Artist’s Palette

It’s fun to imagine
the taste and touch of a colors,
and not just their appearance.

Red is said to be hot and burning with passion,
but mixed with black, the color of fear,
no one would give it a second glance.

But what if red is ice-cold and blue
is ice-hot then maybe colors need
more than just sight.

As judged on appearance alone
it would be a terrible, terrible life
for a world full of colors

colors down drain

One Reader, One Writer

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between these lines,
within these margins
stories are told.
With a few letters
strung together
into words and
a hint of feeling
it can spark an emotion

and connect between
two strangers.

One reader,
one writer,
one journey both
can have,
together.

When words run out
and the lines turn blank the
reader leaves
writer writes,
and both go on
living parallel lives
miles apart.

Always connected together
through the simplest of words

Color Me Silent

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I need you
between my fingers,
within my reach.

I promise,
I won’t use you.
Well,
I’ll use you, only for me
sorry, I lied.

What you have
is what I desire,
and I’ve gotten this far
without you here.

I’ve learned to cope
with an empty soul,
color-less world,
and a meaning-less being.

What are we waiting for?

Now in my grasp;
I need you to dance.

Brush me along with you on the table
and color me silent

Blood Stream

A pond, lake, and valley all connect
one way or another.

They intertwine like veins
taking turns, pouring blood back into an ocean
floating at high tide, trying to pump out
the sour salt water-taste out of its mouth.

Water is water and blood is blood
in a body of water. The heart is an ocean

heart-shaped ocean

We Never Existed

disappear girl

 

 

 

 

 

What if no one was there
and it was only
you and I, but neither of us existed.

I could write this poem
page after page,
forever and ever,
but it wouldn’t matter
because it was all a dream
or better yet, a mirage.

What if what I’m saying makes no sense.
What if I’m crazy?
What if I’m not?

 

Writers are Selfish

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but writers don’t care;
they rearrange,
mix and match letters
anyway they wish.

They don’t care if H
doesn’t like it near A
or T doesn’t like it in the middle,
and if E isn’t fond of the end,
they do it anyway.

Writers force letters together
just to express themselves
with no regard
or feelings toward innocent letters.

All I Can Do

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I wrote these words
only for you,
so do with them,
as you wish.

Take them for the literal
or the figurative
it doesn’t matter to me
as long as you promise
to read them
and know
they were written
only for you.

Crumple them up,
throw them out,
and burn them in flames
when you’re finished.
As long as they were read
and not wasted;
I know
I’ve done
all that I can do

Camouflage

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He hides behind a new sea of camouflage
shades of green and brown colors
similar to the terrain he fights on:

it’s what he breaths now,
it consumes him
it’s his new norm.

He’s killed a man in cold-blood
and strangled another until his last breath.
He won’t let it be told
nor will he ever tell his family
or seven-year-old daughter;
he doesn’t want her dad to become the enemy.

He sits there alone in the desert,
under the stars as his camouflage colors
turn into shades of greys and blacks
for he is a man who has lost himself, behind army lines.

At home, he imagines
his daughter sitting on the window sill,
waiting for his return and running
down the front stairs and into his arms
before he can make it to the door.

The image shoots warmth through his veins
into his heart not for if
his moment will ever happen but when.

She doesn’t know it, maybe never will,
he stay alive for her
she is his hero

Nothing Remains

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Don’t push me from behind
and think that’s okay;
I don’t need help,
I’ll get there
on my own.

See me now,
take a mental picture,
never again.

Now, I’ll be
where I want to go
and when I get there
I will make it
where I want to be.

For my memory,
nothing will remain
except this note
posted up on your door