Wednesday, September 17, 2014


Words are words
Love is not love
But words
Because otherwise the word would
Not be
And I want to always be
Not bitter, and how close two words
Can be
And it’s a testament that with our actions
We hurt
We beat the life of life
And we are left with words
Enemies of our future
Friends of our foes
We hurt
We smile at good but too much
Too much is just anger without words
Words with anger we can’t forget
But Love is not love
We so quickly forget
Only to remember the bruises
Our hearts have endured
So easyly we speak
So easy we ignore the pleading
We just want to be good
We hurt
But what comes out?
Actions without words
When it takes over you
You forget that we are human
And that’s no excuse and we should
Be inspired by a helping hand but it
Comes only every so often
We are in crime rather than in love
We are hurting rather than loving
And so that is why Love is just another
Erect word
One that has to be spoken plenty to be remembered
Hate, Anger, and Crimes are not forgotten so easily
You see, we don’t need to be reminded that
Cruelty exist
We have been steeped in other peoples
Anger, that we can’t forget
We have been prosecuted
For doing, sometimes nothing
We hurt 
We no longer do things out of kindness
We are too afraid, scared children
To want to make a change
“Being human” shouldn’t be an excuse to bruise
But a reason to see humanity and
As fragile as we are, we forget
And so we sing our pains
We write them
And we paint them
We hide them too
Too hard to bear
We hurt
And sure there is beauty, even in pain
There is beauty in the darkness
But pain
We still die in the end sure
We end
But paths marked with blood are lying there
In the walks of all humanity
And we shed them still through remembrance and
Through our actions
And Anger
A character in humanity
And there is no wrong in anger
But the actions, caused by fear right?
And why can’t we just breath instead we
We should have a place within ourselves 
To protect our cries
But instead we make others cry for us
We hurt.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Playground In Her Head

It is a ticket, one way
To some one I used to know and
It is where the sun and the moon meet
And hold hands and laugh
And sometimes cry
Oh why? Did I see what's here come near
Or am I some kind of yoyo
Blue, or grey discolored sunrise
And old boxes of sand castles in a sand- less beach and an empty goal
With nothing more to say, it's the wind I reach for
It's the wind I dreamt of many years ago and the wind I get and maybe it is my way of living, lined up with a dread of
Am I gone? Or are you here and I am somewhere else? Or are you just, you
Sketched out in some else's canvas
Where the colors once again, meet
Like two children holding hands and how he forgets that playground in her head and it's burn, burning like fire
This story is to be told
When is no longer there. Oh.
Because the wind can't be seen unless
You really start live
Can you feel? The wind that is.
Among the trees
Someone I know is waiting under its leaves
And it's patient eyes can only make you feel
Like it's okay to walk by
And live.