(To say this poem is true is relevant to me...  alone.)  This poem is the truth.My nights are wicked lonely.Just a weird fate and a puppy dog innocence.You might think innocence is free.It isn't.This night was a strange one.I lived next to a party district when I was younger.A lot of collage bars... Well, a lot of bars.It's called west port (not that that matters.)To you or me.I personally hate alcohol...  taste like blea...

I can feel freedom coming, but it doesn't know my name. I want to play in the crush of brown leaves of fall, but I don't think I know the game. I leave my words to hear like a bible, a fool with no passion.My consequences are laced across my back,   freedom tattooed in bloody script.Wondering if I should blame you for your kindness with this silent gift.My freedom is a bitter pill, and my choices just widen our rift.If a...

Who are you, lady? That you mean that much to me. Are you the goddess of longing....  futility? Are you my quenched thirst?Are you an unfinished poem? Why does your hair hurt me?Why does a desperate glimpse into your eyes only make me cry? Are you an answer or another question?I am not an obsessive man, but I am obsessed.I am consumed yet renewed by your magic.I do not doubt you, but I can not trust you either.This place...

Running with the calvary since I was 7 years old. Leaving my sticky blood in the clay seems incomplete.Violence and agony are music only the insane can hear. What a heart pumping fife and drum called me from my home. Taking the flag,  silver and guns is one fool's quest for men heading to damn nation is all I am saying.Is it all I  know?I learned one thing I think I need to tell you. When what you love is in danger. When...

Tender. My hands are tender. My words, My words are broken. The life I have lived is only a memory of sin and broken things. Rage,  obsession,  fantasy made cruel because of how clever the delusions became. Not mine,  no others.  There is one thing right in my life. The lady I am in love with. I am a hero. I have saved lives. I have loved. I am in love.  I will never stop. I could never stop. It would be a sin. Yes...  I...

I played my guitar, but my fingers started to bleedI let them heal the smallest price to payBut those chords cost and costI broke her stringThen sent a new line up the vineThat one broke tooFor my whole life is just a splinter of painIt is my taoA curse of usefulnessThough you think my words have soundsThey are just an echo You did not trust me enoughTo speak~mliarrr  

All poets AskIs any one listening For most none areThese are the hidden poemsWe speak at midnights agonyWhat do we see when we look on our aging back to our box under the skyWhat drives us to give pureWords and broken love Burning the hair, she gave us as a charmWho is sorry after thatWho is a man who cuts his pony tail because she did not love youWho is a drunken poet in the darkPerhaps it is a lesson in magic we should...

Old man. Why do you sing in the snow? ... I fear I could break history with my tears. ... Yes I see, Our lives shatter like thin ice.  The will of the river shall run deep. ...Old man. Why do you cry? ... I fear nothing anymore. For you have found me and take me by my blue withered hand. ... Come home grandfather Christmas dinner is warm.   

I have been all over the earth. I have left footprints in blood and clay in every nursery rhyme.  If I had a chance I would dance on everybody's grave. Don't you think a merry jig is a good reason to live?If you ask me how many paces it is to the moon,  I'll laugh and say you are not old enough to drink that white light. You think you have paid the price? Maybe you have but I minted that coin. Keep your eyes open and clos...

What is sound? You know the things that make our ears twitch. Music and laughter... The agony of disaster? What are they? This metamorphic tremor in our ears? Does it come in random static? How do we differentiate good from bad? C# above natural c can shatter glass. Sound can make you throw up or go unconscious. In the sound of the shatters and splinters, there is a voice. Such a trembling whisper. Do we not spend our liv...

As you sit there drumming your fingers on your random desktop. I want you to pause a moment and focus. What are you really doing? Think about it. We all do it.  We have done it our whole lives. Rolling or fingers back and forth... gathering wool. If we are really bored, we change up the sequence. Did you know it is magic most high? Really dude! Next time it is raining. Listen. Your fingers are making the same sound like t...

Hey, I know you know her. Or you think you know her. If you ever see her. Tell her. Tell her I think of her often. Be clear and tell her. That her hair is the same poem, as when the wind whips a perfect Raven high. Tell her that her eyes seem intelligent and sad. Tell her it isn't the sadness that I see...  that is only a forgery. Tell her what I see is a spirit of profound philosophy. Tell her I learned wisdom from her g...

Oh, mighty is the blazing sun.Is it not?Imagine...10 billion years ago.This hot thing.Spinning.Alone in the void.Without meaning.Alone.It must be the coldest of things to project like that.About 7 billion years long as the sparrow whispers to me in spring something, amazing happened.Old Saul (i call him) wept.A single flaming tear.And found water.One earth.One tiny speck of blue.Sparkled with wonder.And twinkled back.......

I have seen many things."Doctor my eyes" don't we all know and can carry that tune?I have seen things that were razor sharp and might cut my feet.I walked carefully those days.I have seen things that were blurry wet and cold.I wore thick shoes and shivered in the crunching white noise.It was all such a cacophony. complexity.Migrating and flowing like the rainbow oil in the gutter after very heavy rain.Sometimes it was so...

I collect nickels. I like the smooth edges. They seem unpretentious.  They will never amass a fortune. To buy even a book you need to stack them high. I keep them for sentimental reasons. I made a wish with one a long time ago. It was about dedication,  a lifetime of commitment. But...  it is an empty life time that has passed. It tears across me like a razor blade.  I never cried so hard. As I stared at that mossy founta...