my pathetic attempts of reconnection are just that.
when the barriers are so massive
i can only seem to play wall-ball by myself.

i can't deal in justice.
  from what the world has told me
since young,
    i deserve to lose everything.
so tell me again, about pride.

judge all you want.

I put my uncertainty
  into the paper
      but it doesn't make
       it any less true.
God takes me through
        so much falsehood
    shows me there's not anything
       more new.
take the hint,
there must be a purpose
to follow the truth
             you delude.

i went through the 1000s of men's
sins before me.
only to save the soul
and keep you loved
and keep it safe as forever
more.

sometimes the body
says more than words could say.
that is when you dance.

its quite time to
rid myself of others egos
the mesh of it, like a marketplace.
A case of copycat conundrums.
of little offense,
we are all trying our best.

i will love myself
as this person beneath
, as i know myself to have done
to each and every other person,
ive only ever really just seen,
but finally i will do it to me.

not the construction of me
you see.
but the one i know myself to be.
the human we all find ourselves to see.

it's not about stripping your self applied power away,
it's about using your power to try to fight for greater good.

Heaven is like a green tree
   that blossoms
in the Sun,
  it's the warmth of Spring
     but us sitting in its shade.

     it's like a cool breeze on
       a chilly river-side
         that sways her branches
             and eases her spines;
            relieves her leaves.

it'll never leave-
       if we believe it to be true.
it continues-
       even after our end.

I want to hear the silent soft sayings
that are said under your finest breath,
to know the nuanced minutiae of your mindset.
I want to give into the power of your voice, be under your command and your heart in leadership, embrace the embrace of your humility, efface the face they make of you in vility.

You make me a slow burn in desire,
a brisk hike in Morning July,
with each step I take
I can take you higher,
stoking this promise that is my fire.

a man that be led and lead his father
has the power over every of man.
then shall we collect sons and daughters to grow the family
that is within the heart
of him who lives
through they that live ?
for love is there in which
the family of earth rejoice
together to puzzle us all
together into
our better unity.

the thanksgiving feast
a congregation of homes
with tasty tender affections
and blessing texts.

when you're in the room
i cant help but breath ***.

hot air and hot skin,
you heat me up.

there's a tingle that is hidden
in my spine that awaits your
touch, a wave of ease that
you drain over my body.

you are my shower,
my ecstasy,
you are enlightening.

my cleanse, my baptism,
you are a holy touch.

there i should
see you
in the end to the beginning,
holding hands,
id see you in
your purest grace,
exorcised of every demon
and in the picture of every angel.

I'm a
small town
petting zoo
goat,
a gentle
domesticated
farm animal
leashed loosely
to a pole for
no real
reason

just standing
there,
waiting for
the right
little girl
to scratch
behind my
ears
or pet my
whiskery
snout
just to earn
some much
needed rest.

you can sit
next to me
if you're nice.

you wouldn't believe me
that some of those nights
were the worst I ever had.
and it just, kind of, kept happening.
worse when you were gone.
but, were you?

Poetry comes in and out,
I barely rhyme nowadays-
my life isn't as sing song.

Yet I compliment something
that compliments life to
some rhythm
and I hope it aligns to you
people.
like a familiar song,
a familiar dance,
a familiar means.

maybe my words
won't ring true
(well, to anyone but me)
but they will
be written within
white backgrounds
in black text.
Good enough ?
I doubt it.

my past might follow me,
chase up and catch me.
but atleast i will be in a wilder place-
lost again to be found.
driving down that road that is my path.

Tell no one,
the words you heard.
To protect,
someone who skewers your soul.
why,
bite the hand that feeds you?

Our statements are in stone-
talk really is just all jabberwocky.

I never want to hurt anyone.
Ive been told I nick those closest
with my razor hands.
Ive been told.

I let go of everything I can,
trying to finally take responsibility
for my own happiness,
where I find I am gifted with it.

I don't owe my past behaviors'
behaviors any favor. I don't
owe a thing to this world;
not a single explanation of this
violent carnation that holds
a true peace that is abated.
I pull away from the factor of 'other',
I push toward the sense of 'similiar'.

I owe myself the decency
of something that was
actually meant for us all.
To be happy, in its entire glory.
Today, I say, I can and wish to gift it
as much as it is gifted back to me.

I am a lucky individual,
lucky to live, to have this life,
lucky to feel the sea breeze,
lucky to face the strife.
My life is in order
and here I am to face it.
I still feel that,
my past calling to me,
but the wind's at the front
and the before is no longer
needed, but 42nd street
is my home.
I am bound to this
fate, whichever I shall
face, lesser or a greater,
where's the difference?
And which shall be in place?

Some are fearful where I am pleased
and the skyline's aura calls me to new horizons.
The bird soars
where I am grounded
only thirst keeps me from
driving forward
driven forward.

Let's take a second for appreciation.
I kind of wonder where I'll go.
Will I go to the greats?
Do I even care about that?
You had your own destiny,
but I borrowed your sweatshirt,
doesn't it look better on me?
This beach is beautiful,
absolutely beautiful.
Not really much more I can say
but a lot more I can document.
A lot more I will breathe.

If I die before you wake,
is that something you could take?

Visit my wake,
and find all my secrets in my glossy eyes?

What are words nowadays, if
you don't take your own to mind?

My word. Is my bind. And my calm lifeless countenance might ring those I placed in your heart.
By sheer loss alone.
I'd never hope it happens to you.

A drug will work its way into your ego

An illusionist this virgo.

Toying with every string you attach yourself to.

Vile.

Pungent to puke.

For one it comforts.

For another,  cohort

if you always have someone elses back,
they will pat it themselves for you.

it's been around a year since
i lost some of my closest friends,
it has felt like a century.

Christ said our tongues were to be our swords,
but I honestly preferred a scalpel.
I mean, he said it was cool.

and make hands...
because the physician is at work.

for i speak to his name
for his name
of his name.

and all the wounds of
Silence will scream
until the hurt perish;
like sizzling flesh.

and what of wound's death ?
shall it be made undone ?
therefore health ?
a scar to remember,
and a scar to bare:
the marker of how many
times we have become
healed ?

time will truely tell all and heal all.

Immersed in your story,
   you can't see outside,
rehearsed in this glory,
what does mine hide ?
you wanna believe
you're broken,
  you'll be broken.

Just because it feels normal
does not mean it is.
I couldn't desribe
my reality, I've tried.
Why do these
images keep popping up in
my mind ?
Who is trying
to tell me
something,
why,
and which
are lies ?

I wish I knew it all,
to know how to
handle anything best,
I try to stand tall,
I'd still give it up
to be just anything less.

I wish I knew anything.
I wish I knew anything.
I wish I knew anything.

the power of being humble
always seems to forfeit my
control to some refractory
pulse that teaches me such
great yet subtle things.

the wind's grace,
the sound's space,
and the magnetic poles
that continually favor
a spiral-
drawing lines
in my sand.

what kind of friend kills belief within their own pride?

old friends and family like bullet hole wounds,
i have to bandage every day.
but like a *******,
or all too picky,
never allow to heal fully.
they are who made me.
the scars that are the body's story
i wear as prideful as metals.
and square my shoulders in front for their betters,
the angels i find grasping my shoulders in their solidarity.

a haughty morsel
of a king
sees only fools
in their own castle.

dance like your life depends on it

move like you are the song

and I shall listen to all of you within it.

your love shines through,
like a snowy midday.

" May I have your autograph ? "



Sometimes these shows make
me breathless.
just-
stunned.

my job as this poet
is to minimize pain
and to maximize healing.

minimizing the words
while maximizing the
heart's thump.

In uncertainty's tender embrace I stand,
A flutter of wings, a whisper in the sand.
Love's essence, elusive yet true,
Bathing in wishes, our hearts renew.

Eternal longing, petals of ash,
Risking it all, for love's sweet clash.
Beneath dark skies, snow or stars,
A connection is formed through infinite bars.

Intimate moments, eyes that won't lie,
A hand on a heart, as passions fly high.
Through winter's black nights, you appear,
Snow and stars, a mystery set clear.

the wound the wound,
yes, the wound.
it is still there
for it has not
yet healed to
a scar.

poetry wears her sunglasses and
walks the city sidewalks
in fits of warm smiles.
drives the streets
in some hotter heat
and you can feel all
of their sunshine.

one of
the greatest gifts that has
been presented is an
empty book and a pen

The crescendo lifts
Lifts my heart and soars away
Maybe it were my peak?

the spider in the corner saw a cry for help.
the man by the mirror saw them dead from the heights.
the man by the mirror plead for their lives.

some days

i lack the empathy
to care for my life.

those days
i will lay
as to not act.

specific days
i will go through month's of emotion,
breeching from the
war between my heart
and my mind.

i was in a terrible dark place
among unknown terrors
and i held on so tight
i suffocated you.
i don't apologize for it.
i apologize for not being more for you in hard times; i had to strengthen and decipher the hieroglyphs of emotion.
and i hope you'd forgive me, for not listening in my survival instinct, for i know how much i can be for you now, listening so closely to your heart that it seemed everyone else passed by.

Do you like them?

My little poetries..
My little penmanships..

Do you like how they sing?
How they dance, how they string?
How each has a bit of a different thing?

My little difference..
My little miseries..

May they save you from your sorrow?
Steal you from the dark?

My little riddles..
My little questions..

May I save you from the depth?
Would you relax in the shallow?

I miss you poetry..
(It seems I'll never have it good again..)(Ya right)
I'm just tired of waiting
for my next gold..
the genuine work
of my heart..
(I swear)

Am I a fool ?
Did I lose the point ?
Would it matter ?
I kissed you just to kiss you.

in odysseys of my life,
I'd recourse in the warmth
of the simplest of sunlights.