From Force to Freedom

Matt Lazin

PublishAmerica Baltimore

© 2005 by Matt Lazin and Bastion Pictures LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

First printing

ISBN: 1-4137-xxxx-x PUBLISHED BY PUBLISHAMERICA, LLLP www.publishamerica.com Baltimore Printed in the United States of America

For my children, Isabella and Reid. May your lives be filled with all of the wonderful images of beauty, truth, and experience.

Contents
Chapter One: On Force
From Force to Freedom ........................................................... A Tale Through the Eyes of an Idiot ...................................... A Bird in the Hand ................................................................... Anticipation Dissipation ......................................................... As Time Bows on Bent Knee ................................................... Ashes to Ashes .......................................................................... Crossroads ................................................................................. End of the Road ........................................................................ Epitaph of the Unknown Soldier. .......................................... From Corner Sight .................................................................... Growth, the Pain of Life .......................................................... Happiness Without Surreal .................................................... Incomplete ................................................................................. Lonely Eye ................................................................................. Mind Lying ................................................................................ My Approach to Oblivion ....................................................... No Cuffs Contain Some Change ............................................ My Window ............................................................................... On Death .................................................................................... September 11 ............................................................................. The Tragic Self* ......................................................................... Think Me Not ............................................................................ To Hell with You ....................................................................... Times Go the Will ..................................................................... Whole of Isolation .................................................................... For My Father ............................................................................ Imposters and Sages ................................................................. 15 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 32 33 34 36 37 38 40 42 43 44 45 46

Chapter Two: On Friends
Birthday ...................................................................................... 51 Children Under the Eye .......................................................... 52

Destiny’s Path ............................................................................ Grandfather Time ..................................................................... Let Us Play ................................................................................. Ode to a British Roommate ..................................................... Oil And Water ........................................................................... Today, You Are Special! ........................................................... To the Sad Heart .......................................................................

53 54 55 56 57 58 60

Chapter Three: Of Women
A Tear Falls Down a Blade ...................................................... A Captain in Mine Own Head ................................................ First Poem .................................................................................. From a Humbled Man ............................................................. Hopefully Brief ......................................................................... Lost at Sea .................................................................................. Our Mother’s Tears ................................................................... One Night .................................................................................. Passion ........................................................................................ The Flowers of the After-fall ................................................... With You in Mind ..................................................................... All Else Is But Soft Rain ........................................................... Storm Surge ............................................................................... That You Might Live ................................................................ What I Cry for You ................................................................... The Mind, The Mind ................................................................ Of Passing Love in Passing Time ........................................... Most of the Time from A to B ................................................. Being the Storm ......................................................................... 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 82 84

Chapter Four: On Nature
Begin ........................................................................................... Even Rain ................................................................................... Nebulous .................................................................................... Of Nature You Will See ............................................................ 89 90 91 92

Of Water ..................................................................................... Only Self Can Self-decree ........................................................ The Sound .................................................................................. Sand Not Smooth ...................................................................... Up ................................................................................................ The Treasure .............................................................................. The Fountain of Youth .............................................................

93 94 95 96 97 98 99

Chapter Five: On Children
Before the Stars ....................................................................... 103 Through Torturous Weep ...................................................... 104

Chapter Six: On Stuff
The Light Overcome by Darkness ....................................... The Pointless Pen .................................................................... The Purposeful Riddle ........................................................... On Writing ............................................................................... Simply Put, 77437 ................................................................... You Cannot Resist ................................................................... The One and the Many .......................................................... The Blue Note .......................................................................... 107 109 110 111 112 113 114 115

Chapter Seven: On Freedom
A Message of Peace ................................................................ Ellis Island ............................................................................... Ode to Joy ................................................................................ Protector of the Tree ............................................................... Spoken Softly ........................................................................... The Walk Towards Freedom ................................................. 119 120 121 122 123 124

Preface
The purpose of this book is to express all of the joys and frustrations that have been so powerful as to cause such a creation. In the search for truth, we find ourselves at odds with others. The truth in its many forms may come to us as Life or Death, Good or Evil (and many other infinite possibilities). Whatever truth may be found in these pages is written from my adolescence to early adulthood. It is expressed fully with meaning and word. It is abstracted to clarify the vague notions of that which is intangible. Neither time nor substance keeps people from creation and imagination. As we progress further and further towards the truth that we are, we find ourselves torn between our spiritual and primal origin. For all that are before me, to all that come after: Is it possible that all things good, are that they are, and nothing more? Is happiness such an unachievable aim? Are we so untrusting of ourselves and others that we are slaves to our primal origin? Then what of our freedom? Perhaps we are the light we seek. Religion offers us prophets. Science offers us facts. Books offer us writers.
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Politics offer us politicians. Law offers us, well, lawyers. Money offers us money. Perhaps we are the creators of our own world, maybe we have had help and encouragement from above. If we are the ones who create the reality we perceive, then would it be prudent to take more responsibility for that which we create? If you are looking for answers, as I have in life, look more to yourselves. Existence is the ultimate question, or to be more concise, our purpose here brings limitless ponderings. I believe that you are the answer. I believe that you question reality or life because every line of questioning brings fulfillment. Sometimes, not having the answers, well, that makes life more like the adventure that everyone dreams of having. The journey will one day come to an abrupt end for us all. Although, I am sure that it will be no more painful than the very way we arrived. Force and Freedom are two diametrically opposed imposters. Both would have us believe that the other is more correct, in order that we need one or the other more. The very essence of life is that, all needs are provided, free of cost. Real life and existence are truly free for everyone. We cannot wholly accept this at all times, because of fear. However, it is all right to be afraid, it is all right to feel disparate or desperate. It is but the fragile, unique beauty within each and every one of us. Trembling in awe of the grand design of the universe. All become afraid when exposed to the full force and majesty of the universe. Though you will become braver when I tell you that it is yours, and it comes with all Freedom. You are free to practice evil if it is your wish. You are free to practice good if you wish. Evil, however, will lead you

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very quickly to the end of your own journey, while good will lead you onward and upward towards your very hopes and dreams. There is nothing sweeter than choice, freedom. Nothing better than to share the goodness of life. It is a sad day when something is lost, if it was not needed, then something else steps up to fill its place. There are so many things I love, that sometimes I feel that my heart is not big enough, that I am not big enough to keep their loving. As I grow and change, the world makes me better, I give back all that I hope I can share. And if it is changed by me, just a tiny bit, then my life is with purpose. Happiness dances with warm comfort, and something is right in another’s smiling face. Thank you.

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Chapter One On Force

From Force to Freedom
A nebulous cloud berths the first movement Nothing becomes something Creation, the dawn of life. The song of songs sings its first glorious note And all the world begins to harmonize. A tiny orb is pulled to the light The circle starts, a journey within itself So clear as to be unchanged by time. The moment sets in with earth, wind, and fire The highest aim to be achieved eternally. Tragic man comes to his senses And the beauty of the world is seen through early eyes. The forces of nature collide in his mind Onward, upward, life grows and grows Rising, twisting through mountainous stone. Life ever-bearing the unstoppable will… …Overlaps its own wake Even falling to its own war. Night becomes day, day becomes night And in the morning the birds sing; For what little they know of freedom.

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Brief evil gives way To the crumbling sands of truth. Civilization grows, smaller for the individual. The human cries out for a torturous end Only to die, simply, as the rest of life. Its birth was quick to present now On its knees it worships the infinite future. Misunderstanding. The greatest mistake But when it comes to this FORCE We all know of the consequence. Failure makes the triumphant man Risk all that he has For the sake of this FREEDOM.

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A Tale Through the Eyes of an Idiot
I have seen a madman in the streets, His face distorted by the shadows of darkness, While carrying his lantern of truth. Insomniacs look on with deaf eyes, Collecting their witless doubts in piles, As a bird that builds its nest. The egg they seek to protect from, Their paranoid thoughts of light Is security and peace of mind. Just as an ignorant child clutches its blanket of faith, When the night consumes the day and the sun is left behind. Fanatical devils use the madman as a puppet To propagate their lies of loftiness And spread their disease of shame. Those who followed were just as bad As those who led with craftiness Carrying deceitful dreams of fame. What made this madman insane Was only the madness that surrounded him, And the weight of his burning flame. Sorrow perhaps his lone companion Was undeserved, cast by those with dim Outlooks on life that prejudice overcame.
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A Bird in the Hand
What is the point of living here, Nothing new comes year after year. An old played-out record spins round and round, Incessantly drilling my head to the ground. That same old tune which makes me queasy, Loosening my thoughts until I’m uneasy. Though it has the virtue of familiarity, This is the very reason of my insanity. Fate has a way of knocking me down, Only to lift me up as a clown. My nerves are worn thin by this endless cycle, I’m pushed to the edge by a rusted sickle. The rust comes from the passing of time, The sickle from life a maniacal mime. “Here I am a lonely fool,” I shout, “Only because of my whereabouts?” I’m told that I should be happy to be so fortunate, Well, you can go screw yourself ‘cause I’m tired of fate.

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Anticipation Dissipation
When hope just seems to fade away, A struggling fight from day to day. The only thing that keeps me here, Is who I love and I hold dear. Even when there is doubt in my mind, I try to live and to be kind. I don’t know why I do such a thing, When everyone appears to do nothing. I must be crazy, or so it seems, Does anyone know, what does it mean? Who is wrong, and what is right; Or do we just fade into the night? I know I’m not the first to wonder, Nor will I be the last to ponder. I only wish that someone would learn, About all the things for which I yearn. But I just keep these things inside, Only because, “Nature loves to hide.” I’m just a spot in time and space, A second of life, then I dissipate.

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As Time Bows on Bent Knee
Farewell my colors You have served me well. Death I feel your hot breath. Liars say that you are cold While their long tongues are still soaked in it, Comprehending my sudden ending. Many follow your warmth Because warmth is the beginning. Told were we of the cold. Your smiling teeth of stars. Comfort at the thought of no hurt. I will go just as I came, Crying at the signs of change. Peace where tumults yet cease. The dance of the two wills become one, My body pays its debt to the earth. My will you can never kill.

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Ashes to Ashes
From the womb to the grave. A struggle at first, Going against the wave. Life weaves its weary tale. We cease in the middle, Tired we feel we might fail. Innocence and youth have left with time. In the end we slowly submit, We have enjoyed the years so kind. Life has spun its fragile web. Our soul is but a memory, From nothing to something to nothing again.

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Crossroads
Lost on the tracks, What are behind those eyes? Your friends know you no more. Darkness must have followed you, But happiness must have tried. You need not run anywhere tonight. A late message of caution. Not to forget the ones who loved you, Who must feel left behind. The sun pushes away the night, But it no longer touches your skin. You are merged into one, The lonely entity of truth. Surely you learned your lesson. Its puzzling abstraction, Increases distraction. In a black and white world, there are no colors Blindness is our only bliss.

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End of the Road
I’m one of those people who trouble follows like an angry cloud. She comes along with her pretty face and then I go to kiss her…only to fall flat on my face. She walks on up to me with that twinkle in her eye, and as I lean over, she disappears just as fast as she came. Who knows why, maybe its just those dangerous curves? I guess I’m just a sucker lookin’ for the end of this long road. Days and nights go by and I keep tellin’ myself that I know what I’m doing. That’s the only good lie in the world, the one that you tell yourself. It never hurts anybody else, you’re the only one that ends up in that lonely corner of the room. Where the world is only a faint cry and your thoughts are loud in your head.

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Epitaph of the Unknown Soldier.
The ugly side of man, Sadness, a tear of blood. Our fascination with power, Our greatest weakness. Life our cruel teacher And we the ignoring students. We are all the same, yet we can never be one Because of this no war is ever won. Humanity is the loser when justice is not blind. Evil is a thirst, which can never be quenched. We search the world for what truth we can find, This is why we remain unclear. We use our differences as our strongest defense, And hurt those around us without knowing pretense. Death, our only real fate. And we the vain sympathizers. That could never happen, when it just did. Time and time again… The end is always at hand Yet we never learn from our past.

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From Corner Sight
Prickly holly to concrete walls An empty sky looms overhead. Somewhere a distant drone, Reaches up from the noisy streets. Newly worn sidewalks tell of passing feet, Some that drag, some that bustle by. Fluorescent lights show translucent skins Hollow doors close as these lights dim. The flags of phoniness waiver by their poles. Unraveling to winds of passing spirits. Children keep by their mothers So to gain the black night. An ashen coffer catches addicted afflictions On the ground an ant crawls for its evening meal. Shadows all but follow master footsteps Curving over the crouching seams. The remains of a flower are trampled to dust Doubly thin at it’s swirling leave. Laughing faces feign a smile On the wings of despair they balance fate. A falling tree still holds dear life, The spring of its eaves weigh heavily. No rain today, its roots forget And the town goes down to sleepy dismay.

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Growth, the Pain of Life
We never know how much tears to shed Until our saddest of days come. Without the comfort of the mother, And the somber song for you. How much more can we take? How much further must we go? The numbness surrounds us Yet we still feel pain. I am the voice of tomorrow Your struggle is not in vain. From the depths of your sorrow The bird of joy will rise. For tomorrow the pain of life will be forgotten. Though it shakes your very being, This is how it must be. What you feel is change What you feel is the future. Growth and pain bear the sweet fruit of life. Hush your cries…close your eyes. Sleep now, for tomorrow is another day.

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Happiness Without Surreal
Placid are the weary weak, Lucid are the mostly meek. Flowers grow and people fall, Hardly go those who stand tall. Withered are the hands of time, Smothered by the rising rhyme. Come forth and play the timid tune, But careful play our they will ruin. Make it sound new, so cover their ears, Or they will feast while passion sears. The sun shines on though they deny, When they are gone, when they die. Green grow the rushes slowly, After comes the slushy roses. Painted walls trick even old eyes, Solid hurt to comfort ties. Cold steel pillars flatten chaos, But level too the roots within us. Gray only colors in between, May bright the things that seem unseen. Touch me so that I might feel, Happiness without surreal.

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Incomplete
Removed from my senses. My thoughts clearly alone in my head. The sound of a quiet ocean, Touches my deafening ear. And as I sink deeper Into the folds of comfort. The pulse of my soul Plays on in my stead. The cold finger of sadness Pokes at my body. As I’m released from the chains of movement. And my body sinks ever deeper from uplifted minds. I focus on a feeling, One that I can barely grasp. This feeling is good, its content is unhappy. Fear and misunderstanding its only enemies.

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Lonely Eye
Secondhand light from the sun, Cast your shadows in the night. Circling guardian to the third orb. Lover to the waves and silent foe, Gray shrouds of dust cover your soul. Many things past only you know, Surefooted man only touches your secrets. Ancient, decaying truth surfaces spot. Hide behind high branches if you will, But long roads cannot cover far faces. Lunacy, the root of your heart, Origin from ground you pool. Dry lakes on your face too mysterious, Animal thoughts mere food from the pied cow. Whisper to us the voice of your source, And we can only gaze at your crown of stars. Dark, defining, light again fades, In the deep your loneliness sinks.

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Mind Lying
I am passion Nothing more, nothing less. This is why my soul is so tortured. Caught in a world of reason and logic A heretic of the church of science, I confess my sin. My mind denies wholly, God’s existence, Yet my heart calls my mind a liar. Only my heart can be right, for it works without me. Touched by an unseen hand, Moved by the unmoved mover. It beats in sync with the world, It is my mind that has forgotten its rhythm. “God is not dead, he never lived!” I tell myself laughing nervously. Do you need a miracle to believe? One only needs look to oneself and ask, How? …And of these fanatics that spread His word, They are also liars who think not on what they speak. The Devil’s tool to close open minds. If a battle is fought too, Between your heart and mind Ask What keeps me alive?
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A mind that thinks and thinks Really only of itself, Or the heart, the thankless provider of life. I am a priest of the church of heart, There is only one way to worship here, Live And you shall never die.

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My Approach to Oblivion
In the truth of the morning, lies the clarity of mind Just as a mother fails to tell her child the truth of the matter For fear that its weight is too much; Our mother does not reveal the truth, Knowing it is deadly in the hands of little minds. In the falsity of dusk truly is life’s lone law of death.

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No Cuffs Contain Some Change
Hollow me you may, But that will be the day. The day when you take my heart, The day when we are lost. Freedom is my only solace, No cuff contain some change. I know my life will end, ‘Til then I’ll go as I please. Anchored forms the formless free, Touch me now, give clarity. Too much I take, so keep your hate; I know now of your united mask. Hide the weak, make them feel your fear, This is your way, for order you say. Hurt me and you hurt us all, I hurt myself against your wall. See my eyes, seethe not yourself, I’m sorry, but must it be worse?

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My Window
I have a window that lets me see the world, Not many people have a window like mine. Although it seems flat, the edges are curled, The distortions I see are perceptions of time. I have never seen the same scene twice, Though I feel I must have seen things before. When the window is open my attention it does entice, And sometimes I wish that it was a door. I wish that it would open and let me touch, The things that humans cannot hold. Things like truth, happiness, love and such, When I try to reach, the pane is cold. My window isn’t big enough to entirely share, The view that I see of reality. One part of it is without any despair, The other is dark and one cannot see. See in the sense of to comprehend, What is in the darkness and how it works. Though sometimes it seems the darkness does not end, I’ve discovered it’s patterns and it’s quirks. It is like a scale that is perfectly balanced, That seems worthless unless it is precisely centered. The slightest touch cannot even be chanced, We do not want to upset that which is tender.

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The misconception we have is that we’re in control, Of the balance that exists in the nature of things. When really we are mere children, guided by the whole. Who know not what a world we are seeing.

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On Death
Misty eyes the town, From noisy glass-lit tables. Joyful sounds drown quiet woe, Anxiety muted speech. Decayed imprints, concrete An icy photograph depressed. Wash the death-stained hands attempt A suffered soul’s release. Insides creep, move on, unseen Finite’s face to unknown’s eyes. Lonely boxes hold life’s restraint, Tragedy such, defines demise. Light in a window afraid to darken, Cold exhalations reek. Fan blades blow a tiny whiff, Nothing minds too sleepy. Possibility hard, much overreached But keeps some warm in blanket now. Covered gray, shrouds looming in, The misty town less one won’t give.

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September 11
Man’s darkest hour, Evil crouches, hunchbacked from its evil wait. Good, the all-good, the effervescent way. Love, the eternal beacon within, a tower in the sea of dreams. Third from the sun is love, Above in good and evil. The life is good, the Nothing bad, Their love is in between.

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The Tragic Self*
Oh, my friend, how could you have done such a wrong? Within an evil so great that it could overcome even you. It raped you, took your innocence. You’re afraid that it could happen again…I understand. Something like that, it takes away from our self. We feel the force of something greater, and we feel injustice. Perhaps you did lose control, caught in the moment. You have it back. It always returns. And, presently taken from yourself, you have been given an inspiring gift. You have the power to accept all that you are, the power to accept the base of your being. It is time to forgive, time for all to grieve. Perhaps we will never know why you did such a thing, but that must not be taken from the fact; you did what you did. You are a changeable being, do not let it define you like it has. Do not let yourself be conquered. Once, you ruled your world. You were the lord of all creation. Don’t let that end. Tragedy hurts us all but all hurt can be healed. Only the unchangeable end. You are forever great, striving to do the best that you can. Doing things wrong, aware, almost as if to punish yourself for being so great. Up and up you soared to heights so dizzying that when you came crashing down, you couldn’t believe all the broken bones of your wings. All the bloody ruins. The sheer brutality that you had become. You live, and on you will. A great many were lost by you. One day they will return. They have always loved you. Come to me, Let me embrace all that you are. You cannot suffer yourself any longer. As I forgive you, you may forgive yourself. Rise again but remember this; you
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are not as infinite as infinity seems. Infinity can be defined by itself, that’s the tragedy. Nothing is greater than itself. It’s all self tried to be.

* It should be noted that this poem was written about post WWII Germany. I have vastly studied what occurred during this time in human history. I have a great fondness for all of Europe, and the rest of the world for that matter. However, this particular subject garnered special attention because of the closeness I felt with the struggle which occurred both during and after.

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Think Me Not
I am not your dog, So do not tell me to roll over. I will not fetch your broken branches, Nor fight for your table scraps of truth. Lay down with me and rise not with fleas, But rather comprehending that I do not bite. You ignore me but I will not bark. Nor perk my ears nor softly step at your presence. These are not paws that walk before you, Just the grimy hands that hold you up. I am the common man, Too dumb to take advantage of others. I bleed to lighten the heavy heart, Breath to clean your filthy air. Strain, push, and press me down, Break my back, still I toil. And you think yourself above my suffering. Animal I may be, If civil is your greedy way. Keep you from me, that I might blemish your eyes. Blemished I that eyes might see. Understand. I work for good, Including you and your weighty pockets. You believe that only birds chirp of such nonsense. Part right you are that I believe in a bird’s chattering. The bird which has flown us to these lofty heights, Yet higher still she points her tiny beak.

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I am the heart and you are the head; But wings are the means to our ends. There are those who trust the winds, Those who think the heart a dog, And those that think the mind a fool. Together we are this bird, It is her wings that ascend beyond all descending thought.

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To Hell with You
I hate you vehemently, You and all of your ugly children. You are a family of uncaring ignorance. I am not afraid of you or any of your followers. What I am afraid of is that I cannot exist without you. If your oppression ceased then so would I. No more blind slaves, but no more great thinkers. Progress regresses without us. It feeds on the conflict in between I am no better than you, but you are still worse. A slimy stepping stone that I am careful not to slip on. We fight for a world without problems. But if we weren’t neither would it. You say that I am a mask of yourself, But it is not your finger that points. Rather the guilty hand of a stupid thief. Your only redeeming quality is me, And I am only a fool for admitting this lie. Nothing is in your way but you will not touch me. I am Good and you are Bad Still I let you live, Because I know why you are afraid.

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Times Go the Will
And so, the story goes on, Somehow myself left behind. Quick-tempered fate dealt my hand, In a game no one likes to play. One day, perhaps I’ll win, But that’s too far for my good now. Lost are chances almost had, Fallen dreams and broken strength. Thrown back into the pit of cold truth, Where coiled vipers smile with jaded teeth. They, are the liars that broke me, But they will not drink of my cup. Too much blood in their eyes, Too much hate in their hearts for me. Being an ocean for poisonous rivers, Even then times go the will. Infinite beds that beckon cannot have my sleep, I lie caught in a daze, such a foul stupor. What a great prison that I’ve built, So great that I despise it. I stay with my hand by the vipers, Only when I fear to be free. ‘Cause I would much rather know the bite, Of my venomous enemy.
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Whole of Isolation
One must carry warmth to venture into the cold; For without it, one seems more foolish than bold. The stillness of the cold, the feeling that you are all alone; Only hearing the voice of the wind speaking in a monotone. The sound of your heart pulsing to an unrecognizable beat, Mist of your essence rising from the heat. Gripping you with a bewildering awe, Silence grasping you in its unyielding jaw. Destroyer of the world you rage against fate, Only to fade to a slumbering state. From the earth you have come, into her arms you will go; But you will have changed the world, for all it is so.

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For My Father
When life began it’s timeless song, And the trees breathed their deep, cool sigh. As I followed in your footsteps, I remember the way of your father, And his father before that… Not many clouds blanket, The starry sky tonight. As a ripple that spreads over water, Thus you moved my life. The tree of knowledge gives forth, But three invaluable lessons: One, you have only this life. Two, for it’s brevity brings a closeness to others. Three, love and compassion bring two-fold their power. A great man once said to me, “The world will be as it is, And you will follow your dreams, Because you find strength in me.” This man was my father. Though he never said it in words, It was his actions that made me the man I am today, happy.

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Imposters and Sages
When it becomes time to heal, Sorrow rises up from the wounds. The ones who have been loved, lost Rise up within us to give us strength. Courage is a rare light. And it is ever hopeful when it rises in us. The face of courage is not black or white. It is not man or woman. It is not Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or Buddhist It is none of the ways by which one makes a distinction. Rather courage is a distinct face itself. Not enamored with fate, drawn by life. Real courage kills no living being. It gives life at times. When there is no life left to give. It is the endless stream of the heavens, Pouring through spirited fingers To touch upon a dying ember of belief. It would seem that hope has, Become a ghost to you, America. A phantom that has lost any place. All that is left is fear. Courage can reach through fear, phantoms and ghosts, and even, Terror. Courage knows all of these imposters, to well.

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When they gather to block out the light of hope, The end for all is close at hand, Courage holds the open palms of fragile life, To lift them all, imposters and sages.

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Chapter Two On Friends

Birthday
When other’s hope wanes in the night, As gloomy clouds rain to each new day. When the trappings of time slow to a still, And the final call seems to have used all its strength. This is where you begin, This is where you are living life. Make no sense of senseless faces, Make not something from something else. The very fabric of your existence, Is made by none other than yourself. The world calls you to it, While its heavy head lies at your feet. Today is the day of all days, Cast all worries to some tomorrow. Remember the child that you once were, How each day belonged only with you. Your greatness holds you to other’s grief, But you hold yourself too much, too weak. Today is your day, enjoy all things yours. Relax your heart from constant woes. The gathering song is waiting for you, So celebrate its laughter so sweet.

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Children Under the Eye
We are all the same…humans, animals. With passion, reason, and imagination We explore the world. The only difference is craft. We build matter to perception, Our own perception, and we create the individual. Lost is the real world. Alienating ourselves to happy solitude. “Happy are we from day to day, happy are we who live in this cage.” The shortest, saddest song of the world. Fear is our master, and we hold ourselves to be lords. The world is one, but we are another The great sufferers of Fate. Tired dogs carrying our own leashes, There are but a few who remain wild. Prisoners of our insecurity, Children under the eye of truth.

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Destiny’s Path
Some moments are gone before we get to them, But they are the truly great ones. Our arms are too small to embrace the universe, Which is why we must embrace ourselves. We’ve been given a great gift, The gift of love. With the world at my back, with my heart as a shield, Only then can I see the universe as it is. An infinite mystery, mine to explore. Sad times are ahead, But dwarfed are they by the happy times they precede. Yes, our bodies die, But nothing can ever kill our spirit. The will to live, the will of immortality. Small is our destiny’s path, Great is why we strive. The higher good is above us, As we fade back to our beginnings. Look to the stars, dream your dream. One day it will be a reality, A step on which the next will stand.

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Grandfather Time
From the echoes of earthly binds, Comes love to truth divine. Though shadows overgrow And our hearts divide. The great tree of wisdom and knowledge surpasses, Its roots entrenched in Kingdom’s mountain passes. When the news of a passing comes with birth or a death, The heart pumps and collapses, And collapses for breath. Such joy may come with visits from tree to a tree, From person to person it is pushed faithfully. As the sun rises and goes and the tides move to life, The little ones sprout and their laughter, it grows. Fragile beats of murmured energy, light the way For others past entombed by grief. As a mother lifts a child from its bed to its feet, So it rises and falls another son to its sleep.

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Let Us Play
The world is a great expanse And you are but one soul. A small piece of the great puzzle Is all that you have. But without this small piece There would be no puzzle at all. Use it wisely as a valuable chess piece, Though it seems to have the value of a pawn. There are many ways to win and many ways to lose But there will always be another day to play. A poker face is hard to read, unless you look into the eyes The worst of hands can still be used to win. Gambling is not over until the will has given up. The labyrinth will forever go Until the outside is reached. With the drawing of The final breath. You chose to play until the game is up. And the only choice now is how you Will Play.

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Ode to a British Roommate
I’ve been told many times how the English are better, How our postal service is horrible at delivering letters. “The Royal Post is much more efficient,” he states, “Our tea is much better and friends are called mates.” “We really should have won the revolutionary war.” Rebuttals from me he tends to ignore. “For British music is much more preferable,” To American music that sounds so deplorable. One day I wish that the American dollar, Would be worth more than the pound because I would holler, “Ha, now what do you have to say!?” But this is only a dream and it will never be that way. Though my roommate is cocky when it comes to being English, He is a really nice fellow that I know I will miss. For when he is gone I’ll have no one to tell me, That the British are better than the Americans ever will be.

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Oil And Water
Melding of things which do not mix, Creates problems abound which cannot be fixed. One of the earth the provider of life, One of the world, drawn by a knife. The endless entity from which we have come; The mother of existence, of all it’s the sum. The essence of time drained by a child, Playing with death until it is riled. Opposites in content, relatives in form Behavior together is a tireless storm. Clear and pure the elixir of change, From scarce to abundant it’s quantity does range. A depthless color to which we are drawn, Pulling us in like the mask of the dawn.

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Today, You Are Special!
(For George Pocheptsov on his Birthday!) Today, it’s your birthday, ‘Tis the day of all days. You are the sunshine of your mother’s eyes; Your birth was both a blessing and a surprise. Well on your way to becoming a man, Play like a boy for as long as you can! The Teen age of life makes the body do funny things, Your voice will start changing so don’t try to sing! Right now, you still sound like an angel, But soon your voice will boom, And your paintings will jangle! Growing up is never easy, but it sure can be fun, So play your heart away with your friends ‘til you are done. Because… One day you will be old and tired, and you will sigh: “Oh me, oh my where did all the years go? And who ate my apple pie?” You will be so old that you forget, To eat cake, not regret! For birthdays only come but once a golden year, To many you are special and very, very dear. So play your heart away, eat cake and have fun, Eat cake and more cake ‘til your shoes come undone! Life is a great journey my young friend and little one, The happiness and joy has only just begun.

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Laugh when you feel funny, don’t let anything make you feel odd, For today, you are special, let your family and friends applaud!

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To the Sad Heart
My friend you see, you should not fret, For life is on its merry way. No longer shall you ever regret, Your days of much dismay. Though she bites your inner core, She can’t break through your final door. Behind this door lies one poor soul, Wanting to just be free. You will break out of life’s control, And fight the raging sea. Just look inside and find your dreams, And make them into reality. For even if a failure seems, To make you feel miserably. Find strength in your heart, To reach all your desires, And take your weakness apart. Only then will you be free, And out of life’s dreary mire.

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Chapter Three Of Women

A Tear Falls Down a Blade
A million stars spoke to me, By river’s edge. They glittered with hope From the sun’s warming hand. So sweet was her breath, That it filled my life again. Flowers smelled their sweet sense She was the purpose for which all struggle. Waters whispered of such a hard past Hard as the stone walls that protected them. The daffodils wept for all that’s been lost, The lilacs grew strong, for happiness went. The earthen mound falls not to wind, The castle stood for hope’s beautiful day. Good people of the world gathered ‘round her sight, Harsh rains ceased their furious might. A single blade of grass trembled itself, But all around a field grew.

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A Captain in Mine Own Head
Whenever I fall into your eyes, My mind just swims about. Whenever I see through your disguise, The world and I without. Caressed by your thoughts, And I steal a glance. By your smile I am caught, Happy to have had a chance. Your surroundings are melted to water, By the dancing flame of your heart. Taken aback, I stead then falter, Feeling an ache in every part. You look away, to what I don’t care, Upset that it isn’t at me. Then, when I can no longer bare, Your look returns to me. I am a drunkard without his drink, A baby crying to be fed. You, an ocean into which I will sink, A captain in mine own head.

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First Poem
A woman is like a fine bottle of whiskey, Each you’ll enjoy all through the night, Though both will give you a hard time in the morning. Both taste bitter, but they warm your insides, Too much of either and the other looks all the better. Women drive men to drink And drink drives men to women An endless cycle of hell a man always tries to avoid, Yet so easily he slips into again and again.

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From a Humbled Man
No thought, no word, no solace will do here. Oh, how my heart has left me. So precious are you to me. That I value every word I have ever missed, Every unfinished thought that I just let pass by. I wish to comfort you, but I am afraid, Afraid that whatever I do might be too much. You appeared to me in dream, last night. You were sad, but I could not know why. Your innocence brings me to tears, Your kindness my only hope. The world has given me so much, And yet I wish that it were still better. Without sorrow, without grief, without pain and misunderstanding. My heart aches that I am not enough. Enough to keep all that I know from darkness. All that I have to offer is myself. One small embrace to you. If I could never let you go, I would, But I am only one being. There is such truth between us. So noble that I dare not put it to words. Please, make of these thoughts what you wish, Just know that you are my only relief. These few lines that I have to offer, Are all that I have to give.
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Hopefully Brief
A pause in the sickness allows for a breath, Woeful bones do hurtful cry. A maddened man shouts to his feet, But they just walk on by. Fingers creep for a flickering light, The leaves stand still for awhile. Laughter is lost to the wind, Brick walls scratch the dusty air. The immortal feeling has left me human Limits perhaps overreached. Sadness sets in, for the moment. From happiness too we need relief. As I lay with myself, Heavy without friend. Loneliness comes, hopefully brief.

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Lost at Sea
Oftentimes when I feel sad, Things are tough and I feel bad. I want someone to care for me, When I can’t find where I want to be. I don’t know what I want to do, I can’t decide what I want to pursue. My life’s a ship that’s lost at sea, Who’s lost her way and also me. I want to find a comfortable port, Where I can dock and my direction, sort. Where I can stay as long as I please, And always be welcome and not have to leave. Which port, I don’t know where to choose, I feel as if I’m not sure whose. I cannot stay on this boat anymore, I want to land on someone else’s shore.

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Our Mother’s Tears
My friend, not many words will do here, The sands of time have brought us together, We’ve washed ashore on this beach. The noontide brings new faces But on the morrow they will be gone. The fresh smell of life lingers behind. Our mother, she gently weeps for us. She knows of our sorrow, our solitude. So she brings us together. Some of us shine even on through the night, But most of us only dream of those few. Broken shells of the past scatter with each new day, And who will remember this short life? The tides come and go as does time, I will always know the sound of her waves. As she gives you to me and takes you from. We lay beside ourselves in this chaotic break, But from chaos we can meaning take. Love is the power that bound our hearts, Waves only take accidental parts. This eternal truth our unity As we are pulled back to the sea. I am you and you are me, Our soul is immortality.

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One Night
Night, she speaks to me Blowing gently into my ear. Calmed by her quiet state, I listen to a distant hum. The cool air flows over my body Relaxing my tired mind. Cars roll by, carrying people to their fate. They know where they are going now, But where do they go from there? Someone, somewhere is waking up right now, Thinking, “I hope this will be a better day.” Maybe it will, for today, but what about the next? Or the one after that, or the one after that? Eventually it’s going to end, Or will it just start over again? Sometimes it just gets so cold That all the clothes in the world won’t do. Every time I tighten up, I have to relax again, Each time I relax, the cold gets a little bit closer. It builds and builds on your heart. Some call it the coming of age, But I call it the leaving of youth. As I start to accept my end I slowly forget my beginning. Every time I try to remember, a little piece is lost.

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I tell myself that it never existed, But I know that it is forever lost. Even if it was a horrible memory, It was still a memory just the same. Just as much as my other parts.

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Passion
Such is life that women want, Such is life that men desire. Nothing binds the two of time Though vainly tries, their nerves combine. Alive and well that wants desire. Breathing strong fulfills only lungs, Ravenous appetites but satisfy stomachs. Desert thirst is quenched by all wet, And animal sex puts to rest shallow love. But creation, creation answers the soul. Colors abound through artist’s eyes. Stone walls become stairs to rise above. The maker, makes the empty full; The lover loves the badness, Good. And every new day, brings the new sun. Mountains seem old to stale minds, The beauty leaves, routine sets in. Rivers ever last to the finite kind. Freedom is here to all unite, Sadness at ends through thoughts so quiet.

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The Flowers of the After-fall
Touched once by the sun, And even the kindest of caves seem empty. Content but idle stillness, Sits on the shoulders of high peaks. Before, no abyss to deep, Before, no star to far. After no defining sleep, After no meaningless weeps. Bright skies through shining eyes, It could raise not from disguise. Cool winds smooth the earth’s rough edges. Only time will tell between Heaven and Hell. Rays of gold warm in the light, But cold returns despite the fight. Weak befalls no walls of truth, Shadows hide with fear not pride, Shaken in the mind’s eye. Lonely are the sunless lands, When not touched by her lovely hands. She breathes life into this hollow ball, And births the flowers of the After-fall.

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With You in Mind
My wordless one, I miss your nearing smile. Your presence in mind warms me, Comforts me from my cold past. You are my only relief. You breathe life into my still world. Sometimes, my memory of you fades. When my thoughts return to you, It’s as if you had never left. Sometimes I am very sad, Sad at how little I express to you. If I could only say it right, But again my words fail me. If I could paint, I’d paint a starry night of you. If I could sing, I’d sing the song of songs for you. These words, a mere reflection of the reality that you are to me. An unshaken note in the symphony of time, A calm ocean to the mysterious night. My heart sits with the good satisfaction, That you are; somewhere in the world. The everyday seems, A struggle to find you again. It is enough just to have you in mind.

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All Else Is But Soft Rain
(For Amber, my infinity) Heaven to me is milk and raspberries. Although you are still the honey that sweetens my heart. All the madness, All the sadness, All the doubt, All the misgivings, And all the anger and misfortune; These are all but soft rain by you and me. They may glisten on us both from time to time, They may bring a chill, a sickness, or a small misfortune. Yet, there is still warmth that grows between us. Snuggle up with the ones you love, in this moment. For, while the rain is all around you, Even a deep thunder in a distant cloud. You are, where you are, wherever it may be And to me, it’s a wonderful place because…. ….You, are there.

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Storm Surge
The confusion surrounded me like a tornado ripping through a small village. Disoriented, I reached for whatever came my way. Something, anything, I needed to save me from the whirling wind. In the center of the storm was despair and sadness while somewhere else was happiness and security. Why do I have to be caught in this storm when all I want is to be free of it, if only for a brief period? Flashes of it enter my mind, but they leave as quickly as they came. For I cannot get happiness from dreams alone. I must have at least a taste of my desires. What is the point of it all, with no incentive, no goal? Nothing to strive for, nothing to die for. What is to die for? Only love. For it is the only thing that keeps me alive.

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That You Might Live
The roar of a dark crowd, Following my angry speech. The eyes of many-faceted, Upon my every move. A quick glance at the beast I can feel its hot breath. It circles ‘round and ‘round me Coming ever closer to its kill. And at the final moment it pounces Taking whatever it pleases As it tightens its death grip. My energy is long spent So I can do nothing else but give in. My will is broken when it feasts on my heart. One last attempt to resist my lonely fated path. But I cannot, Just as you are taken by my words My soul is taken by your mind. You are the predator and I am your prey And I must die, that you might live.

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What I Cry for You
Tears, that is what I cry for you… Lost like me. Nights too dark, Days like night. Passing suns, past the same; Not too bright the moon. Cloudy grays, some seep the mind, Faceless time, times go the rhyme. Find your way from within, Know your way in without. Evening falls, but rises the dawn. Distant shores tell every secret, Whispered words, tales of truth. Come to the gathering of life, Yet stay the changing self.

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The Mind, The Mind
Our shadows are the same color, When revealed by the truth of the sun. No matter how light our hearts, Our shadows are always dark. Though, when the truth is gone And night sweeps over the day, Some say that there are no shadows, In the realm of darkness. Oh, these blind fools who speak; With no thought of what they say. Just because they do not see The shadows do not mean that they are not there. The sailor rarely sees the moon, Yet he knows it pulls the tides. The farmer rarely sees under the earth, Yet he knows that it nurtures his seeds. The women rarely gets her love from the man, But she knows when he works her love works with him. These things are known, yes, But sometimes in doubt, When the truth is before, And the mind is worn out.

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Of Passing Love in Passing Time
She’s better than platinum or diamonds, She’s my everything. She’s sweeter than tupelo honey, Even angels can’t equate. The finest of jewelry may adorn her way, But they would make a trail of dimmer stars, Cast aside in her golden wake. She moves me such that I may never see, In what sense I move to be. Underneath a ceiling of infinite and blinding stars, Did our love shine ever complete. A second in time had eternity freeze, What happened next was life, and comic relief. A trail of tears between doubt and mistakes, Leads love to be alone, And loneliness awakes. What little hearts surprise, in kingdom awaits. Oh, sweet paradise beyond words, Doubtless all was fate. Free minds arise from men and women’s dreams. Thrown wildly into the cradle of happiness and joy. The waves swelled to crush life and miniscule prayer. Nonetheless hope still does lift more apt than Icarus’ dare.
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Brilliant light beat, in the universe; Almost dashed a fragile glimmer, Yet the earth still rends itself asunder, For power, money, and hunger be yet worse. The mighty people are stubborn with worn belief, And their clothes and morals lie tattered. While evil brings them closer and entreats. Though the sun still rises and does beauty await. A great apology comes not a moment too late. And tranquility, she passes Serenity does not iniquity compensate.

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Most of the Time from A to B
I like to pretend I know what I’m doing, But most of the time I just grin. Such pretense without efficacy feels, As the worst of mortal sins. And then a hand reaches out to me, I am drawn all over by its comfort. Some hands pat you on the back, Or they give you things to say compete. But this is a very special hand. It’s as if you have reached out to me. Delved right through my body and mind, And held up my ailing heart. The icy spots have melted… And innocence drips bittersweet. I have seen the sun mist itself through the morning clouds. The great ball of fire that loves everyone, Returns to those in darkness, even siblings miss their glow. Most of the time I am happy, Most of the time I cherish and grow. When I am touched by this I am speechless. Rather the words pour out like a symphony:
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With trumpets blaring victory. Violins wistfully tend to sadness’ expression, Drums beat loud in anger. Plethoric scales of chorus’s crescendo about, The mouth opens and naught comes out. If this is love it is a strange and wonderful being. Much like warm summer water trickling over and Under a bed of soothing noise in stream. To cry out for it is but human, But to give and receive is truly, divine. So I honor the love received, And with a graceful bow, I believe. One dream is over, yet another just begins Between symphonic euphemisms complete. Disappointment and doubt make a hasty retreat Through love we are all set free.

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Being the Storm
Many times in life such sorrow comes, So as to leave our hearts to themselves. The stormy weather that is this life, Comes to whatever new tomorrow. If I could only be its strength, I’d rain on you. If I could only be its calm, I’d nourish your flowers, I wish so much for their beauty. Whatever grace may lack, I try to make up for by being human, Whenever my charm leaves me, I try to cover my self without weathering. As I look out into this dark, stormy night, I see myself for what good I miss, For what good I work to become. Sadly, it is only I here tonight, And you may never see these words. Because of my past, because of my future: I try to reveal myself for the grandness I might be. For though I am not this storm, I rain and thunder and pour over you tonight. Not because I am sad, not because I am happy; But simply because I am tumultuous, From whatever it is I try to be.
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What is a world without a stormy night? What is a storm without a world to rain upon? It is I the vain poet, who thinks himself a storm And you the world I believe you to be, That rest somewhere under me tonight.

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Chapter Four On Nature

Begin
Through an empty shell, I gazed at the water, And I was one with all of time. I felt myself struggle to come back, The temptation of tranquility. Was far to sweet for my salty inclinations, And I returned from ethereal sight. The weight of the world, Pounding in my head.

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Even Rain
Before me the eyes of a fool, A false perceiver of truth. False that lies within, False that lies without. A rain cloud that invades the sun, But even rain has its use. Falsity the foundation of insecurity, Only madmen dance with the truth. It’s touch is too cold, So cold as to make them feel sane. Only in darkness are they dull. These mere reflections of change. Only in the light do they shine. The stagnant pool of their thought Still as a frozen lake. Delusions of desire fill their hearts . Empty eyes that dwell on probability, Weaken every glimpse of the future, Impede the approach of progress, But even rain has its use.

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Nebulous
I see a sad star Sitting in the night sky Millions of miles away. A light from the past, Piercing my eye The reminder of faded wishes. Could it be a mirror Reflecting the twinkle in my heart? Or a harbinger of what is to come. Shrouded by clouds of gray A gaseous orb burning bright. Slipping from out of sight.

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Of Nature You Will See
The mourning bell tolls only for time, Be not sad or made weary. What of life’s strange design, With it’s somber paths so dreary. Forget not the golden rays of light, Forget not the poignant stars. Ever will you dawn on the night When blackness, whiteness mars. Before noble deeds will fall, The bleak must them entreat. Might be afraid of death’s awe Humility shall be its defeat. Sleepy eyes yield to the sun And dried away are moist tears. But their absence will be on The low shoulders of some fear. Instead must they be the seeds, From which the tree of life sprouts. Of nature you will see, And cast no shadows of doubt.

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Of Water
The sea, the origin of life Protectorate, provider Murderer and divisor. You separate man from man, Forcing us to evolve our individual ways, Then whisper lies into our ears. We hear only with the attention of a child And you expect us to learn? There is a thin line between all things, So thin that it isn’t really a line at all. Just man tries to define it. Putting up boundaries and borders in the name of security. When this is the very thing which we are destroying. Our greatest weakness, loneliness dances with Gentle fingers in the back of our minds. Some say that suffering is the only way in life. That there is only pain and less pain. Maybe they’re right, maybe the only point of our existence Is to hate our creator. These misers and panderers of solitude may be finally right in the end. But until then I will keep on living, Enjoying the pleasure of life. I may never find truth, But I know that it is out there. It lays silently underneath The waves in the vast depths of darkness, waiting to be discovered.
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Only Self Can Self-decree
Open infinite possibility, Crack security’s shell. Hatch the songbird free. Feel the pain of life, Growth. Ask not, what you know is within. Answer to the winds calling. Sail ‘round the world with me, Storms may break all man-made masts, But new can be made-man. Ocean curves, View fantastic, Above a real night. One day, they’ll know how true you are. All true we try, Human with, Mistakes, missteps, Rhythm? It hurts, why did it leave? Ah, but see it never left, Our rhythm does not quiet. My words were wrong you felt it right, In life now go apply it. Your inner song will never go, Sing through disharmony. Hard, it was for me to show, Against my rhythm’s lead.
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The Sound
The ebb and flow of thought, Gravitated by ideas. The tides come in and the tides go out, Taking and leaving at whim. Their whim is the way of the world Protests are harshly ignored. Without water there is nothing, space. Now is the time for change. For movement into the future of energy, From the tidal pool and into the sea we must go.

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Sand Not Smooth
Falling rain from wishful eyes, Knows not of its self-demise. From within sets the moon, Only stays the cloud too soon. Teary blades the morning raise, Wakeful thins, clear night’s daze. Cool, calm, heated waters, Even soothes the steady falter. Shortness comes from minds too tall, Balance works when large and small. Take the path that leads to low, Suffer yourself and grow the grow. Horizon’s too high for human reach, Keep us on this gritty beach. Float me back from high to low, Bring me back from heaven’s woe.

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Up
To the one whose time is told, The one of infinite ends. May every day be, Your self renewal. May every day end with tomorrow’s beckoning. As the wind that blows over mountainous heather, As the tides that roll over sea’s edge, As a child filled with wonder, Thus will you be the sun, To every new day. Birds have sung before you, Though shadowed by your sight, With the love of a summer’s morning, And the clarity of a winter’s night. Cast down the chains of the physical world, Rise to the freedom of your imagination. Make all your ideals real to perceive, Give vastness to those trapped inside. The brevity of your breath is past, The quickness of your heart is now. The golden future is in your mind. Bide by the sands of ending time.

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The Treasure
The empty pool fills with grief, Only by the living weep. The human soul, a lonely man Waits for the end, a tiring stand. The madness of the daylight noise, Breaks the night from cloudless shores. Echoes of the vast and deep. Murmurs forth from eternal sleep. What of the dawn of life, What of this lasting strife? Ancestral peaks hold towards the morrow, Lasting long, bending sorrow. And in the new sun, a child is born, Of no past, of no present is the future worn. From the heart of woe rises love in embers Forever suffering until remembered. Only will the quiet fade, As fortune falls to sadness’ aid. The war of peace rests tumult fight, And the nothing goes to oversight. Take these words from out within, Be blessed to live so brief with end.

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The Fountain of Youth
The soul is the eternal spring of life, A constant flow of energy which can never be contained. Though seemingly it dies, it only changes form. A soul can be found in a flower or faun, Or on the face of a friend in a distant thought. Soul cannot be found in a rock or mountain, But one can see that it’s outstretched arms have touched it. Soul can be found in a quiet rain, or the smell of the ocean teeming with life. In some places it is abundant like deep in the rainforest, In some places it is not like the middle of the desert. It’s not necessarily wherever life is because it remains unseen in a bustling city. It can be found in a painting or a cry of death. A whole gamut of forms equal in beauty. The source of all this beauty is in the heart. “What does a soul look like? I want to see it’s beauty,” you say. Just lose yourself in the eyes of those around you.

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Chapter Five On Children

Before the Stars
Eternal children sleep well through the night, Old you will not grow no matter where winds go. The fresh breath of some god in all of us, At the day’s end all woes must mend. The stars roll back wet blankets soft, Purple clouds may turn to gray. Innocent pink rests somewhere in the distance, Her felt presence though in absence. Lonely lights flicker on mountainsides, Waiting for some who might never come. Relax your tears from hearts wonder, Secure despite your fright. The tree of life grows in all of us Green, blues, and azure hues. Together in nature’s cradled arms. Forms lie silhouetted by amber lines. And when the starry nights smile a moon upon you, Forget not to look above, remember you know love.

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Through Torturous Weep
With learning one must be as a child, With fighting one must be as the lion, With living one must be as a flower. While the hand of suffering may grip our heart, The burning passion of freedom, Fades not to eternal darkness. Powerful oppression trembles at the sight of truth, For in this light only its own arms are bound. As the songbird of flowing time, Breathes on the edge of night. As the setting sun drops to its feet, The hope of tomorrow dreams, Through torturous weep.

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Chapter Six On Stuff

The Light Overcome by Darkness
The sun was fair and true, A tempest of golden hues. Observed by a wandering man, Was the golden god of the lands. So kind was this nomad of thoughts, That himself was all that he sought. Caught by the beauty of the light, He looked ‘round for anyone in sight. Alone he understood its plight, How could it live through the dark of the night? For the dark was cruel and jealous, And took the day to be over zealous. The golden god then touched the nomad, And smelted a flaming adder. (The adder’s bite is impotent where blind men sit content.) Though the wanderer was killed by its venom, Smote was his solitary kingdom. When he awoke he could see only darkness, Seemingly in the deep abyss. Into the light his body had morphed, By this the abyss was dwarfed. The man became sad by the fact That his memories had remained intact. He looked to the dark and shed a tear,
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The end of his travels was near. The tear then dropped to the flame, And thus was the light overcome. The moon hung cold and blue, Gone every golden hue.

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The Pointless Pen
Such sorrow when the world is left to itself. Without joy without vibrant relief. When the glimmering rays of hope dance with finality. When the emptiness of time sets in. The loneliness of the human soul, the greatest voice beseeched. Imprinted by edgy surroundings, the brightest of lights gone dim. The happiness of some tomorrow lingers, Up on great mountainous peak. While the worried few of yesterday sleep. The valley of sadness wakes from within, It’s music ever so brief. Day by day the passing storm passes into itself again, The rhyme unwinds, the patterns go, And meaning is but a dream.

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The Purposeful Riddle
Am I but a dream materialized, That goes into itself again? Are you but a reflection of me, That mimics my every mood? If the world is truth perfected, Is that the meaning then? Though the weary brow of morning shakes, Me, to my every wake. Who is what for me to why, And how am I to wonder when?

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On Writing
Hardly, write not compensates, Good nor pure, communicate Armorplated, Suffocates. Grows to big for any gates. Faster, larger, cannot shrink, Spreading more with farther links. Weakly penned ink; Spiral sinks, Feeling goes at sunny wink. Failure always never there, Going, looking, everywhere. “Compare,” two dared, Other scares. Dying from the self-caused tear.

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Simply Put, 77437
Hardly, write not compensates, Good nor pure, communicate Armorplated, Suffocates. Grows to big for any gates. Faster, larger, cannot shrink, Spreading more with farther links. Weakly penned ink; Spiral sinks, Feeling goes at sunny wink. Failure always never there, Going, looking, everywhere. “Compare,” two dared, Other scares. Dying from the self-caused tear.

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You Cannot Resist
I am the pied piper And you must follow me. I cannot tell you where we are going, But you must believe in me. My tune will reach into your head And sing its song of power. Of tunes like this you must beware, Though you’ll be apt to follow. Now we have come to this gate, The guardian of this truth. And you must not be afraid, Because fear is the breeder of untruths. You have fallen into my trap, And now you are under my control. I told you that you could not resist, And now you are but a fool.

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The One and the Many
There is but one rule in this dream, Death. When eternal sleep awakens to the throes of infinity. The strangest of realities, False. The light within, our only Truth. The windows of time and space spin quick By dissolute senses. Energy from forth itself A constantly diminishing growth. For but one to understand, Shadowed by the brightness of many. A starry constellation at once, The beginning and end of Almighty God. As the knees of religion, but fall before Its piousness Myth, Its belief, but Ritual.

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The Blue Note
Depthless things, engendered rhymes, Harmony but, some discord lies. Symphonic waves crash discord walls, Screaming sighs at relief’s wide. Up and down no patterned song, Horrible sounds yet notes revered. Timing from a broken clock, Singing chimes at quiet’s ear. Voices undone reveal the plight, Yet take me on from suffering’s sight. Tragedy stopped the future’s might, And builds the past through present night. Unwinding paths of no accord, Unite the winded, fallen swords. Flags from weighty straightened beats, Dancing round with tired feet. Music comes from instruments, Creation makes instruments feat. Play with worlds and play with life, Fragile steps with being’s strife. Compose yourself, perfect your scheme Then others will see how the orchestra seams.

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Chapter Seven On Freedom

A Message of Peace
Today I discovered the keys to unlocking the secrets of the universe. The first key: Open yourself completely to possibility. The second key: Understand that you are finite The third key: Accept, that you are not alone. With these three keys, anything you desire can be attained. It is important that you love unconditionally. Although this is not a key, it is important to your happiness and your fulfillment. You can believe in any god you wish, yet know that God exists without dependence upon your belief. You are loved dearly, no matter how small or imperfect you feel. You are loved by many, though given the due course of life; it will not always seem as if this was so. In these moments of what feels like total desperation, relax! Be yourself. You are at once a gift to others, and a gift unto yourself. This is the true beauty of the universe, it is the beauty of all things. It is the beauty of all people. So…dance and sing and love and shop and work and enjoy…passion is the flame of all hope, its power is within us all. Oh yes, and do remember to have a sense of humor once in a while! All seriousness can be silenced by one FART.

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Ellis Island
You say there isn’t a chance, You say that we’ve left no more hope. How can we all live together, How can all of us cope? With our overwhelming differences. Blind are we to the commonality. Blind are we to everything we share. But there is no need to be so blind. We have seen a glimpse of what is to come. When all forms of life can live together. Where harmony triumphs over discord, And all humans remember being only this. The future begins to unfold And only a few are remiss. On the front porch of America, Was the whole world once welcomed. Once we were so sure of unity. What was it that we’ve forgotten?

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Ode to Joy
The stars reflect to us the unlimited possibilities Which we can behold. To bathe in their glory is infiniteness, everlasting. Nothing to hold us back except for reality. They are the eyes of God, The window to the soul of the universe. The eyes of man are the windows to his soul, The stars are the windows to the soul of the universe. To understand this, even if only for a second Is to become immortal. After that second is over We are dead, But the thought of immortality will forever burn in our hearts.

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Protector of the Tree
You and I, we were from different times. Life brought us merrily together, And we shared our respective rhymes. Everyone has a rhyme, poem, or song. Yours was a soldier’s song of war, And mine was the rhyme of the young. You taught me pride in my country, The place you fought to protect, With an army of leaves around this tree. You told me of your brothers, Each one a fallen leaf, Who fell for one another. I listened with wide eyes, While you recalled the beach at Normandy And remembered those fiery skies. Although you may have gone, A piece of you remains with me, A memory of songs undone. Now, when I hear the warrior’s tale, Through the crowded noise of a room

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Spoken Softly
Alone in a crowded room Where friendly faces smile. Who has what to say, But the quiet call of the next. Whispers of ideas past, And shouts of what is to come. Yet no one will listen. The madman made of false hopes, Spins his lies of truth. Only those who forget, Can bear the weight of his reason. Afraid of doubting eyes, His tongue rolls on edge. Towers stand too tall to see, From street-side calls abrupt. Pale expressions etched in stone, Of a lost bird in forever flight. No tear will drop from heavy minds, While self does itself decree. Tired feet drag on past, Wet from nature’s path. Dropped are skins outgrown, But kept are they besides. And what of this half of man, Which starry nights forgive. Guarded by a sleeping watchman, Without gotten regard to time.
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The Walk Towards Freedom
To those who attempt to beguile freedom, To those who wish to assuage the pursuit of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, There can be no litigation with God. You may be the purveyors of might, fortune and assimilation, Yet there is still a world which is beyond all reach. Truth is an idea that is so noble, that one may only be ever close to it. It is the light that shines through us to illuminate darkness both within and without. The halls of justice may be ever swayed by money and power. For although the lady is but blind to grievance and emotion, Her balance yet tips by shekel’s weight. Be skill ever tempestuous to overcome misfortune, And balance your word’s and actions before the judge of all humanity. There can be no favor to balance corrupted scales. Almighty hands do not tip the fulcrums energy, Unfairly to pure or impure eyes. Be it ever noble the soul that lifts others from the dusty tyranny of sorrow and oppression. Be it ever graceful that a smile shines to those in need. Equality of all humanity, will not be a dream any longer. People are at once, all a great and terrible family, Just as your own mothers, sisters, brothers, fathers, and children.
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For a great King laid down on the altar of freedom, And the noblest of men was extinguished as a beacon of hope To those who are blind to color. Once a dream, now reality. Reality, may be ever broken towards entropy. Boldness still rises in youthful minds to fix it. The future swells like an ancient tide, on the bow of lady Liberty. And the wheel is turned by tiny, playful hands And the gift of innocence needs no security from contempt. As a child that goes to the yellow bus of learning to wave and smile; to return wistful, happy and bubbling over with joy. So goes freedom to the dark places of the earth, beneath the waves of tyranny and destruction. Many have been lost to the waves of nature, fear, war, poverty, and disease. The thieves and knaves steal bloody lives in greed. They are with us! Not the thieves and knaves, I’m telling you it’s the good ones! Right there in your heart, they are still with us all. They would lift our heads now, and comfort dismay. They would say, “It was we who were lost, not you!” They would wipe our tears and hold us and smile. “I love you more than life itself,” they would say to their children.

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We are here, we are now, we are strong, we are empowered, we are loved, we are free, and there will always be hope with the new little ones. WE ARE THE PEOPLE! America is not perfect and many answers are still to come. Neither father, nor mother be America from shore to shore. It’s people are ALL people, and the infant freedom has taken but a few tiny steps and fallen. Let it pick itself up again. From a mother’s words of wisdom, “If you are upset, the baby will be upset.” And so it is with all who are learning to walk!

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