toast to my life's creations," to be brought to the surface from this "lake" of "Creators?!"
I, as the newer and redefining "special recipe art vat?!"
"YES!"


Producing a bold and new flavor to the palates of the taste of the "Art's Highest."

I should think of  my Creative "Galleries" to be "worthy of a footstep and a light shine.."
on my "Newest of the Unique Human Artistic Existence?!"
A Toast to that Up-Coming Future!

As my other inspirational heroes once proclaimed, in his artistic words, "To Be...."
"Or not to be...That is The Question!"

As I gaze at his,and  also  his other brethren  of an "almost the never was,"  art spirit's "legends.... "
their after-life speaks to me of spirited and powerfully lit advice  and placement....
My future and hard work... "Staying Rebellious and Unique"
I shall have guaranteed my legend's entry...
Into the galleries of "a newer history..."
Their  advice I truly live by -" I am  not only what I Chose to be..."
"I choose to be 'me,' 'truly','creatively, 'and 'worthy'  of becoming  the 'truer' and 'more uniquely'  defined 'artistic'  legend
Who is simply named  as...
"free!"

The Lost Heart in The Sandstorms

My dreams hold secrets into a brighter future.
Compared to the empty and feeling-less moments.
Cuts by despairs knife are now strings of promise held together with hope’s sutures.
Hope is hard to hold when one seems unable to find a heart partner.
Even as friends are too busy to go out and save you from lone travels
Visions of vampires of fear and sadness
That **** hope and energies of light from the bloods which create a mind that starts to unravel.
Others have the looks, support, and talents to locate, attract, and be allowed to mingle with the desired.
Finding an end of this coldness of loneliness
That feels like stress and coldness never seemingly to become un-wired
From a cut up and crying spirit wishing for nothing but another heart to share the hours of his existence
In the deserts of time such falling upon him like sands blurring his vision in a storm
He yells out to the distant lands
Where the desired and once lost hearts are found and these hearts now dwell
Is there room for this one? Trapped in the distant storm as seen and avoided by you, I yell!
Can you see this heart who needs a saving from its unseen place
Where it suffers…
Don’t I shine with possibility?
Or shall I be left to brave these storms and perish
A casualty from the lack of visual importance?

The television is a portal into another world.
Streaks and flashes of light form a "Crystal Ball"
that shows us the events and messages from afar.
The change of a channel and we go to another place.
Another time.
We see and discover what is behind another face.
Television is magic.
As it entertains
It educates
And it informs us of what events we need to be aware of
No matter how scary or tragic.
Don't got lost inside of this land.
Even through all of television's wonder
There is an equally amazing world, out there, which surrounds us.
Smells
Touch
Interactions of wildlife and people out on the streets that beat the "magic set" through all of this added splendor.

The magic that is a woman
Is beauty, strength, wisdom, and motherhood.
It is a power that is the giver of life...
The light that shines in man's darkest of hours...
The Nurturer of the sick back to the healthy...
The gentle touch that is love...
However, above all, the power of a woman...
Is measured not in flesh, mirrored views, or mere simple descriptions
She is above such as a spirit
That without her.....
Men would cease to exist.
Our children could never be born..
Men would know never the teachings of gentleness
Feeling
Warmth
A half of a world made into a whole
Past the vows, love, children she's created and raised, and more..
She is support
Our future
and our greatest gift of the magic that is what God gave Eve to Adam.

I am still a marble block
Being sculpted into a beautiful bust
My creator chips away
at these rough edges
To illustrate a new and inventive "crust."
At this time, such is merely a face and half a block.
Artistic Beauty
Such as Individualism takes time
There can be no Race against a clock
Aristotle, Socrates, and Di Vinci took their gift of time
to create
as a gift
Some of them, these artists were not discovered until years after their deaths
and their works remain dusty in a supply closet
Sometimes discovery happens by accident
It is not always planned
Isn't such evident?

Not for fame..But for inventiveness and a view to finally be seen by naked eyes
A name added to those legends who changed the world.

Rays of light under darkened skies.

Society takes too much "pride" in only mingling with "equal levels"
as far as fear of being "weighed" in as lower than they demand
If they unearth a newer rookie or are seen conversing with what "appears"
to be dusty paintings, sculptures, and creations that are considered "Not yet"
When such comes to the rules of the "social books."
The Lady law is blind for a reason
The scales are run by her for a reason
If each one of us would have a chance to make sure that we end our fears of someone else taking our "rightful spot"
By defrauding the art community and success-social life balance
Then, we, ourselves, have committed treason.

I died that night.
I floated above myself.
Seeing an er table..five doctors..
Trying to revive a compromised soul.
I was ****** back into my body..
The coma I woke from wrote it's role
In the play I acted in to hide
All the pain as a survival from the sin
Hanging out with the wrong people
Dangers in the mist
As I smiled a broken smile
I was destroyed by the cruelty
That was the force I was blind to all the while.
I forgot who I was.
Amnesia took my man hood for quite some time
Until I was reawakened by another attempt
of the evil ones
who tried to knock down the invincible force
That is my soul
I struck back and I won.
Now here he is, reborn, reinvented, and who has won back all his lost memories.
Now he is the master force that shall chose his own coarse

Although people look and think they know me
Inside of my heart, there is so much more to be seen.
Things never are what they appear to be.
So, I try and work to stay true.
The mess on the outside that you have assumed to be the inner me.
When I look at another, I get to know the person and see through their appearance.
Their act.
Like a play on Broadway
I tend to read the script until such days...
When those who misunderstand what I am out of fear
What they fail to see as what I appear in the mirror...
One day, as I grow and stray to those truer,those controlling
Those pushy and demanding ones...shall feel the empty spot where
once I stood...
It will be then, when the inner me, shall be seen even more clearer.

I have always feared the silence of night.
Others once near being out and about.
Private hours never enjoyed through the distraction of emptiness and fear.
I never had seen it as a gift... Of enjoying being at my best. By myself. Youthful plights.
A breezy lift...
Energies to create and to become truly eventful.
As I was used to chaos and tragedy to interrupt these times as i , alone, sickly adored.
I became stronger and used to these times, once again.
As a a true friend rescued me out of a battle that I needlessly fought.
They brought me back to the calm and the serene.
Now, even in the silence of me being alone at night...
I release my creative and inventive plight.

Shot out like a bullet...
Faster and Faster You go....
The Millennium Force Bleeds you through it's rails
Leaving your brain behind as your body does go....
A mean coaster with a fast temper...
It changes time like a time machine.....
As your mind returns as your body feels like it was shot full of nails.
Seated on an island.....
So Beautiful and Blue...Lakes surround it's Island.
Take a ride if you dare....
Since your the kind who doesn't mind to be shot far off the land....
A Hundred Miles up and then straight down...
As your body pukes out the fright...
Your brain kisses the ending....
Kissing the land
When your Vertigo leaves and finally allows you to stand.
Cedar Point is the place for rest and thrills.
You sleep like a rock.....
As your dreams shine and your body rests from fear's chills.

My mind becomes cluttered.
Since I was a kid.. the simplest of thoughts add on  top of one another.

even though there is a big lack of stimulus
Like a television with one hundred channels demanding "A  view"
the "medical clicker" is lost and your brain seem's "too full to align with clearing itself back to  complicity..".
You are full in the head..newer ideas are next to impossible
temperament becomes askew
The "treatment" is "stimulus"
the doctors mistake such as "mania"
Since a hyperactive child never grows..the energies never cease, as well.
Blind eyes, who fail to "look outside an unorganized box of practioner's recycled thoughts,"
could ever help (neither the victim nor the prescribe)
to place on the right pair of glasses
Such failed views .. clarity.. shall never be  something that  they "see" in order "to grow" or are willing to "grow with" refusing newer education and treatment grounds  
An open page of a "still unfinished book"
Such meanings
which all who need to be "open eyed" enough to be able to show them in order "for  them to ever  know"
To teach the afflicted
"How to channel the energies and the focus"
as you mind's eyes are "in need of glasses"
Give the wrong treatment
and the medicine can burn out clearer views
than the regimens he's tried and deemed "the only one"
Not one size fits all
Look to the old, however, might be a mix with the new?
"Not every remedy is addictive or harmful"
"nor does one pair of glasses clear the visions of all.."

just as these so called "experts say"
to " save your life is the quota"
not "how many cases in which the practitioners have half-way  saved.. walking on egg-shells..to save  their own careers"
(Shells)


It makes another successful life
from a once cluttered mind
to loyalty and honor of the one who had helped him
Such a a once lost patient does keep in his now "clearer mind."
Who cared more for the advancement and quality of life of the one who asked for his "helpful hands"
Not "Magic hands"
"openness" is always the "better mixture" of "pills and therapy"
The vision cure that always seems to be the math equation that leads to successful medical group and their great sounding cliche and "medical change and reprimands."
Not afraid in sticking up for the betterment of their one client
then such additions of success become an army
of the "grown children"
with the right "pair of glasses"
that see more than just a "glass" half full, however, "the world."

Now, this bright and more colorfully lit world will shed light to those left "in the blurred dark"
as the once lost were found and the found shall become part in healing
those professionals who chase "selective cases" like "hungry sharks."

The struggles are weights
which strengthen our reach into the finer realms in life
We lift and lift
To maintain a stronger grip on our true missions and
to strengthen our legs to dance the dance
to prosperous gifts.
Which we earn for the mutual benefit of us and all we hold dear around us.
Travels to distant lands to spread our light
of truth and passions to help those lost find their way
A well-spent way and ticket
aboard life's selfless causes on the Karma's Bus
We explore many different paths
as we strengthen our muscles of heart and soul
to swim the currents
and not drift down to the bottom of the rivers of life
called sadness and evil
in life, we constantly are outrunning the temptations'
race to engulf our souls to permanent blackness.
we train as we go
we learn as we swim life's rough waters
to seas so beautifully warm and relaxingly calm
Our destination at the end of our physical life
We depart to the life after such
we have won the race if at this point we see true and golden lights
and gifts are given to yourself and others
We have won through our inner strength's glow
and have earned additions to not just friend lists and family members
But, we connect with all we brighten across.
Our true proven partners
and parts completed within our empty selves
Pieces defined as "new sisters and true brothers"
We battled the worst.
Look how far we have come to a better future?
Focus not on the cold that freezes us
in these moments we question to darkness..
However, we must focus on the small warm glows of hope
that we sometimes overlook
within the strength that desperation and hopeless energies bring
as weights upon our backs
we become stronger, still
as we use moments as such as tools to strengthen
ties with our comrades and truer self-heart
We are the children of the Miracle called "Iron Will."

I wish I wasn't such an avid window shopper.

I can look

However I can never touch

Simply conversation wouldn't cost so much?

You laugh like the Joker in insanity

A real treat

To be ousted by your lack of youth and vanity.

My heart is large

My brain is quite powerful

Why do people resist an interaction with you?

“Why so serious?”

Laughing..you are used to their game.

They only pay attention to the worthy and the sought after…

A “spoonful of sugar makes your medicine go down”

What a mouthful.

Can’t these people see…

The inside  is worth more than fame or the trending men

I am a man who is more than what they see…

Take a chance and simply answer his “hello.”

This joker is actually a “warm and more saner fellow.”

As I sit
Late into the night...
Sometimes I think of my past
Sometimes I think of my future.
Past my mistakes or "what might have been"
I flash back to the moment where I am safe.
The future will come no matter how I try to avoid it.
Today is the gift where I can use such moments of doubt and define a beautiful future...
By never forgetting to count my blessings
Using my God given talents..
And never forgetting to say, "thank you" in true blue gratefulness.

I looked up to the moon
She spoke of a tale.
Of a man, his burden, and a fight
To repair a broken back.

When his story remained untold
To his last breath

After weakness hit him to death.

The last resort
A house of cards

I refuse to slam the door
On a moon,a lost man, and to me the added number

As i shall cry out her message
Wide eyes ready to see.

I am a mouse. Living in a maze.
Every corner I hit, I am sent back to the last one.
Just when I think I see the exit in sight...
I'm fooled again. Having to explore what appears like the last zone.
The walls feel like they are caving in.
The weight of lost communications starts to begin.
I wish to see the green grasses of freedom, once more.
Some fresher air as I run out the new found doors.
Trying to become inspired as a man aging and seated here, alone.
The cold winds of solitude chilling me to the bone.
I have worked hard,behind the scenes, to survive.
To become more than  this.
A fragile mouse quietly scampering in his maze.
Those about watching this trick.
To see if the mouse reaches the end of is maze...
Earning his "Carrot" dangling on a stick.

Some people can be as independent as ""mountainman jack."
Living tall with ax rested in arm with his hound dog, jake, by his side.
Sharing adventures as "hunter and master."
Others get frantic while left out of a crowd.
So, even while  in a crowd , he gets scared and he is Leary of even having themselves to entertain (for even a single moment).
As coins have two sides, as such does a person.
I take thrills going on adventures as a "lone gun" and one outlaw who takes in  the thrill .
Resting and keeping his strength for the next "thrill of the take. "
(like an outlaw resting his weary head by a raging fire.
Alone in areas ..with only beautiful stars ,above, in which to guide him ;as He roams into the next town (he then smiles upon his horse. Riding until he  finds his next gunned adventure).
The  well thought out man also loves being part of a team. Waving the flag and motivating fellow players when He was front offense.( knocking the soccer ball through wide areas and trickfully passed to another team member for a winning shot).
(Then He does get tired of only flipping to social strides)
Tossing results,again,  for"the one-of-two and one or the other, of " both sides of that coin." Outcome )
Being   too long , on the run,  as a lone gun,  has dulled itself to the need to be part of that "larger team.."
(Yet, that team sitit needs a rest .(as to be by oneself...)
Deep and peaceful , to either think, plan a great future idea, or smile as I daydream at funny, older events that never cease to make me laugh.)
I'm never needy. I will not die if I'm alone.   Since  having another around merely  sweetens my tray and selection of doughnuts, however, being not of oxygen, I pass on the extra calories..

He met a new kindrid spirit
Her heart spoke as if their thoughts had been fused......
She sang the songs of his heart.
Now, the foundation of love has been placed..
To the start......
Of a deeply cherished relation rat no other can get in between of.
They both felt each other's car.
However, the love's energy between them become so strong..
It flamed up and fused them even further together..they belong.
Together until they die and return unto paradise...
Upon Angel's wings...they fly holding hands.
In the Heavens of Eternal Hereafter....
Two of a kind often wins out than any other....
Out is the published....their book of how they found this true energy.
They wish for you to learn true love's energy and that right one too.
So check this book out of life's Library...
Reading each page...
From the last page fused in the book's spine.

I looked into the mirror
I saw my true face for the first time.
For the distortion of "should be's" definitions...
"What I need to be's" definitions...
They were erased from my planning board.
Of my reinvention...
Television stars are "everybody's fools.."
As I listen to Amy Lee sing..
"People's entertainment" that my mind tricked me into having to imitate. Inadequate tools.
In my "wrecked toolbox" that I thought that I need to bring.
As I started to look at those "real" stars around me... Ones who selfeshly started to reeducate..
My mind to restock the tools in my once "wrecked" toolbox...
I saw what my face truly reflected..
A beautiful man mislead by needing to be "seen" as someone... A shining "star.'
I once shined just as bright until my insanity wrecked it.
Now that I've rebuild what I have destroyed...
I'm the new "man In the mirror.."
As I hear Michael Jackson sing "making the world very clearer."
Looking back at what things that I truly have achieved... I see a clearer image of my reflection in the mirror...
Images that are the "truer Me" and such are much more clearer.

The race was long and the two candidates, they worked quite hard.
To earn a spot on the presidential ticket..
From on the Television to a podium with their vision.
Of how to make "America The Great" even greater.
Now I see those protesters squirming over how they were cheated and how they earned the truthful name as "Haters"
as they failed to listen as true debaters.
One way messages..One sided understandings..
A chance must be given and a mistake, in office made, to truer shout the word "Forgiven."
Now comes the disruption and not one ear turned to the one who must carry a heavy loud and burden
To repair this government machine that is broken
Which takes more than huge words and glossy speeches with shining words well spoken
To aid in the healing of Liberty's broken arm and by holding the weight of her book
As they nurse her back to shape as nurses often do..
Our new president must be more than a "pretty face" and a mouth "worth listening too.."
for in this gig that is never an "act"
they are the one who must learn with us and heal what was broken from pride, neglect, and hold to the oath of "the Office Pact."
As Liberty becomes healthier from true healing energies and not a "Clever gimmick."
A chance must be given, along with time, to heal Livrty's true given gift
holding the proof in the book of our "freedom" and "Invitation" to this promise land...
The world is no television show or game show "well Played."
for if it were, "Jeanie would smoke out of her bottle" and heal this broken nation within a "blink of an eye."
instead of true hard work, true notions, labor, and a warm slice of humble pie.
To play "a game" takes up something more valuable than money or fame or a game show..
It takes time
and the hearts of us beautiful Americans...
Who in the distance...trust the stranger...Who raised a hand
Who promised to defend, heal, and piece back together a "Broken Promise Land."

I am at the edge of my sanity.
I have nerves screaming to be free.
Of the corrupt and sufficating place where my soul has been kept.
No way out. No one even understands to help.
I sink deeper into my void.
Invisible.
Tears wetting the pillow where my head has laid and slept.
I am sick of pretending and compromising.
I need to break free.
Or my insanity shall take it's control and **** the beauty that is me.
Is there a soul, who understands enough of me, to take a risk and join forces with me to bust out of this prison?
There must be.
For I have lost most of my vision.
Banging my head against the wall in restless hours.
Watching everyone else get their dues.
After all my loyalty, respect, and hard work....
Why must I be the one hidden away to be the wreck?
Which never deserves or has earned his repair?
Or are all other souls
much more value of to see the one who is dying there?

She lived through a lot.
A poetic soul
Who's magic entertained generations
of Suspense and Joy her writing brought.
After many years of continuing through
devastations and personal trials..
Until her end..she never quit.
He writing moves me, still...
Unique of many styles.

Beacons of light
Created through my souls' power
Of bright hearted care, visions of clear accomplishments, magnetic self-confidence, and unfiltered sounds of a thunderous power
of true goals in loving reason
Such energy shot from my heart
Flying like the colors of the rainbow
Seeking out hearts weakened.
Those hit the hardest...
At their weakest hour
Those who have had their blissful natures battered by darkness' treason.
And their peaceful notions replaced with the haunting shrieks of darker horror.
It scours...
All bright particles from its victims.
A creature of destruction...
A blood thirsty vampire.
in need of another's soul
In which to nourish and quench the endless evil thirst
Your memories of brighter days.
Your bright emotions...
Such are fluids of power.
Shedding darkness as it attacks...Exchanging such dark energies for the more powerful bright ones
In which to feed him...


By the entity's black storm of " non creative, self-hearted selfishness, - a cold arigance, and shallow hate."
As it feeds upon you.
The beast steals the valuable and great powers that are the inner warmth of beauty and self-hearted strengths...
Inside of your heart.
Weakening a soul as it floats away
Leaving a comatos  heart in darkness
Once such which was bright and true.

Exchanging the Happiness and Kindest of your soul
Filling your beating heart.
Strengthenin' the hatred, dark filled impulses, and destroying your self-empowered energies... This beast is "cheerleading the darkness" as it has once ****** from your soul.
Replacements of the evil, in which in your soul, was empty.
This beast enjoyed to have ,started a "Depository of A Parasitic Empowered Stride"
As deep, within your secret portions of your soul's closets, in which you have dark moments held there/
Locked, inside this vault.
A Means in which to maintain an "empowering and healing self stride"
You remain.
Stripped of love and burning with anger.I witness such and fight for your honor.

Upon my "white horse" I ride.
Chasing the "Beast of Sorrow"
I have armed myself with the " sword of tomorrow."

With " Truth's Scepter of Selflessness.." I chase this beast and wish to vanquish it from your soul...

I charged up and stabbed the enemy visitor's energy source.
A cloud created of pain, fear, and the energies of despair
A foul creature who feeds upon his victims.
No more energy as my Scepter blasts it back inside of your battered will.
Until your soul is clean and bright "
You can "build your newer kingdom "
From the ashes of darkness and the building materials of light...
Through ******* all your happy, blessed, and loving memories from your soul.

Through ******* the energies, which his fangs feast upon, he starts shooting the "blood of the darker visions and fears"

Exchanged from becoming light.
You start to grow to the dark... within your soul.

Into it's void...
I struck hard and destroyed the monster.
Once bitten and dark I had to fight and prepare for the fight
I was one who would overpower and destroy.
That " One, who has feasted and plagued...
a now bright heart leaps before you.
Sheltering  you from his touch and presence.
A "Trojan Horse" acting with a script until this evil partnership is ended.
Protection of others feeds my energy as it refills yours...New rules to employ.

Fighting to the end
Battling this Greedy Monster
In protection and ensuring that innocence will never be forgotten.
A fight worth the blood, sweat, tears, and a broken truth "******"
Through " Blind ignorance."
Energies which are that of PURE Evil.

So that loyalty, love, and the caring, and stronger wills
Beings, once strucken by him or once darkened by his feast upomn them

Such forces Can be restored..or remain as such...
I stay strong.
I enjoy.Fighting for those " stricken and now weakened."
True Souls...
Stripped of Truth and the honor of "Dignity's Flag..."



I conquered the beast of Darkness by the light of the Scepter.
I wield my sword and shot it into the "vacant area" that once was this beast's heart.Your soul was renewed out the dead one's.
from my own " Heart's energies shared with your werakned will
and fighting for true care for you and Humanity
I return to my "Fortress of Valour."  My "Happy Place" and My "Strongest Fortified  Laier."

One Reaps what he sews
Working hard to be granted the brighter way.
Such ingredients add up
To a better product.
Something created on a brighter  day...
.Threads are made of strands
of despair's  tears or strands of true love's strands
Sew with the lesser of these two strengths
Your life's fabric rips apart
One must resew the parts
of life's broken cloth
Once sewed with the wrong thread
One must refinish the quilt of life
to mend together one's self
If one doesn't succeed and fails to strengthen a mend
such actions will lead him to a colder day.
Through hard travels, work, and ways in which to obtain the brighter strands
The seamstress inside of you must find the right spool
Though against all odds, to the more evilest of another, you win by making
a true hearten stand.
Against what he stood for. You knocked his energy down.
You earned his golden threads of truth and love.
You go back to your quilt and sew back together the pieces
Warming up the nights as you sleep under a well made
Cover, upon your chilled body, that you earned to
Cover your weakness under and down.

"Hello Again.." I speak softly as I address my vision in the mirror.
"How have you been?" The stress lines on my face and the bags under my eyes, these signs, they speak back to me much clearer

Than a thin layer of paint to hide my tears.
A hair style to distract others,who come across my way,
as a smoke screen to hide my deepest fears.

I'm through playing the "Joker"
From Gotham who enjoys taunting the "Caped Cruisader"
in a game of "Clown and mouse.."
Giggles of taunt as I thought life was a game of Poker.

Time went onward as I played my hands.
I banked in high when I first started my "acting career.."
Only Life, "Lady Luck," the deception drew the anger from her
to losses in huge and dangerous dark-lands.

The lands I was drawn to since I had been distracted from myself.
The mirror was my eisle and my smile was my paint brush.

The images hang in the gallery of my mind.
As learning lessons... to stop and just merely be clearly myself.

As I thought my "alter-ego" was safe in my heart's vault
"Batman..." drew forth a truer vision....a truer fortune..

My true heart shown and money of emotional asset set aside..
For that rainy day when I deserve to rent a rest in my hotel with pride.

The dark path of distraction became a weight like such of a boat and
it's anchor...

I was never free to sail and to enjoy exploration..
The rightful...the truthful.... and deeply earned attractions

of the bright points of wants in life. They become needs.
After the make-up came off
this "Joker" walked out into the streets a new man.
He became his true hidden name -
The "Farmer" in his life, on such of a farm to help grow,
He has sowed his seeds.

Waves of deep, blue, and soothing Ocean  Waters
Wash my body into a different plain.
Soothing and totally refreshed.....
The rhythmic way the tides washed my once chaotic soul.....
I awoke from insanity's Trance
A whole, peaceful, and less volatile personality...
My warmer energies are free to shine, on all, who pass my way.
What changes a once chaotic and jumpy sort like myself?
Choosing to deeply enter the realm of enlightenment and that secret place where only the elder's still true and living voices are able to speak to me...
Man to man....
The elder's spoke to me of a more successful and peaceful life...
Only after I turn down the fires of anger and jealousy...
The releasing of Venomous and Revengeful traits...
Now, I have awaken!
A more grounded, deeply feeling, and clearly travel destined soul..
Enjoying new friends he makes in his travels and letting go of those who, alike me are still worn and lost in an anger - filled and volatile soul.....
Bound to a world before I entered the "Realm of the Elders"
where my relaxed soul carried me in soothing and cleansing oceans...
Until after my untimely re return.....
After I became the listener and never a "Speaker..."
I returned a new man. Taught in the fine art of being "Human."
Losing materialistic,power hungry, and unneeded confusion ..
I then became a free flying creature.

There was a sound
In the night
It was my passionate heart beating.
Restless and irritable...
I started to act out in artistic rhythms...
Communicating my disdain and  unhappiness
I changed such feelings to light
and fought the inevitable
The forces of strength were warmth and truth
a strong spirit
regenerating itself back to its former youth.
I stood up and wrote and played through the night.
I reached out to others
and helped ease the dark forces that blurred their innocence in sight
The Karma was bright as it returned to me..
Not wishing for a reward I smiled at the fruits of my labor
to aid this fine world
As I turned the pages of the future pages of History's Book
as my words changed the outcome which we had thought
could never be stopped from being unveiled.
It was freedom of spirit and speech
A beautiful weapon in which we all possess
I fought with such a brutal weapon towards darkness
as it was a beautiful cloaked dagger in which
upon darkness
I had it upon such used to wail.

Tears fall down my face
Empty hours that I am trapped
Inside a quiet and fearful space.
No place that people seem to understand
When this rodent needs space and land
To be around others like himself.
He tries to communicate but his words lead him to another misunderstanding.
Broke and without a way to roam
His spirit weakens and starts to die
Is there no way out of this cage?
This rodent curls in his cage's corner
Where he lies.

I was a run away
I feared my parents due to insanity
From moments of beatings, threats, and abuse.
I kept one eye open every night as I slept
As I heard the creaks on the floors as they crept
I started drinking and drugging from flash backs
that played dances in my soul like "Foot loose."
Discipline by religion and the fear of God.
I tried to change a shameless family
who truly loved one another
but could not show it
One by one they had died.
Witnessing their last breaths
as their souls poured out and settled the agony
We became closer after their last times
Tears fell
I abused myself  through toxic drinks, friends, and near death
roads I had traveled with them into Hell.
I still am the run away child
Running in the wild.
I was pimped out, stabbed, shot down.
I cried as I handed the realtor the keys to my childhood home
That I was forced to sell.
Foreclosures
Forced ****** Corruption
Suicide attempts
Stalking murderers trying to end my voice
I shake every night from my fears and memories
I take prescriptions to end the physical and emotional pain
I stay strong and that's by choice.
I am a fighter.
I loved my father, deeply, but needed to beat back his respect.
My mother's boyfriend, murdered by those he angered by disrespect.
I paid in money to have my family stay safe
When the friend's dealers came to me to collect when they failed to pay.
Sums for bags and sins that were not mine.
I woke in days in a busted up house and hotel rooms
Watched every family member go insane and rush to fame
as they threw away their incense in vane.
I am still the running child. Scared sometimes of his own self.
I had bottled up years of powerful hate and resentment
Stabbed,beaten,*****, and blamed.
By other family members who were never there to witness my downfall.
Bloodbaths, food lines, and Ghetto apartments.
Trashing stores fighting off the corrupt ones
Trying to take away my life
The running child
Struck back like a knife.
Selling his cherished family valuables  to avoid cold streets
Nights without power  or even heat
In a cold building
Fearing me and other family members would freeze and die
I stayed strong and by their sides.
Even through sickness,death and corruption
I awaken from sweating and crying from flashbacks
As I lied awake,further, and I had tears fall as I cry
Missing my lost mother and father
Watching my future grow dim as I drank and partied to end
the heavy feeling over the grim
This running child suffers onward
However as hard and cold as my road has taken me
I never stop
I shine my bright and loving soul
as haters breath words of cruelty into my face
I had to force myself through pain and poverty
still
I am nothing big
I still work every painful and waking moment sharing these lines
As I wish to relate to those running children
Broken by the shameless
Almost taken by lies
I connect to them , for strength in numbers, in these word vines.

Days I've fought through
Became victories in a sweeter end.
Sipping the wines of the sweet nectar of achievement
My bright light to those around I send.
Once the rains of self doubt flooded the spaces of my free soul....
No tools to stay dry
I sank to the bottom  of the flooding core
Shackling my feet  down to despair's sea floor.
Blind of a way to save myself
I allowed myself to slowly drown in my own tears.
A hand pushed down with a ray of hope...
A diver pulled me up and taught me how to fight
The vicious monsters of fear.
My "Moby ****" is now a dear friend.
We sip the nectar of hope as we share a peace-pipe of unity.
Now, I am my own captain.
I sail in the deep blue waters of life's sea.
I often look at the diver's mask he left hanging on my cabin wall
In remembrance of what it means to be a true sailor..
To never let my ship sink when challenged by a call....
to the bottom....despair's weight...
of despair's blast
A torpedo  shot
As  a message  of darkness
I now shine at the helm.. of my ship... behind it's wheel
a winner gliding the tops of the sea
Never drowning from the lack of my life's tools which built  my ship
Free of despair's weight that draws me down as a failure.

Hear the sounds of thunder in my calling.
To you, the block of marble, I shall sculpt.
To the days you were left stalling.
Days lost in the deserts of self doubt
I’m the the leader ,which found you, then helped guide you out.
Nights left in deep and  water filled despair
I dove in
I grabbed you’re sinking hand
And lifted you back to air.
Wet and wild
Older
However wise
An elder with the heart of a child.

Learning as we walk together
Warmer in numbers then when we suffered alone
In the dark life which we thought that was forever.
The figure has been carved
No longer “the thinker”
He’s “the runner” keeping in time with hope.
The weight of  The heart’s hunger, now satisfied, from the once “thin and starved”
The sculpture carved

Full and well fed.
To keep grip on a strong built rope
Now the sculptor
Has earned his restful bed.