Disembodied tutors,

Locked inside our brains,

Pointing out

Faith & doubt,

Driving us insane.

Two times two is four;

Two times six is more.

“Don’t do this,

Don’t do that,”

Listen to the roar!

Do you have a dream?

Or do you have a plan?

Inspiration?

Preparation?

Catching as catch-can.

Disembodied teachers,

Dancing in our heads.

Tippy-tapping

(Fun & fact-ing)

Leaving us for dead.

You saw my face 

And said "Just wait.

"I love you will still morph to hate."

and yes one day

your words were prey

and life was eager, carnage bait

But what I said 

and what you heard 

was more to me than just plain words 

but late one fall

to end it all

my words indeed began to turn

And you stood high

on throne built nigh

my anger reeked of truth past spoke

and you remained

as one who trained

to be the widow always broke 

You couldn't see

that it was me 

all that you saw was in your head

and yes I've prayed 

in hate filled grave 

that you'd be gone when I left bed 

Okay you win

the widows sin

will not forsake her mothers pain

but what you lost

at such a cost 

was your own heart a piece now slain

Each poem has its own meaning

From happiness to fear

From depression to celebration

My creative tears

I write best with feeling

From sadness to cheer

From joy to anger

My creative tears

Writing about my raw darkness

From isolation to my many cares

Poetry comes from my heart and soul

I call my poems creative tears

Let's take a chance again 

To love 

To heal

To feel

Again 

Let's take a chance again 

To be lost

To be found 

To be around 

Again 

Let's take a chance again 

To fall in love

To be separate 

To be born and dead 

Again 

I see the bare sky

the sun makes me suspicious

if only with my eyes

when?

I talk a lengthy stroll

upon the naked asphalt

trying to make up something to ponder

when?

I was more adamant about what was

to be when it was gone

but it is here and I'm at a loss

when?

Did I suspect it to be as simple

as a path newly paved

honey bricked to my cause

when? 

I suppose I could keep looking

for what with suspicious eyes 

I have no damn clue

when? 

I stop at a cross

stuck between the earth above 

and below and I know the answer

now.

What is 

is not

when last I sought

I fought to keep the flame amused

but later day

I lost my way

and tangled wick within me fused

Don't blame the sorrow

flown tomorrow

one can only take so long

if I borrow

late in the morrow

it must be truth lest art be gone

So let me say

fake angst away

that inspiration left me dry

but as I've seen

in each new scene

that art as stubborn is born falling nigh