Why when your clothes get snagged on a pin
Do you pull and unravel the thread?
You tug and you tug but you can’t win
Like unraveling the thoughts from his head

He is not a simple man, like he so thinks he is
He is preternatural, aberrated, rare
Yet calls himself a freak of his
own nature, oh how I despair

You cannot see me in the bright that I see you
I’m worried you may see me in a glare
Though one day I hope for you to see who
I am and why the other boys stare

Feeling lost at presence
with a broken heart
mourning for the losses
at a devastating sight
drowning into
a deep sink-level
of the body wash
carrying with a
heavy burden weight
bringing tears to flow
in an emotional stage
with life barrier
whisper in grief
embracing with helpless
words have no form
are falling from the lips
with a heartbeat race
at an excruciating fright
in asking for help
to shed a light
of guidance
for peace and
forgiveness

It's a lovely day
Springtime is on its way
Azalea ‘red slippers’ is in full bloom
Monarch flutters by in all its majesty
Hardworking bumblebees are busy pollinating.

Springtime is busy with life
I hear bumblebees are friendly and won't get agitated if you pet it
Are they flying pandas?
The black monarch bounces from bloom to blossom
pollinates and brings balance to our ecosystem
Springtime brings fun time after the winter blues

Does there exist a special place
Somewhere safe in time and space
For poems started, bright with thought,
But never finished? Well, there ought
To be an orphanage for verses
Whose forward motion struck reverses
And never quite became complet…

Too troubled to speak he grabbed pen and paper — this
in the days before nearly everything everyone was connected interlocked
chained together in the air the ether — and let words flow
words of angst pain rage from the tips of his fingers onto the page

Before Alexa and Siri were with a spoken word available at beck and call
to summon a musical mood or answer a nagging query
the words said there’s nothing to be said that hasn't been said
no matter what you've read original thought is dead

I had lost a child just five days before,
a stillbirth, and so, time was already meaningless.
Hours bled into each other, and heavy thoughts
settled around me like a fog - cold and empty.

And then came such irrational news that December evening.
Dakota.
Shots fired.
The Catcher in the Rye.
Lennon, dead.

April again, and back home the snow lilies must be bursting out of the ground.
The crisp New York air must be beginning to warm, the lake just barely starting to turn over thousands of feet below the rocky beaches.
Back home, I know the daffodils must be in full bloom, dotting across the lawn like freckles, yellow and orange and golden in the spring sun.

“You drowned me and I forgot to water you”
The last thing you said to me before you left
For the last time
And my friends still ask who
Are you and why
I am the way I am

I gave you my all
And im sorry that your lush roots liked mine shrivelled

Our future grows within us
like leaves upon a tree.
Look beyond your finite view
into eternity.
Cast aside your paradigmn
open your eyes to see.
The truth as it exists,
in tommorrows yet to be.
Give your hopes and dreams
the power to suceed.
Release the gift within your heart
and bless humanity!
The time is here and now
to make a firm decree!
To make the most of what you have
be all that you can be!

what a life of a man'
amidst of thorns
as he journey afar
on a mission of provision
crossing rivers and miles
Lonely and never looks back
claws tearing him apart
he fixes the pieces back
want to cry but in silence
chills up in public
oh' what a life of a man.