My dreams have been deferred one too many times
I'm beginning to wonder if those dreams were mine
Dried up like a raisin in the sun
A festering wound starting to run

My dreams have been deffered
By the nightmares I preffered
Over the reality
Of human suffering

My dreams have been deferred one too many times
I'm beginning to wonder if those dreams were mine
They stink like rotting meat
Rot and sugar over bittersweet

My dreams have been deffered
By the nightmares I preffered
Over the hypocracies
Of human niceties

My dreams have been deferred one too many times
I'm beginning to wonder if those dreams were mine
They're a sagging heavy load
That I fear may explode

My dreams have been deffered
By the nightmares I preffered
Over the insanity
Of human society

My dreams have been deferred one too many times
I'm beginning to wonder if those dreams were mine

No Matter The Floor You Pass Out On

I awake as any other madman slash poet.
Apon the floor  naked  pizza box for pillow a members only jacket for a blanket.
yes the libary sure has changed over the years.

less and less people were reading buggets were cut meaning
libraryies were under staffed and rarely did anyone dare venture into
the stacks  and thank good for that. Cause being i preffered free sleeping
it was probaly for the best.

but no matter the the floor you pass out on most all fine
american men wake up with are god given birth rite.
That which after a trip to the restroom like
that early morning madness that was christmas  pressent openning
was over way to fast and was kinda disapointing.

Floors werent the best beds in the world in fact they
****** altogather but drinking and common sense dont even
belong in the same room togather.

Portsmouth Va  was a strange world indeed a place where upscale colided with skidrow.
Me I preffer the company of a outdoor sleeper to that of a
spoiled spoon fed yuppie ****.
the art school cranked out angst ridden buble people by the second.

They walked the street soaking in the pain of life.
there heads stuck so far up there ***** I always felt compeled to trip them as they walked by.
acting as though they were outsiders  yerning to be mainstream
they'd **** there mothers on a mtv reality show as dad cried in the background.

Just for a taste of stardom.
True talent who needs that?
but no matter the floor you pass out on one
thing was clear.

In a world were you could have a bus load
of kids and get paid for it.
fame wasnt such a rare thing anymore.

The floor I passed out on was cold and cruel but surrounded
voices from the past.
the floor these hollow  reallity show bottom  feeders
passed out on.  Had to besoft as there heads.

Otherwise there brains would splatter across the floor.
And some TV exect would have a brainstorm  to have a show
were washed up celebrities would have a contest.

To see who could bore us the most with there sob story  
Yes friends id rather have a pizza box for a pillow
than a reality show  pillbox for a brain.

and the truth effectsus all form no matter
which floor so you do choose to pass out on.

While the other children were content
To play jacks and skip rope
She preffered the company of the old oak tree
Towering in the back corner lot of the schoolyard
She rested against it's mighty trunk
Basking in the cool shade she loosened her bonnet
Only the toes of her patent leather shoes
Catching beams of wavering sunlight
As they arched through the rustling leaves
A sweet song of a robin whistled amongst the branches
As she smoothed the pleats of her dress
A leather bound book at rest on her thighs
It's jacket so familiar and a comfort to the touch
The scent of it's brown and curling pages
Reminding her of late winter nights by the fire
When her grandmother's kind smile shone so brightly
As the flames from the hearth danced in her eyes
While she spun the girl one of her many stories
As deftly as her fingers could pull stitches
From a mountain of patchwork piled on her lap
The chiming of the bell marked the end of play
And she shook herself from her daydream
Dusting off the errant leaves and grasses
She lined up at the entrance to the courtyard
A sweet smile forming on her lips
Though a measure of sorrow still lingered in her heart
A bittersweet mix both of pleasure and mourning
Her spirit pining for the solace of those precious days; of her past

Among those people
For me, you're the least lovable
Among the crowd
Your voice tells me you're the most proud

From the first of the days
I listened to your music
I can't find a way
Out of such sound so still

Distant as the ocean,
Bright as the sun,
Eyes of the soil,
A well-versed soul

You're a  flower that blooms in winter
I'm a bee who preyed you last summer

That "first" of the days
It was more than most
It was more than best
It was more than you

Then came another season
There you go, trying to know
That "me" I never wanted
That "me" I never liked
That "me" whom you preffered

But strokes of fate
Unleased its power: hate
Its not yet late
To be each other's soulmates

"He," i preferred so much
Wanting his touch
Seeking for that match
Made in heaven, so please watch

How "she'll" extract
His beauty and love
His songs and poems
His words and notes

the warm air floats over me
the bright light illuminationg my face
I watch as the flames engulf
every last piece of him I had
only ashes left and scraps of clothes
the flames lick the edges
of the gifts I once held dear
and I wish that I could throw in
all of those memories too
The happiness in those moments
aren't worth the pain they cause me now
if i could just seer them out of my brain
even physical pain would be preffered
over what I am feeling now
If I could just burn those memories
like the pieces I had left of him
then maybe I could be happy
maybe I could go a day
without bitterness creeping into my heart
without the pain of knowing
he never loved me the way he loves her
but I loved him more than he could ever love her

2day I've showered my face wth tears
N so i feel sad,bitter n salty
My wounds burn 4rm all de salt of my tears
My eyes r dry frm all de tears they've lost
N my soul is torn apart by de pain i feel
2day my day was an incline...started out gud only 2 get worse.
Dnt call m ok, dnt ask me abwt it 2mrrw, i wont feel lyk tlking abwt it, i preffered texting bcoz its better than tlking...
Gudnyt

Even otherwise rational people
are willing to accept the irrationality of
their religion.
They give preference to revelation
wherever their faith and reason collide.
They maintain revelation is the ultimate source of truth.
This is basically the thesis of all religious
people.
If that were so, which revelation is the
true one?
Why do they differ? How can one be certain that her/his
religion is right and others are not?
If faith is irrational, why should our
irrationality be
preffered over others. Only through reason would we know
which
way is the right one.
And when we test the religions with
reason
you find many of religious teachings do not conform.
It requires a leap of faith and
a great degree of mental gymnastic
in the limitation of reason....

SHE LABELED ME GAY
She labeled me a gay
Something that was not okay
Just because i pushed her away
And told her to get of my way
She labeled me gay though single
I refused to mingle
Nor let her wiggle
Her **** on my lap
She labelled me gay
Just because i wore short shorts
Yet i despised girls in short skirts
I preferred girls with long skirts
She labelled me gay
Because my voice had not broken
Yet her heart i had broken
From this untrue dream i had woken
She labelled me gay
Because my voice was smooth
Yet i refused to sooth
Her on a cellphone
I preffered a booth
She labelled me gay
Because i never called her bae
I called may
Afterall she was not mine
She labelled me gay
Every passing day
From monday to sunday
Even on my birthday

When the entirety of my dreams collapse

When castles I've built up in sand become ruins in a heap

And weigh more than a mountain as they melt into the beach

And the waves come to pummel any of the remains

As the turning of the tide swallows up my fame

And the Son beating down turns all my selfish works to shame

What shall a soul, broken, battered and lost, do in the midst of such destruction?

Or who can heal a broken spirit that lies parched and vulnerable in the rays of noonday?

A perverted soul like mine withers in the face of such Glory divine

Glory of a hidden paradise, an island all mine own

Filled with wonderous sights to feed the eyes, and luscious fruits to feed the soul

And yet I sit upon the beaches, looking down at the dust

Trying to build something of worth out of the most worthless thing I've found

Not able to get up, to explore, or be at peace

And the one thing that keeps me here is my own prideful, ambitious sceme

I worked through the night, in the shelter of darkness

The bitter cold of night preffered to the cool of the Day

And now I see that it was all vanity

The tides of Love stay at bay for none, and are as fierce as they are lovely

And they wreck the best intentions built on the wrong foundation

At the end of myself, and the works of my hands, I see how foolish I have been

For none with sense would ever build a home upon the shore

And only the most perfect Love could breathe life into sculpted sand

Too weak to resist, I succumb to the roaring waves

I feel the tide pull the ground out from under me

This final surrender pulls me out into the deep unknown

A baptism of death to self, and a life so truely real
That when I rise back to the surface, I shall finally, really heal

Let's write a story
of you and I,
and all the things
we whisper at night

Our hopes and dreams
the castle we'll own
when we leave this town
to make it on our own

The jobs we'll have
the people we'll meet
the shop we'll own
on an odd and quirky street

You'll be the chef,
I'll be the waitress,
I'll let you be the boss sometime
if I'm feeling so gracious

Then a few years pass by
all is going well
Out of the blue you're on one knee
Enchanting me with your spell.

The wedding is oh so beautiful
sending guests home in awe
After the honeymoon,
the emotions are still so raw

We save and we save
till we're blue in the face
Till we buy our first home
filled with gorgeous green landscape

And then we'll have kids
no gender preffered
They'll grow up surrounded
By love and and kindly words

And they'll write their own story
with someone special they meet
They'll start a brand new book,
the journeys all they need

I'll spend the rest of mine with you
till I'm fresh out of ink
because this life will pass you by
within a simple blink.