Here I give,
a song to thee ,
to make your own,
to make you free.

Your burdens speak
a night so long,
take heart, my friend,
my song is young.

Its the song of hope,
and lovely joy,
of friends to come,
and friends who stay.

It talks of mountains green,
and lovely walks in lovely spring,
It weaves for you the dreams to fill,
with eager joys the song shall bring.

Sing it now ,
and sing it long ,
and soon, the trees
shall whisper your song.

The budding whisper
in the woods shall grow,
and light the world
with its fiery glow.

In blowing gales
of wanton mirth,
the wind shall bring
a second birth.

In maddening blaze,
the dance shall start,
for this song,
lives in every heart.

Here I give,
my song to thee,
the song to keep
that set me free.

In sadness tears spill all the time
Regardless, the world is acting fine.
So many people with laughing eyes
But some just look up to the skies
And wish a part of them would leave,
Leave them be and let them grieve
For times gone by, for years past
Just let them go and fly so fast.

In happiness tears flow the same
With a different taste and without blame.
A life of gladness what a thought
Where deep mistrust was never taught.
Just sun and smiles and lollipops,
With hugs and frills and bunny hops.
A wonderful time from birth to death
Who’d say ‘I wouldn’t change’ in their dying breath?

Tears of bitterness will run
For many people who’ve just begun
To find a way far from this crowd,
Away from cruelty which speaks so loud.
How must that river of many tears
Eroded this land over all those years!
Deep ravines created from dirty deeds
Yet sometimes hope grows from rotten seeds.

A stone, thrown in a sea,
Has it made the sea shallower?

A stone, taken from a sea,
Has it made the sea deeper?

No worries,
Either way,
The sea is roomy enough.

Easy to float,
Easy to drown.

I try so hard not to leave marks upon you - I blur the footprints I make tip toeing through the chambers of your heart, I smear the whorls and loopy marks left by my oily fingertips. I make myself as small as possible, I don’t want to taint you with my imperfect love.

You kiss the thickened skin left by past lovers - velvet tongue flicking across sensitive scars. I shudder at the sensation of you loving my every flaw. My heavy, lust lidded eyes see everything - staying open when they should be forced closed by our passion. I watch your moon kissed back rock - pulse - and I see my fingers dig into your flesh, pressing hard enough to bruise. My screams drown in the curve where your neck and shoulder meet - now trapped between my teeth.

We have become inseparable - when we are apart, our souls mourn the loss of one another. Aching, unbearable. This isn’t healthy for either of us - but neither of us care. We would rather suffer the aching loss of a ragged tear between us - healed when we press those raw edges together once again - than have a sterile amputation performed. Dulling our senses, killing our love. When pressed together, the barrier of scars and skin would only whisper a greeting to one another before falling back into a drug induced sleep. Better to live through the agony of loss only to revel in the joy of reunion than to anesthetize the entire process.

I would rather live with a broken heart than a broken soul.

Dreams fall to the ground,
Like balloons filled with lead.
What was once remains no more.
Energy disperses and leaves its once used space.

Minds change,
Hearts are torn.
God falls away to the place beyond reason.
Hopes die,
With wallowing thoughts.
Souls die defeated by the complexity of life,
What it holds.
Reality,
A word lost to its meaning.

Dreams turn to death,
To escapism.
Behind the doors of death we know not what lies.
What entices us to this space of the unknown?
A will to leave an existence,
In which we cannot survive.
No fear to this unknown.
No ‘reality’ to hold it to.

Blood flows through veins held in a body mortal.
Thoughts fly around a mind unaccountable.
Dreams die in the depth of despair.

When all around has been dark
It takes a moment for eyes to see
That there is hope most of the time,
For this is what happened to me.

So long the shadows have wept.
My heart was missing from life,
One fall after another it seemed
Nothing but darkness and strife.

There comes a time when you say
No more please, I am sinking,
Then troubles mount further.
So what’s the point in thinking?

Today was the worst of my life
But it turned around in the end.
Now darkness melts into light,
And hope for you too I send.

I truly thank my lucky stars,
That things turned out this way.
For just like the last two years
It could have gone wrong today.

So when you’re feeling low,
Remember hope is the key.
Without her we would be lost,
She just looked after me.

po·et [poh-it]
–noun
1. a person who composes poetry.
2. a person who has the gift of poetic thought, imagination, and creation, together with eloquence of expression.

3. those who breathe life to the world they see
and do not fear at the unknown
a self-examined visionary
one who sets their mind so free

through deconstruction of the world
they show us it’s simplest parts
they see a cosmos to unfurl
they show that even the straight will curl

while others toil to make us see
with paints or sounds or stone
a poet chose his medium to be
our passion, love, and misery

ecstatically soaring through gulfs of mind
and solemnly plumbing it’s depths
a poet will reveal in all due time
vistas of reality most would not find

a poet can in but one verse
test all of humanity
will he bless or will he curse?
it matters not; he will immerse

expounding on the torment
the mass would to keep down
revealing an almost perverse bent
towards mankinds dark undreamt

many poets I’ve come by
have sacrificed sanity
I do not moun, for by and by
they saw things most dare not to try

and that, I think, is what unites
poets through space and time
the courage to up and take those flights
to hear the symphony of sights

and we as poets do defend
the freedom of our thought
through wonders and horrors from our pen
we show the the world it’s start and end