AHAHAHA! Thats the last of it folks!

Wednesday, August 06, 2008
We are
We are human.
We are two halfs.
We are Love and We are anger.
We are Strength and We are weakness.
We are tears.
We are cries...of pleasure and of pain.
We are pure.
We are corrupt.
We are sons and daughters.
We are wives and husbands.
We are light.
We are shadows.
We are everything
We are nothing.
But make no mistake, ye beasts and doers of the dark.
Though we are flawed, though we are broken, though we are the antithesis of each other and the catalysts of our own destruction. There is one fact that is certain.
We ARE.
And thus shall we continue, until this world is unmade, and the very fabric of this universe is unraveled.

Sunday, August 03, 2008
Moving.
Do you think one flower knows its neighbors?
Could it be a grain of sand, loves its many brothers?
And how then, can they stand, when lonley winds come
And wisk them off to lonley places.
To see new things, and meet new friends.
Does life go on?
We'll see.

Thursday, July 31, 2008
Effigy to life
How inconsiderate of me
To breathe fresh air, when dead men have no such pleasure
And let the wind whip my tattered hair
You would think that I know better.
We are alive, in this forgotten world, forgotten time.
But do we truly live?
Is each day of dying worth a dime?
Or would it be better, better, better...
To leap from soaring heights, and live for one last rhyme.

Monday, June 23, 2008
To no music
Take my hand and close your eyes
Move your feet, enjoy the ride
We're gonna find world tonight and lose it
We're gonna dance to no music.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008
We are here to live
Poetry is fun. But sometimes just writing what your thinking is so much more appealing. Not to mention a hell of a lot easier. You try finding a poetic device that expresses every concept that flits through your head and tell me it ain't a bitch.
Its nice to write though, to let every ounce of feeling just flow through my fingertips...like every single key is a car and my hands are like giant mallets pounding away. The ultimate stress relief. I could write about anger, about lust, about love. I could write about my problems my pain or my relief. But mostly I just want to write about this feeling or...reality, or quasi-supernatural experience of sitting back and just...existing. For just a moment forgetting all the questions and the answers, who needs them? You lie back...you stop thinking, and you let your body do its living thing, and you just exist. No worries, no plans, no solutions...just...be.
And its amazing. I mean not in a traditional sense, like your problems are still there and this doesn't make them any easier to deal with, you still have to work hard to survive to see the next blissful moment of un-adulterated existence. But the moment exists. For the piece out of eternity, you are eternity, just a concious awareness of the gift of life. Its pulls you out of that deep dark hole and gives you your bearings on just where you are in this crazy world.
We are a lost people. And I think its because some where along the way, somebody forgot to look down at their own hands...move their fingers, blink their eyes, wiggle their toes...and think "Holy shit! That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen!". We just take life for granted sometimes, we take everything for granted, even our own existence. I think thats sad...and I pray every night that one day, some how, we're going to get it. That we are going to see the light, and come out on the other side, still with our problems, still with pain and death and darkness, but also with a sense of rightness, and a sense of peace in the knowledge that we are alive...and we are here to live.

Painting walls.
If my life is a blank wall
And your love is a brush
Could we paint this room red tonight?

If our choices are the colors we paint
And its just you and me
Why shouldn't we go color crazy?

Why don't we hold hands?
Over one brush.
And paint these walls with love tonight?

Saturday, May 17, 2008
Broken Tear
It ends on the floor.
A puddle, no more,
It came from above,
Off a chin where it dove,
Down a cheek did it slide,
First set free by an eye,
But thats not where it came from
Where it began
Was deep in my heart
Broken tear on the mend

Don’t Erase Me
This clock keeps ticking off the same hour
This tune keeps playing over the same beat
And every time I turn to look
I keep finding the same damn thing
That my eyes are closed...
And I'm dreaming of an Angel.

Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Dream Ship Prologue
(Narrator enters. Dressed in rags, wearing an eye path and walking with a distinct limp. His face is unshaven and he wears a scowl across his aged face. He limps to center stage, and adresses the audience in a rough british accent)Narrator: This is a story of a girl and a ship. A girl and two ships, and a pirate. Call it a tale or call it a myth, or call it an epic if thats what you wish. All over the world, yes thats where they'll go. She is living her dreams, and he has to know. If he is real. If he is alive, and for that knowledge he is willing to die.So this is the story of a girl and two ships. Please listen closley, because its not something you want to miss. (Blackout)