Simply to ExistI slowly walk through the forestand feel the soft jade mosscaress my feet as I pass by allthe beauty and wonder that surrounds me,for today I have a purpose.Today I capture your essence for all to see.Pen and pad in hand I approachthe clearing ahead where I know youwill be waiting for me.You always are.A stone gray sentinel keepingwatch over your domain.Branches stretching up to the skyand bending this way and that at theslightest breeze.As if paying homage to some unknowndeity by bowing day after day.I find a comfortable spot and beginto sketch your massive frame.As the hours go on it becomes increasinglydificult to envision you onthe canvas of my mind.Constantly in motion you presenta target I fear now I may never reach.Before I know it the light is waningand I must make the journey homemy quest unfulfilled.But I will be back tomorrowand you will wait for me.You always do.I come back for days, then weeksas I attempt to capture a glimmer of themajesty t
My InspirationI sit on the weatherworn porchgently swinging my feetas I watch you water your flowers.The morning sun is still hidbeneath the blankets of the pine treesover the hills, and past the valleyswhere the morning mist gathersbefore fading out of this existenceand into the blackness of nothingness.You make such simple motions look so gracefuland artlike. A beautiful ballerinawho doesn't realize she can dance.I watch you as you spray the life givingspray back and forth and hum ever so lightly.I watch as the drops fall through the airand land on each petal individually,hesitating ever so slightly before racingtoward the edge and plunging to the groundto be absorbed into the flower's very soul.It is in that moment just beforeit hits the ground, but after it hasleft the flower that inspiration is conceived.In that one moment the Past and the Futurepause in their eternal footrace we call timeto gaze in wonder both backand forward at the present to thismoment here with yo
Hypocrite"I promise" is such a simple phraseyou toss about as free as air.But do you truly understand?Do you even really care?You said that you would feed mebut my stomach feels empty and torn.You said that you would clothe meyet bitter winds embrace my naked form.You said you would be here by my sideyet only my shadow comforts me.You said you would heal the woundand yet it continues to bleed.You said you'd be my dearest friendas you plunged the dagger in my back.You said you'd fill my every needbut now there's only dark and lack.And after everything that we've throughit pains me that I must admit.That despite the painted truths you fakedyou're nothing but a hypocrite.
Playland of Forgotten DreamsI remember it just as clearlyas if it was yesterday.The look of wonder and joyon your face as your mom broughtme home from the toystoreall those years ago.Soft brown fur, glass eyes asblue as the sea during a morning rain.Hand stitching with a black buttonfor a nose and a red smile sewn onwith yarn as red as cherries in the spring(only the best for you!)You promptly named me Boogie (Which isn't so badI got used to it) and held me so tightI feared my seams would burst!(Not the first impression I wanted to make).You kissed your mom and whisked me awayto your room and that was the startof the best life any bear could ever hope for.Oh, the adventures we had! I still rememberthe time we saved the Earth from aliensin our back yard (I am still not convincedthe Mason jar you put on my head was a helmet)Or the time we slayed the evil dragon Smogin the musty tunnels under the dwarven mountains.Of course all this took a toll on both of us.My fur is not quite so shiny an
Writers BlockStumble bumble fall and fumbleanything to make a rhyme.Pile of papers in the cornerswasting so much precious time.Just as bad as kryptonite.Worse than pebbles in your socks.The feeling writers try to fight.The gremlin known as Writer's Block.Laying in your bed at nightperfect poems fill your head.Pull on shorts, turn on the lightgrabbing paper, pen in hand.But as soon as buttcheeks hit the chairpoems flutter into the night.Bang your head against the wallAll I want to do is write!!!I'm not a picky guy in lifeI take it cold or take it hot.But why is it that every timeI try to write I hit that block!?!Words come kick me in the buttand run away as I try to findthe cure form this writer's rutbefore I lose my freakin mind!Keep it comin, nice and looserhyming's getting easy nowstill a little chunky thoughlike curdled milk from a purple cow.Put the pen and paper downget the axe and chopping blockbe vewwy vewwy quiet causetoday I'm hunting Writer's Bwock!
Temptation - ReworkedWalking through the darkened treesfeel the bones and dust beneath.Soft as marble, warm as stonedrawing, drawing further on...Clearing in the trees aheadbranches tearing in my flesh.Far too painful to dismisswith the softness of a razor's kiss.Hesitation at the edgescared to tumble o'er the ledgewant to stop but too far gonedrawing, drawing further on...Strangers both in shrouded hoodsone is evil, the other good.Both stretch out their hand to meI must choose just one it seems.Thinking, probing watching bothfor any clue, for any hope.But I feel as though all hope is gonedrawing, drawing further on...Rash decisions made in hastethat stalks and kills its helpless prey.Overthinking simple stepsleads to tear filled final breaths.A voiceless whisper in my head"Take the right or you'll be leddown a road of pain and tearsand bring to life your darkest fears".Make a choice, and you alonedrawing, drawing further on...The left's voice soft, and deep and lowinviting m