Tree Top

At a sight farther then seen by human eyes,
Sitting in a circle condemning those down below.
The souls lost in uncertainty but comfortable.
Satisfied with what is said even the lies.

Darker then the hearts stumbling on the earth.
We continue the false hopes and heartaches.
Bending branches by the weight of our breath.
Sending creeks down the mighty stump.

The twisting twigs and snapping limbs,
Are not heard but give all who pass chills.
Like a drug, it takes time to effect.
And soon we will feast on their regret.

Never satisfied those mortals droll on.
Consuming but never filling.
Feeding the addiction with whispers.
Saying what they want, not what they need.

With each passing moon we grow.
Sowing our thoughts and beliefs.
Reaped by those searching.
All who buy into our whispers and lies.

Origami

Oh how I am perfectly formed my edges caressed, shaped, and placed in a pattern by a steady hand. Set on a shelf for those who came across the sea, to see and purchase me. I am propped between two, one a dragon and the other a swan. I sit quietly to be picked and loved. I long to sink some root down but at last I realize how I am not truly able to do that. Growing is not in my character; I am more a caricature, only there to express spring. My petals sing with bright colors to distract the eye. That way I can trick a sojourning shoulder trying to stay alive into buying this fake glory. I am holding onto the idea of being real and seal the thought of not feeling this hole deep within my papers seams. Seen as a work of art only represents time spent, more like wasted. The taste of lies fills your heart and I am glad only because you see me sitting crowded between many things. Things not creatures; created by an earthy man humbly bowing over plain sheets. I was once in that place waiting to be created. Thinking of what I might be: A plane to soar across great plains and over seas, a frog with bent knees hoping from a sense of jubilee, or even a crane bending great distances from the tops of trees. Yet I meekly was pressed into the meadows stars. Shinning on a summers day, listening to the children play. How we sway to a cool breeze, to tease the rocks and grass only seen through a magnifying glass. Sounds great but that’s only what I see from my ledge of a home. Out the windowsill I see me as I wish to be. Yet still I sit quietly thinking that will never be, for I am just a fake flower charming known as origami.

Alms Come In Many Forms

Life lessons are to be learned.
Not by the strong but the meek.
Seek and you shall find,
Knocking on life’s door will ensure its opening.
As told by the teacher, “Ask and you shall receive.”
Like the eye of the blind,
Who has a remnant of clay upon their brow.
Only now open to see the beauty all around.
Like the feet of the lame,
Who dance with joy upon the city’s street.
Out to meet the passerby’s, causing interest, and to preach.
Telling a story of a man
Who simply and sincerely expressed follow me.
Upon following Him, he grants the ability to see and dance,
And not just physically.
Helping us who know the story’s end,
To lend a helping hand.
Pulling another from the mire to inspire his own song and dance.

240 New Moons

I haven’t reached the drinking age yet, but I have tasted so much. Can I taste words? I must be able to, for I am full. I filled myself with riddles and parables, to explain why I stand here confused. I suppose it is in the name though, so I don’t worry how the wind blows. I learned sometime ago not to worry about silly things, like why the grass grows, or the sun sets, but more important things, like why we spend so much time in front of TVs or in traffic. Why we are in such a hurry to get somewhere we ought not to be. Rushing about like blood to the head when struck. Oh how quick tempered we, as people, can be. Fast pace but our reflexes are much too slow, so we stumble on our untied shoestrings, and there is only enough time to get back and not tie them while we’re down there. We can dust off our feet but the dirt is so thick from midnight runs that it won’t even make a dent. Our shields are bent from knocking down each others walls only to steal their bricks to reinforce ours. He who builds the greatest castle in the end will win, or so they tell me, While I sit in my straw house being blown down by the big bad wolf. So I light it on fire just so he won’t win, yet I am still without a home. Homelessness is where I learn that age doesn’t guarantee experience. Someone 20 can go through more than someone that spends 70 years on this world. I am not saying this with arrogance or to brag, But so that you don’t look down on me. Saying I haven’t learned, but you have never died, and that is the only way you can truly live. Life without living is just a morgue. A place to pass time not to stay but leave when you grow restless. In my 2 decades I learned a better way to count, like how 5 plus 2 equals 5,000 with a remainder of 12. Left over with more then I began with, and when you begin to understand this, you will begin to learn, know, and grow thoughts of where to go. I’m traveling down these railroad tracks, following the train’s horn. It continually grows from me, making it harder to see where it’s heading. At the next fork I might have to sleep just enough time to rest, and then pack up to run the rest of the race. I might not be in first place, but I’m definitely not in last. As I pass another, I see in his eyes and face, fatigue. I strive not to become like that, so I kick it into hyper drive wishing only to finish this life. Not exactly to step onto the medal stand, but as I stumble on I know I will. I just started a little late. So save a place for me; I’m on my way back home, but not for sometime hopefully. At least 20 years more years or so. That way I can perfect my stride. That way when I come to the tape I glide with a smile. Instead of struggling and choking on my sweat. So I say again save me a spot for someday I will place that wreath on my neck.

Oh How the Night Sky Screams Softly

I stand in the midst of wonder wondering why I stand in the first place. Not by a chance of interstellar explosion, but by hand I am crafted. My spirit and soul are sown into one making me who I am. I stand selfishly thinking the effect the world has on me, when I should ask a reverse and converse to others the effect we have on this earth. I gaze in the stars to form an opinion of why this light in my life is burning so bright, burning like the sun. The sun is simply a star, but the son is anything but simple. The stardust thus express deeply the desires of stating that this world is anything but ordinary. Even now on the mountaintop looking down into the valley. The amount of life stories amounting to a number uncountable by only one man. Although not fathomable He knows every quote expressing in great detail the plot and characters as if it was more than read. Yet it was published by the hand who guides me through this terrible sea. Seen as trails but those demons only come out with prayer and fasting. This lack of food feeds more than my soul, it feeds my being, my beliefs, my thinking. The belief that thinking is the result of my being. Yet only now known is the thought that my being is a result of believing. Belief is a tragedy though because you often learn things you don’t want to know.
Knowledge is said to be power, yet I express to myself and my closet friends that knowledge gives way to wisdom, which creates a humble man. Only then can we, who think so highly of ourselves, to see the kingdom. Placed low for those who can’t reach perfection to obtain it. Thus throw open the golden gates and enter in my good and faithful servant.

The Smell of Warfare

Was welcomed into the dark cloud
resting on the mountaintop.
For war and unlikely failure.
The unwillingness to give up
protects against the loss from
The one who breathes surrender.

Stoop to the Ground and See the Daffodils

Dance to the beat of the daffodils upon the blades of grass.
Through the wind escaping from the valley.
They move solely to soak in the sun,
Growing them into a song and dance.
Picked by two lovers on a summers day.
Placed in the space behind the ear,
Camouflaged within her hair.
Traveling seeing the whole land.
Planted in the garden at home,
Sinking the roots down to grow another choir.
Spring up to sing a perfect harmony.
Tuning to the Autumn breeze.
Unifying all who has a chance to stop and ponder on certain things.
Thus become distracted and embraced,
By the smell of those dancing daffodils.

A Father's Role

Out of nowhere you say hello,
And expect me to converse it back.
I feel lost and told your job is to keep my life on track.
Your there for me,
Yet only when a punishment is needed.
Like a king of his castle, on the thrown you are seated.
I seek some sign that you see me as a human being.
I need a man of an example.
It's too late though,
So don't worry about me or my beliefs.
Just don't try to pry in my life and see how I do things.
You say sorry that my childhood was neglected,
But that is only a phrase to get a foothold on my weak spot and control me.
I say no. Stay back as before and lead the followers.
I owned no nights of catch,
and I express it solemnly.
My eyes did not taste the lights of a stadium.
You say in a tone do your work or there will be regret,
But how does that help me in the real world.
Left in the middle of the ocean without a compass.
Do not try to teach me to use your faulty one now.
I use the stars for they never fail.
I learned these choppy waters.
Knowing where to go and where to stay from.
Money is not the solution to all,
Despite of how you feel.
That love you have for Mr. Benjamin is created and not real.
I'd rather love a sweet young woman,
And when I grow old she will still be there for me.
Not like that green between a you and a real relationship.
I said I need a man of an example someone other than you,
But I can use you as an example of what not to do.
And for that I'm thankful and deeply grieved,
That you couldn't express it to yourself.

The Hive Will Sleep In Turn

Like a bee in the honey nest,
Stopping my low buzz to rest.
With ease and without sorrow,
Waiting to wake to another tomorrow.

How The Sun Shakes The Earth Pt1

Flowers firmly holdfast-
To the thought of freedom.
They grow to show the longing-
For their rooted chains to be broken.

Meadows Match the rays of the sun-
By capturing its magnificence.
They shine to bind the thought-
For the sun's ability to warm them.

Choppy Waters

You attempt to place wind in my sail.
Yet moving me forward is where you fail.
You hinder my adventure and cause standstill.

Like a 1st mate telling the cap'n where to go.
Not knowing my knowledge you tell me no.
Overstepping your bounds, resulting in this ship to sink.

Guided by the North star, not knowing it's Polaris.
Acting strong, but not seen as ferrous.
Age grows knowledge, but experience is what grows wisdom.

Ballerina In The Ballroom

We sing and dance in this song parade.
Although, I am the only one who sees your masquerade.
Most see intricate patterns; I see only a lying face.

Warriors Fight With Shields and Swords

If I speak no words, will my thoughts be known?
If i forget the syllables, will my plan be shown?
I will shout again from the mountain top,
And all of the calm would stop.

Destruction is my voice.

My way to speak an end to no beginning.
The wind will carry my plea and all will see,
That I am the warrior to end all wars.

How the Sun Shakes the Earth Pt2

Daisies dance in the sunlight but soon will die.
Glowing grass glistens but soon will gone.
As the fire breathed sun falls into the sea,
Are the things known, but now not seen.

1st Law of Motion

I am a tire;
My life, the road.
But you are the friction,
That slows my goals

Brite Nite

We will meet under the cheesy moon,
And candy stardust.
In a sea of dark chocolate.

The Purple Sky of A Westward Sun

The sunset is magnificent,
But brings sad feelings;
The close of a perfect day.

The Unslowing River

Lonely is not such a lonely word.
Many sail the same boat;
Down the river of each others tears.
Carrying someone else,
Without the thought of it.

The Old Man Is Snoring

In the winter,
The old man sleeps.
His hair turn white,
And his face dark.
He breathes ice.

All the while,
A crown is placed upon his head,
By an adventurous wanderer.
Not signifying royalty,
But submission.
The old man sleeps,
In the winter.

The Reason Puddles Are Formed

A thunder rolls.
A light will flash.
Yet, scared is not a feeling shared.
It's the constant sound of contentment.
The sense of zeal,
When eyes are sealed.

5 Minuets In the Cold

Five minuets in the cold,
I sat staring at your door.
Closed shut, waiting for ajar;
I remain, then sadness encased my car.

The thought of another meet.
Us their dancing in the street.
But alas, no such jubilee.
Left wondering, if you even feel me.

Broken Chains

Like a baby to his mother,
You grab my hand and pull
In the opposite way.
As a child you braced my legs,
Determining each step I should take.
Now you expect me to walk on my own?

Nonetheless I overcome your overpowering hand.
And as it is foreign to you,
You see me walk away.
Thus, you go back to what is known.
Swinging for my hand to tug.
Yet I'm too far gone, and momma lost her son.

In the Key of G-Minor

Love is but a song;
Playing to the tune of your heart.
It progresses,
From something simple to poetic.
It changes,
From a note into a melody.

So sing out that hidden song from within.
Play those heartstrings, never stopping.
Follow the song into oblivion.
Build on each sound, making chords
That flow from idea to idea.
Stringing together a melody.

You are the bird that hears my song,
And continues to sing it.
You occupy the hole in my heart.
Making residence,
Somewhere to grow and learn
To fly and spread that newly learned melody.

Listen to the Quiet Roar of Nothingness

Destitute, destitute!
Hark! Before not ere long.
See evidence seen as in song.
Learn truths that are forever gone.
Lost in our destitute, destitute!