This is the age of poetry

This is the age of poetry
Which doesn't make sense
Where people of the imperfect present
Speak in future perfect tense
Where people sing of world peace
And shout for worldly war
Where people spit on stone
Hold up paper, and call it law
Where people scream so loudly
They can't hear what they're saying
Where people sleep, with closed eyes
And dream instead of praying

Safekeeping

She stores her heart for safekeeping
Stifles it with styrofoam
Deep down, where it is darkest

Where nobody likes to roam

Perimeters

We live in a stencil,
Products of a graphite pencil
With which the perimeters
Of our souls are drawn

Pretty World

Pretty girl
This pretty world
Is not big enough for your
Big world dreams

Pretty girl
This pretty world
Is not as pretty
As it seems

Friday Evening

On a rainy Friday evening
When the sun has lost its meaning
Many lives walk down the street
Some barely touch, some never meet

They race along a circumference
In a reckless riot, indifference
Each step is one they have taken before
They want for nothing, need for more

Lives so often intercept
Nothing in this world common except
The only thing that they believe in
Is the air that that keeps them breathing

Beauty Tells Her Name To Me

Beauty tells her name to me
She speaks it in a whisper
Everyday, to remind
Me that I have missed her

Beauty stroked the night today
Found a star to wish upon
Beauty sung in strains of rain
And spoke not of the sun

Beauty likes to play hide and seek
When she's not the seeker
Beauty dances in dying dreams
And I become her dreamer

Gravity

Gravity strains, under earth's plight
To dampen airbourne wings
Yet there are few who ascend to flight
In search for greater things

The Lines We Draw

Faces smothered in plastic paint
Enclosing, without exposing, fault lines
Which divide us into ourselves

When Nobody Hears

Store tears in the attic of an empty heart
Closed eyes to a guise of princess gowns
Dilute emotion into abstract art
Dress up in yesterday's hand-me-downs

Let music mute your melancholy
And your soul trade away its sanity
Forsake mistake for inequity
Of pain, in vain, and vanity

Let pillows muffle exhales of emotion
Sleep every night on your tears
In a void of your own volition
Keep on thinking that nobody hears

Between Words

She stabs her pen into the clouds
Bleeds grey into the straying shrouds
She sews words together with charcoal thread
Outlines the world in pencil lead

Raindrops sputter, dot the page
Smudge ink into an angsty rage
She tilts her head back to touch the sky
And blows the earth a kiss goodbye

Fairy Dust

Night skies embroidered into a skillful tangle
Voices sink, smooth as satin
Above the stars that dare to dangle
In rhythm with the tune of latin

The broken breeze breaks love apart
To assist them in their dying dance
And slow, they sync in a silent art
Until the morning numbs their trance

As flames scorch the break of dawn
And turn time into golden rust
Outlining the blades of a lonely lawn
Are the remains of fairy dust

Battle Cries

Hear, hear the battle cries
Beneath the empty, endless skies
Tears bleed red into the ground
Staining buried hope unfound
Souls streaked with sunken scars
Tracing the outline of fallen stars
That so long ago, once hung high
Taught the children how to fly

Hear, hear the battle cries
In a world shrouded in clouded lies
Starving children – collateral damage
Hungry in the hands of soulless savage
See, the child lying in the gutter
Another casualty of war, we utter
Lying in a wishful wait
Of the few that fight their fate

Hear, hear the battle cries
See the world through open eyes
Armed with all their hearts can afford
Broken in spirit, broken in sword
Blindly, they charge into the battlefield
With their body numbed; minds steeled
Still they cry, amidst the violence
Yet we sit still in a soundless silence

Does it?

Does the world revolve around today
Does time collapse and fade away
Is life an endless depth we drown ourselves in?

Are we forced to live each day the same
Is time the taunt of an endless game
That nobody ever seems to win?

Is our world composed of the world itself
Or are we waiting, wanting something else
Are we really here on earth to stay?

Faraway

Chasing lies and butterflies
So far away
She looks up into the empty skies
Where dreams once lay
With another day to rise
The sun sets on her sorrow
As time testifies of lies
Her heart is set on tomorrow
Placing hope in hope that dies
Waiting, come what may
The love behind a stranger's eyes
So far away

Reminiscence

The violent vandals of the past
Engrave time into an iron cast
Revolves around timeless stains
Graffitied scars of empty pains
They haunt her into lonely dreams
Crippled cries and strangled screams
Yet her world is bare of sound
Stilled, she waits, to be found