Living for LoveBecause,of love,I live.
Mountains Never MoveHope surrounds,the mountains,that never move.
PatiencePatience is perfect.Patience is pure.Patience endures.
Love is RareStardust sprinkles,across the land,as she takes his hand.
Where Dreams Live PeacefullyThrough a river,and across a stream,lies a dream.
Rivers of PeaceI write about the stars,and beyond.I sing for the skies,and the swans.For the ponds of peace,and the rivers of love,come from above.
Living for SmilesWe live for smiles,that go on for miles.
FramesPictures press,against bleak walls,as I fall.
QuestsDreams are quests, too.
PastRevoke your “was”–Consign me not to “had” and “did”But rather “does.”I contain the infinite–”Contain,” not “contained”–And speak, soak, suffer, sitIn tongues newly-born that strainAfter mine and sense that my“Lives,” “breathes,” “dies,” “loves”Expand into multitudes greater than“Was.”
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
The DonorThe Doner 7/27/15I've had a good life.I have no regrets.It's time for me to die.What will be my legacy?These are things I wonder.How will I be remembered?Who will mourn me?Have I done enough?Did I appreciate the air I breathe?So I made a decision.A choice of the heart.When I die I will donateparts of me.Parts I hold dear.If in the future I can be helpfulto someone who is without - that willbe my purpose.My corneas, which helped me view beautyand ugliness in this world.I will give to someone who can't see.Maybe they have been blind all theirlife or maybe it's new and it kills them.If I can give them a glimpse of whatI saw then I will die with a grin on my face.My lungs ( although I had asthma and sufferedoccasionally when I was young ) couldbreathe new life into a child ora person with emphysema.Maybe they will be thankful for a second chance.And finally my heart. Which now beats fasterknowing my fate. I don't wish to die.But the cancer is coursing throug
Is It Love?If I hugged you,would you never let go?If I kissed you,would you cherish that moment?If I reached for your hand,would you take mine gently?If I needed a shoulder,would you let me cry on yours?If I needed to talk,would you really listen?If I needed to scream,would you do it with me?If I needed to go,would you come with me?If I fell for you,would you catch me?or just let me hit the pavement?
How to Live in 2015Be born. That’s the easy part.Beg for new toys or take someone else’s.It doesn’t matter. Being selfish as a child is normal.Being selfish as an adult is normal. Get dirty. Stop taking everythingso seriously. You’re going to die.Don’t worry, everybody does it.Don’t fall in love, love is not a holeto fall into. Run into love, headfirst.Bite your tongue untilyou can taste the word no.Give away your secrets under a pseudonymfor someone else to sell.Chop off your arms and legs to pay for college,realize tuition rates doubled.Get a degree. Find a job. Hate your job.Find a vice. Keep it closer than your breath.Find God in an alleyway.Lose God like a set of keys. Die and be reborn as a memory.Die and be reborn as an afterthought.Die and be forgotten.Repeat.
Forgotten HallsAn ancient, sprawling maze to me,Familiar as I grew;It housed the rise of manyAnd saw the doom of few.Never did I stop to thinkOf those that came before;All I saw was my own path,My own tracks on the floor.And now I see it once againIts age making it new,Strangers faces alienThe air of nineties, too.I stood there when they tore it down,Laughing with my friends.Not once did I stop to mournThe era come to end.
BabiesBabies are born,like butterflies;nurtured by nuance,and destined to dream.