You are stronger than this.

A door was opened a long time ago and it stood there for many years waiting for someone to cross the threshold.
No one dared to walk through.
We all stared in fear at it and talked amongst ourselves, wondering what could wait on the other side.
The door just sat there gathering dust and age gnawed away.

I believe in you.

We heard a whispering on the other side and always questioned the words.
They never were loud enough to startle us but they were not quiet enough to put us to sleep.
We still stood in fear at what could be waiting for us.

I understand why you hide, I understand why you cry.

I watched a man run out of the darkness one day.
He leaped through the door and fell a thousand stories.
I never heard him hit the ground and so I took a step closer.
Then I took another.
I heard someone take a step behind me.

One day You will understand and you will step into the sunlight.

I started running and I leapt through the door.
Now I am falling through the sky and it is so beautiful.
The stars are guiding me along...


You are beautiful. Remember that.

camouflage days,
how easily you fade

the sun hides
from the pressure of time
and change is left invisible

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

Lately I've been trying
to tell you in long
words what you do
to my insides but none
of it makes any sense,
so maybe it's just that
my pen isn't quite working.
There's no poetic way
to tell you I run your
name on the record player
in my head over and over
until I'm dizzy with the
sound of it. There used
to be more to your song
but we hit a bump and
something got scratched,
so now it just sings
"Ryan Ryan Ryan Ryan"
without me knowing
how to stop it. In stereo
my heart beats
thumps
says
"I love you, I love you,
I love you"
in your roughest voice-
the one you have at 3 am,
that you have in all my
best memories of you.

I wrote
I wrote
poems of disgust
poems of love
poems of criticism
Has it ever occurred to me
that my words were more than words
that my thoughts were more than thoughts
I see,
a poem works better when you're really confused
writing it.
And this probably why
I'm trying to write the confusion out
Words are being told and written
Tomorrow
words written on a piece of paper
may perhaps, mould my destiny
And I'm more confused than ever
the day before
On whether this is the start
or this is the end
Why the sonnet?
the villanelle?
the ballad?
why, oh why
Some reason why
I saw poets drafting poems
5 drafts before a poem
and I don't why
Simply because am I not writing a poem?
that many people put pens onto their heads
and scratch their chins
Is it not a poem enough that I'm writing this?
Or filled with secrets should it be?
A need for a title?
A space for a little flight off to another world?
Where Time starts with a capital T?
And perhaps, Death too?
Is it not a poem enough that I'm writing this?
Repetition after repetition
Theme
Structure
why the need
if you dare to speak out through your words on paper?