The Ceiling

"The sky is the limit,"
but why limit it there?
Why not shoot
for going through the air?
Why even tell one
where the limit is?
Why not just shoot for it
while promoting silence?
Don't even say
where the ceiling is found.
Don't bring the limits
to this place, around.
The ceiling is wherever
one can cap out,
where one can finish,
exerting all without a doubt.
The ceiling is where initiative
won't allow one to quit,
to be passive in the pursuit,
to tap out and sit.
The ceiling is non-existent,
a mirage, a fantasy,
invented by those who quit,
who quit on their dreams
but around here that verbiage
will not be accepted
for we will push through all barriers
with only expectations that are exceeded.

The Ending Rule of Rationale

The screams of fury,
the fits of rage,
the fight deserving
of the biggest stage...
the feelings roaring,
the emotions boiling,
the point of no return
so quickly approaching...
a cool head present -
not currently the case -
she screams and tosses
as sleep she cannot chase...
emotions overflow
as they can't be controlled,
the tears taking an even
heavier and taxing toll...
the gasket is blown
and the top blown off
as rationale is what she,
more than anything, scoffs...
the end of the beginning,
the ending era of rule
of rationale and sense
is gone from this fool...
this is it,
all that now remains
and this is what's left...
this is it, unchanged...

Desolate Nightmare

Stuck in a forsaken place
without help,
with nothing but a screaming face
producing a yelp.
Nightmares of never again seeing
you, my one
(nightmares of never again feeling
that love - undone),
living in a desolate land,
no will to walk,
with not another soul to demand,
not able to talk,
tired of the constant wandering
about by myself
with no capacity for further pondering
from this mind shelved,
sick of living with the fear,
surrounded by harms,
I just want to get out of here
and into your arms.

The Brick

Some dance in circles
in loud cheering chants
around the campfires
that bring fleeting romance

while others sit from atop
watching the action go down
and watching the pretenders
pretend all is okay around.

Some pretend the charade
actually has significance
as if it will affect anything
past the present pretense

while others mock those that
they can see spinning wheels,
the obvious pretenders continually
knowing how nothing real feels.

The popular, the jocks and cheers,
the ones who drink their sorrows away
in plastic cups filled with cheap beers
who rue this and each following day...

...the looked over, those looked past,
the ones who were said not to matter,
the insignificant, the outcasts,
without the surrounding noisy clatter.

Moment of Redemption

The moment of redemption
that still chokes me up,
that filled the half empty
to an overflowing cup;
that gesture of mercy
that saved a soul,
that pulled back the lost
from the black hole;
the forgiveness that only
lived in lofty dreams,
the thread that put back
the torn at the seams:
it lifts the lost
and puts receivers on wings
and lifts them above
all other things.
Now the family is fixed,
the dream is realized
with hope again found
in previously wanting eyes.

Father to Daughter

The best daughter in the world,
she's my little girl,
the one whose hair I love to twirl,
the most beautiful of all.
When a wrong comes her way
she is the one to say nay,
to live to fight another day,
she's the one to stand tall.
Today she's only nine,
which to me is just fine,
an age and size divine,
a sweet child given to me.
Tomorrow she'll be older
in a world that's much colder,
yet she will be that much bolder,
making her mother and I smile proudly.
She could never make us sad
though she tries to get us mad,
I could only ever be glad
she is my one and only daughter.
A person to make beautiful art,
with a smile that warms my heart,
that tears my sadness apart,
there could not be a prouder father.

No Exit

I memorize the moves
but forget what they're for.
I go to enter
the house without the door.
I enter a state
of excitement, sheer glee
to realize the truth:
the surprise is not for me.
The turns I memorized
to help down the road
no longer have a bearing
on the current carried load.
The depression sets in
that the game for which
I was finally prepared
has suddenly been switched
as now I am more
lost than ever before
with no more memorized
and no exit, no door.

Blood

Ones look for moments,
for hearts that stop beating -
me looking for a moment
my heart can stop bleeding -
sitting in a corner,
a soul left alone,
by design, created by
a situation only I own.
A heart that pours blood,
a mind numb to it,
the pain not recognized,
the acknowledgement inconclusive.
Blood pours from every
available emotional orifice,
an amusing prospect from
the outsiders viewing the circus.
The choking on the blood
now curdles with extra rising bubbles
soon to kill me here
and yet the least of all my troubles.
An eye that sees black
in a surrounding white
hoping for the worst,
the crushing and theft of light.
I wallow in that misery,
eagerly awaiting a death,
much anticipated and yearned for
with every remaining breath.

The Moon's Concealment

Seeing the moon in the daylight,
still fighting to save the night,
it glows as if it doesn't know
it was supposed to already leave and go.
Now the dawn has already broken
to leave the night as a forgotten token
and try to forget the previous mistakes
from an evening of too much give and take.
Wounds have yet to heal
but the moon helped to conceal
those sins committed under a pseudonym,
committed under the cover of passion.
The current fading of the moon
cannot come too soon
to forget yet another nightmare,
the guilty's only wish and care.

A Generation of Fakers

Fake the facts,
fake the knowledge.
Fake the degree,
fake the college.
Fake the movie,
fake the scene.
Fake the sarcasm
that you mean.
Fake the truth,
spread the word.
Spread the lie
you push and urge.
Encourage more
to follow the fake,
to live the lie,
to deny the mistake.
Fake the truth
within a lie
that you don't care,
that filthy disguise.
Fake the verdict,
fake the trial.
Fake the destiny,
fake the denial.
Fake it all,
fake it fast.
Fake the life
that won't last
until you fake
what you feel
to discover you don't
know what's real.

Honey

So sweet,
so fine,
so satisfying,
so sublime.
Sweetness that causes
a craving for more,
she's one I love
and one I adore.
The feeling she brings,
the smile that follows,
the satisfaction that
from her flows.
She picks a soul
off the ground
when negativity
and hatred abounds.
She fulfills me
when I'm empty,
when I'm bitter
she's sweet as can be.
No matter what
life's diet throws
it can all be chased
by a honey-filled swallow.

So sweet,
so fine,
so glorious,
so mine.

Love's End

It's over.
It's gone.
All dreams
say so long.
years both
put in
deceased,
survived by children.
Two souls
that found
each other
laid around
now spit
hatred to
and fro,
nothing more to do.
Papers drawn,
papers sent,
papers signed,
emotions meant.
Lives tied
now cut apart
at the hips
and at the hearts.
Two as one
are two again
in love's death,
in love's end.

Hopes

Hopeless and useless,
the moments are gone.
Smiles faded away,
shipped off with the dawn,
dreams washed up
on the shore of promise
that were swept away
and off of my lips.
No positive to hold
after the experience,
no anything of my own
that could make sense.
No hopes to hold
in my weakening hands
that allow all to fall through
to ruin, the shams.
No tears left to shed
on the sad, soggy cheek,
no nothing remaining
form a man forced to be meek.
Now games over,
now hopes gone for good,
another victim of the
ruthless, the coldest brute.

Echoes

Echoes of voices,
the screams that bleed,
that ring in ears
that, silence, need.
Pain that was
limited to physical
now rains in
on the emotional.
Blood pours out
from the teeth pulled,
a pain wished
to be voided, nulled,
yet children lacking
the respect wanted
continue the high
volume to the haunted.
Their ignorance only
trumped by disrespect,
they possess only
a completely selfish neglect.
Their screams now
take over my psyche
sparking a fire
when all I need is peace.
The nightmare is not
to end too soon
as now the light has given
way to the moon.
Instead there is only
the nightmare that be,
my pain and their loudness,
a fight I don't need.

My Haiku

Beauty abounding,
love overflowing upwards,
full of thankfulness.

Echoes of Home

Sitting here in a robe
in this big red chair
enjoying my beverage
as hot as the room's air,
calling to no one
as I am here alone
with only my voice to
resonate in the echoes of home.
The big empty house,
this home at times
that currently only
houses this soul of mine,
every step I take
is one that creaks
as the windows allow air
to come in through the leaks.
There was formerly a family
that inhabited this place,
formerly an occasional
pleasant and happy face
as now the only face
to grace this place
is the one too bitter,
a bitterness too difficult to retrace.
Now that the holidays are here
and joy begins to surround
this house's Christmas spirit
is nowhere to be found.
There is only an embattled man
sitting in his comforts
of his loneliness solidified,
one that still stings and hurts.
Now as others can celebrate
and be thankful for family
he can only sit there and weep,
a choice he brought on himself,
a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Happily Conclusive

Sweet picking,
front porches in mind,
thoughts of both
simpler places and times.
Raspy voices
with words encrypted,
with hidden meanings
of life's battles and urges.
Speakings of darkness
and speakings of light,
of the bright days
but also the darkest night.
Negativity in the air
blocked by grace,
by the mercy spoken
to spit in evil's face.
Screams of gratitude,
and tears of joy abounding,
thankfulness overflowing
in the gratefulness resounding.
Smiles from one ear
to meet the other
in celebrations of gladness
with each and every brother,
happy ending thought
to be previously illusive
now a reality perfectly
and happily conclusive.

Mine

Love in the air,
love in the beat,
love in the heart,
love in the feet,
hopelessness abounds,
broken by love,
with pain to waver
to passion rising above.
dancing around
in freedom, in mud,
screaming together
with a best bud.
the room spinning
in a twirl of love
turning quickly into
a twirl of an angry shove.
a collage of pain
once believed to be pleasure
is now gone for what
seems like forever.
flashes of former lives
thought to be gone
filled with all we
were warned to be wrong.
all of the past
images so vivid,
of spirits passionate,
with spirits livid,
now pain once railed
is again yearned for
thinking to be acceptable
if good does return.
stories told of years
within moments of flashes
knowing it needed to
and has now proved to have passed us.
lips dry and chapped
awaiting a partner's touch
now believing the wait
to be too much.
it is over now
as it should have been long ago
with no more tears to shed
and no more tears to flow.
the most pain felt
is in the ending
with two souls left
without the much needed mending.

Gloom

The day drags on
so painstakingly,
not allowing me
to enjoy it momentarily.
The gloom found above
high in the clouds
overflows this scene and floods
as depression abounds.
Rain sprinkles throughout
with drips here and drops there,
just enough to frizz
both spirits and hair.
Days with outside plans,
days free of work,
are now days wasted,
days to disappear to dirt.
This day currently
being lived in present tense
will ne'er escape quickly
enough to preserve sense.
Instead we will be
driven to insanity
with lips soon to turn
to unwarranted profanity
and a mind soon to crumble
under the incidental pressure
beyond all anticipation,
beyond all belief and measure.

Which Role Do I Play?

Actors in a play,
we are all playing a role
until the curtain falls
or the bell does toll
but the question to ask
yourself at a time
is what role do you choose?
What role is mine?
Am I the court jester,
the joke to make you laugh?
Is my life only
an elaborate gaff?
Am I the prince to
come and rescue you,
the pompous and arrogant,
obnoxious through and through?
Am I the king with patience,
the kind to all souls,
the forgiver of trespasses,
the lover of trolls?
Am I only a peasant
on knees ever-pleading
for a mercy from that king
who must grant that which I'm needing?
Or am I all of these roles
wrapped into one soul,
each role being a part
to make up the whole?
The choice that I make
is reliant on a belief:
am I the one to grant
or to beg for relief?
Which role do I play?

Birthed in a Mind

It grows from nothing,
it becomes its own.
It starts as it ends:
solitary and alone.
It's birthed in a mind
out of sheer imagination
sometimes good,
sometimes with hesitation.
It's the life force behind
action to be taken.
It's rarely able
to be conquered or shaken
but it drives a life
even if only a minute
as it throws a body
into the middle, in it.

Sweetheart Breakdown

Self-esteem to the floor
from the beat downs of years,
the ones that firmly instilled
these unfounded fears.
She's been told by all
the lacking she does possess,
a fable that stifled
any resemblance of progress.
She was told the lies
to keep her spirit down,
to ensure she would never
leave this God-forsaken town.
She was coached to believe
her worth to be zero
then coaxed to believe
there was nowhere she could go.
The behaviors therefore learned
by the sweetheart beaten down
are those she feels never
can be turned around.
The hole of a home,
this place with no promise,
is a dwelling she's resigned
to eternally, to alone face.
The promise that formerly
existed in her soul
was suffocated completely
a long time ago
as now she is to
become just another shadow
another insect crushed
under the foot of the hollow.

Feet Falter

Eyes wander,
feet falter;
the only way
we know it to end.

Left to Rot

Fighting against the status quo,
just not to blend in,
until the fight fades and melts another
soul into the crowd again.

Pushing against the wall erected
years ago by a glory-craving oppression;
dreams die and bodies left to rot
taking with them their fears and depression.

Beauty once written on the faces
now gone, left in shadows of bones,
only skeletons left exposed to the air,
the skeletons in groups, yet that died alone.

Mountains etched with faces engraved,
historical marking of the great men before,
the ones whose legacies now fade in embarrassment,
obscurity that tarnishes lives lived no more.

Bows putting finishing touches on presentations,
the ones that cap them off with a kiss,
a parting touch of death that lingers
to take a life that could never be missed.

This Sickness/This Will

Eyes crossing,
head nodding,
feet weak,
body bobbing,
this sickness has
a hold on me,
driving me to
my misery.
I am here rendered
useless as can be,
unable to think,
even to see clearly.
My eyes and mind
are now colluding
to poison my body,
to begin their polluting.
My nose joins
in the black parade
to try to run away,
to continue this charade.
My legs won't work,
refusing to stand,
no matter my want
or my demand
but even as my throat
begins to scratch
there is one for which
none of it's a match:
this sickness cannot
touch my will
to get its wish
and ultimate thrill.
It cannot break
a spirit ready to fight
no matter its strength,
no matter its might.
My will does knock
down the barriers
and all of the
bomb carrying carriers.
It conquers all
of the evils present
as it serves as the guardian,
as it always prevents.
This will allows me
to wake up each day
knowing the attacks
these demons bring my way.
It does allow me
to carry on still
(this ever-growing,
more powerful will)
and informs a brain
otherwise infected
that the brain won't be conquered
but, instead, always be protected.

The [Machine's] Pursuit

The pursuit for all they have
has left them lost.
The receiving of that which is hollow
has come at such a cost.
They looked for their dreams
in the bottom of barrels
that once were bought
were found too narrow.
Their dreams were placed
on those ever-shifting tectonic plates
that dropped said dreams through
with not one to escape.
Their earth did shutter
as their grounds did quake
to shed life on
their life-long mistakes.
The stocks so well pushed
were the ones of worthlessness,
the ones sold like livestock
without a hint of preciousness.
Morals were pawned
like old pieces of metal,
beliefs sold off
with no place to settle.
With all that was sacrificed,
an empty promise was to come
to present an eternal fulfillment
that was void and to come undone.
Now the hopes that were abandoned
and the dreams so neglected
are too far in the distance
yet always did and will reflect it:
the things of importance
that should have been in the driver's seat
were sacrificial offerings
burned in the flame of the heat
and destroyed alongside
a soul willing to continue
now relegated to fodder
after the machine spits it out and is through.

To Give It All Back

All that I am and all that I lack,
here I am to give it all back.
Kneeling here on humbled knees
I can do nothing but beg and plead
for You to accept a soul that rejected
You for too long as it pushed and neglected.
Now I have finally seen the error
in my ways of selfish sin and vow to ne'er
again from here forth do
that to a holy God like You.
The love you have shown me
is only dwarfed by a mercy
that took this wretched one back
(no matter what it may have lacked),
to save it from an eternal hell
away from You and what You spell.
I love You and will thank You
every day until eternity with all I do.
In every action and every emotion,
here and now I pledge my eternal devotion;
as I say this with every fiber of my being,
I love you, Lord.  From your son here kneeling.

What Sin Is [Not]

It is not a vacation.
It is not liberating.
It is not a slip.
It is not aiding.
It is not without
consequences at all.
It is not an inevitable
fate, will, or call.
It is not forgotten
by a heart or soul.
It does not lead
to a person being whole.
It is not often
the hard way to go
though often it is wrong
which we often know.

It is a thought process
that is so often odd.
It is a turning of a back.
It is a rejection of God.
It is a giving in.
It is an institution.
It is the despicable practice
of spiritual prostitution.
It can lead to nothing,
no effect immediately,
or it can hit a soul
on the spot, instantly.
It can lead to a dark place
full of panic and despair,
yet it can lead to the attitude
of lifting it up in the air.

Sin is a fire that burns
the bridge to God Himself,
one that burns eternally,
eternally flaming and felt.
Sin is that which discourages,
one that makes us want to die,
but there is an entity
that will allow us to survive:
Christ repairs the bridge
that our sin once burned
to give us a mercy and ending
we could have never earned.
He wipes the tears
from a swollen eye
and saves a soul
so that we may never die.
His pursuit kills that which
attempts to murder a soul
while He is simultaneously filling
each and every black hole.
God's merciful hand
that is all-encompassing
catches us on the fall
through the whining and fussing.
He never allows us
to be conquered by sin
for His love is eternally greater
as He proves here yet again.

Runaway Matter

Runaway matter
escapes from the brain
causing the muddled mess
to become convinced it's insane.
That which was found
to hold great importance
is now nowhere to be found,
not even in the distant distance.
From nowhere can the fugitives
be instantly captured
for the mind knows not
where to look (for it is ruptured).
The details that were pushed
into the recesses of the mind
poured out and over into
an eternal space in which I cannot find.
It is escaping now further
out of the floodgates burst open
into an ocean that cannot be searched,
not in this place, not again.
The matter that once mattered,
the memory that is now only a memory
will ne'er float back into this mind
as it has disappeared for an unending eternity.

Ignored

So many words to say
with so few ears to listen.
My mouth is bleeding
as my teeth begin to glisten.
The red flow of words
that sit in a pool to remain ideas
quickly floods the cave
in which those words are trapped just because.
There is no escape from
the dark places they were created,
no refuge found anywhere
as they are soon to be moot and outdated.
Feelings that once may have mattered
to the opening where they would come from
now matter not (even to the originator)
as now they are convinced to be petty and dumb.
Lines of negativity simply get broader
and rivers begin to overflow,
over the banks that cannot hold them
with nowhere else further to go.
The flood embraces the other purities
that are now to be destroyed
by the very attack that was once
ignored and simply said annoyed.
Perhaps this imminent death brought on
by that which others dubbed harmless
will serve as a lesson for others to gather,
that even a drip can become a tsunami when able to progress.

Forever Smile

She's more beautiful than
anyone who came before her.
She's got a smile that
goes on forever.
The pearly whites she flashes
come from an appearing happy nature,
one that seems so uniquely ingenious,
one that seems to have no cure.
She seems far too robotic
in her optimism of life,
one that seems free of worries
and never stricken by a day of strife.
She seems like no matter what
is done near or to her
she will keep that upside down frown
on her face, stronger than ever.
No matter what negativity
an opposition brings to the table,
she is more than willing
and always more than able
to twist words and saying,
to twist statements and desires
to that which only annoys
the opponent who quickly tires.
Even when others try to hold her down
she brushes them off with a grin,
a move she makes successfully
as the alternative she will never do again,
and that which frustrates the opposition
is what makes her truly incredible:
that phoniness despised by so many
is actually genuine and that which makes her, to others, indelible.

A Dry Cheek

Pick to let it come forth
no matter how much it hurts.
Let the tears come out
along with the blood from your mouth.
Admit your downfalls
to release your soul from entrapment.
Allow your heart to have a rest
from its self-imprisonment.
Open the floodgates that have yet
to allow anything either out or in.
Allow it all to go out and in
and allow it to happen again and again.
Allow your soul the chance
to escape from the trap being laid.
Allow your spirit the chance
to escape from yet again being prey.
Let down that guard that you use
to protect yourself from the world.
Let down that guard that does nothing
but hurts that which has already been hurled...
at least by most...
and let life happen to you once again
instead of the prayer that it passes you by
just so that you can, at the end,
say your cheek is finally set to stay dry.
Allow the flow to escape if that
is what your body and mind needs
for without the removal of doubt and fear
it will never be your spirit that can feed.
Just let it happen to you,
before it is too late to.

Razor Blades

Razor blades cutting
on chalkboards and mirrors
to give the wrists a breather
and instill more fears,
shrills so loud and vivid
curling with blood,
the rich red stream
becomes a flood.
The world is far too
harsh to be handled
as it is much easier
to allow a life to be dismantled.
Thoughts of a past life
that flashes before eyes
disorients the scene
hidden in weeds and lies.
The mind briefly tries
to focus on the thoughts
but instead decides to rest
as it has already fought.
Instead it will allow
ears to only listen
as scratches on the mirror,
in the dim light, glisten
and screeches of souls
past and already tormented
come to take another one
from a body, from a mind demented.

Believing the World's Lies

Walking their walk,
talking their talk,
we're trying not to listen
to them as they balk,
but we believe the lies
that the world tries,
with no attempt to disguise,
to bewilder our eyes.
These same fibs
widely believed by all
are thrown in a blitz
in a forest with trees too tall,
yet someone must
stand up to scream
words of truth
that someone can trust.
While the lines get confusing
(though some may
find that amusing at times,
it is anything but at this one)
we can't be distracted
by how they've reacted
but just keep going,
being pursuant on our way
with a mind
that knows,
as sure as the winds blow,
we must step up now.
This is our time.

I Am Happy for You

That's fantastic
that you found someone
that could do for you
what was expected of everyone.
I am happy for you
and your true find
that would do what others
wouldn't think of in their minds.
He'll bend over backwards
and accomplish your bidding
as well as taking
your heavy hitting.
He'll sacrifice himself
in favor of the "us,"
something he does
without argument or fuss.
He'll do all he can
to make you happy.
I just hope one day
he doesn't ask "what do you do for me?"
for if he asks you
that question you've heard
he'll discover why others
left you cold and burned.
He will discover your
selfish ways that
left you lonely,
lying face down on the mat.
He will discover why
he even had a chance
to be with you in what
was thought to be mutual romance.
He will then discover the
courage to be better off
without the fetter and anchor
that holds him down, that scoffs.
He will then discover the
courage to send you packing
and document the exact
built-in features that you're lacking.
Then maybe you will
discover what is your issue
as you wipe those repetitive tears
off with your worn out tissue.
Then maybe you will
decide to change yourself
and abandon your ways
that have always been selfish...

or maybe that hope
is as useless as it was
after you should have learned it
from the end of us.

Fear

Creaking wood
burns my ears,
bringing to life
my biggest fears:
there's a stranger
in my home
where I am
no longer alone.
I try to go
look up the stairs
but am frozen by
my paralysis in the air.
I can only
slightly move my
head to look
up towards the sky
to the next floor
where the sound
was first discovered
and first found
to see if
the ceiling gives
any clues as to
what above me lives.
My mind begins
to quickly race
as it refuses
a slower pace
but instead
continually goes
as outside
the wind blows
harder and harder
upon the window
that now creaks
and moves so slow.
Fear cripples
my every move
until it causes
my body to improve
to a walking
motion not
before accomplished
though it ought.
I gradually make
my way up,
so slowly,
nothing abrupt.
I pursue it,
the shadow that
exceeds imagination,
this Cheshire Cat.
I go to prove
that fear controls
nothing of mine,
that is has no hold
until the creature
I go after
grabs my soul
with a haunting laughter.
The consumption of
my being quickly
eradicates my mind
from it's existence, ever sickly.
That which I
convinced myself
was not to be feared
was worst than fear itself,
my lesson learned
as my soul paid,
nothing left
but a corpse to be laid.

Resilience Re-Silenced

The spirit to push
and go through
the adversity
given to,
the strength to
continue going
all the while,
while knowing
the truth is
you're so close
to the end of
the rope you chose.
Now a resilience
once revered
is re-silenced,
unable to persevere.
The spirit ready
to force through all
goes face first
in a painful fall,
one from which
they body and soul
may never recover
enough to be whole.

Just the Poison That Poured

Just a shadow of the past,
just a love that never last
and could never again,
it could never again be.

Just the lies that persevered,
just the deceit so revered
that pierced through the skin
and did it again and again and again.

Just the lies you'd speak,
just your hate that'd seek
an innocent soul trapped here,
just the poison that poured
out of a mouth so bored
it found issue with killing a soul,
just the disdain that dripped
from an angry lip
that continued to break apart
a rejected heart
that to this point so far
never appears to
have that happiness you
seemed to feel when I
am ready to die.

The Clown

I look at him and know
how ridiculous he is.
I look at how he clowns,
how his words constantly miss.
I look at how he is as much
of a misfit as they come.
I look at how funny he thinks he is,
yet how they think he is so dumb.
I look at it all
with a chuckle under my breath
until a shiver hits me
and a thought that scares me to death:
when they think of me,
when I'm at the helm
is that what I look like,
how I act in my realm?

Thievery of Identity

What was once mine
is no longer that
with the ownership changed
in a swift thunder's clap.
All that I identified
myself to formerly be
is no longer my claim to make,
no longer mine rightfully.
I have been stripped
of what I once clung to
in a move so unexpected
leaving me nothing to do.
This thievery that has
occurred from under my nose
leaves me paralyzed,
on the edge of these deaths' throws.
It leaves me unable
to awake after a night
with any ability to accomplish
anything I might.
It leaves me unable
to communicate
rendering me speechless,
an emotion I only dream was fake.
Another night's sleep
could result in the ultimate nap
without that moment
where I awake in a snap,
yet in the place that I am,
the place so lost
that seems to be the price
that it must cost.

An Ultimate Resentment

She wears her scars
like badges of honor
to avoid the admitting
of a life of horror.
She takes outward pride
in what she inwardly
could not despise more
unequivocally, definitively.
She wakes up in the morning
to go into a public eye
where she pathologically
lives this ultimate lie.
She does not possess
a drop of contentment,
not a crumb of happiness,
only an ultimate resentment.

She resents all those
who put her in this situation.
She resents all those
who strip her of any appellation.
She cannot stand
the sight or sound of those
who walk by so happily,
so genuine, with their collective nose
stuck straight into the air
as if to rub it further in
that they have what she can't,
again and again...and again.

But mostly she resents one,
the truly responsible party,
one who had the ultimate plan,
the one whose words and thoughts so hearty
had her buy-in to the idea
that the plan was going according to plan,
a reality that never existed
except in what became the ultimate scam.
She resents this one
that has dragged her heart through dirt
and pounded a soul to death
without a thought of repercussion for the hurt.
She resents this one
who does nothing but stare back at her
and will only mimic her actions
from here to the day she dies, that eternal forever.
She resents this mockery
of the shadow that is ever-becoming clearer,
this despicable being deserved of the hatred,
this excuse for a soul staring back in the mirror.

From Ashes of Old

The new ones rise
from the ashes of old
to overshadow the decrepit's
legacy to be untold.
The height imposes
a certain powerful will
that is resilient
in a silent shrill.
The erecting of the tall,
the towering upright missiles
with every power
and possibility to kill,
they kill the one
that's remaining short and weak
simply to choke out
any signs of the frail and meek.
They care not for
tradition or history
but rather the power
leading to other's misery.
Their satisfaction won't
come until that last
gasping breath is gone
from the voices of the past
as only at that moment
is the collective boot removed
from the throats of the oppressed,
now an existence that is moot.

Souls

Souls tugging at each other
as if it's a game,
yet none of them can handle the shame
of being clumped with the latter.

Persons not believing the calamity
their actions bring upon the situation,
producing yet another bitter nation
void of any sort of prosperous unity.

Pushing and shoving all around
other people who deserve none of it
yet people who take yet another hit
with only the spirit of hate to abound.

An earth crumbling at its core
awaiting an ending it desperately needs
as nothing but the evil that feeds
is left with a foot in the door.

Selfish Wealth

Thoughts filled up in a mind that's trapped
with nowhere to go but down.
The mind begins to feel so wrapped
up in the crumbling world around
and nothing can save it from itself
but it with its own selfish wealth
will die.

A soul emptied from past regrets
and wrongdoings that it can't forgive,
it only remembers the times it wept
as it no longer wants to live
and nothing can save it from itself
but it with its own selfish wealth
will die.

A heart so passionate at times
has been stripped of its giving ways
in what was the cruelest of crimes
leaving this pounding in a haze
and nothing can now save it from itself
but it with its own selfish wealth
will die.

A body left for dead days ago
will do as wished and disappear
without another soul to know
the amount of bitterness and fear
that made it impossible to save itself
from its own powerful selfish wealth
as it's now died.

A Smile to Hide

The smile to hide her own depression
caused on her own accord,
caused by her own oppression
that she can no longer afford,
she drinks the smile on
a face that droops so low
awaiting a friendlier dawn,
somewhere friendlier to go.
Her partners in her crime
grab onto coattails
hoping they'll rise in a prime
only to see them further fail.
She pulls her friends onto
the rapidly sinking ship,
a blockade her friends can't break through,
onto the inevitably final trip.
There may be a chance
to be saved somehow
but she doesn't give it a second's glance
as she's resigned to her fate now.
She's driving herself down
deep into the ground
as everyone watches her frown
have no inkling to turn around,
but instead this sad saga concludes,
ending on the saddest of terms:
it's all done with the expected news
of another soul's desires causing it to burn.

The Spider Web of Finger-Pointing

Let the fingers fly,
let the spewing begin.
Throw the accusation, and
let blaming come again.
Who did this?
Who is at fault?
Will someone please
admit when called?

Between the words
and hatred rampant
there is not one
solitary facet
about this present
situation
that is an inaccurate
representation
of the lives being
led by those
that, as far as peace goes,
are vehemently opposed.

The offense committed,
the wrong that's done,
is of the slightest nature,
the most minor one,
yet the reaction
created by such
is far too appalling
to the touch.
The true issue
that is at hand,
the one that needs
the solution it demands
is the one that is caught
in the spider web of finger-pointing,
the one that is
devastatingly disjointing,
yet only the inflicted
of such a disease
knows the symptoms they
must immediately have treated
or else the sickness
will quickly consume
all that will never
have the chance to bloom.

That Hint of Paranoid

That hint of paranoid
that creeps upon,
that clouds the sky
and hides the dawn,
that feeling sneaking,
that suspicion afoot,
it feels too bad,
it isn't good.
It ruins the positive,
makes a promise broken,
turns a monument
into a token.
It takes excitement
down a notch,
as if to expose
it to be a crock.
It allows the build-up
to take place
to enact a tear-down
right in a face.
It convinces a mind
of all of the wrongs,
even in the midst
of the rights so strong.
It poisons a perspective
with a little drip
in a drink that will
inevitably be sipped.
As long as it
possesses a breath
it will always
end in death,
therefore let it breathe not
a single time
unless an eventual demise
is for what you pine.

Confusion

Hopes, dreams,
nightmares, journeys,
lights, gleams
pain, gurneys,
joy, mistakes,
gives, takes,
travels, cities,
friends, enemies,
regrets, elation,
love, jubilation,
the sum, the difference,
rejection, admittance,
understood, confusion,
bandage, contusion,
focuses, goals,
completeness, holes,
words, paper,
grass, skyscraper,
nonsensical, vivid,
provoking, livid,
ends, means,
pretend, scenes,
all, none,
for any, for someone.

Your Great Triumph

Pull my tears out,
yank them by the threads
until you feel you pulled enough
and you have left me for dead.
Scream at the top of your lungs
to have the fire within me build
until it begins to consume me,
until the point has sunk into my head, is drilled.
Stand there and listen
for the cry you worked so hard for,
for the pain you pushed me
as hard as you could toward.
Stare into my eyeball
to see the moisture building
as I try to stop it,
the stream that comes, unwilling.
Turn your back on me
as you have your great triumph,
as you have me on my knees,
just what you said you want.
Take a lap for victory's sake,
the hardest worked-for victory yet,
the moment you promised yourself
that you would always get,
then finally walk away and leave me here
in my most vulnerable moment in time,
with only pain, starvation,
loneliness, and depression, all mine.

Solitary Broom Tree

Solitary broom tree:
the place where I collapse,
the place where I rest,
where I can finally relax,
it shades my fatigued body,
energy drained by the sun,
drowned by life's grind,
from the nonstop run.
It's where the race
slows down to a halt,
a perfect time
to become stalled,
and it is at this time
that a breath of fresh air
is breathed straight
into my lungs there.
It is in this place
that I am resurrected
from a phase in which
no life could be detected.
Legs that could not
on their own stand
now can do all
that this world demands
for the Force behind
their new found strength
will lead to perseverance
to quite some length.
For no longer must
I rely on myself
but rather on a Force
so much greater than self.
Now I can run
through the trials
and over the obstacles
and around the wiles
because no matter where
I may be taken now
I know I will be carried
on the shoulders of the Father so proud.

Intellectually Intimidated

Scared to death
to open her mouth,
to say a word,
much less scream or shout,
she feels intimidated
around the wise,
feeling so inundated
yet there awaits a surprise.
Apparently unknown
to others as to her
is the secret to unfold
that will last forever,
the secret that she
is as smart as any.
If only she gave credit needed
that was ripped away by many.
She has nothing to hide
as all the brains possessed
are that in which to confide
that she subconsciously suppressed.
The wisdom for which
she pined for so long
is coming to fruition
in one of life's happiest songs
as now is her time
to enjoy the gift discovered,
one that will make her shine
and can never be taken from her.

It Inspires Me

My mind picks
apart certain things
that resonate
with specific rings...

I look at a couple
walking the sidewalk
staring into eyes
without a word of talk.
They gaze upon
the one they love
as peaceful as
two turtle doves.
It inspires me.

The skies are gorgeous,
so full of beauty,
so much so
they can lighten the moody.
They bless me with
ideas abounding
and thoughts of hope
and happiness surrounding.
It inspires me.

A mother talking,
a mother yelling,
she screams and screams
in the telling
but all the while
it's done out of love
and the care she has
that always rises above.
It inspires me.

I look around
just a bit more
for inspiration,
for something I can adore
when I step back
and see this gift
with which God has chosen
to bless me with.
I know I
can only choose
to put it to
the best of use
so that in doing so
I can put other's worries at ease
and, from Him, one day
hear it is me in whom He is well pleased.
THAT inspires me.

The Crash

Going so frantically,
mind running manically,
heart starts pounding
without reserve.
Body does quiver,
impossible to be quicker,
begins feeling sicker,
unable to be preserved.
The crash inevitable,
after pedal to the metal
with a soul all but impenetrable,
the soul passes out.
All hope lost
with every paid cost
as peace once sought
is known nothing about...
when suddenly there's a flash!

As if a voice is speaking
directly to my soul,
He tells me only He
can fill the void, the hole.
He tells me about
my own struggles
no one else knows
nor with which would be troubled.
He informs me what
I should have known:
I can't do this myself
whether or not I'm full grown.
When it comes to gaining
that true contentment and peace,
I am still an infant
who can only crawl on my knees
but He, my eternal Father,
carries me through
a wilderness in which
there is nothing I can do
as He feeds my soul
along the way
until I can stand
on my own that day.
He instills in me the peace
I pined, I beckoned for
and informs me I will
be good for so much more
as only with His support
can I make it through this
daily earthly grind
without being pecked by death's kiss.
My Lord has me
in His hands at all times,
the knowledge providing
this ultimate peace of mine.

On a Day Like This...

Take a deep breath,
hold on tight.
Get a good grip
with all of your might.
Realize now
that no one pushes you
quite as hard
as you do.
Understand that
the one pressing on
your path and temple
from dusk until dawn
is the same one who
controls the pedal
currently pressed
to the metal.
Just let loose
of yourself
for a moment to
enjoy yourself.
While it may be hard
and never seems easy
you can still smile
on a day so breezy
and enjoy the good
God blesses upon you
in all you say
and all you do
for He never turns His back
on a child like you
but rather will
always carry you through.
On a day like this
just simply remember
the love He shows you
through every endeavor,
a love never failing,
never faltering, always strong,
one that lasts through
every trial, all life long.

Weakness and Fragility

Weakness and fragility,
signs of my futility,
yet no signs of utility
are coming from me now.
Fatigued and tired,
found with much ire,
as if cross-wired
with no function any more.
Thoroughly confused,
in and out of news,
piled with the refuse
as I should be.
To the side discarded
with no need to be guarded
in a sea never parted
away from anguish,
on a drowning ship
going down so quick
as the slow drip
now rushes in falls.
Efforts last ditched
with ideas pitched
without anything enriched
with any meaning.
Emptiness abounding
with nothing surrounding
but a chest pounding
with a heart soon to quit.

Expectations

I get discouraged,
get so down
for every time of need
I feel you're not around.
I need something done,
I need You to come through
exactly when
I want You to.
I know what
and who You are
but that's a cry
from what I want, so far.
I don't always
want what's offered
for I expect
something other.
It is at this point
that I remember
that You are no genie
but rather Someone greater.
You don't solve every
one of my petty
problems when I want
but rather when You're ready.
You don't succumb
to my selfish whims
for that would bring
an outcome too grim.
You don't listen
to me when
it would destroy
my soul right then.
Instead you say "no"
and upset me
to, in the long run,
make me happy.
You steer me away
from my desires
that would lead
me to the fires
and instead protect
me from all bad
like You always have,
my eternal Dad.
The love you show
day by day
is one I could
never deserve this way
but no matter what
I've said or done,
you hold on tightly to me
as Your child, like I'm the only one;
and for that, I love you.

Draw Me Close

Draw me close to You,
into Your arms,
safe from myself
and the world's harms.
Preserve me from
the coming attacks
to which without You
I would succumb so fast.
Blind my eyes
when evil comes to,
to show me all
that it can do.
Break these knees
so I cannot walk
towards the voices
that do stalk.

And Lastly...

...change this soul
that resists so well
all You do
to save it from hell
and bend it to
what is Your will
as to You be the glory
for all of it still.
Amen.

In Check

In check
and supressed,
feeling down
and depressed,
it's my fault,
this giant mess
brought by me,
whom I detest.

All happening,
all so quickly,
this situation
making me sickly,
getting even
more prickly
as time passes
and speech becomes thickly.

Confusion runs
rampant still
with no one to
receive the bill
I must pass
before the spill
further runs
the full mill.

One effort
last ditched,
one trailer
last hitched,
with no more
ideas pitched
there's no chance
for a last switch.

Ignorant Arrogance

An aura around,
a scent of stench,
an attitude full
of consequence,
an arrogance supreme
to all except
an ignorance that
solidifies no respect,
this human is
blind to all
that steps in front
of his pathetic crawl.
So blind to his
inferiority,
he is convinced
of his superiority.
He does not care
to hear the other
side of things
from another.
Speak to him
if you choose
but it's a fight
you're sure to lose.
Until the day
he dies and sees
the errors of
the way he leads
he will continue
to amount
to nothing but
an eternal fount
of arrogance
and lies that spew
nothing but
recycled refuse.
The worst of all
is the lack of any
possible
happy ending
for it will not be
found here,
a terrible truth
all but him fear.

Your Protector

I think about the times you hurt,
the times of pain,
and I just want to hold you.
I just want to make those people
who made your tears appear
get their fair due.
I want to console you,
assuring there is no permanent
damage that has been done.
I think how I would yell,
how I would scream, would curse
those who hurt my love, my one.
I think how much I wish
I could simply be where you are
at this, your greatest moment of grief.
I want to be the one
who intercedes and stops the offenders,
the one who provides the much needed relief.
I want to be the one,
your protector for all days,
and never be apart enough for you to doubt.
I think about the time
I can show you this truth,
a time that is approaching quickly...
that is here now.

Words to Sound Waves

Words I could share
would do no good.
They would be as empty sounding
as you would think they should.
They would be powered by
emotions that carry so profoundly
more emotions found layered
in a psyche, a heart, a soul so soundly.
These things to be spoken,
alas, cannot be said aloud
due to the fact they are rejected
by the few around, those so proud.
Therefore the words of meaning
that could have potentially gone so far
will never make the transition to sound waves
but instead stay captured, in a head, with a screeching halt.

The Shadow Strengths

They tear you down.
They show others the truth,
the true colors of each person
becoming clearer through.
They come on the back
of the wanted attributes,
on the ground below
without any disputes.
You know they are there.
You know they are waiting.
You know they won't leave.
They're not even debating
because as long as you have
those strengths you so love
you will also have the shadows
that you can't rise above.
As soon as you realize
you cannot rid yourself of them
is the moment you can cope
with living with these anti-friends.
You can realize they won't
disappear overnight
while simultaneously knowing
you don't have to take them without a fight.
Just because you know
they will be there for a time
does not mean you have to like them
for that would be a crime.
Instead you must remember
they may, at some point, step into the light
joining the strengths you so pine for
and leaving behind the weaknesses you despise.
As previously acknowledged
some will always remain
until the day you leave here
for the eternal rewards you gain
but until that day comes
and is a present present for you
you must simply be aware of the fight
you must put up as that which you must do.

Yelling and Accusation

S/he never has a
moment of hesitation
to shy from the instinct
of yelling and accusation.
S/he has a certain knack
for passing the buck
onto someone else
who has no luck.
S/he doesn't keep hidden
what s/he is thinking
as others' hopes and dreams
begin an immediate sinking.
S/he hurls the insults
and words that hurt
as if a grave
needs any more dirt,
but all the while,
while the others' is pain real,
it is something
that she feels.
The ones s/he channels
the anger towards
are only pawns
she tries to push forward,
yet s/he's beginning
to see so clearly
that all the screaming
is due to all the fearing.
When it finally hits home
is when she finally sees
nothing but a face
that she now buries.
The tears show now
where this anger has gotten her:
to a place of regret
where the real scars last forever.

Choice

Which way to go
when the heart's pulling both ways,
what path to take
when the strings are too tight to stay...
incomplete thoughts rushing,
incomplete moments taking place,
incomplete processes not acted upon
in an incomplete, yet finished race...
decisions to be made
by a heart so apart torn
with suppressed emotions
that were long ago born...
only thoughts strung
together in a nonsensical line
with emotions hung
in a nonsensical time...
choices to be made
but only one that matters,
that one of the heart
over the others of cling and clatter..
all down to one
final reveal for good,
that one only time
tells if what happens should.

Idolatry

It blinds you to reality.
It clouds your clear vision.
It strips you of your freedom,
in exchange, to be imprisoned.
It preaches happiness
only to take, to strip.
It grabs you by the seams
and immediately begins to rip.
It can take a good
and turn it on its head
until it becomes
better off dead.
It can cover itself
under the guise of usefulness.
Its power to do this
renders you powerless
until you raise up
to scream in its face,
to set it so far back
you can take your rightful place,
yet the courage that it takes
to stand up and say
what must be spoken
must take place after you pray
for if you ask the only
God that can save you
to lead you away from sin
He will always bring you through.
It just takes that first
bit of courage, leap of faith
and our Father, the Lord of lords,
will carry you away.

Bleeding Out

Pushing so hard
to obtain the goal,
pawning off parts
soon to be the whole,
he stands up
to scream this, to shout
until his throat
begins to bleed out.

The claim presents that
it's all for the best.
It's all looking out
for all's interest.
The claim being pushed
is soon it will remove doubt
yet the job that is at hand
will be the one to bleed out.

The day does approach
quicker than before
as the promise made
is at the front door
but the fulfillment
of which the dreams were about
suddenly, unexpectedly,
gushes, bleeding out.

Sacrifices were made,
lives were put on hold
as things that actually mattered
were bartered off and sold.
After all of it is said
and all done with the bout
the pursuing of the passing
leaves the soul empty, bleeding out.

A Budding Romance

They walk down the hall
yet to be equipped with many of life's facts
as they "inadvertently" bump
each other's little backpacks.
Though few in years and perhaps wisdom,
they speak to one another as if full grown.
They've been told of the cootie epidemic
but they believe it to be overblown.
They ignore the surrounding riffraff
as they are currently preoccupied by the walk.
With hands clinching straps,
their little mouths continue to talk.
They talk about all that is important
in their little worlds today
but also about all the mundane
that happens to join their conversation's way.
That certain feeling being felt
seems to begin to cast its trance.
Though having no more than six years on earth,
this is obviously a budding romance.
It began before this current scene
with previous groundwork previously laid
and will surely continue forth from here
to a later time and a later tree's shade.
It could end at any moment now,
yet it could last the rest of eternity.
It could end at this current young time
or it could go through the years of maternity,
yet the beauty of this painted scene
is found in the hearts and minds of the kids:
it doesn't presently matter when it concludes
because the current present is ignorant bliss.

An Immature Overture

Making a move,
an attempt at being smooth,
a pass so rude,
nothing else is remembered.
A denial,
a claim at a pretrial
for a crimeless guile,
a character dismembered,
yet facts show
the real offense didn't go
unnoticed in the flow
of the grind of life.
That gross overture
made so immature,
a disgusting, tasteless nature
to only add unneeded strife,
but the prevailing of justice
to justify all of us,
to end all the fuss,
to return order to the world around
allows us now to go forward
without another word
of how this incident turned
into a devastating truth found.

Anticlimactic

You think it's coming,
you think you do:
you think you know
but you have no idea.
You love to jump
ahead and anticipate;
you think it's good;
you think you're perfect.
You think you can
predict the next move
as if you are so suave,
so sleek and so awesome,
but you have yet
to realize what's coming,
hitting so abruptly
as it hits you so surprisingly.
Just heed this warning
as it may be your last:
never again judge first
for the negative of judging too quickly
is a surefire recipe
for a disastrous finish
leading to a future
that will only wane.

A Refusal to Niceties

The chit-chat stops,
the small talk ceases
as tensions rise
and pressure increases.
The one-liners prior
that meant nothing
turned so quickly
into something.
They turned a simple
encounter of two
into a battle
that began to draw a few.
The refusal to niceties
and shallowness rehearsed
came to one
abruptly and unversed,
but this explosion
should have been
spotted a mile
away by all men.
The waste of time
and amount of facade
that went into the
eventual lightning rod
tore all bridges
as down they fell
and burned with people
torn and hurt like hell.

A Respite That Renders

Designed and created to help,
it now controls you,
but now that it leaves
you don't know what to do.
Its respite renders you
helpless in every way.
You can't think, you can't act,
you don't know what to say.
Instead you react
in a state of sheer panic,
like an addict attacked
by his paranoia, brutally manic.
Your irrational dependency
that, prior you thought nothing about,
now strikes you crippled
without even a voice to shout.
You cannot shift blame
for there is only one
who lacked preparation
when all was said and done.
Now that you feel
a world crashed and crumbled
perhaps the ruin that remains
will cause you to be humbled.
Perhaps now you won't
take advantage of the situation
but rather serve as more than a puppet
so you are full of more than consternation.

Lead

You take turns, switching off,
changing who takes the lead.
You take turns, grabbing mics,
changing who first speaks.
No one knows, nor should they,
who will step up at any time
because it's not as small as one
but rather a greater goal to shine.
Once the focus shifts from that,
the vision is immediately lost
as the genuine passion, and message, too,
is the communication that is the cost
for this is not even about your group
but rather the others you inspire
and a passion not soon to be forgotten
by loyal followers who never tire.

Ms. Trust

So many questions,
so many opinions,
never knowing
when which happens,
but where should
I place belief
when encountering Ms. Trust,
when instantly I need relief.

I met you long
ago, Ms. Trust,
when faith in others
was a much needed must.
I did not know
where to turn to
so I tried on for size
trying on you.
We had some good times
together then
as I let down
my guard when
I listened to
your words said
as all the utopia
sunk into my head,
but just as I
was fully prepared
Ms. Trust, you blindsided me,
leaving me impaired.

I opened up to one
who sounded so good,
whose name itself
was misunderstood.
Now I know better
than to turn easily to
the downfalls of Ms. Trust,
the downfalls of you,
but be rest assured
next time won't follow
for I will be equipped
as better I will know.
Things will never again
for me be the same.
Ms. Trust, I will never
again play your game.

The Fight

My life is so perfectly fantastic without you,
yet you try to convince me otherwise.
You try to order me what to do
as if I am equipped with blind eyes,
yet somehow you seem to continually
be a dog in this internal fight,
one that is trained impressively ferociously,
one that packs a punch with its bite.
You take what my vision daily sees
and, for your own beneficial use, turn it on its head.
You take truths known and twist them into deceits
turning what was once common knowledge into confusion instead.
My mind's eye can get back onto the right path
but your trickery does not permit that for long
as your faux-friendship, disguised anger and wrath,
wastes no time in leading any soul down a path of wrong.
The definition of the blind leading the blind,
one of us is bound to cause the other certain death,
an outcome already dreamed about in each mind,
a goal desired, pursued until nothing's left;
but you must remember something in preparation
for a battle soon to be a near endless war:
you had better allot time for recuperation
as this fight will be all you asked for and more.

Thoughts Down

Not much time
to get thoughts down
with nothing but
a rush that surrounds.
The time begins to slow
in the mind that tries
to accomplish goals
that just try to die,
yet simultaneously
the time flies
as sense of accomplishment,
in no surprise,
escapes my grasp
and flies out the window
as my need to do anything
besides to go
diminishes with
all hopes of finishing
all that I set out to
as all sense is diminishing.

Ghost Lives, Dies Around

Touch me
so that
I know
you're alive,
though the
bitter truth
is that
you died.
Look at
me with
your eyes
open wide
while mine
stay shut
hiding what's
not fine.
I will
be content
to let
your ghost
haunt all
that I
once cherished,
now lost.
Dreams leave,
rise, fall
with all
else around,
to die
so loudly
as only
death resounds.

Seed

It starts with a seed...

...that little thought
thought not to count,
thought it will
to nothing amount.
It's just a blip
on the mind's radar,
something that won't
go that far.

That little comment
thought not to harm,
thought by others
to be full of charm.
It's just a word
or two come out
that is thought
nothing about.

That little contact
thought not to mean
a thing to either
in the grand scheme.
It's just a hug
that neither seem
to care too much about
as innocent it's deemed...

...until it's not.

That little occurrence
thought to mean nothing,
thought to not
amount to anything,
it went too far
as imaginations ran
and ruined their lives
in the shortest span.

A Nightmare to Be Weaned

We pine for a life
normal and mundane
until we get it
and do nothing but complain.
We want the action,
the excitement and pursuit
for which we're ill prepared,
something about nothing we can do.
There we are in a place
of which we said we dreamed
but appears a nightmare
now to be weaned.
This nightmare will surely
for sometime continue
as we worked so hard
for it to do.
However we now know
the place we are in
is the most fulfilling
again and again.
We, perhaps, will learn
to be happy and content
in a current disposition
instead a constant lament...

...or perhaps not.

Why Mock the Maker?

Does a painting mock its artist?
Does a toilet mock the plumber?
Do the clouds mock the sky
and is math mocked by numbers?
Do feet decide to mock
the ground upon which it walks?
Do pencils likewise mock
paper that allows the bearing of all?
Then why must I hear
the mouths that were made
mock the very hand
that causes them to be fed?
The creation needs to silence
themselves before the One
who put them where they are
is, with His mercy, gone.

Truths

Searching for answers
already received,
we're trying to find
what we misperceive.
We have been told
what we continue to hear
but we will not listen
to that which we fear.
We ignore truths
in favor of the dreams
we know are fantasy
that will never happen, it seems,
yet that does not slow
this machine down
that produces such delusions
that reproduce all around.
Instead our mind's utopia
that will never escape
an imaginary home
will never take shape.
The delusions will simply
grow more vivid and loud
until that which once
made us so proud
will drive us crazy
and into the ground
with nothing but remnants of sanity
lay scattered all around.

A Trait to Admire

You know what you know
and you do what you do.
You go where you go
and say anything to anywho.
You are on your way
and going to your place
as you say what you say
to any species or race.
You have some bravery
that is sometimes misplaced
as it entraps you in slavery
with ideals that become erased,
yet you push on and on
with no one to stop you,
not even another dawn
that tries so hard to.
You will always continue
no matter what slows
as you continually pursue
what makes you tick and go.
Whether others agree
with the way you do it
we can only admire thee
for how you stick to it.

Rest at Ease

I've accomplished it all
and now it's over.
My dreams are realized,
the ultimate closure.
The things I wanted
such as happiness, love, and peace
are now all mine
as I can rest at ease.
I never got all
of the money in the world
but I didn't need it
to be completely fulfilled.
All I needed
was all that I got
as the bad that came
was all for not.
Now I am filled
with the calm so longed for
as I give this body back
and leave with only a soul to endure.

This Love

Your pain hurts me.
We are sharing the same agony.
All that you want in life
is what I want for you to be happy.
I overflow with a love
that helped me rise above
the tribulations I faced
with you as my guiding glove.
Times could not be harder
with dreams that couldn't seem farther
from where you dwell
in a seemingly unsafe harbor
but I am here to say
that this stormy day,
along with all the others,
will fade so far away.
However what will not
go away, as for it we fought,
is a love that pulls through
even when we feel caught.

The Rise

The grind on the mind,
it's taking too much time
out of my life.
I explain until insane,
hit by frustrations of mundane,
I want out of the strife.
It's the same stupid game
complete with the frame
pointing to me for the blame.
I'm just too sick to stick
with this ridiculous shtick
as a life and soul is maimed.
My feet must hit the street
and rise to the challenge of the heat
before it takes me and consumes,
but my legs are turned to pegs
as, despite a soul that begs,
the evil conquers a host and blooms.

The Process of the Throwing

Words discarded
into the trash
that were thought of long ago
when I was too brash -
The process of the throwing
away of these ideas served
painful at that very instant
until I realized the benefit of the swerve.
The pain and frustration
I thought I would encounter
is completely absent here
like a home's out-of-towner.
Now I only feel freedom
from what once hurt so badly.
I can only say I would repeat
the motion I now do so gladly.
No longer will these hiccups
of misguidings and indecisions
to do the right and honorable action
hinder me from viewing the vision.
Only will the act of preserving
the beautiful gift I've been granted
will be of my concerning
as my story becomes the enchanting.

Abrasive and Shocking (Deathly Destiny)

Give me something,
any topic you want,
and I will uselessly
begin to flaunt.
Give me a challenge
worthy of my time
so I can further
commit this, my crime.

Tell me what I
should tackle today
so arrogantly that
I can be on my way.
Tell me how I can
further puff out this chest
that needs more than
anything to get a rest.

Direct me how, please,
in your ways of the cocky
to be more disgustingly
abrasive and shocking.
Direct me into
the hole of misery
I was already running for
apparently blissfully.

Pull me down now
into the depths
I was destined for
with all selfish breaths.
Pull me down now
into a death,
the only destiny possible
thanks to unending selfishness.

The Flow

The rush coming out,
the path it takes,
it does scream and shout
with the sound it makes.
The flow being felt
from within its body,
with nothing to melt
there is less to be shoddy.
The source from within
that supplies the flow
starts mysteriously again
but continues to go.
Finally the source
produces a final product
as the fall pours
in such an orderly conduct.
The calming sound
that is with such ease
naturally resounds
and instills a coveted peace.

Time's Erasers

Candy cane falls
from the sky
to kill all
the dreams that die.

Like a harsh choking
from all an octopus's arms,
there is no joking
in all that harms.

Death continually rising
until all a false pretense,
no goodwill hunting surprising
the life-support common sense.

Clocks all slipping
away from all chasers,
there's no use for gripping
while fighting time's erasers.

8 Lines

Do what you do
in these 8 simple lines
as I continue to
take what is mine.
Act as you will
or do what you won't
as dreams of mine you kill
leaving only fears you don't.

Selfish

Well here I am
ready to go now
and leave you there
and do it somehow
without regret
and without sorrow
to completely forget
about you by tomorrow.
I will not care
about your feelings
as I know you
are already reeling.
You might as well
pack the bags
that hold you back
and leave you in rags,
so turn your back
on yourself
and leave it now,
just quit being selfish
please.

Childish Threats and Sickening Posturing

Your childish threats sicken me
the more and more you throw them.
I wish you just grow up quickly
and end your posturing gem.
You should just worry about
yourself and your own affairs
instead of blaming others in a shout
that no one hears or cares.
You simply need to be more
viable for someone to notice
before you kick yourself out of the door
due to your lack of focus.
Convince yourself first of all
that you are worth while saving
before you beg and threaten in call
and continue your painful slaving,
but the best option now for you
is to simply be quite and allow others
to do what is best for them to do
and control what you can and not another.

Getaway

At the getaway, the one for which
we have waited
in silence,
we are here
in quiet and peace
to fight fear
of inadequacies.
We must live
this moment here
as we do give
each other tears.
We are happy
in this surrounding
with hearts sappy
and loudly pounding.
We can relax
and fully enjoy
the proving acts
of a love we employ.
We will live
for each other
as all sins we forgive
to simply love one another.

Where Dreams and Reality Met

Sick of the grind,
tired of the stress,
she'll release her mind
and escape the mess.
She's tired of the run,
fatigued by the hustle,
her dreams second to none,
she'll escape the bustle.
She has a gig
that pays her well
but that deal's not big
enough to close her shell.

She is walking away,
now turning a back,
on this very day
so her soul no longer lacks.
She is set now
to watch her dreams
come true somehow
and break through the seams.
She will not let
life pass her by
and fail to get
what she dreams before she dies.
She is onward standing
to walk out of the door
to be demanding
of so much more.

Her bravery leads
her to live life fully,
something she needs
completely and wholly.
If you now need her
she will be over the sunset
where onward forever
her dreams and reality will have met.

A Woman Resourceful and Scrappy

No one wants to do
this work that needs to be done
because the work left for you
is absolutely no fun.
The strenuous nature of
the duties that call you
are fulfilled out of pure love
because that's all you do.
You dedicate yourself
to others on a basis daily
as you put your aspirations on a shelf
and pour love out unfailing.
You do the work of many
but with the energy of one
as your accomplishments are plenty
yet your goals are never done.
You will never rest
until everyone else is happy,
an attribute that is your best,
a woman resourceful and scrappy.
You always fret the time
that seems upon you to creep
yet you are still prime
to complete and still sleep.
You are the superwoman of
this house and our family,
the woman whom I deeply love
that makes me eternally happy.

Your Pandora's Box

You enjoy your pretentiousness,
drinking your sake for the world,
dreaming there is usefulness
in the act you give a twirl.
You laugh at the grind of others,
mocking their NASCAR lives,
watching them going in circles around one another,
the illusive pursuit of peace for which they strive.
You continue to drink your drink
in which you add your grenadine
as the syrup quickly sinks
and you realize nothing is what it means.
Your taste buds now sour
to your own condescension
as your quickly fading scour
gives way to an upcoming resignation.
This Pandora's box of hate,
the judgment you gladly play,
has come back to mock the fate
which upon you shall long stay.
You were so far lost
in the game, yet life of others
that you forgot and fought
the battles meant for another.
Now only emptiness resides
in a spirit and body so withered
as a destined cancer rides
your soul until you're finally splintered.

A Family of Four

A beautiful girl to the left
with beauty that could be a cleft,
never suspicious of a theft,
her innocence rules supreme.

A handsome little boy
sitting across from her and his toy,
his charms and wits he will employ
for years to come within his scheme.

A smaller handsome kid
who has a cuteness that can't be hid
and leaves an impression that can't be undid,
he is the last member of her team...

A woman with all the world's good,
her beauty shines from within these kids who stood
up for what they should
and made a woman prouder than she could dream.

Here I Am

Here I am waiting
for something bad to happen
like it would be
all according to plan.
I am sitting here like
an idiot waiting for a fight
until he can see
the tunnel's end's light.
I was told to sit,
to wait and stay
as if my destiny is
for this to be my last day.
So I listened to them
like a blind man who trusts
anyone who will speak
no matter how much of a lush.
I await whatever dangers
I inevitably bring on
myself in a hurry
on what seems my last dawn.
Consider this here
my letter for goodbye
as my soul is fully ready
to permanently lie down and die.

Her Words of Wisdom

Dying to show her knowledge
to prove she has some,
she speaks her words of wisdom
understood by none.
The words make perfect
sense when in her head
but the execution is
entirely different instead.
Instead all that comes out
of her slow-speaking mouth
is something incomprehensible
no matter how loud.
She speaks to be heard
but even when she is
not a single word
makes a bit of sense.
Despite the facts present
in this current situation
it will not deter her
despite her reputation.
She will continue
on her happy way
in her forever pattern that
will ne'er change any soon day.

Euthanized

So restricted
in the confines
of this space
that is mine.
This prison I
myself built
sadly will
not soon wilt.
It was made
from a dream
I wanted to
live in, it seemed,
but now I
know better
as this thing
is now my fetter.

Just as demons
are angels who dared,
this dream is
now a nightmare,
but I cannot
soon awake
from this pigeon
hole, my mistake.
I have sealed
my own destiny,
the final place
of my resting,
as I will not
again rise
but only view
a mind euthanized.

The Moment I Realize

She frustrates me
to no end
despite being
my child and friend.
She drives me crazy
seemingly always
in her actions,
her words and the way she plays.
She pushes buttons
I didn't know
I even had
to let go.
I feel sometimes
I cannot take
how much she screams
for attention's sake.
I simply feel
I am all prepared
to lose my cool
and pull my hair
until that split
moment comes to
as her beautiful bright
blue eyes stare through.
It is at this
exact second in time
I realize how lucky I am
for her to be the daughter of mine.

Much Needed Savior

I posture greatness
when I need a Savior
even in my brightest hour.
It doesn't matter
how great I think
I am in my own scour.
I fall short
within the divinity
of His unfolding story.
I fail to live
up to expectations
set by His own glory.
I call upon
myself to help
when I am in need
but only after
my failure comes to light
can I see all of my greed.
I ache so much
to be sufficient
and the answer for my soul
but seem to realize
each and every
time this leaves a hole.
It buries me
within the gaping
gap left by my self.
It makes me realize
only then
that I need someone else.
Only the One
would accept me back
after this behavior.
No matter what
Christ will be there,
my Rock, my Shelter, my Father and Savior.

The Reason

The bus came,
the bus went
without me having a ride.
The throw went,
the catch came
to get me out despite a slide.
The shot up,
the shot traveled
only to go off wide.
The goal seen,
the goal proclaimed
only to see it pass in a vanishing glide.

The moment spotted,
the opportunity coveted
only to be lost to another.
The pain real,
the disappointment great
as are dreams fulfilled for others,
yet the reality hits
even this late
that it all fit into the plan:
every single
opportunity missed
was the protection of God's hand.

Words Disappear Into Memories

Two down,
zero to go.
All I had,
out the door.
All words,
now gone
until more lost,
next dawn.
All thoughts
once of value
now out,
gave none to.
They were
able to
inspire both
me and you
but they
disappeared
before they were
heard by ears.
Now they
only live
as memories
that could give
hope to fill
empty ones
that will never
hear what's done.

Last Ditched Effort

The fight is better,
the encouragement is coming.
The thoughts that shouldn't
be there are running.
The weight that held
me down and back,
that fetter is lighter
and beginning to lack.
It lacks acceleration,
it lacks traction
to gain the speed
to take the action.
It can't get its footing
long enough to trip
me or my momentum
or to cause a dip.
Its lights are slowly
dimming in its twilight
as soon it will say
its final goodnight.
It is now throwing
its last ditched effort
to a spirit that won't
let it get the better.
Its hopes are done,
its goal is failed
in my soul's triumph
that to none will pale.

Lost Thoughts

It may be gone,
lost forever.
My thoughts and heart
and everything clever
that were thought
and written down
have vanished now
somewhere around.
I don't know
where to start
to begin to look
for my heart
poured onto paper
so passionately
yet lost as well
as discarded passively.
The thoughts that were
unique to that
present moment
are in fact
impossible to
get back; now
they must be
forgotten somehow.

The Cynic Lives

I don't believe
a word being said
as cynicism runs
rampid through my head.
I used to think
he was gone and dead
as it was subdued
and put to bed
but a step back
and a realization gathered
brings a revelation
that means no other words mattered.
When others open
their yapping mouths
is when the voice within
my head gets loud.
It overtakes
all other emotions
(as if possessing
some magic potions)
and begins to attack
the purveyor of nonsense
who pushes preposterousness
through a blind man's lense.
The cynic then rises
from ashes long thought
to be burned for good
but was simply overlooked.
Pushed to the limits,
self control is released
as furious rage
is now unleashed.
Well deserved in this
occasion of ridiculum,
hopefully this is the finale
with no more yet to come.
The guardian of all
sacred common sense
can ill-afford
giving its two cents.
So with another bout behind
here's to this hope:
the cynic that lives
will live no more.

My Best Friend

My best friend
is what you are.
You are both near
as well as far.
You stand up
while others sit.
You won't put up
with any of it.
You do your job
consistently
with no complaint
or arguing.
You are present
in each room
in which we need
all business done.
We could do
without you
but the lack of ease
would not do.
I am thankful
every time
you are caught
by these eyes of mine.
You will remain
my favorite always
as you have been
in all previous days.

Imagination's Dead Nation

Laziness has stunted
the growth of promise
as hopelessness fills
the soul with a death's kiss.
A body once inspired
each and every day
now cannot continue
to go the same way.
The thoughts once had
that were so amazing
do nothing but disappear
as the good is fading.
The words that spoke
both truth and inspiration
are now corpses
of imagination's dead nation.
With nothing but a drained
brain and mind
there is nothing left of worth
here to find.

Finish the Slob

Take all the dirty towels;
discard them, not then, but now.
Take it all off the floor
where there better not be any more.
Wipe off the desk
to correct your dirty mess.
Organize the closet,
something that should be done more often.
Wipe off the lampshade
and watch the dirt fade,
a treasure underneath
the fools' gold beneath.
Finish the job
as well as the slob
and sit back to enjoy
the rewards of the ploy.

Circular Swirl

Round and round it goes
evading the grasp.
It goes down the drain
escaping hands and imagination,
unable to be gathered alas.
The pain is unbearable
as the insufferable anguish resides.
The moment goes down
in this circular swirl
on the most painful ride.
The drain consumes
what once so inspired
while a mind, the dreamer
who conceived the concept
is now too tired.
The concept so unique
is now so far gone.
Now also is drowned
any aspiration to continue
or want to go on.
The drain can eat
that which is wanted
while mind, body, and soul,
along with spirit and will,
will forever now be haunted.

Content Moment

A jump off the top,
a splash at the bottom on the spot,
the body hits.
Laughs and cries,
tears in the eyes,
the water leaves the body divots.
Turns on dives,
jokes and jives,
laughter fills the air.
Worries released,
racing minds ceased
with not a world's care,
family together
in a setting forever
to be so cherished,
far more satisfying
than an evening's trying
on some horse and carriage,
this moment here
is peace so dear
and impossible to replicate.
Therefore we
will sit in glee
for the most content moment to date.

Further and Further

It seems we are moving
everso rapidly to the side
on what was supposed to be
a stationary ride,
yet those in front
(as well as behind us)
continue their shifting
as if they are oblivious.
We continue our movement
away from a home
from which we did not
plan to roam.
We get further
and further and further
until a worry
of whether we can gather
ourselves in time
to get back there
strikes our minds
as our hope is bear.
We look out again
to see former neighbors
now miles away
and maybe even further.
The shear panic
almost suffocates
until a calm
so naturally innate
reminds the brain
there is no movement
except from others
preventing a reality bent.
Only the hallucination
and eyes' trickery
made it seem
a promise was slippery
but just in time
a reality set in
to reassure stagnation
needed by a soul again and again.

A Beating Heart, A Throbbing Breast

You heart is beating;
I can feel it through my chest,
its rapids rushing
through your throbbing breast.
It gains the speed
and goes down the falls,
its power great
enough to conquer all.
It screams for me
and won't quiet down.
It doesn't care
who will hear it now.
It can't contain
its passion at this point,
a passion that
does overflow and anoint.
It anoints me
as the chosen one,
the recipient
when all is said and done.
The one to thrust
the fire down upon
as the craze
goes on and on and on.
It paralyzes
my body and my soul
and takes a hold
of my being as a whole.
I can't respond
as I am taken back.
The only way
that I can now react
is to soak
this moment all in
through the pores
of my ever salty skin.
The moment will
ne'er be forgotten
as is the case
with all the feelings and emotions.
This ecstasy
that will always be
is forever one
you have given me.

Lies Between the Lines

Caught in your own lies
in between the lines.
Nowhere to go
with no answers to know.
Unsure how you arrived
to this point in time.
You only want
to escape your dreams that haunt.
You are tortured by actions
that have caused factions
within your mind and soul,
leaving a gaping hole.
You don't know where to turn
before you crash and burn
but you're going down
and can't turn around.
May mercy be upon you
as you cannot do
anything to postpone
an inevitable destruction alone.

Blast You

Let me blast you up and down.
Let me throw you to the ground.
Let me rip you to pieces.
Let me tear you in half
like aluminum foil fresh out of the bag
still free from coming creases.
Let me show you the passion
that has now been fashioned
out of the plethora of arguments.
Let me act surprised
of your trickery and lies
like it's an algorithmic function of common sense.
Let me stand outside
as you pretend not to cry
as walls collapse to the ground
and let me leave you alone
now that I've left that home
and you with your loneliness newfound.



FOUR WORD CHALLENGE:  blast, aluminum foil, algorithm, plethora

The Challenge

I push and push
until my body can't take any more.
I fight my lids
but my brain starts closing the door.
I try to focus
but my mind will have none of it.
I want to run
but my thoughts tell my legs to sit.
This challenge
is presented to me so unfairly
at a time that I
feel I can succeed everso rarely.
I know what is asked
and it scares me so very greatly.
I know the goal
and how my grasp of it escapes me.
I can't help
but think of the outcome of failure.
I can't help
but fret the consequences so major.
I can't help
but doubt my very abilities to do it
and I can't help
but think I can't put myself through it.
I need a plan
but the fear brings the body paralysis.
I need a plan
but my mind is too scared for analysis.
I can't run
because the endeavor is already here.
I can't run
because already come true is my fear.
I must escape
before my fate is sealed in the manor I thought.
I must escape
before my destiny becomes all that I ever fought.

Nature's Confusion

Raindrops fall
so large in all
I feel a dent coming,
but a bright sun
yet still comes
with the storm drumming.
The bright skies
bright blue with lies
of promises of beauty,
the storm tells truth
of beauty kept mute
and weather so moody.
The forecast complicated
as wardrobes intimidated
with confusion by choices,
no idea if nature
will show the ball clearer
and choose one of the voices.
With temperatures,
like characters,
changing stories constantly,
not knowing
which will be showing
is the only certainty.
Yet the amazing
fact so crazing
is the radiant scene's
apparent blessing
in its dressing
of peace that so clings.
The thankfulness
to show gratefulness
for God's blessing
is overcoming me
as I'm welcoming glee
and the moment given for resting.

The More Passive Form of Violence

Neglect:
the more passive form of violence.
Ashamedness:
leading to a permanent silence.
Abandonment:
leaving scars for the anti-trusting.
Hopefulness:
for those in a frightened encrusting.
Abashing:
spoken upon a victim endlessly.
Dismembering
an ego and psyche times countlessly.

Shredding
memories out of despicable spite.
Protecting
wrongs instead of rights.
Destroying
all that was precious.
Covering
all that is worthless.
Hovering
over ashes of pasts.
Mocking
what was thought to never last.
Crying
at realizations come true.
Haunting
from actions he cannot undo.