What is Love

What is love,

And what is their to life except love? 

What is every other thing we do but pointless?

What isn't pointless, except love?

What is love,

And what is life without love?

What am I  without love?

What are you?

Are we nothing? 

Are we everything?

Are we at least something?

What is love,

And why is hate so foreign a concept to our view of love?

Is it not true that love and hate are connected. if only by the tiniest thread?

What is hate without love to feul it, and what is love without hate to duel it?

What is love,

And how can one truly ever appreciate the love given to them when one cannot at least recognize hate, if not know it personally?

What is love,

And why is the human species as a whole so insignificant compared to it?

What is love,

If not the air we breathe, the food we eat, and the water we drink?

Is love the people around us?

Is love the words we speak or the havoc we wreak?

What is love,

but a foreign word very few know the meaning of?

Bad Poetry and the Bandwagon Effect

Snaps and claps fill the room

Laughter echoing  like a sonic boom

The words have been said,

The room far from dead

Blind ears sit on every face

Communicating, touching base:

"Oh I love that line about....."

"Oh I just love how the poet fills our mind with doubt!"

"And I cried when...."

"He was absolutely right! Chocolate is the sweetest sin! 

And this and that, and that and this

And his and hers, and hers and his!

They chatter noiselessly, and yet far too loudly

With wonder in their voices,

The poet himself acting quite proudly,

Conversing about how he came to such words and choices

No one saying what they really mean, what they really think,

Only what they think the people around them want them to say

And their real opinions shrink

Until there's nothing left to think or say

And make no mistake: this is a case of bad poetry

Bas poetry fueled by the bandwagon appeal of a group mentality

The crowd not able to see,

The true reality

Those snaps and claps were not instantaneous

It took one to lead and the rest to follow

(Although, not consciously,

And definitely not intentionally)

And the rest was spontaneous,

The poet's victory unknowingly hollow.

Flower

The soil is dirt black, as is your heart.

The roots are suffocatingly-strong, as is your presence.

The stem is one dimensional in appearance, as is your personality.

The thorns are sharply frightening, as is your nature.

The leaves are alive, but dead, as is you yourself, on the inside.

And the flower itself is as beautiful as it is deceitful, as is you.

A Perfect Escape

I wanna spread my wings

And fly far away from here

Pack all my things

And let go of my fear

I wanna let go,

Free my mind.

Run away, feelings in tow

No looking back at all the things I'm leaving behind

I wanna go somewhwere where nobody knows my name,

A place where I'll never be bored,

A place where I never have to wonder why I came,

Where I wouldn't have to live to anyone else's accord

All I'd have to do is look around,

And I'd know,

A solace I had found

A place of little woe

A place with no class and no definite shape,

A perfect escape.

A Dance

Bodies, synchronized in movement and flair

That sensual rhythm vibrating in the air

Roving hands...and legs...and feet

Delicately swaying, to no real beat

Writhing, gyrating across the space

Still flowing at one steady pace

Tangled limbs and sweaty beings

 Except for their movements, their minds unseeing

A musky scent fills the room

As fever heats the already too hot flames

Fueled by who. what or whom

Remains to be answered. as well as the question of their names

But to ask any of these questions would devastate the sheer mystery of the dance,

Which  no one dares,

The dance continuing with far more heat than one can bare

No one wanting to disturb the beautifully hypnotizing trance

And as their lyrical movements intensify,

(Becoming so intense that only gravity, they cannot defy,

And even that they come pretty close to)

For their audience, this silent banter will not do

Who Am I

Who am I?

I am wonderland,

I am strawberry fields.

I am swords,

I am shields.

I am laughter,

I am tears.

I am days,

I am years.

I am earth,

I am space.

I am touch,

I am taste.

I am chaos,

I am creation.

I am indifference,

I am dedication.

I am freedom,

I am jail.

I am pass,

I am fail.

I am old,

I am new.

I am red,

I am blue.

I am black,

I am white.

I am ground,

I am flight.

I am love,

I am hate.

I am chance,

I am fate.

I am whispers,

I am yells.

I am heaven,

I am h***.

I am hot,

I am cold.

I am shy,

I am bold.

I am wrong,

I am right.

I am day,

I am night.

I am intelligence,

I am stupidity.

I am sadism,

I am pity.

I am friend,

I am foe.

I am stop,

I am go.

I am short,

I am tall.

I am big,

I am small.

I am empty,

I am full.

I am push,

I am pull.

I am numbness,

I am feeling.

I am the opening,

I am the sealing.

I am knowledge,

I am bliss.

I am the hands that shake,

and the lips that kiss.

Who am I?

I am me,

I am you.

I am everything,

and yet nothing at all.

I am life.

I am humanity.

Dear God

Dear God,

Why do you feel so far away from me?

I call out to you, and you answer me,

But I do not hear you.

I want to hear you

But my cowardice won't allow it.

And yet, you speak to me, still.

Why do you feel so far away from me?

It seems like you take one step forward,

Only for me to push you two steps backward.

I want to be near you,

But my heart won't allow it.

And yet, you walk towards me, still.

Why do you feel so far away from me?

One minute you are here, in my arms,

And the next you are gone, fallen from me.

I want to have you near me,

But my guilt won't allow it.

And yet, I find you reaching for me, still. 

Why do you feel so far away from me?

You are meant to be inside of me,

But I won't let you in.

I want you to hear me,

But my fear won't allow it. 

And yet, you are inside of me, still.