Everything I Touch

The leaves die in the fall
and I’m that cold wind.
The cancer that kills
all cells within.
Everything I touch
just wilts with a nudge
as the glares and the smiles
all start to judge.
When the sun finally rises
and winter’s away.
The grass in the fields
all raise to the day.
But my back yard withers.
All so sad to see,
that everything I touch
dies to its knees.
Beautiful, but yet
with a touch it is crumbled.
Unknown to me,
my touch only stumbles.
Loosening the dirt
with sweet talk of a dove.
So quick into lust.
So quick into love.
When all is settled.
At last a right match.
That match lights in flames,
and dies to ashes so fast.
This winter’s a cold one,
as the cancer spreads thick.
Clenching last breathes,
and killing so quick.
A life so familiar,
Living’s a tease
because everything I touch
dies to its knees.

No Comparison

I’m overwhelmed with feelings.
Your beauty, your stare,
you couldn’t understand
how I’m blessed by this prayer.
My heart is the type
that likes to compete.
But with you my heart willingly
accepts its defeat.
Lifted from the ground,
I am no longer scared.
No words to describe.
You can’t be compared!
You’re the most beautiful
with innocent, emerald eyes.
Beauty, incomparable,
no words can describe.
It’s four in the morning.
I was with you all day.
But I still only think of you
as I drive away.
So fast you have done it.
You’ve torn down my wall,
made me vulnerable,
and I don’t mind at all.
Your kiss calls me closer
as I hold you tight,
You have me stunned,
my heart’s high as a kite.
There’s no comparison.
No one’s close at all.
You’re someone special.
For you, I easily fall.
Pick me up from the ground
that I fell very hard.
Your beauty, your everything.
caught me off guard.
But for you it is worth it.
I admit with a grin.
You have the beauty outside,
but also within.

11:11

It’s time she says,
to make a wish
and peck the clock.
I’d love a kiss.
Ask what I wish for
and with reply,
I say I can’t say
Or it won’t comply.
With truth I wish
the same every time.
To be with you
and your beauty sublime.
Maybe I’m falling;
it seems like a crush.
Perfect figure for me.
Maybe it’s lust.
Purely she’s beautiful
with light skin of pearl.
Pleasant green eyes,
look my way, girl.
It’s 11:11 when you say,
“Make a wish.”
I kiss the clock hoping
to complete my bliss.

Untitled 1

In a central course of flowing time
It takes my mind, this to rewind.
To unfold beauty into everything
Would be a thing to be ashamed,
To make amends for all my hands
I’d be alone without a damn.
In my own world; alone and flowing
My stomach trembles without knowing
Who will be next and who will be right
My stomach only smells this fright.
Where will I go to be afraid,
I’m home alone and I’m insane
So now I need something to calm
The soothing feeling of a mom
Within this life there comes a time,
But without time, there are no rhymes
Writing takes life with more than bliss,
It takes emotion, from emotionless
Take a penny, roll it down;
Of the poorest people, some don’t frown.
Without a world you’re all alone,
This time is for all to atone.
In time is distance, and distance far.
The longer traveled, the more you scar.
Heal these wounds and cease to live,
Upon one day, this is all there is.
To live a life as full as this,
You must have, a life of bliss.
Not to see the good in all,
But to feel the chance to stand tall
When the time comes, know how to preserve
These memories, which you have earned.
When words are no longer good
A man has walked the path he could.
With an ending there is no tomorrow.
In the afterlife there is no sorrow.

Charleston, SC

Bright sun shining on my college holiday,
I’m finally free and very far away.
I walk the city I know with my heart,
my college town, my fresh new start.
Beauty fathomed in many ways,
in my college town far away.
I walk on the beach beside the sun.
All this warmth makes me feel undone.
Comfort gained from less of a strain,
To be alone from the stream of the main.
No interruptions, mood is just right.
A feeling so good, my heart will take flight.
Roller coaster waves crashing the sand,
I reach to a seashell and grasp with my hand.
It tells a story lived much in the ocean,
as I dip my head in and start into motion.
In the city I walk carefully on King Street,
Famous Charleston shuffle; everything’s complete.
Now to the park that makes all worth while.
Looking out into the ocean with that familiar smile.
The sun flows through and glides gently on my face,
as the trees above me try to cover with grace.
Charleston: the city grown up to adore.
The sights and the comfort, one can’t ignore.
With no doubt in my mind, my future lies here.
Much success, beauty, and a future career.
God has truly blessed this wondrous college town,
Of any other city, it wears the best gown.
This Southern Comfort, hard to believe,
It’s my college town, and I will never leave.

The Line

No façade can fool the wisest eye,
No regrets will calm a man.
The only thing harder than steel
Is the heart that judges man.

People hide behind barriers,
Afraid to cross the line,
They are scared to come out of their shell,
To enter into another land.

Popularity used to be the key,
That opened every door,
Now enter the real world,
To where all your friends are gone.

The wise eye will tear you apart,
It will strip you to your bare.
The hidden will be exposed,
And the real successors much aware.

This is a lesson that will humble,
Accept all that may come near.
For one day you may regret something,
That will trouble you for years.

Have no fear of stepping forward,
Even if it is alone.
Go ahead; drop your façade,
Let yourself be unrestrained.

Some of the wisest of the wise are not rocket scientists,
But being wise is not measured by intelligence,

Be a person willing to change,
To leave your old world behind,
Pick up a new pair of shoes,
And jog across the line.

Library Chant

As the melody plays
sit alone and type away.
Quiet humming of whispers
blending with the sound of sneakers.
Coughing, sniffing, typing;
sounds learned not to listen.
More eyes wander
simply wondering.
Distractions minimize
as focus deepens.
Sounds disengage.
Does anyone listen?
Solitude prevention
creates procrastination.
Comfortable library
aids attention.
Caffeine shots.
Bathroom stops.
Four hours;
Two remain.
Test tomorrow.
Grab that A.
Cool walk home
eyes glazed over
no longer wandering to wonder
to the sounds of sneakers,
or the quiet whispers.
Crickets sing in the night,
as cars burst by
ruining the melody
of the library’s chant.

Simple Things

Cell phones and computers;
cars and TV screens.
How about the simple things
like grass stains on your jeans.
Sunny day at the hands
of anyone who pleases.
Free and fun and full of life,
filled with calming breezes.
Strolling to the ocean side;
Listen—waves are crashing.
Hear them all roll into shore
like little children splashing.
Distantly, the sun bows down.
Pleasant waves start clapping.
Rising in the distance
the moon comes out of napping.
Cheerful crickets singing
as happy as can be.
Natural music to your ears
as you smile silently.
Soft smell of salt water.
Reminiscing of past years.
Memories forever cherished
as joy forms blissful tears.
Humid night as dew drops down
blending with those tears.
To a long life of satisfaction
A toast of many cheers.
Curvy voyage of a lifetime.
Every life to be revered.
Noise and sight and smells all are
simple things which we have here.

Ocean’s Occupation

Sun gleaming off the water,
Sand, wet, the tide grows farther,
Seashells washed up on the shore,
Seagulls dive for fish, not too hungry, anymore,
Little kids run with little nets,
Chasing fish they will never catch,
Teenage boys searching on the stride,
Chasing girls and telling lies,
Sun high in bloom, no care in its mind,
It rests peacefully, distant, in the sky,
Girls laying out, reading to pass time,
Hoping not to be disturbed by anyone passing by,
Sun growing tired; goes on break awhile,
Moon on night shift, up with a smile,
Stars reflecting off the water, ocean crashing loudly,
Crabs all out, claws snapping about, walking around proudly,
Little kids in bed, sleeping tight all the night,
Teenagers on the shore, anything but bored,
Clear skies, only stars,
The moon watching lit cigars,
A couple stares with delight,
pleased with the beauty of the night,
People laughing in the distance,
someone singing—just listen,
Guitar strumming out some chords,
On mark with the waves rolling towards;
crashing loudly, white foam forms,
sneaking back into the water from shore.
Sand under feet and through the toes,
Oh, this freedom, never go,
Moon grins with its occupation,
Night, the root of temptation,
Stars hanging way up high,
Ocean ceasing to say good-bye.

Dust

Flying seamlessly through the open fresh air
Finding places to rest, like in your brown hair.
It goes inside noses to make a reaction.
An explosion of power that’s quite a distraction.
Sticking to everything like countertops and books.
Without this nuisance, your house has good looks.
Sometimes this pest has been known to starts fires.
Or to get in alarms and set off their wires.
Where does it come from, and what is it at all?
This is a question that sure does enthrall.
Gray and disgusting, and sticks to your hands.
Cleaning this anomaly is what it commands.
Unsure of its pattern, what it does most.
Is never disappears; created by ghosts.

Looking Back

Remember when summer used to be full?
Comforting sun and warm, bright mornings,
Humid summer nights spent playing spotlight,
And during the day we’d all ride our bikes.
Eating at Dairy Queen with our parents’ money
in our care free world where all things were funny.
When every minute passed by was as fresh as the last.
And these summers now, spent in the past.
Routine of working, from day until night,
No time for play in our clear of sight.
Childhood reminiscing makes the heart jealous,
Because in those times, we all were so zealous.

Or when the fall was so full of color.
Stacks of leaves we’d create are now much smaller.
School did not matter; it was a time to see friends
Friday night football, no feeling transcends.
Anticipation of winter, snow days ahead.
All of these emotions, now running dead.
Looking back to these feelings, my mind becomes sad.
Because now this fall routine troubles me mad.
Why can’t we have the thoughts of our childhood?
If I could go back, I easily would.

Or when the winter would freeze the roads for no school.
Even a two hour delay would make the kids drool.
Crisp, cool air would make breath seen,
With white all over and every thing clean.
Remember when the snow would light up faces?
This feeling again, my body embraces.
Dead silence at night made the world calm.
Drying of lips and that smell of lip balm.
Now all that’s heard is complaining of cold,
The snow’s such a hassle, repeating this scold.

Or when the spring showers would smell of fresh flowers.
We then used to dream of having super powers.
As the temperature increased, mixed feelings arose.
We’ll miss the snow days, but summer’s so close.
Fresh cut grass and dew in the mornings.
But now all spring means is flash flood warnings.
This life is not measured by money or power.
Success without feeling will only devour.
Take a step back and reflect in the spring.
See all the feelings childhood memories will bring.

Why are our lives so consumed with maturity
that we’re blinded from beauty and the world’s security.
So serious we are, and so sad it can be
that we forget these memories of when we were free.
When the world had no struggles other than sleep,
And doing work meant playing in the street.
Or having friends over to stay up all night.
Our faces back then were always so bright.
Now we look past the simplicities of life.
We do anything we can to look for strife.
By taking a glance from a child’s perspective.
We can make our lives way more effective.

Flower

Loving this flower as one of my own

Many colors it has in beauty alone.

What of its sin that lies underneath

the façade on the outside of its leaf?

What let it grow in such a state

that tortures the heart with such weight?

As it grows to its peak, many adore,

Do all you can to try to ignore.

Outside appearance is not all to see.

Thorns on its side; let those warn thee.

Terrible it is to be led on by riches.

When deep inside, its touch entails stitches.

Vision of love may be seen from afar,

Coming closer may prove only to mar.

Lust in ambition with this instinct alone,

Feelings like this are keen to be sewn.

Heed the warning of desire in looks.

Colors like these are tempting hooks.

Examine the flower past defensive thorns.

They may be there from terrible mourns.

Peel off each thorn to see the real view.

Get rid of them so they can’t misconstrue.

Observe the fruit provided by flower.

Is the fruit ripe, or does it devour?

The right one will keep safe from disease.

While the other will only hurt and tease.

Death of love will come from that fruit.

Inside of it lives lust of pursuit.

Flowers with color and ripeness of true

are hard to see, but will always renew.