incomplete

 you are my sunrise and sunset.

Time only exist as a count down till I can see you.

Birds singing is natures way saying our names. 

I tell myself that throughout time and all of human existence, I'm forever thankful to live in the same time as you. 

The stars were aligned the night we crossed paths. 

A once in a millennia event for a soul like mine. 

I now understand the power and sadness of the word love.

 Thank you. 

Stupid wishes

 I wish I could write you a poem that would change how you feel for me, but there aren't enough metaphors that would make me worth reading. 

I wish I could show you a how beautiful you make my world, but there arent enough flowers in the world to that could make up for the barren desert between us. 

I wish I could build you a symbol of my love, but it would only be left empty and collapse in the next life time. 

I wish I could discover a constellation and name it after you. So I can tell the world the story of how you brought Devine love to earth just for me, but every star eventually burns out. 

I wish I could paint my soul for you to display on your wall, but who would bother seeing such a sad thing. 

I wish I could say I enjoy all the feeling you have shown me, but this is a pain I didn't think was possible. 

I wish you never experience the love that I do. 

rewrite of a old poem from 2012

 Tonight I came across a beautiful woman asking for my opinion on a sad situation. 

All I could do was give her advice that I would never be able to follow, if repeated back to me. 

After this sad attempt at human connection ended, I noticed I felt cold and apathetic.

Not very long ago I would have been inspired to write about this beautiful woman and her romantic predicament. 

How she is too perfect for such mistreatment. 

A poem that would likely never reach her, and if by some cosmic chance my words did. 

She would not connect the perfect specimen my poem is describing as being her, and she would be correct. 

Because the poem I would have written based on this flawless woman.

 It would not be her, but rather a fictional character I conceived.

 Based on nothing more than a few minutes of dialog, sad eyes, perfect half smile, tears running down her left cheek, and the pastel colored clouds that scattered the skyline as our backdrop.

 If this poem was ever written and found, I predict she would not see herself in the words I used to paint her.

 The women who truly inspires me has never existed anywhere but in my hopeless romantic imagination. 

After this encounter has passed and I'm alone with the memories of half formed relationships, unreciprocated love, and basic heart break.

 I was reminded of how much I miss writing poems for women that do not exist. 

Stringing along carefully selected words that bring me false hope. That maybe one day my poetry and the love I place in these words would find a home in someone willing to interpret and accept them as their own.

Tonights rant.

As I write this, you and all your beauty are no more than a few feet away. I feel a connection now but once the song has ended and the sun has resin I'll be reminded how far apart from each other we really are. The thought of never being one with you is not as painful as my words would lead to believe. I know I would only corrupt the virtue I see in you. I have made you a unattainable goal for which all others will be compared to and fall short of at no fault of their own. I assume I want the tragic ending I convinced myself that my love life will possess. I just want to hand pick "The one who slipped away" even if you never realized it. So till the bleak future becomes my present, I'll cherish all the "maybe's" and "what if's" I only believe to be true, All your smiles and songs sang I tell myself you intended for me, Every platonic hug and peck on the cheek that I wish meant more. I'll cherish it all and blow the sentimental value way out of proportion until it crashes down on me and the reality of letting you pass me by sets me up for the lonely, miserable, and tragic ending I always told my self make the best stories.

Random Thoughts about a Girl I just met.

Last night while at a concert I met a beautiful woman who told me that she just found out she was cheated on and is heart broken. We spoke for only a few minuets about her situation, she was more in a rush too go over and confront the "bastard" I recommended that she stay level headed and do nothing that will get her arrested. She had a look on her face that said she could careless about reason or logic she was running off pure emotion and passion. After she stormed off with her friends in the direction of the "bastards" home I turned around and walked back in to the venue and enjoyed the rest of the show. All the while I kept thinking about this young woman's situation and the advise I gave her, Which led me to think of my self at that age. I would have done the same thing and the advise I would have given back then would surely get you arrested and likely leave the scene with a few cuts and bruises on face and knuckle's. On the other end of this story after giving such bad advise and coming across such a beautiful woman I would have been inspired to write a poem about the situation and how she is too perfect for such mistreatment. A poem that she would never read or hear and even if she did she would not have connected the perfect specimen my poem is describing as being her and she would be correct too do so. For the poem I would have written about the perfect woman I just met would not be of her but nothing more than a fictional character I concocted based on a few minuets of dialog, sad eyes, perfect smile, tears on her left cheek and the skyline as my back drop. If this poem was written she would not connect to the person for who it is intended cause she never existed anywhere but in my hopeless romantic imagination. After all those thoughts passed I was reminded of how much I miss writing poems for women that do not exist, just to give my self some hope that one day my poetry and the love and hope I place in them would find a home in anyone willing too hear them and except them as their own.

a source of my insperation.

http://streetsy.com/ this a great site for fans of street art. check it out.

Rant :(

I sometimes feel as if I dont rant enough. Now I know to some any rant is tomuch but looking back at how much I use to say with no substance and How little I say now when my words now posses much substance, I feel I should rant as much as possible just to make sure the world not only hears me but that time does not forget me. I talk, rant,vent, mumble,write,paint,and creat not for my self or others but for time and space to have a piece of me and what I was capable of doing. Come the new year this blog or another will expand almost daily and along with that so will my writing skills, So I hope. To much focus was being put on poetry and not basic writing so it made it difficult to produce on a regular basis. There is much I want to change and build with in my self so not to be the same person I have been stuck in mentaly. prepare for rants and maybe in the mess of it all a well worded verse may take shape and enter your heart and or mind.