UntitledNothing There was once a man who lived in a grey city.He was quiet,And no one noticed him.He lived alone,In a large houseThat could have easily fit two.The hallways were always full,Filled with the mournful colours,That bled from crayon tips. Everyday this man went to work,Then returned as the sky turned black.Everyday this man was greeted by nothing,Smiling, until the man trudged away.Nothing was nothing after all.It was always the same routine.Every day for the longest time.But the man never changes. The same.No matter how hard anyone tries to make the man realize,That there is Something.That it is yearning for his attention,That all it cares for is him,He will always blind himself from these things.Besides, it wouldn’t matter.Nothing would move on.It would forget. So many years.You left me alone,But why?Did you fear me?Did you hate me?Did I make you feel guilty?I still loved you anyway.
RavenThe raven would not say my name -only flutter its wingand settle on the branch.I watched its cockle eyestudy me and the rooftopsthat sang of autumn.Leaves swirled in the wiresas the air blisterd around meand I could feel myselffalling once again -somewhere the lightwould still remember me.
The Word RoseAnd from the blue and cotton clouds,Out forth I plucked for you -A single word rose.Notebook petals, blooming in the bloodOf scarlet love,Dripping sweet melodies from high aboveShowering us in an embracing flood.It was a single word roseAnd upon it was written your heartIn the form of a hundred rhymesPlaying out your song,Your beautiful songAnd nothing could let it fall apart.And from the blue and cotton clouds,Out forth I plucked for you -A single word rose.Poetic thorns, glaring through the galeOf obsidian disgust,Sneering dark voices of our innocent lustWhispering to us of that word rose pale.It was a single word roseAnd within it was hidden my heartIn the form of a thousand crimesWeeping all my sins,All my blackest sinsBut no one ever saw me fall apart.And from the blue and cotton clouds,Out forth I plucked for you -A single word rose.Word rose, oh where are you?Word rose, ah shining in the blue,You hide my secrets andCover yourself in her heart.Wor
Late nightAll alone in my roomSurrounded by darknessThe clock keeps tickingTime doesn't stopAnd there I layMy mind wanderingWhile I waitFor another day to come
A Fairy TaleDismembered limbs fall from the skyDramatic chorus sings silken ribbonsOn the mountaintop, out there in the darknessWhere plants are withered from lack of sunAnd all that is now will be what wasAnd all that was will be once againAs limbs attach themselves to torsosWe get up and walk, smiling, into the lightTeeth, hair, skin, bone re-assembledNew feathered wings stitched to backsThe plants are green on the other sideGrowth ensured by the ever-bright light
Bitlets 229The man in the mirror was framed and hung.
paper cranes at midnighttell me the secret of dreaming -i need to know the wayto wish on stars that fall, and those thatdon't, assisting in the making of a tomorrow lacedwith wonder.stud the skywith folded cranes on wireand origami dreams strung up like beads;when the night creeps upand i can't breathe,tell me it's okay to believein wishes that can be foldedas easily as paper.remind me of how daylightcomes even if our star-peppered eyesdon't close to hide it'slight; we will not stop to count oursheep, but rather wondersfound in waking.lace the sunsetwith your silhouette;i am a paper boat folded by finicky handscast into deep waterstrying to cut a path for pleasant dreams--and because i cannot rest my eyesto find solace in silence,i ask you only todream me something beautiful.
TodayI drew a picture of you today. Not because I wanted to. Not because I miss you.I drew a picture of you today. Because your face invades my mind, Every waking moment of consciousnesses.I drew a picture of you today, Simply to rid my thoughts of you. Because I can't bare to see you.I drew a picture of you today. And when I find the courage, When I find the strength.I will burn it.
lets play pretendI am a lion, brave and strong,I am your defence, for when others see you wrong.I am a warrior, bold and alertbut I am still a person, and a personcan still hurt.
36On every birthdayI think backand reflecton all the yearsthat I've lived.Today I am reflectiveon nothing in particularand everythingall at once.I look at my daughter.I beam with prideat the young lady she has become.I can't help but stand in aweat how much she looks like,acts likeand can hold a grudgejust like me.I take my husband's handand squeeze,waiting for his needleto work its magic.I want his art to bea part of me,now and forevermore.I'm dazedbut not confused.36 is more than three decadeswhich is kind of weirdto think aboutwhen I feel so young.Childhood has been rebornin my offspring-my nieces and nephews too.My own memories mixed with theirsin the form of traditionsI've demanded be passed on.Today I celebratelifeand loveand family.Today I wantat least 36 more years.
There was an old clock in the hallThere was an old clock in the hall,Whose gears had been broken and stalled. Then ticking ensued, And it filled all the rooms,Though it wasn't the old clock at all.