to kill a poet

for the lazy poet,

everything is a poem.

the sonnet he recites

is a glass half full,

satisfying only half

the thirst. a spider

working on a web

all night only to be

drenched in an early

morning dew is a

handsome ballad.

the rainbow in the

mist of a stream that

has been freed from

the chains of winter

is a masterpiece of

verse. a lazy poet is

not easy. bad manners

must be learned, unkind

rhymes never lost. he

has been god blessed

by friends and god

damned by enemies.

bitter sweet is the

word slinger. take

away love and hate

and you silence the

ghost. any success

will be his demise.

someday i hope to

be one.

loves me, loves me not

from

the very

first day

i said yes,

“i love you,”

there has

been war

in america.

past a

million

blue eyes,

past a

million

green eyes,

past

beautiful

girls, and

beautiful boys.

he scaled

the wall of

my disorder.

joined the

revolution,

inside my

rebellious

heart.

we dipped

our berries

in deep dark

chocolate.

we rode

into space

on a highspeed

train.

he was

the authority

of the

lotus position.

our love

is no love,

from

the very

first day

i said yes

“i love you.”

dog love

the sun takes back

the darkness from

midnight every day.

everything changes

and is new again.

my face, my ears,

and my eyes are

different from

yesterday. even

my arms and legs

are not the same.

the leftovers from

a perfect meal

last night will be

dog food tonight.

the hair on my

head never stops

growing but it

takes you a week

to notice. only love

cannot change.

you are either in

love or not in love.

there is no middle

ground to love.

you cannot hate

someone before

you have loved them.

even if they have

driven you insane.

i’m ok with you

hating me. love

lives in your soul.

you were born

with it in there, and

you will die with it

in there. it will always

be unconditional hate,

or unconditional love.

if the good die young

i have

been older

longer,

than i

was ever

young.

i am sure

i will be

dead

longer

than i

have been

alive.

i am

told

that is how

life works,

but i doubt it.

a thousand

years ago,

i learned

to breathe

and to love.

and

to laugh

and cry

inside every

season,

with and

without

reason.

i have

wasted

anger

and danced

with happiness.

how lucky

was i

to be lost

in january

on the

coldest day

of the year,

inside a

memory.

a full moon

exposing every

naked tree

in the forest.

my footsteps

are a rhapsody

in the snow.

my religion

speaks

to me

in a language

with no

words.

god has put

his tongue

in my ear.

i am

promised

tomorrow,

if i let

go of

yesterday,

as if it

never

was.

on that

he gave

his word.