My Dear

She so quickly forgives it’s strange.

To think that I wronged her just one minute ago.

The smiles never fade and indeed,

I am always the center of attention.

I thought it’d be cumbersome to live so openly.

She carries a burden of innocence, blanketed like the sea.

Where I go, she goes. Where I sleep, she sleeps.

I am afraid she will grow out of this deep sweet glee.

She loves without a memory of wrong and seeks

a gentle quiet sleep.

I believe she will do great things,

among the thorns and broken dreams.

I believe she will survive the night and tide set against her.

Though blurry now, her sight slowly increases and soon

all will become clear,

but I pray that the truth tucked away inside will

keep her warm, my dear… baby.

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Narrow Road

If by some chance we are not alone
And the earth truly does cry
And darkness is a state of being,
If brokenness grows like a weed,
And pain is so common,
happiness feels wrong…
If by some chance,
we live like slaves, without knowledge of freedom,
then the few would be right
and the masses are headed for destruction.

Imagine This

Meeting in the dark of night,

without a candle to outline the hue of us.

We share and laugh and create the road

that leads us to redemption.

I am not the one you had imagined,

when all you hear is my voice and tone,

when all you feel is my emotion and

we find we are not alone.

In every glimmer of the stars,

a hint of your shade peeks through

and I wonder if I’d embrace the darkness too.

Would I follow you in shadow and race into the future

or do I yearn to uncover your skin pigment

and let this too pass?

I imagine a world beyond this choice,

full of beauty without recourse.

If I can stay living within in my mind,

I choose to walk with you brother, nearly blind.

Where Lonely Hearts Go

Down low and deeper still
Without a rope to grab and feel
Searching for a single voice
Opting out without choice
Climbing down to find a glimmer
Of someone lost with the same inner
Hope is gone in an airless night
Where birds struggle to find their flight
searching for a greater hope
Is burned up in thoughts and no way to cope
A lonely heart is exhaust and pollution
Except that someone offers a better solution.

Enough

Crossing my T’s
Ive been emptied of this disease to please.
Dotting my I’s
I’ve relinquished all ties to lies.
Attempt to fold me, mold me, control me.
I can’t disguise my sighs.
I am human enough to want to hide.
No excuses, no use of reproducing this list
Of all you say I am not.
My spot in this world is defined.
I ride high, looking low.
You are merely another foe.
Easily defeated, but as long as you need
To think you have power
I will indulge your weakness, knowing this…
I am.

Shooter

Targets are easy.
Choose the one you know someone loves.
Guns are simple.
Weapons are an American right, right?
The plan is difficult.
You must trust nothing and no one.
Pain is relative.
If you love it, it is not wrong.
Friends do not exist.
Attach to nothing you will mourn for.
Location is opportunity.
Quiet towns or bustling streets are the best extremes.
Knowing who is in control…
even I am dumb to that. 

Slow Death of a Novel

Set me on fire.
Send my body to the furnace.
Send my ashes up in flames.
Break my spine.
Destroy the molding and
all of my creases and foldings
so many eyes have created
from their sifting,
their drifting and fixing on my every word.

I am but one of many,
one of a kind,
with the mind of so many greats and
this is my fate…
To be scorned and seared,
just as so many have feared.
As I Lay Dying, since it is your Time to Kill
and I am neither Prince nor Pauper,
you have decided to muffle the mockingbird,
though I will always sing and ring true
the sound of freedom from
the brownest skin to The Bluest Eye and
frequently be misunderstood by
The Catcher and the Rye.

Set me on fire.
Give my body to the flame,
but I can make one promise…
your world will never be the same.

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ART

Smiling back at me, it tells me of a place where I used to be.

It reminds of the secret hours and all of my super powers,

all of my creative thoughts aside from what life has brought.

I’m convinced its calling me,  summoning me back to a place where

I could see the world in everything.

Full of color,  it ignites my senses and ever since, 

I caught a glimpse, I am inspired.  

 

Worried Woman

In the sleeplessness nights,
it’s a woman’s mind that finds
the day has fled to the west.
She pats her chest,
heart still beating even after
the call she had. Oh, how sad.
tragedy strikes so quickly.
It’s a mystery why time escapes us.
The kids must be alright and
putting grandpa out of sight and mind…
now that’s just too hard.
If she closed her eyes,
the world may continue on,
to what surprise and she may realize…
That maybe she’s not needed.
Worry.