I feel
something.
   It's kind
        of
          like,
   desire.

But I just
     don't have a
          spark,
to save this
     wildfire.

I wanted to thank you
for being everything
to me whenever
I had nothing to
call my own.

You didn't just
get me out of a "rut."

You saved me
from the empty,
soulless shell in which
I was about to
become.

when Whitman wrote, "I sing the body electric"

I know what he
meant
I know what he
wanted:

to be completely alive every moment
in spite of the inevitable.

we can't cheat death but we can make it
work so hard
that when it does take
us

it will have known a victory just as
perfect as
ours.

In the midst of my confusion-
             I find peace,
Even though I haven't slept in weeks.  
              -is it justified?
I'm always asking questions like
           "how?" or "why?"
Because believing in something
      is just too **** hard to try.
             Can I compromise?
Please, can I compromise?
                Is it true that we only ever
              practice what we preach?
         And that everything in life
is simply based on our beliefs?
         Is this all a dream?
                 Is this all a dream?

yesterday's pain
could be tomorrow's
grace.

You just have to
wake up and find-out
for yourself.

it is that time of the night again
when nothing but rabid thoughts
swamp every recess of my mind

it is that time of the night again
where i contemplate taking either
my own life or a cigarette from my pocket

it is that time of the night again
where i am forever plagued
by these three words

i.
am.
sorry.

There is a forest old as hillsides
tall, majestic, dappled shades
fall on ground beneath the silent
gnarled defenders of the glade.

There they stand in ancient splendour
many souls have passed their way
often used as welcome shelter
from the heat of summers day.

Sweet the air they breathe in chorus
our life's breath their lungs provide,
soaking up our daily poison
so that we may live and thrive.

You seas of men intent to clear them
citing progress, peddling greed
tearing roots from precious mooring
laying waste to nature's seed.

**** the beauty of a landscape
displace creatures for your need
rupture fragile ecosystems
scar the earth and watch it bleed.

To you I ask a simple question,
as I see the land bereaved.
What need has man of all this progress
when he can no longer breathe?