I see wings that sprout from shoulders,
I see shiny slimy scales,
I see halos hanging over heads
and scary monsters' tails.
I see shining lights and radiance
and evil demon claws,
but in the end I see both good and evil
in us all.
The Poem about Diamonds"I accidentally fell in love," I said.
I went on to explain myself.
I told the story
the story that I read to myself at night,
the song that I sing in the shower,
of how I dug through the garden of my soul
and unearthed pure diamonds
already cut and ready for me to wear as jewelry-
as evidence that yes,
I really am this happy.
And so went the story of how I "accidentally" fell in love.
And it was a mistake.
I didn't mean for it to happen.
But the best things in life happen by accident.
AlwaysIn a crescendo of notes
flowing up and down
black and white keys,
a river runs upwards
to caress canopies,
flow from the mouth
with singing bells
that float through currents
up to meet the crest
where leaves embrace intangible heaven.
All products of
the threads that interweave
the nylon strings that glow of
pulsing earth with rhythm,
UntitledIt is the worst way to go...
and yet, we subject entire worlds
to such... ambiguity.
Wiped, but not wiped out,
not in an incident.
There is no tragedy,
only a slow fade to nothingness.
And all of the histories,
the timelines that were truly, truly real,
the places that you could feel,
That one joke that was said,
that one sentence you couldn't get over.
They became a dream.
And so one day they became harder to reach.
But not unreachable.
Winter SerpentThe winged serpent in the snow
will bite you with an icy glare
because your soul, the serpent knows;
a burning star resides inside.
It swallows stellar bodies whole
with frozen jaws opening wide,
and empty coldness that it stole,
it tries to fill with warmer air.
Why We Let GoA second chance is not an act of mercy
but a belief
that the human soul
can do better.
When I hold your life
in the palms of my hands
do not make me clench
them into fists-
you have cracked your heart
and I will not clean up
and the cold dark dust
at the end of every disaster.
I hope you need those wings to flyI can't help but to feel
that I took the fall
because I could take the fall.
I am still golden.
Maybe you needed a crutch.
You couldn't have made it this far without it.
I've come so far
and I've grown so much,
learning how to be happy with humanity's abstract concepts.
But I imagine you flying with invisible wings
and I wonder why I don't have wings
when I've worked so hard and so long to get them.
Wasn't it my goal to fly?
If you didn't have those wings, I'd imagine that you'd plummet.
But I'm so afraid
that if you couldn't fly
you would still be able to walk.
Teenager FactoryEmpathy is an art, and like all forms of creativity
I have to unleash it- I need it,
as I'm sitting in the corner
talking about creative robots,
fingers, colors, names
I need to know, why
why do you come over and ask if I'm okay?
Why do you care that I'm not talking to everyone?
Why can't you read my emotions?
Why can't you tell that I'm happy.
Empathy is a skill, and like all forms of skill,
it must be trained,
but as we charge through the darkest storms
we learn how to spot others. So,
why does it feel like you
are a man-made machine?
Do you think about these things?
Why are you programmed to state the hour,
and why are coded patterns of statements and questions
emanating from your presence?
Why does it feel as if my world is gone,
as I swallow the taste of iron
to prevent it from slipping down my mouth
where conveyor belts wait.
Empathy is a word, and like all words,
it is insignificant.
SgraffitoHot breath hugging the curve of the golden apple...
I wouldn't hesitate to bite.
And that's the most I would do...
My skin can be this delicious.
A marinade flowing between us, a bridge of savor.
Our breaths a seesaw,
a rocking horse,
the layer of purity beneath innocence
chipped away in the heat.
Call me!Call me back, like you always do,
you never hesitate to give me a ring.
Make me dance and make me laugh,
and you can even try to make me sing.
You're always high above my head,
secretly giving me everything,
so call me back like you always do,
call me back with those puppet strings.
Like a candle, that old handle
sends a mighty fire to me.
When I feel your hand, I understand
the reasons why we're meant to be.
We move together, I don't know whether
or not you're feeling the same thing,
but one thing's for sure, that there's nothing more
than what I've got, nothing in being free.
You've got to call me back, like you always do,
no matter how many splinters you get.
Don't just leave me, please retrieve me
if you ever happen to forget.
I might be over thinking it all,
because nothing wrong has happened yet.
But call me back, like you always do,
just please, please call me back.
PrayerPlace your poems
on the lips of angels
so you can teach their wings
how it feels to fly
Mark the summer evenings
soon to come
with the grace
that carried you
warm and cherished softly
and know we will always place
among the stars.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,
that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead.
It isn’t true.
It’s said the stench of hell infects the earth
and healths of heated blood are downed.
But Hamlet lied.
The dead know nothing, the living less.
There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;
souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
growththere is nothing more beautiful
than the softness of a man
you love more than
a face gentle in sleep
and ardent in morning;
there is nothing more beautiful
than the first breath
of your spring,
your blooming dawn,
of nothing but you
you are growing
into something new,
and there is nothing
RIP Paul Gray Slipknot
You were 38 years young
but you've passed away.
You have joined the Rev,
Dimebag, Peter Steele
and Ronnie James Dio.
Wherever you are,
you are rocking out.
Together you'll make
one hell of a band!
While you rest in peace -
look over your wife Brenna,
and the baby
you were expecting.
as you were known
for your mask
resembled one -
you cannot be replaced.
Slipknot, have hit the knot;
Things will never be the same
RIP Paul Gray
April 8, 1972 May 24, 2010
The ArtistShe talked to rocks, asking them if they’d be happy
To leave their home for her newest installation piece
She cried sometimes for no reason other than
She felt like having a good cry
Her house was covered in her students’ drawings
She said the best art was produced from innocence
She went mad once, and painted canvas after canvas
In furious strokes of black
The soft blue world of youth at last faded, she grew old
People shook their heads when they saw her
And whispered “poor dear” under their breath
But she was never poor
Her love for everything and everyone never died
It was swept in all directions like a summer breeze
Making people smile without knowing why
But the river rocks know