Poetry and Outrage

I was always so good at selecting words To hurt rather than heal Busy premeditating verbal murder We should have instated a code of silence between us Instead of choosing to speak, when things were wrong Forcing feelings, tiring ourselves out Many ti

I scream to notice my fingers numbing more and more Losing my pulse, holding my breath Saving its allowance to purchase one last hope It's funny how fragile life gets, contained in glass Waiting for salvation to come, one letter at a time Forming red

I'm a dream away and a sleep behind waking up safely Blind Resurrected, dumb yet protected Confessing sins to unkind witness Whose holdilg charm an arms leght distance, away While assisting mistakes to sneak up behind me, Finding me, unclaimed and bl

"My dear, this is not a country that rewards poetry, This is a country that rewards gas mileage, besides, People don't read poetry anymore, they watch Television. Don't be a poet, be a TV repairman." I'm sitting here reflecting on a world that's

Three weeks ago yesterday, the last time we spoke Today's distance holds us too far to measure And tomorrow will never hold us that close Our hands once stitched together Weaving bloodstreams into one Arteries under pressure Sharing breath in our lun

"I want you to think and remember every insult, every Offense, everything that you have ever taken away from Me. Think to yourself. It's pay back time." I always thought you were my friends Thought that you believed in me, behind me till the end

Where are the answers we're looking for And what are the questions we ask Hstory may hold these answers and more But I never lived in the past Seeking in vain for the keys To knowledge that I think I need My days are a turning of pages searching For