A poem is never finished, it is simply left abandon.

and this scares me because I know that no matter how many times I go back and edit that beautiful clump of words, I know that it will never be perfect. And I will NEVER finish it. I poem will go on forever, because it is worth more then what the mouth can speak. and more then the brain can learn.

No body knows!

No body knows I call you baby
No body knows what we do when their not around
No body knows that you are my biggest regret
And no body even knows my name with out you
These past couple months here with out you they have been hell
And you tried to get me back but I don’t want that
I would rather screw my fucking life up
Then to ever screw you!
And guess what…no body knows
Why? Because I let you back in my life
...And it was a mistake that no body knows.

Journal Writing

Its love passion hate anger fear and the world all put into little words and entries.
You journal is something that not even you are in control of
The words transfer from your brain down your arm and come out onto the paper through the pen.
You cant mess up you journal, because it is your heart and you cant ever mess up your heart.
We write when we are helping someone get through something
And when we are going through something and the paper is the only thing there for you
We right it times of frustration and in times of love
We write in times when we just simply have nothing better to do. But most of all,
We right for the greater being of ourselves.

My three other blogs (Tumblr)

http://lifeofapoet.tumblr.com/
http://lovethewayhe.tumblr.com/
http://for-the-rainy-days.tumblr.com/

She wasn’t the same since her grandmother died

It was almost like her soul died when Barb did

Like there was nothing left of her but actions and silent cries

You see they did this Santa thing every year

On Thanksgiving they would bring their grandma a Santa

You know the porslin ones that you can stick on your table

Sooner or later about twenty Santas were carried down from the attic every year

And another was added

They called it the Santa parade

They took a picture with the Santas for their Christmas card

And then placed them all around the house until new years came around

But this year, you see grandpa said no more Santas

He said it was a waist of space and it would bring back too many memories

Until mom and dad said “hey, go get the Santas”

Oh she went un in that attic and saw the line up of tiny men all across the shelf

As a tear hit her foot and a scream filled the house, she swiped all of them off the shelf

And with one whip of her arm they were all gone

Shattered into tinny little bits and pieces

Never to be restored

And grandma looked down at her from above

She gave her a smirk and started to cry as well

Flash backs arose and things started to shift

Her eyes became so fogged with her tears that she couldn’t even see in the double vision her eyes intended her to see

She sprinted out of the house down to the corner to find the man with the booze

And she was gone

Cuts

You know that feeling when you want to do it?

But you haven’t done it in so long

You cant

But you have to

But you wont

You’re afraid of what they will think

Your friends

And then you count them and realize…

You don’t have many

And they don’t care

And then you think…

And you don’t care either

For life or hope

And then you count the reasons you are on either

And you cant come up with many

So you start to cry and dig your nails

Dig deep into that thick skin

As if you could pretend in your mind for just a little bit

That those nails, they were a knife

That those scratches, they were taking your life

And those tears, they were just a reminder that he was worth every drop of blood

And then you open back up your eyes and see…

Nothing has changed

And you are still living

Your arms are not harmed and he is still not there with you

So you start to cry more

And slowly your every breath gets shorter and shorter

And then all you can see is black

Dark black

In the darkness of the night you slowly lay your temperate body on top of mine.

Our tongues intertwine and slowly our DNA begins to conversant.

Buttons fly across the room and the moist feeling gets deeper.

Profound pictures are snapped as the screams get louder

Subterranean penetration, faster and faster and faster

Until…..

Ahhhhhh

Done

Damn sun caught me in the dark.
Aint’ got no excuse but out here goin’ slow at eighty.
Traveled too far to go back now.
But the pen has become my rehab
And the air is my freedom.
It’s a lifestyle and you can’t ever turn back on those.
But from here you just gotta keep goin’ and hold your all.
You must never turn back on your own paved path.
Love thy every small detail and don’t let no one get in the way of you and your dreams.