There is peace here;
serenity in terrific color,
your music dances but clears
my plagued little mind.
There is peace here.

Whispers walk delicately
across silver tight ropes
in the most perfect way.

Love abundantly laughs here
people hug and kiss
none are cast away
because there is peace here.

Angles tell of hope
Children muse of happiness,
Light flickers softly as
rain drops beautifully fall,
purity envelops those who ask.

There is peace here -
with you.

Glimpses out a bland window at nothing but a sour scene
I wonder where exactly it is I am going and why.
Should you know, should you see me pulled over on the edge
please do tell me when I got there and how to free my soul.

Trees race me as I go west into the sunlight,
clouds and sea wave gingerly as we part at the crossroads,
flowers bow their heads south towards the warmer homes,
children dance north along main street asking who they could be;
I guess the world still has some hearts that care.

Then I leave town reminded of past friendly faces
yet relieved of pain inflicting demons of my home.
Perhaps this is an adventure that could be fun... I suppose
or maybe it's a vacation, world only knows I could use some of those.

So I keep going slowly slipping into a dream world
I can't keep my eyes open any longer, though I'm still behind the wheel,
Some people would tell me to get a room and sleep
but I know myself all too well, I can't do that and not not weep,
too many memories from places like this under these stars.

So I guess I'll just pull into the rest stop ahead
hold my mind in my hands and wonder how your life goes.

In a way this is meant to be my letter to you
simply saying hey, how do you do;
now though it's my cry to everyone and anyone at all.

Though I am not crying for your love,
nor am I begging for another new old friend.

In the end, I'm sitting here, just venting
about the pain my brain says I've seen
and explaining this trip
through all the cobweb and all
as I tried to find someone new to be.


With Love,
M.R.K

Don't tell me you love me - I know you don't...

I'm nothing special, these words mean nothing,
all I see is squiggles and dots in frail ebony
dashed across a vividly bland screen.

These works are true,
every single one - real to me,
real to some part of you...
somewhere too far deep to see.

Words do no good, voices linger but do no good
no one can hear them the way I mean.
Letters in a strand linked by only air
they land in delicately beautiful lines of nothingness.

Don't tell me you understand - I promise you don't...

Because at the moment, I'm lost, just lost,
at the second I don't know my own name
let alone the point of this.

Theres a pen in my hand,
I don't know how it got there.
My mouth is moving,
nothing is coming out though.
Somehow my hands can move - can write
but I don't remember how.

Don't tell me I'll be okay - you dont know okay...

I know it's not poetry.
I know it isn't a story.
But maybe it is prose
or maybe it's a song.

Don't tell me it's not real
don't say it isn't right.
I really don't care what you say
this is for me, and you - not you!

I'm lying in a river
drowning in tears.
I'm climbing the mountain
facing all of my fears.

Don't say it,
I know what you're thinking.
I am who I am
and you can't stop me...

from expressing

Truth is lemon juice
on a freshly cut wound,
you don't understand it
until it's happened to you.

People saying "it's okay"
are the ones that start
the war between me and myself
it's tearing me apart!

Truth is bitter-sweet chocolate
straight from Japan,
it's so tempting to a weakened
soul, one without a biggest fan.

Maybe thats only the case
when you feed on lies
so you can fool yourself
then silence your useless cries.

Truth is a tourniquet
that could save us all.
Truth is only ever a friend
that always forgets to call.

Ode to my teacher,
oh what a wonderful,
delightful, energetic
teacher.

So full of love,
and patient when
we need it most
my teacher.

It's a shame you
have to go before
the rest of us do.

This is an ode
to you - our teacher
to thank you
for your help along
our way.

You are like the tree
and us the apples of
your eye. Love us-
teacher.

We hold you with the
importance of the sun
for we are the plants
bowing our heads to you -
teacher.

we have used similes
and metaphors
just for you -
our beautiful teacher.

Thank you -
really.

I'm trapped behind a person I want to be...

I'm trapped like the person I wanted to be
like fireflies in a jar on a stormy night -
like caterpillars longing for flight

There's the person they all see
and then farther down is
the one that's really me

I'm ugly, stupid, and fake
like plastic dolls, robots, and
castles made sourly of cake

There's a mask - only a mask
so why can't I take it off
I feel like an actor alone in the cast

I'm simply not myself
even the mirror will agree
it only sees a doll on a shelf

This really isn't me -
look closer and you'll see