A Burn from Something Beautiful

I promised myself before
I would not allow this again.
I thought I was prepared
but was wrong in the end.
So mercilessly, the sun beat
as my skin was ill-prepared to take.
A previously pale white body
was overcome with a red glow as the sun did bake.
I try to wipe my face
but the burning tells me
not to rub so carelessly
unless I want more pain momentarily.
I sit down softly
but inadvertently
push down roughly
on both of my knees.
I did not realize
the bright, fiery red ball
did so much damage
to this body in all.
Now I know,
but only too late,
that this pain I feel
is all that's on my plate.
I swore previously
that it happened for the last time,
as I now swear again
this goal of mine.
No matter what it means
I must do to prepare
my laziness will not cause me
to overlook my care.
Next time, sun,
I will not allow this to be done
as an attempted burn from something beautiful
will be a battle I have won.

One Night Interaction

There he is
talking until he can't breathe.
There she is
staring ahead so it's him she can't see.
He flatters her,
praising the beauty she possesses.
She ignores him
as her inner-extrovert regresses.
He explains himself
saying all that he has accomplished.
She silences herself
wishing his voice and attempts were finished.
He continues on
telling her all the reasons he deserves a chance.
She continues on
staying strong in her ignoring, not sparing even a first glance.
His persistence unwavering,
he is determined she will give him the minutes he needs.
Her resilience staggering,
she refuses to give any sign he could misread.
This painful struggle
seems to be a war waging onward forever
until he realizes
it is time to move on to another useless attempted endeavor.

Dry Your Eyes

Please don't cry.
Please allow that eye
to again become dry.
I can't stand by
as, inside, you die,
without me contributing to the lie.
I can't allow you,
in all of life, to
quit on what you do.
We both knew
you would get blue
but you are one of the strong few.
Now is not when to go
or even to go with the flow,
as we both know,
but you must say no
to all the crow
even when it gets you low.
You will rise above
with a supporting love
that raises you on the wings of a dove,
as, the distractions, you will shove
like a ball with a glove,
down to the ground as you say enough.
You need more praise
especially on these days,
for the constant craze
that will not phase
or set a blaze
to how much your resilience continues to amaze.
I promise I
will always stand by
and never fail to try
to lift your spirits high,
to show a faith in you that will never die
and to remind you of the awaiting prize,
for my devotion
will always be your potion
to bring a happier emotion,
no matter what negative notion
may be in motion
amidst your head's commotion.
However, take this by the letter,
things will get better
as, together, we lift this fetter.
You, my eternal go-getter,
will never allow any other
to make you their debtor.
No matter what was said
you know in your head
the detractors will become dead
as you will be happy with the life lead
with your own negativity put to bed,
and neither of us with any more tears to shed.

The Ride That Came to a Screeching Halt

Here I lie
discarded again.
I start out useful
then become trash to men.
I am used
momentarily for pleasure
until the buyer has finished
what was once a treasure.

That child begged for me,
promising parents the world
if only they could spare some change
to put a smile on the face of their little girl.
I was content in the truck,
a cool frost surrounding me
with a sweet treat to be found
within a design so colorful and pretty,
but now I am relegated
to the hard, hot ground
where people only glance at me
as they walk over and around.
I don't have hopes
because I know I can't be used again.
I know enough to be aware
that this is the end.
No longer am I enjoyable
and no longer do I bring a smile
as the ride came to a screeching halt
by one small, insatiable child.

Nightmare

I ask what he's doing
as he says watching the lake.
I ask if he wants company
as he denies me.
When this happens consistently
it is a nightmare from which I must wake.

The Collection

It is extremely satisfying
to have this collection,
to look over at the shelf
with such a positive recollection;
to remember the good times
and what brought them about
that therefore reminds me
of the ones who love and care without a doubt.
These objects collected over time
helps point to the memories
far more valuable
than items owned or gained monetarily.

It is extremely satisfying
to have this collection:
long nights in basements
giving old hobbies resurrections;
times of shooting the sphere
and the instances of failure
causing that much more laughter
in seconds we acted completely immature;
screaming the lyrics at the top
with windows rolled down
so that the truth and passion
could be heard throughout the town.
Before responsibilities began to knock
and others depended on us all the time,
we had nothing to do but time to kill
before that murder was a crime;
when we loathed what we now have
bearing on our shoulders
but simultaneously craved the perks
that now help us move obstacles and boulders.

It is extremely satisfying
to know we will have this collection
and a family with which to share it and give
all hopes, dreams, and attention:
a spouse and children to teach
and by whom we may be taught,
a life partner who holds us responsible
in times we stray from acting as we ought.
We will be able to surrender
that which we clung onto
knowing that becoming that vulnerable
allows us to be who we want to be and do what we want to do.

It is extremely satisfying
to know we will have these collections
from each phase of our lives
stored forever in our minds as our attractions.
We will have these thoughts and experiences
that make up our collection of memories
that will never allow us to forget
moments of love and care that will last eternity.

A Father's Love

I need you to step it up.
I need you to do your best.
I need you to rise above
the mediocrity of the rest.
I know you are better
than what you are representing.
I know this lull you are in
should not cause your future a needed mending.
I know the haze that clouds
your current inadequate vision
should not lead you into mistakes
and immediate regretful decisions.
I know you think this is harsh
and that too much is being asked
but you need to know if less was expected
than that would be all you would task.
You should not settle for less
and it is my job to assure you don't.
I refuse to allow you to get yourself into a mess
that, when you try to escape it, you won't.
I will not falter on my responsibility
only to appease your current whims.
I will not tolerate these unnecessary inadequacies
that cause an outcome so grim.
There is too much love flowing from me
to allow you to have free reign
in areas and concentrations that you know nothing of
except for the actions from which you've been told to abstain.

This entire production
is a process in the works
but I will never quit
on you or your quirks.
I vow to both love and care
enough about you
to always stand here
no matter what you do.
No matter the disappointment
I feel inside
I will never run away
and never hide.
You have my word
from here to eternity:
if there is one that will be there
it will always be me.

The Middle

He often seems to be forgotten
but is never loved any less
even if that's hard to believe.
He is the one not spoiled rotten;
he hardly ever looks a mess,
and hates to see anyone leave.
He gets excited for plans
and shows it with his beautiful smile
that lights the viewer's face.
He seems to rarely have demands
yet enjoys what he has while
he can be content in his own place.
He loves the warmth of another,
especially on the couch, snuggling into a crevice
any place there is to lie.
There isn't a meaning he enjoys more than "together,"
whether it means helping cook and wash lettuce
or go with the family to buy.
He knows what he wants
and he knows even when it seems
he does not get that.
He knows when a dream haunts
he has people who will hear his screams
who can give him thoughts to combat.
He seems so unsure
until he is in the eye
at which point he surprises.
At times he seems so mature
despite the moments he does not try,
as at least a daily opportunity to falter arises.
He is the middle child
who refuses to be overlooked
even when it seems that it is his fate.
His passions will run wild
as he is a person who cannot be shook,
perhaps his strongest character trait.
As all facts are considered
and all the data is gathered
he will show to always be a resilient one.
No matter what, he will be a hard hitter
and continue to care only about what matters
as he will always strive to never be outdone.

On My Hands

I truly am sorry for being late
and I hope you know it was not my intention.
I simply lost track of time on my hands
as I allowed my priorities to meet some contention.
I told myself it was important
to fit certain items into my schedule,
but when offenders to my goal arose
these contenders' objections seemed more than minuscule.
I seemed to see the hours slip by
but only in slow motion
almost surreal-like, helpless as a babe
who can do nothing but whine and cause a commotion.
I had no choice, after making a promise,
but to follow through on what once was said.
I could not just think what I could write
or try to remember all the apologies in my head.
Instead I knew the only plan of action
had to occur from my bravery in admission,
knowing that mistakes were made and priorities confused
but that my vows still had to come to fruition.
I finally took a stand of courage
and did what was sworn to take place
as I sprinted to make happen what needed to
and began to run the fast-paced race.
I now only made it with moments to spare
and realize I cannot let that occur again.
From henceforth I will do all as I say
and not be like the other swear-breaking men.
I will have the follow-through that shows that I care
and do all the goals I set out for myself,
but more importantly than everything else,
I will never again allow you to be put onto a shelf.

The Most Promising Eight-Year Old

With a face like her mother's
and an attitude to match
this beautiful little girl
will become a lovely young lady and quite a catch.
Long, dark hair
flowing down her back,
there's already little to nothing
in any area that she lacks.
Personality, skills, brains, or looks,
God has blessed her with all of this.
Talents abounding and potential limitless,
she's a treasure that can't be missed.
With a voice of gold
she can say the sweetest words.
Whenever encountering another's bad day,
she can lift a spirit as if on the wings of a bird.
When she is underestimated
it drives her to prove a doubter wrong.
She loves a challenge, especially when a prize is promised,
so she can sing a victor's song.
She appreciates the ones who show her
the love she's always longed for;
to show the time and effort for her:
she will never ask for anything more.
Instead she will make you the proudest,
reciprocating love and faith ten-fold.
All of this flowing from within
the world's most promising eight-year old.

The Chase

A soundproof room
encased with impenetrable glass,
screams bouncing back and forth
with hyperness that could never last,
energy flowing throughout young ones
with ambitions running high,
yelps and bellows of overflowing joy
abound through the air, up to the sky.
Tagging one another
in a game of escapism,
they try to outrun their opponent
to later tell friends stories of sensationalism.
The chase, everlasting,
seems to go in circles.
Like on their wheels within their boxes,
this is a pack of in-shape gerbils.
They jump and dive, roll and hide
trying to never be caught,
yet even when one is, they claim they're not,
even when they know they ought.
No matter if they are
or even if they never were
this is a game that would only make them happier
if it could last forever.

A Matriarch's Attempt

She sits there in the red seat
with child in arms.
They sway together in the breeze
as she attempts her charms.
She whispers soft lullabies
to make her girl smile.
She talks down to her
as they swing by error and trial.

The little girl continues
to resist even a grin,
her mother's tries tiring,
as patience, despite her attempts, grows thin.
All the girl in pink wants
is to go away from the sun.
Despite the protection of her hat,
this thought is her mind's only one.

The matriarch gives in
as her attempt at a good time
comes to a disappointing end
in lieu of a trip to the exit by way of a climb.

Collapsing Time

My eyes are so heavy
they feel they must close
but I have a goal yet to accomplish
and abandonment of it is not what I chose.
Hours away from the deadline,
my heart and words are fading.
My will is dwindling, as is time,
the ever-elusive pressure, unchanging.
Ideas appear in a head so clouded
with fatigue, my thoughts' worst enemy.
I'm begging for a psyche able to fight back,
but discover that psyche is no friend to me.
With words designed to encourage
pouring into my head as quickly as they can,
none of them are taking or being absorbed
in any fashion that aid me in my plan.

My drive is being worn down
as I no longer have the energy to continue.
What was once so important to me to finish
is now but another task that, tomorrow, I can do.
No longer is that ambition a priority
as I can spare no more sleep over this goal.
Instead I will let the frustration conquer
despite leaving, within me, this gaping hole.

A Dreamer Forced to Wake

There's beauty over there
but it's tarnished.
There's a spirit of youth in the air
that goes unharnessed.
There's a child riding
a bicycle all around.
He begins his gliding
unscathed on the ground.
A perfectly timed breeze
interrupted by a crawling.
The moment's enjoyable ease
ruined by a smacked stalling,
a light pole that stands
only to have its shining burned out:
its one purpose, to meet their demands,
ending with a stone throw and a shout.

My hands go to the right
anticipating an escape of brilliance
but my necessary smite
of a stranger's sidle halts and strangles my resilience.
Whether it be these interruptions or the freshly child-thrown rocks
into the otherwise placid lake
this scene continually mocks
a dreamer who is now forced to wake.

With So Many Detractors

I've never heard you before,
yet you moved me greatly.
With so many voices heard,
yours is the only one to resonate lately.
Coarse and low, yet melodic and sweet,
you say all that I feel.
With so many fabricators to speak,
you are the only one that is real.
No matter where my ears go
a con is waiting to be shared.
With so many who had a stage,
you are the only one who took it and cared.
My listening nearly shut down
after the overload of sentences with meanings so bare.
With words of value and merit,
yours is a welcomed breath of fresh air.
You have reinvigorated a soul
that was thought to have retreated.
With these phrases spoken that are so relatable,
ignited is a spark so spirited.
Now equipped with a confident knowledge,
I am going forth knowing others still have the passion.
With so many detractors failing to collapse this pillar of belief
I will also pronounce the same truth to assist other spirits in the same fashion.

Storms

Why don't we sit in the rain?
Why can't we enjoy what we rail against?
The freedom gained and knowledge bestowed
by resting in the eye of the storm
can cause a life all the difference.
Walking the earth with a mindset
that is convinced this "universe" is our enemy
will cause a subject to only live for one's self,
to prosper on its own time and own place
but chained with a soul that will never be freed.

Perhaps this storm is a blessing.
Perhaps branches falling are much needed.
Perhaps that which scares and pushes us
to a limit from which we were convinced we could not return
serves to show the "universe," known as God, won't allow us to be defeated.
Perhaps it is only when we realize we need a storm
that we can have the trust that it will fade.
Perhaps the fear the rain won't pass
and that the wind will carry us away
is precisely what caused this storm to stay.

Though the wind may be chilling
and water droplets may annoy,
the storm is forever passing,
the rolls of thunder are always fleeting,
and flashes of lightning just a ploy.
When it is all finished,
as it will be as quickly as it started,
we will come out both blessed and protected,
shown no storm, trial, tribulation, or anything of the sort
will strike or consume the souls that are eternally guarded.

Color Scheme

Bright, breezy, blue,
green, grassy, galvanizing,
plump, pink, promising,
round, red, revitalizing.
White, flowing, flowery,
solid, brutalizing, browning,
tall, black, built,
orange, frivolous, frowning.
Purple, discarded, junk,
boxy, olive, useful,
bounding, restrictive, neon,
peaceful, yellow, fruitful.

The scene that surrounds me, in every color:
God's creation, second to no other.

Inconvenient for You

Don't hate me because I dream.
Don't despise me because I need an outlet.
I'm sorry if my fantasies have become
so inconvenient for you yet.
I'm sorry if I can't do things
the way that might be easier for you to swallow,
but at this point my dreams have no choice
but to escape through me and for me to follow.

I'm not here to intentionally aggravate you
but I can't gingerly live for your own ease.
I don't have a choice with what I've been given
but to run out to share with all so One is appeased.
I can no longer live to not offend
without having a conscience to object.
I will no longer be afraid to live life
in a way that will cause this ship to be wrecked.
I was not put here to hold these things in
because it would make easier the mundane.
I cannot walk the straight line because it's requested
without becoming the definition of insane.

Don't hate me because I dream.
Don't despise me because I need an outlet.
I am here for one reason and one reason only:
to live life the right way and to take this truth and shout it.

Time's Greatest Foe

A waster and a murderer,
I didn't even give it a chance.
I failed it and failed myself
without even a second glance.
I didn't care what the consequences
but rather went on my way.
I didn't show any remorse
or sorrow any moment of the day.
I can't say I didn't think about it
before the deed was completed.
I tried to lie there and slide by
knowing that it couldn't be cheated.
It knew what I was doing all the while,
trying to prolong the inevitable,
but I moved too slowly to change a cruel fate
and now have accomplished the unfathomable.

I always thought it would be on my side
and never once doubted,
but now the truth I once denied
can no longer be clouded.
All second chances and repentance
are out the door with hopes and dreams
as now the time that was once for me
will forever be lost in regret's screams.

A Sneak Attack

Sitting outside at an old picnic table
being sneak attacked by spring's beauty;
a sudden breeze, yet another unexpected turn,
serves as a welcome occurrence and a chance for a warming sip of coffee.

The wind continues, as does the falling of petals,
like a cinematic whirlwind with the loose flowers surrounding.
My soul becomes filled with glee as the eternal spring
of optimism accompanies this heart's pounding.

With flowers fading to the ground in a seeming discard,
they are to be replaced by those even more radiant.
With something plunging to its inevitable end,
one wouldn't believe even greater beauty was expectant.

However, as the days and weeks to come will prove,
peace and tranquility, in this of nature's greatest scene,
will even further begin and consistently continue to shine through
and be bestowed upon each and every so touched human being.

I'm Going To, Just To

I'm going to tell you these words
without believing in them.
I'm going to scream at the top of my lungs.
I won't do any of these verbs
just so I can break a promise again
and to portray a fake amount of fun.
I'll strive to do everything you won't
just to prove to you and me that you are no prophet.
I'm going against every fiber anyone else may have.
Lastly, I'll posses the qualities you don't
just to show both of us that I haven't lost it.

I'm going to do it all differently
just to make myself what I was told I could never be.

When the Past Becomes the Present

My fingers are bleeding from feelings untyped.
My mouth is sowed shut with the regret of inaction.
My soul is overwhelmed with unfulfilled promises so hyped.
My body is weak from being part of the different factions.

I thought I had a way chosen
and I thought I had a life to be
but now my knees are weak and will is frozen
and I'm left at the crossroads by she.

With issues so unresolved and love so unreciprocated,
my heart has nothing left to believe in and therefore nothing to give.
Maybe due to my own inactions, this fate was precipitated,
but it doesn't change the fact my insides have no more reason to live.

With knees so weak the body wants to fall,
the legs so disconnected from reality,
my back must lean against the wall
to prevent the floor from gaining a collapsed body.

The finish line so passed
and yet the race so failed,
the memories are trashed
and the dreams are bailed.

So much negativity left in a brain so otherwise drained,
the heart, head, and heels all stop without direction.
The body goes limp with inordinate amounts of pain
as the thoughts of past scars begin their resurrection.

Some may call this a phase or maybe even a bout
but those who have been in the eye of the storm before know better.
The agony that has a hold of my emotions is on a rout
and every part of me, mentally and physically, is again bound by this fetter.

A Four Year Old's Work

The wind blowing on my uncovered legs
and the hood hanging and pulling on my head,
my son sits to my right drawing our home.
He draws so peacefully, using every color but red.
He feels a bit of a breeze chilling his skin
so he goes to get his jacket like his daddy.
He asks questions so as to make his drawing
perfect in ways that would make me praise him proudly.
He pushes his little hands down on the paper.
He won't allow his art to be taken by the wind.
He switches colors time and time again
until finally he pulls the winner out of the tin.

He is onto drawing the bedrooms within his home
where he feels the safety and warmth so many crave.
His peaceful, satisfied, wide-eyed demeanor
sets him apart from those he'll later meet, so led astray.

He moves on from artwork piece number one.
He emerges from the house with a clean, white sheet.
Wasting no time that he doesn't have,
he allows his light red marker and paper to meet.
The marker, much like a magic guide, begins to direct
as his movements begin to come together to take shape.
Though others may see a four-year old's work of nonsense,
I see the scene he describes no less vividly than if I saw the very landscape.

The imagination sinister men and skeptics alike may mock
works for the boy who shows us all what we could be.
The lesson he teaches his dad is invaluable:
as long as you can interpret your own picture, it won't take others to make you happy.