WHY CAN'T ADULTS.

WHY CAN'T ADULTS

Why can't adults act like adults and stop acting like

children?
Why can't they live in the sea of today

instead of the sea of tomorrow?
Why can't we dwell when hope will collide,

and things are broken and torn down in ruins?

Why do we live in a perfect picture image,

where nothing is shattered and lives are not

grown?

On the edge of the world where hope is bestowed.

Love is an ingrown nail that follows like lilies.

Some people do not hear the wind in the windows

or feel the pain of their blood running down their

hands,

shadows and moonbeams are just as strange,

and we cannot live on the moon because

the moon is strange,

shifting patterns of light and darkness.

Oceans and vast and unique in their days,

and everything is wrought of vision and destiny,

but everything is torn and hope is broken.

We strive to win but nothing will win.

Everything is torn of darkness.

HAVE YOU TRIED.

HAVE YOU TRIED

Have you tried to see me at the end of the ocean

where nothing is more solid than gold.

Everything is more transparent than weather

that is old,

and the shadow of courage is lost in the end.

Taking nothing more than anything

we weather like fear;

broken like yesterday all the words

are quite clear.

I fold like diamonds on the edge of a river,

I melt like courage at the head of a giver.

Round we go like a little lost fish,

it would be in sorrow that we give us a wish.

In the broken world that we know of today,

hope is a garden that is helpful along the way.

Folding like flowers we know what to do,

on the brink of extinction we have risen anew.

The world is more solid than that of gold,

the world is for the strong and the bold.

ANEW.

ANEW

A sunset is a void of color

etched in the lot of time

it is yours and it is mine

like a shard of grass

that doesn't bend

in times of dew colors mend

tomorrow is both near and far

beyond the setting of the star

into the world where we grew

all we held was life anew

where u r i think of u.

where you are, i think of u.

where you are, i think of you

like soldiers on a silent hill.

your voice it whispers like mountains.

sound folds in a cave.

i hate people who abuse my trust,

who put themselves above other people.

who trap themselves when they don't need

to be trapped,

a person whose wrist needs to be slapped.

i am strong and i am willed.

my lover is harder than anything.

in my heart i am not gone.

the night is gone for the taking.

where you are, i think of you,

like night molding out of dew.

twilight sparkles in the night.

some things go and some things come.

out of all the darkness,

a man stands in a corner like a prop,

and thoughts whisper in my mind

and i am stiller than the dark.

drifting outward in sleep.

DRIFTING OUTWARD IN SLEEP

The house stands close to midnight.

It is alone with its thoughts.

The thoughts are half-willed.

Drifting outward in sleep.

All we have left are our dreams.

He is with me; he is in me.

He is the man I do not know.

He is pain and he is sorrow.

Nothing without will or pain.

A light goes on in someone's house.

The motorcycle gets tossed in the gutter.

Someone's breath is moving so shrill.

The house is empty. Life is gone.

I'm finally ending myself. All the pain

will be gone, just words on a page,

it is raining, nothing left for me here,

nothing left for me to go on,

just me standing on the end of the world,

alone.

I drift in and out, the waves of the sea.

Whispering to me into the night.

He makes me lonely. I am no one without him.

My best friend who taught me to be alone,

the man who is full of pain.

Sorrow is like sorrow in night.

We are gone. We are not.

Words are wounded.

CLOSE.

CLOSE

In this world time is a shadow

that moves and bends in waves.

Numbers crawl slow as molasses,

and hope furls in song.

I whisper in the night of time.

We don't have many seconds to spare,

on the edge of the shadow that bends,

in time that's wanted wear,

we move in grace and space that mends.

Space is beckoning to the night.

On the end of life we sing in song.

Hope is burrowed into the light.

Love will conquer all our wrongs.

It's snowing, it's raining,

all of life is abating.

Everything we know inside,

is like a dream that will collide.

On the edge of hope and fear,

we do not fade and disappear;

in the tides that run quite near,

hold us close, the ones who are dear.

ALL WE KNOW.

ALL WE KNOW

I am the shadow of the moon

that flies away on the wind too soon

nothing is barren more than the gray sky

time lessens like shadows in a forgotten eye.

This world is old and dying alone,

I am sitting on top of a tombstone.

Where hope is noiseless in the dark,

I see a shadow, a single spark.

All we know, where we go,

into the time that is broken and gone.

Everything is going fast and slow.

This broken world is dead and alone.

the solid walls.

the solid walls built around me

etched in the dark

space is filled with beautiful noise

dealt on the edge of promise

a rose is like a rose

a solid noise of pain

the face of light

that drifts outside of truth

nothing is void except

all youth

a love that's bigger than life

left with sins

turning with strife

the end of all things

marked with sorrow

taken and broken

sorrow filled

like soldiers walking

on edges unfurled.

in terrible pain

we walk the world

with marks of greed

and standing in rain

lights are folded

like flowers

you're not in love with her.

you're not in love with her

you're not in love with her

yes i am

i said to the man standing

at the end of his driveway

looking off into the sunset

as if he were dreaming of me

and my wife, riding in a motorcycle

and talking about meat and wine

and suddenly a caterpillar walks

across the sidewalk

careful of its movement

minding its own business

you are a unique design

the caterpillar said to the man

don't believe what they say

it's hard says the man

as he watches the man on the

motorcycle fly by

and he himself lives in an ancient

house full of moth balls

and he drowns out his sorrows

with guitar music and hides in shame

but the woman loves him all the same

in a faraway world where the grass

is green and he is not in it.

his eyes are like glass stars

that reflect nothing

i don't know what else to say about him

she says to the caterpillar

and he looks on into nothing

thinking of the best way to

explain his thoughts

which are molded on

the sidewalk forever

etched in sand and time.

WATER FLOWS.

WATER FLOWS

The water flows through

the mountain.

In a covered wagon,

I walk and roam all of this mess,

the mess that's called a planet,

the world that is full of noise

and sound,

where whispers are covered in grease

and grime.

Laughter fills the night with noise.

Everything goes on its course.

Like shadows that move and weave

through the water,

everything makes us tumble through

a land of horrible laughter

and grief.

The man who calls himself a wizard

laughs and laughs

and then there is nothing but the woods

and fields

where meat-eaters roam,

and vegetables come from a garden

of rabbits who eat it

and venomous spiders

and tickled worms weave like nights.

I surrender myself to you,

like a shadow that is on the edge

of twilight,

where night is gone and alone.

And people learn how to whisper

and weave sad voices into nothing.

And time fades and ends like

the world that watches and waits

and yesterdays are what they were before

the eve of destruction.

GIRLS.

Why can't some girls just move on from somebody? I know my bf is cute and all but there millions of cute men with the same attributes as you. Just move on, bitch, really. And if you don't understand yourself you shouldn't be marrying nobody. I remember reading the poem "Alone" and then I was all like, "Here we go," then I realized he married his cousin and I was all like wth. Just when you think you can look up to somebody, like a writer, you find out reading is also a lie. And what are people knocking books for? Twilight was worth about 393 million and it only cost $800 bucks for all that paper and postage and shit, damn, have some sense, people.

THE MOOSE.

THE MOOSE

In the woods the world

shimmers and shakes

and things materialize

at the center of controversy

lies the utmost respect

for diversity

the trail of tears

reigns like time

you are yours and you are mine

it is like the blind leading

the blind into excursions

unknown

there are waters folding out of

flowers

and break down into sieves

all the stories in the world

are not withheld

i brought them to you dear

without a rhyme or reason

without a method of fear

or brought by any season.

Tomorrow time might be withheld

by the storms of light unfurled

broken down by the winds

are the thieves of night.

The brown fur, the hapless god

he trods through the snow.

In the season he will go;

without wasting life by being slow.