we all fall
we all cower
we all flee, and we all weave into and through the trees
away from what we don’t want to know and into what we remember
i don’t want to relive the end, the blue vans, the white cars, the tears
and the sobs
the blue skies, the white clouds
the morning dawn
the shadows and the sorrows
my heart can’t bear the end, but if i could relive that summer
i would bear it a million times over again
A Walk to Remember
Love is always patient and kind
It is never jealous
Love is never boastful or conceited
It is never rude or selfish
It does not take offense and is not resentful
Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins
but delights in the truth
It is always ready to excuse
to trust
to hope and to endure in whatever comes
Shatters of Glass
The spines of the spineless are the most visible
You can feel the bones as you crawl up their lies
And infatuations and adulations
The scent of their fear
The taste of their presence
A glory, and with words and those whom they hurt
Shatter the bones and weaken the knees
Only to devour again,
The beast, alive, generating and growing
Dies.
Masterpieces
Let your past make you better not bitter.
Beauty is superficial. Let your age make you better- better looking.
Better intentioned. Should age make you the wiser, or the fool?
Ought it not to scrape the surfaces of dust, ground itself into blood and
Secure itself and beyond time I stand to see this petty punishment roam
Past the gates of hell and into my land of paradise, where no soul shall
Enter, without grace. Without beauty. The beautiful are the damned, for
With eyes they judge and see, and sight is what blinds us all.
We Are Human
it is said by humans,
that we love without consciousness
that death is merely a passing,
that we enter immortality, if there is but one that remembers us in their hearts
what is this pain then?
embroiled into me,
taking every single blissful moment of life
destroying every ambition of love
there be souls penetrating a room of misery
of tears that are shed with no end
with cries for help
from those furiously inclining into nonexistent barriers
wanting to grasp the soul of the passing
beings yearning for a man to wake from his slumber
an eternal slumber so impure
so unreal
that we feel no other
but the feelings dripping down our faces
we cry ourselves into insanity
that we yearn to reach out into the heavens and pull back the soul that brings us so much pain
so much sorrow
we realize no longer are we afraid of passing
what we fear is losing a dear member of ourselves to death
we fear the pain that is adhered into losing a loved being
so rest into a pure heaven
and cross into the greenest meadow,
from so many thousands of feet above
there be no pure love without sorrow
we are human
Philosophies of the Mind
internal comprehension is one’s worst attribute
when you understand,
you lose spontaneity
And then there’s Peace
there be sweet rhythms here
beating softer than the pace you breathe
body on flat plains
mind and soul reversed
and immersed within dark eyes
i explode into sparks of suns
drawing unto me the calm
so must i not squander endless nights
wasted in deep sighs
humble music
withered with hues of your skin
gentle, peaceful
reserved or mysterious
as falling rain
Paint
if there’s anything
I would have fallen
Collapsed and buried by the sound
fresh wind
The shiver of winter
The intensity of fever
Shameless
Abandoned
Regretted
And despised
If curiosity never dominated your thoughts
we would not be here today
If we never came out of our shells,
we would never try
at this hour, as the hands move and strike
the veins of this heart
I ask
abandon your shield, dear warrior
and paint this canvas with your fingers
dip your hands in the paint
and paint me your best memory
Words and Silences
if there is such a thing as love
let it surpass all struggles and barriers
let it reach the farthest corners of this planet
so that no distance disintegrates its power
that friendships outlive centuries
even as we bond through the finest threads
let the feeling of trust radiate over all circumstances
over all impossibilities
we’re not so strong as to believe we don’t cry
that we don’t feel
if there exists love
it be so white, pure
and so human
The Lady of Fair Verona
of intellectual composition
stories and theories arise
beheld and bewitched by the soul.
noble intentions,
and painful suggestions of courage
and inner destruction
like fire, incoming catapults of light
and emancipation from our cage
bravery as the wood
and rage as the smoke
minutes of fear
and release is feather
light, numbing… captured by the senses
and ensnared by the topic of such interactions
devoured by word
and will be blended into the body
posted, read and repeated
no conscience replies
from the woman who inspired
the very fire
she, who stands tall in her fair
burg.
