We are all like flowers -

Even in our birth.

Like a seed

planted

in the ground

yet swaddled with such mirth.

And when we grow

you surely know

that we all must be watered.

With love and grace,

strength and faith

all so wonderfully cottered.

So let us flourish

always nourished

like daylilies

in the sun.

As we must not forget

lest we come to regret

Any time that we have wasted

On Earth, meandering

slandering, pandering

void of a care in the world.

Life is shorter

Than we'd like to think

So let's be aware of the hours -

Sun can turn into showers

ever quickly

And we must try, not cower

Our time's like a race

The time ticking

down

Like beaming rays

of the sun

We'll run, run,

run and run,

Hebrews twelve

verse one.

Yes, we are all like flowers

changing through the seasons

Birthed, growing

always knowing

We're here

for so many reasons.

This poem goes out to the most beautiful woman I have ever met.

Does she have smarts, fun, and passion? You bet!

When it comes to moving stuff, she can make the impossible fit into tight spaces. How you pull that off, I cannot see.

She can see the best in you and tell you how to utilize your skills. That power of yours amazes me.

I'm sorry that I stole your post convention line. You know the one I'm talking about, "That's a con."

Actually, I'm glad I did. If you won't reclaim it, I'll keep it going on!

Thank you for the family we share together, and all the cool things you do.

You are my favorite person babe. Happy Birthday - I love you!

For my wife :-)

I find it rather pleasing

that you include me in your dream.

And I pray that you’re not teasing,

while my heart is all agleam.

This dream of us just leaving

our old life out of sight.

The ambitions you keep weaving,

just feels completely right.

To spend my life with you, dear,

would be completely grand.

My love for you is so sincere,

I hope you understand

But none of us are willing

to bend each other’s way,

That’s what ends up killing

our future hopeful day.

Full

of myself, self and me

I met

old Taoist

wet

coming from the river bed

I, me, myself, full, above,

asked, for public laugh

"What, old man, did you do there in the river bend?"

"Meeting a rock."

whispered the reply.

I am an idiot

Reaching out, touching your hair, it's so soft, it smells like coconuts this time. I'm not sure which level of girlfriend hell you are yet but I pray it's not the last one. She was so proud, almost bubbly, confident in everything she did. She is beautiful; in a tragically broken way. Please tell me, end my darkness, answer me!? Which level are you, I must know, just tell me, I wont be angry, I promise. She turns to face me, tears in her eyes, pain and sadness streaking down her cheeks. She smiles, I know its fake, it has been for awhile, but she tried and that's all I ever asked for. I touch her cheek, wiping the tear away, tilting my head slightly to look in her eyes. “I am only me, undeniably shaken to my core by the hate in this world, frightened by the atrocities I feel, sickened by my own voice, maddened by my thoughts.” I stare at her, longing to ease her pain and fix whats missing. I turn the door and walk over turning around the one last time, smiling slightly at the reflection in the mirror.

I don't want to be alone

I don't want to be with people either

I just want to be with places

In places

with the memories that have been made

And the possibilities that still remain there

I just want to see the world

It's huge, isn't it?

The world?

It's the best feeling, isn't it?

To stand outside and look in?

So many people, I wonder what their stories are

I could walk and run, collecting them all

So many beautiful places, I could never see them all in one lifetime

But I could chase time like I hope to catch it

That sounds wonderful, doesn't it?

And maybe it's cowardly too

To stand outside and look in?

I never have to think about myself

So many people, why would one matter?

Maybe to you it might not be a life worth living

To never stay in one place long enough

To find love, build friendships, make families

Have babies, hate jobs, love money, know hurt

But that sounds wonderful, doesn't it?

Yes, it does

It sounds like

.........................Freedom

Except this world that I hope to see

It's built on paper, on money

I spread my wings, One flight

and I'm collapsing under the weight of expenses

.

.

.

.

.

.

Freedom is a mirage.

Whores and the homeless

graced my neighborhood.

while some pitched their tents

others raised money.

We were powerless,

dying, while they stood,

asking we repent,

rewrite the story.

I went to

Dunkin Donuts

asked for a coffee

to go

laughed hysterically

when I realized

that’s all they do

I had called out sick

it was too grey

and the men making

conversation outside

seemed like

scientific specimens

the art of surviving

an academic subject

with a grade seemingly

just for participating

I watched them

as if through glass

my lukewarm coffee

in its styrofoam

waiting for its end

I looked at the moon last night

She cried and howled at me

Gave me quite a fright

That allowed me to see

Her glowing face was bloody

Those craters filled with red

After a quick study

I realized she was dead

That light started to disappear

I stayed and watched it go

Down my face a tear escape

And it trailed down slow

The moon looked down no more

Her fading glow made me cry

With a wave, I turned around

And bid my moon goodbye

Our minds are like a mother board filled with digitalized files over filled with letters written by human tongue. There are some we'd burn so our sorrow can be lifted upon our chest. Letters that we'd bury within us like dirt so it can't hurt us any longer. And the playing cards we hold as we walk throughtout our days, the golden one. "I have a boyfriend"because men would rather respect a strange men that a woman. If only I remembered to take my cards with me that one day, when I came back home I had a heavy black letter. 7 year old me didn't understand so I dug it deep inside, then another letter and another and another and another. I felt as if I was swallowed, in a pit of blackness filling myself with embarrassment and sadness. I couldn't breath but I couldn't let anyone else know, they'd see me with disgust, they wouldn't be proud of me. I blamed myself. I felt like paper, thin with emotion, brittle with happiness, blandness covering my soul making me numb. My skin turning white as if I was drawn. Could you draw a smile on my face for me? But that was yesturday's letters, I've burned the black letters and now I will use my tongue to speak for my sisters and our mother and grandmothers and all the women past that. I know it's not all men but it's enough that I hold my breath every time a man walks by me. It's enough that I hold my phone tight whereever I go. It's enough that I hold my tongue. It's enough that my shoulders will decide whether I end up in an alleyway or a police car. It's enough that he can be a 10 and he's so nice so he couldn't have done it. This is my letter, made with tears, blood and sweat, I written it with my tongue of purity or you wouldn't listen. I written this letter without hurting you, but you'll still blame me for it all. So I have a question to lather on that newspaper, men, why do you want to be oppressed so much that you kill your own kind?