Rest well,

in my eyes, I see you sweetly-


Dream of me,

I dream of you.

Without the words,

it would still be true.

Tell me a secret,

I’ll whisper repetition.

Words kissing softly at your ear.

The gentle caressing wind wakes you.

You’re without me, and I without you.

But, dream sweetly.

Im singing this lullaby from my end.

Maybe it’s gentle tune will carry to your bedside

so that you may sleep soundly.



Let me find the words

that a moment ago

were obscure and unheard.

My relief has come flooding back.

Two lovers, two poets, a pair in a pack.

Insecurity beset me,

but you followed through,

your promises met me.

For a moment, a darker time came,

showing a side of me better off slain.

You kept your word,

and were so still,

quite and sure,

while I was insecure.

But color is filling my face,

a frown replaced,

with instead a smiling mouth taking it’s place.

I’ve regained composure, 

and my truer part is showing

letting me shine,

soon I will be glowing.

My heart has been lifted

by kind gentle hands,

and I am truly confident

that stronger I can stand.

Never again,

will I let this doubt hurt me,

because it is the betrayal

of a kind heart which was trusting.


Grandfather Clock

You stand majestically ticking,

Grandiose in your booming voice,

Grandfather, tell me what you’ve seen.

You’ve been leading time ancestrally,

In the time of my fathers,

And my father’s mothers.

Your chipped surface

Ingrained with memory.

From whence you were a young sapling.

What days have you seen?

Were you once a tree?

Are you not one, but many?

Your hands are moving,

Shaping our lives.

Will you be kind to us?

Or only show us lessons of trial?


Your ticking slows.

Have you known time so long

That even in your face it looms,

Slowly stretching, like a shadow at dawn?

Boom- goes your voice,

The time has struck twelve,

The stage is now empty,

And the audience sits under a spell.

Grandfather please,

Don’t stop your count,

We’re waiting for the moments,

Give us another sound.


Skin [obsession]

Smooth skin,

After a shower

And after the night.

Have you ever felt it before,

In the morning light?




It draws you in.

As you trace each curve.

Going further into warmer territory,

Where you can find the smoothest skin.

Spread like a canvas,

Painting each emotion from each individual finger.

From angel wings, to sweeter things.




It gives a warmer feeling than drinking hot chocolate by the fireplace

Whilst it is winter outside.

Warmer and more cozy than a blanket in the morning.

Hips-the cradle. Emanate warmth.

The core of the woman,

Fertile hearth.

Have you ever felt such skin?

That draws you in?

It becomes an obsession,

Something akin.



Even though there are sorrows,

My heart is still singing,

The tears which were stinging

Are now dry.

I am reviving In this night.

I am a flower which blossoms by the moons tender gaze,

All that which frays, is windswept away.

I am joyous,

Filling with life,

I breathe in the air,

And thank the heavens for my might.

I can live once again,

Under the star streaked sky,

With a never ending gaze,

Of endless delight.

I cannot explain,

This sudden surge  of vitality,

Flowing through my veins,

Awakening my mentality.

I am alive,

Awake as I have ever been,

And I can breathe in this essence,

Asking me to thrive.


A satire of a banquet[A mock of it's guests]

The table has been set,

the lights have been dimmed,

so set to your seats and let the banquet begin.

There’s lies a carved turkey, bold and prudent in dares,

that our dearest hunter, set out to despair,

He is a mirror of it’s image, the despiration at peace,

that while out on the hunt, he will find the his last piece.

So Set it to rest and lets move on, to ours scrumptious peers who have contributed the best.

Next is the madame, who brought the finest of wines, that her vices are objects, that only the finest may dine.
So of course she drowns herself in the sins of her past, 
that requited they are, in the very tall glass.

Now i ask if you see the woman in red, only the deepest scarlett, to fight off the dreads.
Now she and the general, have had an affair, that after each meal, they hardly can’t care.

However, the general, our next important advent, is married to Ms. marie who in sales, is quite the event.
Se shells things by the bucket, mainly diamonds and quartz, But she fails to see, she’s lost her husband’s many hearts.

So listen to the chatter and the ringing of the glass, 
and let the wine be poured by the acclaimed of each class,

They’ll sit and they’ll listen, to each of their storie’s, 

until the end of the night, where they’ll be under glory.


A tease [ The challenge]

Do I make you burn, with emblazoned desire?

Do you crave my body, even when you’re tired?

Am I the only one, you want to lie in your bed,

For various actions, or reasons foresaid?

Is my tongue clever,

Enough to get you riled.

My temptations sly-

Concealed and unwired.

I laugh and I smile,

Mischievous and wild.

Quick witted in this moment,

serpentine desire.

Will you ask for more,

Of clever words,

of supple body,

and passion galore?

Or should I continue,

To draw you in,

With worded seductions,

Partial sin?


Tell me my dear, am I too much?

I’m having fun. I hope you are too.

Theme for English B-My voice

She said,

Write a poem in this style…

But what it said to me was,

Write your truth


I’ve never been my age.

Seventeen and previous were always just numbers to count the days.

In a numerical sense, seventeen years count to many days,

But time-wise, it’s a short while I have been on this earth.

I’ve lived in three places in this nation,

California, Florida, and finally Oklahoma.

Each place dividing the vast continent into thirds.

The world is vaster still, but the familiarity of these places has confined me.

In my solitude, I learned many things about myself- about others- about the world.

Many people might think the greatest discovery of the three is that of the world, but, in fact, the greatest discovery you can make, is that of yourself.


I know I’m different, my body tells me so.

I know my abilities and incapability’s.

I know my passion, (my heart is in my piano.)

My veins bleed music and longing.

I have two voices, one heard and unheard.

It’s not always my voice people hear and my words rarely make sense.

I have potential, and, like a human being, I am often afraid.

But such matters aren’t the ones that worry me now.

Like any human being striving to fulfill the potential of his/her existence,

I have come to realize that there is nothing to fear but fear itself.

And fear is not knowing.


I know things, but I don’t really know anything at all.

Through knowledge, I only gain more questions.

The more I go on, I feel that I may never find an end to seeking wisdom.

And while I’m on this journey, my loved ones are distant,

In the path of danger.

Yet as much as I try, I can’t open my heart.

I have only speculations of what might happen if I let people see me feel.

And even though my voice only lets me speak in broad generalizations,

Through carefully chosen words, this assignment has been fulfilled and a second unheard voice heard.*


* An old assigned piece from my senior English class.










One year means nothing when you didn’t spend it wisely,

when you haven’t changed for anything,

when you’re still the same person.

There is a feat in one year,

when you can say you stayed the same,

but if you’re looking for change and “seniority”

one year is all the same.

“The biggest change happens inside.”


If you are arrogant and assert dominance,

you probably don’t deserve the respect you’re claiming.

One year can change so many things,

but if you expect time to just change you,

without your making a move,

things will stay the same.

So don’t be surprised if I still pass you by.

21 hours with you on my mind

I won’t say I miss you,

That might be too forward,

But I’ll ask for a kiss,

After all, you are missed.

21 hours,

A very long day,

So why am I here writing this?

Who knows? Can’t quite say.

8 of those hours were spent travelling,

5 of them with precious dreams unraveling.

I think it’s suffice to say that you were on my mind,

Saying lovely words,

In a dream of time.


Now I am,

Driving home in the late hours,

Which pass by like sand.

So I sit here, before an astral screen,

Writing words, which in the morning,

I hope you’ll read.


The trick is(Lie every time)

And here was the story,

if you dare to see,

there laid he,

there laid me.

An embrace of iron

and grins of lies.

So the only trick was “Lie every time”

I cannot bear,

to speak the truth.

How dare I escape, my underlying ruse.

So there we lay,

under a blanket of lies

Unfortunate to say, the love (quickly) died.


A statement of a statement[Reservation]

My body is exhausted,

It needs another dose of you.

Hosting life,

And grand adventures,

Guiding fools with folly,

Misguided young ones

Which sit under holly.


A moment to rest,

But the night is empty

Without you by my bed.

It seems I can only reach you,

 through dreams or spilling ink.

But I’m much too focused to go to sleep,

So writing in ink it shall be.

When you say you are lonely,

My dearest gentleman,

It makes me reply,

“I wish I could be there, us only.”

Because though I may be away,

Im never far from mind.

Let me return each touch and thought in kind.

You’re distracting all my thoughts,

Leaving me to wonder,

“I wonder what you think,

about, this, this, and that.”

Do you mind it when I give a little tit for tat?

I wonder if you know, that I like pool too,

And the smell of a bar,

Is familiar to my rule.

I don’t mind cigarettes, though I don’t smoke and drink

I’m familiar with the culture,

Afterall, it’s a part of me.

I can enjoy each moment,

Regardless of time, place and status,

I can be reckless,

But for the most part I’m quiet.

I live each day with eager open eyes,

Beholding to the beauty,

With you by my side.

I wonder if you think I’m crazy,

When I talk about silly things:

Objects, and matters,

Questions and dares.

Do you care?

I hope you can enjoy,

My inquisitive nature,

And quite solemn moments,

Spent in emotional trembles.

There’s quite a bit to me,

Though it seems like just a little,

But lets sit down at the table,

Share a story, or a nibble.

I would love to have you listen,

And I would love to have you share,

Though it seems that for this night,

The table wasn’t there.

I must have been waiting, to a different moment and occupation,

Though I hope you know,

We have a pending reservation.

I have the menu,

Just not the dishes.

Though word of advice,

The chef fulfills wishes.

So my dear,

The candle is still lit,

and im waiting,

while biting my lip.

This was heartfelt,

Though mainly cleverly writ.

I hope you found it amusing,

And sincere in every bit.


I think I get it.

When you’re with that person,

you forget about everything else.

You forget why you’re shy.

You forget your self-induced lies.

You remember to smile,

You don’t get tired after endless miles.

You can enjoy the silence,

in quiet balance.

Or maybe it’s not about forgetting,

because when you forget, there’s the possibility of remembering.

Maybe it’s that you can be honest.

There’s no need to hide.

You release all sighs.

You open your mind.


I think thats it.

At least a part of it.

Just a small bit.

-L. [R.S.L.S]

I want-

I want to hear you breathing,

And feel your chest while it is heaving.

I want to be there next to you,

while you are soundly sleeping.

I want to see your face,

While you’re far away dreaming.

Does it twitch into a smile

From the lovely gentle feeling?

I would like you here next to me,

While I am drowsily fading,

Into another world,

While listening to what you’re saying.

I want you to feel my hair,

Which you so much desire

Feeling the curls uncoil,

While they’re slipping through and  you smile

Is it as soft to you as it is to me,

While I’m lying here in bed,

Sleeping soundly?

But more than anything,

I want us to be together.

Whether sleeping or dreaming,

Whether writing or speaking.

As long as it is the same instance,

It is peace which I’ll be feeling.


Why are beautiful people sad?

They are the lucky ones.

Everyone wants them.

We don’t get a second glance, though I’m glad to be spared from certain matters which are lain at the feet of said Beautiful People.

Why are they sad?

Some Beautiful people are hideous in some instances, and maybe even hideous all together because of their Beauty which has made them vain and arrogant.

Beautiful people,

They know they’re privileged.

Some abuse that power, while others are ashamed and prefer to remain humble and quiet.

Humble, quiet, Beautiful people, I love you, and I wish you would see how Beautiful you are because of it.

Vain, arrogant, Beautiful people, I wish you would see how hideous you truly are and I hope someday you’ll be terrified of the unrecognizable image before you. Who are you? When you abuse the privilege, you are nothing.

Other people, if you would let yourself see you image as something beautiful you eventually become it. There are worthy things to every person.

And someone, somewhere, loves you because of it. 

It’s just the waiting for it to come true that gets to us.

It’s easy to lose hope in current circumstance. But really, you mustn’t. 

It takes time. And really, time is all there is.


Things would be so much easier if everyone was just honest and true to their intentions.