Chance of Rain

I wonder if it will rain the day you leave

can the skies be sad in the middle of July?

if it did rain would it be a record downpour?

cause babe, that's 365 days I will miss you.

I wonder how much it rains a year in Kuwait.

enough to wash the dust off your combat boots?

if it did, would you look to the sky and think of me?

would it photograph the drops that fall and ruin ink?

Handwritten letters can be held close in storms.

 I wonder if it will ever rain the same time for you and I.

7,434 miles apart cant possibly share the same shade of sky.

will you wake up to its thunder, while I fall asleep to its white noise?

When it rains, Ill stand in it and thank god that rain has a gypsy soul.

Because maybe the same raindrops will touch your skin, and kiss it's warmth.

love is the element found in rain.

Because that's where I found you.

in my storms. 

To The Innocent

The bottle hadn’t ever even touched my lips

Yet still I lived the effects it cynically brought.

I’ve never tasted a drink stronger than coke

Yet still alcohol made my mind swirl with hurt.

I’ve never used a syringe try to numb my pain.

Yet the needle still stabbed my heart repeatedly

I’ve never flown higher then where kites reach

Yet still have woken up crashed from the flight.

I’ve never watched distorted figures “make love.”

Yet still my soul was blackened like the end credits.

I’d never cheated on someone I said I “loved you” to

Yet I still couldn’t say the words “I love you” back.

I’ve never been locked in a room 6 by 8 feet with bars.

Yet still I felt trapped by lies and lists of crimes I’d heard

I’ve never been handcuffed by the side of the highway

Yet still my skin was rubbed raw with continuing lies that hit.

I’ve never stolen drugs and jewelry from someone I love.

Yet still I’ve cried the tears the loss of trust took with it.

I’ve never sold sin to strangers in shapes of capsules

Yet still I felt the cold emptiness the customers searched for.

I’ve never had an addiction,

One like the people I’m supposed to love seemed to have.

I’ve never felt the guilt they go through routinely each day

Yet still I’ve felt the emptiness they must feel every 24 hours.

I’ve never felt the shame of what they do as I look in the mirror

Yet still I’ve felt a sense of hopelessness and lack of faith they have

Because the truth is, Addiction doesn’t affect just the Victim.

I’ve never watched as Addiction destroys my own soul.

Yet still I’ve watched it destroy yours…fraying my own.

I’ve never watched addiction take over my heart with every beat.

Yet still my heart has beat painfully screaming its name angrily.

Addiction has only left me wondering.

Wondering why addiction takes such satisfaction in lives it takes,

Dragging them through the hall to hell by their bleeding fingernails.

On their way passing framed pictures of failed attempts and lost battles.

The hallway ends in darkness and empty because they lost everything.

And all that’s heard is the echoes of addictions last laugh.

Addiction doesn’t stop there though, with passion in its eyes.

It’s not satisfied with one kill shot, and has his next target ready.

Its next aim is the family of the soul being dragged painfully.

Addiction tries to take the lives of the innocent.

And all that’s left is the graves of the cemetery

The tombstones etched with words “Hopeless” and “Defeat.”

The battle is over and everything is silent

And Addiction smiles from above,

Rubbing his hands and plotting his next victim

I just hope the next one is strong enough to defeat him.

The 3 AM Muse Woke Me Up To Write

Thing 1 and Thing 2

Thing one: You share a part of her

That alone should have been enough.

Enough to want to share a life with her.

To share bedtime stories and heroic tales,

To wish to be the direction tiny hazel eyes 

looked up to as she called you her hero.

But it wasn't enough

Thing one might share a part of her.

It signed the certificate like a casting call

taking the role without an audition, planning for improv.

little did it know it forgot to read it's character description. 

Behind the scenes the Hero's part was played by the villain.

Misread instructions didn't stop Thing one.

starting the role out with lessons and lectures

The original line in the script was well said

" That dress is WAY too short, go change."

It didn't realize the hazel eyes saw right through the cliche line. 

Her eyes knew about it's tragic character flaws.

Thing one watched naked figures destroy love

How dare thing one pull the modesty line on her.

Hazel eyes should never have to wonder the words

"Did thing one ever think of me like the girls in videos?"

Thing one's mistakes couldn't hide behind a curtain forever.

The heroine kicked it off the stage when she found the truth

but thing one didn't leave before running off with the rest of the production money.

Ass.

The new production became a low budget project.

But without thing one, it was still a fairytale anyway.

(after all, the heroine was the real hero in the story)

pigments in her hazel eyes might have been broken

and sometimes the sharp pieces hurt her eyes and brought tears.

But that didn't stop her from wishing for the cliche ending,

To have a fairytale wedding that ended with a Father Daughter dance.

And with that wish upon a star, 

God came down and granted her wish

Thing Two.

Her hazel eyes met thing two with awe and wonder.

He appeared in her life and quickly into her heart

Thing Two's character description was crossed out was highlighted dad.

The story continued for two years as she grew up.

though almost grown, thing two was a great story teller.

He was taller than her and her hazel eyes looked up at him

as he taught her things of unconditional love and heroic deeds.

He fixed the pigments in her eyes and she didn't cry anymore

scenes rushed by at a fast pace in a happy montage...

 She bookmarked her favorite scenes in the script of her memory.

Scene 1

She liked going shopping with him  to the mall.

he was patient as she tried on armfuls of clothes.
He never told her that her outfits revealed too much skin
but she would have listened to him if he did.

Scene 2

he met the first prince she said the words "I Love You" to

He was protective, but his heart was soft and welcoming

He knew the prince was a good fit for his new daughter.

********

The fairytale seemed to come with a happy ending

But little did she know fate likes to twist the final scene

and fog set in with the fights that echoed through the walls.

The final battle was tragic and well fought, 

and ended with stab wounds in the back of each of us

at the realization of lies told by the once known dad. 
 the heroine wished to stop the bleeding with love

but there was too much blood loss to revive broken hearts.

 the glass pigments were broken again in hazel eyes

this time it shattered blue eyes at the same time.

making each pair a darker shade shadowed with mistrust. 

Thing Two continued popping pills to hide the guilt it felt

It's character description came to light with truth with two words

Addict.

Liar.

The scene ended with thing two's packed bags and goodbyes.

but not before it asked for what was left of the production money

A new word was added to it's character description.

Ass.

Thing one and Thing two were tragic characters

potential to be heroes..but failed and became villains

villains over Addiction.

These hazel eyes will be lucky if they trust again

To Thing 3 wherever you are,

each of the remaining characters eyes wont be so naive this time.

Be careful of what you do to our script.

*End Scene*

Graffiti

Subways, taxis and trains are New York's tourists

Their windows noticing graffiti on concrete walls

Bricks are jigsaw puzzles scattered with spray paint

The art of "Taggers" seem thoughtless to eyes of the city

 abstract letters pass these hazel eyes at a fast tempo

leaving behind a growing wonder about graffiti ed names

"Misunderstood." they screamed dying to be heard.

Only the ghosts of the artists lost soul seemed to listen.

Eyes studied hard at the offense that dared be called art

listening for a whisper that shows stories of shattered pasts.

painted lines were drawn as directions on maps to the artists heart

modern day hieroglyphics from people with ancient and worn souls,

wishing to make a mark in the world

I guess we all try and find a way to be heard.

2 million people breathe the air of New York

day by day it passes through their lungs in rhythm 

No one could hear it's music over the heavy traffic

Yet someone in it's maze of crowds creates art

And is heard.

 

The Street Performers create graffiti with instruments

The New York Times graffiti with ink on fragile paper.

Models and Stars graffiti with pixels on Times Square

Tourists graffiti with footprints they leave as they tour 

The chefs of local cafes graffiti with rich sauces and taste

The business men graffiti with graphs and stock shares

Doctors graffiti with stitches in the lives they save

Soldiers graffiti with gunfire that rings with freedom

writers graffiti with their veins they pour into words

Yet these taggers all have something in common

Heartbeats and lungs that wonder what to live for

New york is a city easy to lose oneself in

between the narrow streets and skyscrapers.

But the city is small compared to this big world

It's no wonder we graffiti our names into it

At this moment 7,284,331,343 names are signed on birth certificates

a contract vowing "To Live." beyond what our lungs can expand.

Photos we take, hearts we give, hearts we break, and words we write

These are graffitied on every surface of what makes us human

Hoping one day someone with searching eyes will notice our artwork

Wanting to know the story behind the paint on our walls that are put up

to know of the heartbreak and the way the artist's heart beats and feels

To understand the "Misunderstood" soul behind the abstract shapes

I guess its about finding someone who appreciates art

That's when we know we've been heard.

To taggers everywhere, keep signing your name

You deserve to be heard.

Days and Reasons

We met on a Saturday so cold we could see our breath,

watching the steam rise through conversation we held.

Words came to wonder, hidden in my curious eyes

That night, you were the reason my heart decided to thaw.

We had our first date on a Monday so rhythmic with music.

We listened for hours as hearts beat through hands we held.

Amsterdam made us a playlist that night and formed hand written art

That night, you were the reason I believed in red painted canvases

You kissed me on a Wednesday so sweet it tasted like honey

Our lips collided, my veins felt and carried through my body.

Signals in my brain were miss firing and running wild in dance

That night, you were the reason I was forgetting how to breathe

We took a drive on a Thursday and toured each others hearts

Your hand strummed my knee like guitar strings you know well

lights blurred by and lit up your eyes that looked into mine

That night, you were the reason my eyes sparkled brighter

I left on a Friday filled with repeated songs of Angels and Airways

reminding me of you at every stop light and the passing street signs

The music stopped with my ringtone that lit up with your name

Last night, you were the reason I couldn't seem to stop smiling.

Its pouring rain on a Saturday as I drive to the beat of Amsterdam,

the anthem plays through speakers demanding me to write again.

hearts are traced against the clouded window that I have touched

Tonight, you're the reason for my fingers making art. 

Inspired by the Horizon Line.

Inspired by the Horizon Line

When someone searches for inspiration

They begin their search at the night sky.

Their eyes stare in mystery and wonder,

Gazing at the distant stars miles away.

They search for glowing comets and galaxies

And stars that race across the atmosphere.

Afraid they’ll blink and miss a shooting star.

That's why it’s magical when they happen to find one.

Their eyes search for impossible secrets

That the vast empty night might hold.

They breathe in the midnight breeze

Hoping the air that had just kissed the stars

Might actually kiss them back, inspiring them.

They always count on stars to share their secrets.

Because are constant, no matter where in the world.

Their loyalty to writers is what makes them intriguing.

It's what keeps someone coming back to be inspired.

Someone might hold their eyes to the sky for hours.

Waiting for words to come that captivates an audience.

Meanwhile lost eyes miss just below the horizon line,

The work of art that's been placed right in front of them,

It’s Waiting for them to bring their eyes down and search its beauty.

This work of art carries unknown variables.

Never constant like the stars and spaces held.

It changes based on where someone is watching from.

The variety of art on the horizon line is what’s alluring.

For some, they might see a distant city.

The life of the city glitters in the lights.

Busy cars rush by to a certain fast pace tempo,

While geometric buildings create striking patterns.

For others, they might see an infinite ocean.

The dark waves create a dance in harmony.

The reflection of the moon lies on the water

It looks distorted, making a Picasso masterpiece.

Someone might look down and see a young couple,

Fingers laced while stealing kisses as they walk.

It might not be an art work like the familiar sky,

But the couple has their own stars in their eyes

Everyone looks to the stars to write poems about.

Stars are unchangeable and as such predictable.

If someone were to look below at what holds the stars.

The risk of being inspired is greater.

What they end up writing about is uncertain.

But maybe, someone could write something equally as beautiful.

 

I looked at the endless Logan sky tonight.

The stars were loyal and sparkled through cold air.

Around me empty space stretched as far as I could see

And tonight, emptiness is what inspired me.