poem

there is a reflection
face's blurry, undefined.
right side up i can not see,
a bat i have come to be.
alone i once walked,
this i knew well.

the dark.
strength,
it does know.
words whispered,
etched in mind
apparent
and blind.

poem

caged beauty
along the crippled night.
who stole your smiles?
sad and pale you lay.
poisioned soul,
awaken from the cold!

writing

Its late summer and the winds are fairly stronger. I lay in bed and watch the curtains swaying, fierce like a battle. the white drapes against the darkness of the night seem like white angles or ghosts taunting me again and again. sounds of leaves, fool my ears, too early for this time of year. it is cold and i shiver. my eyes grow weak as my bones grow heavy. i sleep.

poem.

yellow and black
foiled,
united.
stinging lips
pressed in gold.
a thorn wrapped,
knighted
sewn in color.

the color of rage,
blood and fire.
born with a name like beauty?

here lies a dream.
in a fear.
waiting,
for a wind,
its temperament
of a truth or a lie.

a demand a mere night can hold.

a hostage,
I.
broken sky,
rained of cautioned time.

and its fate....

just another broken poem
and line.








di

Summers Deadline

breath,
stolen like a thief,
the air that be.
lingering with the night.
carried along,
the army's ocean.
the waves marched.
baring the breeze.
insects sing,
like chants.
upon my thrown i swing,
and each night delivered.
the wind,
bowing down,
delivering,
a wealthy gift,
like that,
of gold.

A stranger flew here today
mindless
and unconcerned.

Not a foreigner
of a place called past.

Two faces the same
placed on different shapes,
traveled through time.

Someone else we've become,
sleeping and dreaming from different worlds.
the roads lead in circles,
cycles like the sun,
which sways with your moon.

This sort of poisoned truth,
we've become.

The leaves were white angels
scarce in the night.

As were you.

these roots seem small,
once tall
shadowing casts upon my smiles.
now i shadow amoungst them
with frowns.

the children no longer laugh and play
against these winds.

the streets that surrounds
quiet,
ghostly giggles tangled
like webs in my ears.

writing.

i once saw poetry in your smile. honesty, beauty, love, laughter. life!
my thoughts and emotions run naturally deep. in the winter they sometimes retire and sit upon a shelf.. dusty until summer. i see poetry in the way things move and look... and feel. to be different and good. there are so many things that take beauty away. the fake, the lies, the darkness they hold inside, the drinks they need to dilute themselves with to escape the world. the things they hold on to, a mere mirage of emptyness... something so dark and lifeless. lifeless because their is no substance, not depth, nothing to complicate you or nothing to chanellege your mind. a state where thinking is put on hold in a bubble that protects you from the caotic world of hate, lust, lies, and pain. but in hate , lust, lies and pain is a lot of beauty that defines what being alive is all about. to feel, to think, to touch, to smell and to hold. life is love, hope, and making your dreams come to life. and i loathe the lifeless.. the ones consumed with escaping it all. the ones who are afraid to feel.. to feel something real.

new lyrics

chaos
muttered
from undereath
your rein

envelope of guilt
tie it tight
lingering
to your ball and chain

musk,
the smell.
your the enemy.

binding roads,
a breathe.
every inch
the sun
peeking through.

my light upon this road.

induced coma,
snake bitten,
fear does not show
upon these eyes.

my mind
collecting thoughts,
forbidden and ridiculed.

pass the night
and
this day,
i live along
the wavey path
at bay.

poem

beauty blessed,
god
and alluring.

smother your branches
and weep to me
of pastly sins.

how does it feel
to be
an orchestra of silence?

ur words were a blanket
wrapped around me
a noose.

a vaccum
consuming my soul

we laid with nights
with cookie cutter stars
your hands drew once

lite up
hypnotized
I failed to see
the portrait
you left behind

faces change
like time
that we call minutes

the strike of sounds
like hearts beating
are time spent breathing

moments breathing
like leaves passing through
through the trees
changing with time
with seasons

summer
seasoned us
and the minutes of time
have passed us.

poem

spirling winds
howling,
like gathering packs of wolves.
eyes blurry,
like falling.
the heart holds the weight of your lungs and chest.
free falling.
like a dragon's slang.
pit of burning fire.
open mouths,
tognue's talking
convincing the air
of parades of passing breath.

poem

your distant smile,
growing in distance,
spoiled and fare.

adventures of the rare
spread upon these miles.
"good riddance"
the loss of silent words.

a lie in a dream,
and awake.

colliding
crashing
we fall.
it skips a beat.
calm and heavy.
repeat
repeat
repeat.

wiser than I,
I,
time.
the second hand.
moving,
never haulting.
crickets like chimes.
flesh,
stained wine.
ending with night.
flicking shadows,
gusted winds,
gave out the light.
days,
unnamed,
unnumbered.
next hour,
empty,
24,then
devored,
new night.
consumed.
ticking and tocking,
never haulting,
i move.

five fingers
drowning in touch
eyes are closed
but never shut.

fire is my lips
my hair is the wind,
sailing
waves clam then crashing
balancing.

this land,
growing distance.
floating,
water,
barrior,
shaped around us.

silence speaks
to lust.

red stained shoes
and snow kissed.
never lived
upon this gray.

and it chased me
once,
calling it
day.

poem

silence in the eyes
begging for noise
you devour your nothingness
the somethingness rests
debating,
with corner eye glances
your mouth salivating
for a taste
of what you hinder from your soul
but quietness doesnt suit you well
words are now your absent friends,
running around in your head.
safe,
your fear,
resting along,
until it became your tired presence.

writing

where we meet,
time to time,
i call it the season of dreams.

here i stand drenched
rough with sand and tastes of salt.

these limbs,
arms,
laying here useless,
no you to hold,

waking from a dream,
or dreaming under a coma?

real like honey pressed upon lips
uncertian like gold spun upon the moon.
laying,
like waiting and watching,
For a night eclipsed,
scattered with flying lights,
against the darkened sky.

poem

i am the ocean
deep
tranquil
crashing,
with force
like a drum.
soothing and
layered with mystery,
waiting to be conquered.
fierce i may move,
or calm.
the moon,
filling my soul
with guidence,
or distruction.
my god.
looking upon me.
sifting,
changing me.
a slave i am,
i surrender.

poem

Stagnant it seems,
as you stare.

Time.

It's two feet,
swift.

Your opponent.

Your envy.

Poem

The wind carries me
Caressing up against
Bodies of crafted souls

I flock with the birds
Shaped in V forms
Flying over the Nile

I paint pictures
See them
As they Walk off these walls

Half, I am
Searching
For the whole.

poem

the darkness starring back,
watching,
i am its prey.
up against the corner,
stance.
waiting
like the hawk.
feet on its toes,
positioned.
stoned figure,
statue even.
lengths of the sky,
i am the shadow of your ocean.

(untitled)

He stood there in shock, frozen and silent. Sound had vanished and seemed almost invisible to all the chaos running around him. As the pieces of shattered glass catered around him he almost didn’t realize he was no longer sitting behind the wheel of this car. As He watched the men wheel his friend into the ambulance their eyes caught each other like a two magnets connecting together. They spoke through this stare, for it was the last stare, silent but louder than any other words they had ever exchanged. They grew up neighbors, side by side, no longer will they run like parallel lines.
The days passed from night to day, the sun rose and set swapping with the pale moon, always in different shapes. He laid on the sand, cold mosit and rough like ridges of his hands. The sound of the ocean called to him, peace. The chimes of his cell phone rang and rang and rang. He could not move to the commands of his mind. Pick up, Pick up, it taunted to him. It was now dawn.

poem

My desires are growing
Shiny and red,
Hanging.
the forbidden tree.
Your tinsel glow,
Widening my eyes.
My ideas becoming flowing,
Branches.
Leaves from your tree.
To taste you,
Danger awaits.
But danger lays,
Where the stars play.
Bursting upon each other.
Creating glitter,
against the northern night sky.

writing

So we are all just sharks you say?
Hunter of the sea.
Enraged, thirsty.
attacking,
our addiction that takes over?

empty your backpacks,
see whats worth the weight.
i say wait.
waiting is what we all do.
for a sign?
love,
inspired,
walking hand and hand.
thats where life meets.

awakening like the sun
calling your name.

Roads are mirror imaged,
lost,
Buried beneath.
Blinding,
mist and fog.
No light
weighing above this scaled sky.
Warrior tress,
filling the forest,
like guards.
Rustling,
the sounds amoungst leaves,
sharing secrets.
"Listen inside the hollowness of the trees"
they say.
"and wait,
and wait,
and wait."

poem

a blank page,
sedation,
numbing.
calmness,
frightens.
free flowing thoughts
emptied,
tightly sealed into a jar.
locked away,
forbidden to dream.
theories robbed of their glitter,
a bore.
reality,
far from fetching.
images,
needing to leak.
life, color, magic.
ive seen.
now you, see!
tamed thoughts are poison.
cunning and extreme,
their both dying.
can a name save you?
a trigger?
darkness,
the beginning of light.

poem

6 months pass
regressed thoughts
and images of your face
its like keeping light out
when it is day
it leaks in behind closed blinds
ran to a new place
now 2 feet away your still kept alive
haunting
does fate remind me?
and my pride diminshed
you erased me
like pencils erasing lines.

poem

her hair, coiled and mad
like all that surrounded her.
piece by piece each strand she straightened.
she hid her world.
under soft sheets
and layers.

writing

She knew of a love that threaded string though her veins. One by one the silk of the thead became her skin, thick and strong. Change like the seasons came baring down with a winter wind hollowing through the dark clouds. The light in shades of gray.Her skin became weathered with time. Bleeding strands hung down, webbed and nested their way through.One by one they were pulled, games of pick up stixs were played to entertain the worlds of reason. She now stood like a scare crow with hay flowing from her chest. Falling like water, fast and viscous, rapids even. Lack of limbs, for she could not hold on to the pieces that made her whole.

creative writing

i nudged sleeping beauty as she awoke in pieces. Limb by limb she arose and more beauitful with every inch that the silk of her skin was shown. The beast of mazes and minds, tricks and jokers will no longer keep her asleep. With her breath everything awakens. The flowers are brighter over the green fields of fireflys dipping and skipping across the sky. Stars written like notes of songs in the sky, bounching as they glisten. But as time moves on, when the sun and moon swap she will grow tired once more. Her journey begins and ends like the journey of a fire. It's captivating, dangerous, wild, and full of science. Who stands the patience of such big desires? Oxygen and water dare to run aside its light but explode with the light the heat it can not bare. Sleeping for years, awaken for days, and the angels seem more statisfed.

poem

and the day is dimming down,
the unshieled night.
lay low, for the moon is a torment of light.
faces,
shapes and shadows.
puncture holes,
bleeding soul.
running,
waiting.
breath in a chase.
the mind is louder here than the music sung.
always a new smile.
collages of lips hung,
against bare skin and cheeks.

poem

there's a whistle hollaring at the depths of the sea.
lengths and tides.
formularize salted air.
speak to me like currents and minutes of the time.
holding to the ground,
like concrete should
move me and i become the salted air,
mending muscle and bones.
patterns form like shadows from the sky
alive and well.
moving? we already are.
sun and moon swap like shifts,
sleep is scared away.
dreams become something when eyes are wide.
falling into liquid fluid walls.
we bind.

writing

The sun beamed down 23rd street like a whip of a knight. Strong and bold it hung high upon it's cotton charished steed. Blinded by all its beauty, the people still walked in patterns, like notes of music.

flowing rapids of lucid waters
covered whole
the ground shakes and the wave takes you under
seeping through coves
drenched and tired
unraveled so
seams come undone
fires stream out in silence
rattle the cage
never taming the wild
release sends ease to the mind
time is like time
came and went
and nothing seemed so blind

dream squence

tormants from a past ghost shovels me with music of acoustic notes.
clothes hung to high to reach and unsteady stools tease.
jealous insider followed with glaring looks and medicine to kills her stares
a kiss and a change of a face.
following with your past love and new affair.
mirrors reflection of myself of false images of time clicking away.
thinking repeatively when i sleep
and when i awake.

this river flows
drifting through currents
changing like a switch of a light
soft patterns of silk blanket the sky
picked up and buried alive
like thunder and lightning
sailing against time
waiting
seeking
finding nothing but tomorrows seconds running beside
haste is empty through the eyes
and we fish for keeps
nothing is everything
and everything is nothing
the best words are to dream
and the sun will pick us up like feathers into the sky
where we slip away
and go against this tide

dig and dig
reach a depth that delivers sound
like the moment of a beautiful word being found

faded and worn
slick and torn
tossing fire
from my hand
like blowing winds of sand
your eyes huddle like a hunter in the night
cracks of light
sweeping their way through grudges and spite
salt shakes wounds
while gypsy knives are under doom
darts are thrown from the blind
cosuming all that is kind.

moments unperdictable
like lightning stricking
electrifying the earth
a glow like angel fire
the sky can be felt
like warm sun
your feet bare
sand cool beneath your toes
a loud crackle brakes the sky,
and darkness becomes one
waiting blind.
still,
slient,
waiting.
waiting for another moment to arrive.

writing

Seren vibes float off the silk strings of the violin.
Dollars instead of coins being pulled from pockets.
The people of the train adhere to the art of the NYC ride.
Musically talented Musicians that embrace us with warmth
from the cold seats we sit upon.
A beautiful morning on a NYC Train ride.

poem

the pages turned to you unmasked
opened
and devoured
the taste of your hands
cold
soft faces
with questions of beauties that surround her hive
words danced
in rythms of their lives
the winter dressed in white
eyes wide
and the dim of the light
some do come alive
with the wakening of the night

poem

deny me of my words
of body and bones
cold and empty hand,
why do you reach for missing shadows?
shadows that have become ghosts
white like lies
it began.
and it fed into the rage.
poisioned soul.
any my eyes became bold
losing you with every waken day of light
with every blink
like rain of fallen lahes.
i starred and you vanished.
white like lies,
it began.

Are the seasons falling behind today?
or are the trees growing in reverse?
rotations or cycles?
as we lay rested in our beds
our heads are a mess with dwindling thoughts and desires
like fresh off a rose we fall like petals to the ground
searching for water in desert like storms
angry birds flock to feed upon the ones left behind
so the summer now comes after fall
and spring comes after summer
and winter is like the universe set on repeat.

my dream

I swam through the leetches to reach the shore.

today's thought

Life is like this big gigantic pin wheel. Spinning and turning with the gust of the wind. Sometimes the wind is absent and the dry air holds the wheel from moving forward. no control is left and fustration enters into each cove like a rock holding back a wave back from playing with the shore. It desires to dance with the other waves. somtimes the wind is too fast and the wheel feels like it will be torn apart by the gusts leaving it crazed and high. all it sees is flashes of light but full of life. Embracing the rush because it is moving and spining on the ride of its life.
The wind is a torment, its never one pace, a big tease to the flow of the wheel and the air it was destind to move through.

threads of hair woven to your chin
like spiders upon old mantels of curry brick.
summer of hunters upon the trees reaching down to frown upon them
echos of silver shots to the back of our necks
tongue tied shatters the light
and the dark takes us like guests of the night

just writing.

There's a bottle with your name on it. A liquid fill of words to follow your mouth. The glass is scuplted to fit your hand like a delicate shawl to fancy you away. Away to where children play on merry go rounds; spinning and turning and nothing more then a blur of tornado vision and then a big twirl to the ground. You thump to the dirt and watch the sky turn into ten. Ten, the number of times you lost yourself with sips of love burning down to your lungs, heart, and finally your stomach. where it sits and boils turning your body into a pot of bubbling sweat. Your skin becomes damp and hollow like your chest that your trying to fill with buckets and buckets. Your eyes being to mimic of every thought waiting around in your head. A mind filled with robin hood and thieves or some sort of adventure like Huckleberry Finn.anything to take you away from here. from the stool you sit upon and the crowds of foes. One of them must be made of skin, a skinlike yours, Thick. Thick like a wall of stone. making it even harder to reach. who would make such a big wall with out something grand to protect?, you ask. grand as in rare and rare as is in like a 4 leaf clover.
a clover for luck with 4 sides of wishes waiting to be captured by the wims of your hopes, dreams even. dreams never dare to impress the minds of those with straws embeded in their heads.

My voice shattered like glass from the pane. Like sounds of chandeliers crackling down, shook by the earth that once was still like the cold statue on the wall. The statue was frozen in time like an hour glass that lost its grains of sand.

thought of the day

I want a jack in the box,
one that suddenly pops out of the box.
But only on the thousandth day after unsuccessful wounding.
Just when I think the box is broken.
I just want a big POP.

and the ground dances in disco whites,
the reflections of her soft face