You

You are my muse.
To choose then use
and sometimes loose.
Confuse.
You are my muse.

You are my song.
To dawn then wrong
and sometimes spawn.
Tag along.
You are my song.

You are my flame
To tame then blame
and sometimes shame.
Refrain.
You are my flame.

You are my cry
To pry then fly
and sometimes sigh.
Shy.
You are my cry.

You are my soul
To scold and hold
and sometimes fold.
Bold.
You are my soul.

You are this poem.
These words upon this page
no match to any of the things you ever say
ever will say, none of them are you.
You.
You are you're own.
My own.
You are beauty, what the world
intended eyes as sad, as rotten and decayed
with no reason to see as mine. With no passion
to ignite and no love to sought out. You are the reason
these eyes still glow. Still see and watch and know
that this is, in all it's awful glory, a life.
One i hate, resent and despise, you are the reason
I live within it's walls and boundaries each day
for you. For your reason and your passion.

You.
You and only you.

Hiring a dream

Dreams are lined up against a wall
All in order from short to tall.
A dreamer writes their age and weight
Favourite food and birthday date.
Checks the reflexes to see if their quick
Plays word association to see what they pick.
Gives them an eye test and a heart ultrasound
To make sure their ticker properly pounds.
Place of birth, occupation?
Favourite mode of transportation?
Red or blue?
1 or 2?
Special skills, have you any?
"Oh yes sir, I have plenty!
I can juggle, I can skate,
On my head I balance crates.
I can whistle, I can move"
Jazz or tap?
"To both i groove. I know all my ABC's
Not to mention 123's.
Fluent in Italian, I can make a penny spin,"
That's quite enough. Now onto jobs,
What kind experience have you got?
"Once i was an astronaut, another,
a robot made of pots. A doctor with a PHD
A vet to help take care of flees.
President of the USA
Miss Brazil, for just one day.
Magician,
Musician,
An electrician.
Once i wanted to sail the world,
Generate millions, love a girl.
Climb a tree, hop a fence,
start a fire, set up a tent.
Catch a fish as big as the sea
Ride a bike, learn to ski.
Make my daddy proud of me.
I've been a dream for many folks
But now your dream I'd like to coax.
I'd like to be home to your wishes
Of being a doctor or catching some fishes.
So, have i got it? Do i get the part?"
Yes Mr.Dream.
On Monday, you start.

Cliches

There's only so much love to give
There's only so much life to live
and if you mind, I'd like to share it with you.

There's so many people with so many faces
There's so many views in so many places
and if you mind, I'd like to see them with you.

Could this be, I'm falling fast?
My head's feeling overcast
with thoughts of romance shadowed by circumstance.

Could this be, I'm falling hard?
My heart's all burnt up and chard
with a fire that burns hotter than the sun itself.

It hurts to feel, no longer numb
Smiles, where did they come from?
A hold on me, the tightest grip
Can barley stand to watch you slip.
Can barley stand to hear you say goodbye.

Every second I'm awake
I wish I could feel your embrace
Open arms around my crowded self.

Wonder if you think of me
When your face is all I see
Are people's thoughts all intertwined?

My chest grows tight
My face burns bright
My hands are colder than the ice
Than the deepest corners of an arctic paradise.

Though my pens feel out of ink
1000 thoughts of you, I think
Try to write them but a mess is all that i produce.

Mangled in my mind tonight
Nothing more could feel so right
Could fill a void I didn't know I had.

If fate falls in our favor dear
We'll be together have no fear
I intend to kiss you before the clock runs out.

If feeling empty's the diagnosis
Think of holding me your closest
I promise emptiness will be the last thought that you have.

I'm no doctor, no PHD
but the cure seems awfully clear to me
All we've gotta do is bite our tongues.

Remember sometimes good things come true
And I think this is a sometimes moment for you
And my gut has never steered me wrong.

So there, for you, many cliches
your favourite kind of thing to say.
Even better, they're all true
Your twice as favourite thing, for you.

Maybe i...

Angela sat in her car. A tragic and weather beaten automobile
that she regretted paying 9000 for.

She sat there with her head on the steering wheel in the coffee
shop parking lot. Sweat so thick it was almost dripping off her forehead.

"This is stupid. This is stupid. Turn the keys.
Put it in reverse and get out of this parking lot
before you make a fool of yourself" she thought to
herself. Trying to convince her gut to change instincts.

After a long 15 minutes she stared down at her wrist watch
and decided there was no use in making him wait for her.

He said, "you don't to come if you don't want to."
He said, "honestly, i'll understand."
He said, "I just think you need this."
She said, "no, no. I want to. I want to."
She said, "there's nothing to understand."
She said, "you're right. Need. Need this"

She then hung up the phone just after saying
"Tuesday at the London coffee shop. It's on the corner of
Bishop. Big red door, white shutter on the loft windows. You
can't miss it."

She shoved the door open with much needed effort
because it was 12x heavier than any regular car door
should be. She stood facing it after it fell shut against the rusted
body and examined her face in the tint of the window.

Angela was a pretty young woman considering the fact
she should look at least 5 years older than she is after what she
had been through.

Her hair was a dull shade of brown brightened
only slightly by red undertones. It was naturally full with body and curls
but, she kept it wrapped in a bun. Saying that because she left her bangs down
it was alright.

Her eyes were a fiery cool blue green if that makes any sense.
Flecks of yellow around the pupil so when she was uneasy they looked almost golden.

Her body was shapely and feminine. Large hips and a slender waist
with a smaller bust and long legs. A woman of 5"9, tall and statuses.
Statuses people were highly regarded but hardly recognized.

Angela smoothed her pencil skirt down and flattened her top over her stomach.
With a heavy and dramatic breath, she elevated herself onto the sidewalk and wrapped
her clammy hand around the cold door handle. It swung open to reveal a quaint euro
style cafe complete with couches and several art students busy with conversation and
laptops.

The smell of Arabic coffee beans and warm milk seized her senses
and the colours that, outside, would appear cold and blue washed over her
looking warmer and more comforting in the lights of the coffee shop.

She took a scan across the room. From table to table, looking for a
young man in his late twenties with dark brown hair and blue eyes.
He would be wearing a red button down shirt and pipe leg jeans.
His name would be Caleb.

When she didn't see him she decided now would be a good time if any to
rush out and pretend the encounter wasn't even discussed. And just as she
was about to go through with this childish act of pussying out, she turned to see
a young man in his late twenties with dark brown hair and blue eyes in a red button down shirt with pipe leg jeans.
He was reading the business section of a news week paper.
He was Caleb.
She was Angela.
She had to say hello.

"H-hi." She said it. Quiet though.
He didn't flinch.
She took a deep breath,
sat down across from him,
and placed her hand over the article his eyes
were clearly scanning.

"Hi." She said again. Firmer.

He looked up and smiled. His dimples showed.

"Angela, right."

"Yes. Caleb?"

He laughed a bit.

"Ya, Caleb."

She smiled back. She didn't have any dimples though.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked with the smile still
on his face.

"Yes, please."

"We can take my car."

And they did. His apartment was a tall red brick building.
No balconies on the front.
No garden or even walk way.
Just a lot of trash cans and a metal door
with graffiti for days sprayed on it.

Caleb took Angela up to his room.
A bachelor pad no doubt.
She laid her jacket over the chair next to the tele
and sat on the edge of his bed. He got her a water and a
coke for himself. No ice.

He sat next to her and put his hand on her leg. All she could look
at was the sweat rolling down the outside of the cold coke glass he was holding
and the lemon wedge floating inside her water.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine! Very fine, thank you."

He kissed her quite suddenly.

They had met because Angela was lonely.
She created a profile on one of those adult friend finder
websites, hoping to find someone who would touch her in a
manor that was not violent or hurting. Caleb had volunteered
his time to do so.

He thought she was beautiful. He told her at least 9 times every time
they had talked in the 2 months leading up to the meeting day they
were currently partaking in. He thought she was misunderstood
and deserved a better father figure and boyfriend. He thought she
was deep and sensitive. Funny and sweet. He quite simply loved her.
Caleb was in love with Angela.

"Stop." She leapt up from where she was sitting and placed the glass on the bedside table.
She folded her arms over her chest and turned her back to Caleb.
She was starting to cry.

He sighed and looked at his shoes.

"Maybe...this was a bad idea. You seem uncomfortable."

"Maybe..." she said in a whisper.

"Maybe I should take you back to the coffee shop to get your
car?

"Maybe..." she said a little louder.

"Maybe another time, in another 2 months. We could be together again."

"Maybe..." again more clear, louder.

"Maybe...maybe i love you Angela. What do you think about that."

Nothing. No louder reply. And then,

"Maybe i love you too, Caleb Murphy"

And that was that.
And that was one of those times, when it isn't a happy or sad ending.
When it keeps going forever and ever and problems happen all the way
in between but, no one wants to write a book for every time things take a dip
or get real high.
Maybe this was one of those loves where everything is to be left alone.
No spoilers and no endings.
Just a story in it's own skin.

"Happy 15th Liv." oh thanks me.

Another year has now arrived
To prove to others I'm still alive.
An excuse to drink and bake a cake
And feel much older when you wake.
Blow up balloons and open gifts
Fake a thank you and think "what's this?"
Receiving fan mail via post
The ones with money we all love most.
A party is held in your name
With hats and streamers and party games.
You dance and laugh and have a ball
But soon the good times start to fall.
The guests among you commence with yawns
A few have passed out on your lawn.
They call for pick ups and drives home
some people choose to walk alone.
You do a once over on the room
A mess caused by a sonic boom.
You think to clean but just trail off
And pass out in bed, you're so far gone.
You smile softly in your sleep
Because it's your birthday
And it's your day to keep.

Happy 15th me.

Solutions

I figured out a magic trick
and with it i can save the world.
I figured out a secret spell
and with i can win the girl.
Reach the climax with time to spare
Teach the planet how to share
Cure disease and win the war
Overcome hardships and even the score
The moon and back in just 1 day
Not a goal, or just to say
"I did it, see? I am the best"
Just to put my mind at rest.
And I will be remember as an explorer of this earth
And I must be remember as something of great worth.
I will be superman deep within
A superhuman beneath my skin
A technicolour dream world
With a plain and boring sky
Where everything's illuminated
By neon glowing signs.
And there we stand beneath its glory
Painting skylines with out story.
And I have found the one solution
For keeping new year's resolutions.
No more promises we fake
And no more lies, for heaven's sake.
And what's this remedy I've found?
It's simple
When you fall in love,
stay on the ground.

books.

Books.
Great big books.
Great big books on a shelf.
On a great big shelf.
Great big books on a great big shelf.
Stacks.
Great big stacks.
Great big stacks of great big books.
On a shelf.
On a great big shelf.
Great big stacks of great big books on a great big shelf.
Dust.
Grand amounts of dust.
Grand amounts of dust collecting on books.
Great big books.
Great big stacks of books.
On a shelf.
On a great big shelf.

Grand amounts of dust collecting on great big stacks of great big books on a great big shelf.
Lonely.
Truly, truly lonely.
A truly, truly lonely life.
In dust.
In grand amounts of dust.
Grand amounts of dust collecting on books.
Great big books.
Great big stacks of books.
On a shelf.
On a great big shelf.
A truly, truly lonely life in grand amounts of dust on great big stacks of great big books on a great big shelf.

Read me?