Thursday, June 26, 2014

I Am the Lucky One

Days stretch vaguely
across time
like the sky-
and your heart is, as, 
the accumulation of stars 
i've prayed upon
     when young ...
  leading me home

and no-one knows why,
brilliant light illuminates
several years,
the noblest


fades underneath
      the blanket clouds

when i reach
for the love
you've placed
within the crease
      my palms
i realize,
i am the lucky one

Friday, June 13, 2014

Outside of the box

I am alive,
breathing oxygen, thriving tissues,
composed to orchestrate a body,
which functions, all on it's own
without my conscious thought.
I am what happens beneath
the cells of working dreams
and minerals bound to organs,
I am the beams, and yet,
I have built nothing.
People are moving,
through an atmosphere
gasses are drawn to earth
for reasons unknown.
And, still,
there are people who think
because they have a small green piece of paper,
or a fancy motorized hunk of metal,
or a certain face, or body or clothes
they are something they can define.
I just smile,
at the people who define themselves,
who know little of the true workings
of the busy heart.
Thinking outside of the box,
is simply understanding there is no
real definition of who we are.
And the minute I begin to think
I know exactly who I am,
I am reminded,
I was built by a force,
I do not understand.

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Monday, June 9, 2014


Interesting how, 
some will 'make it'
other artists, will dwindle 
with the dust of unknown death.

I've seen opinions stretch as far, 
as the Sahara Desert.
Thoughts elaborate a collective taste,
and delve as far as or discord,
over personal matters of the heart.

Yet, all that matters in the end,
is how we loved, or how we tried,
to love, and even if we were terrible 
at loving, are we nothing in ourselves,
without the thoughts of others?

What we can strive to understand,
sometimes, we need to leave the clan.
But the heart knows, and the mind wonders.
And sometimes, we stretch our horizons, 
to learn something new, love someone new.

Yet, we always love who we've loved.
Because the human condition, is imperfect.
No matter how the artists fasten his binoculars,
and gazes across the vast desert of life,
we are ever growing from a drop of hope.
Desert flowers, miracles of will,
and little rain.

Classic Allpoetry!