I write poetry. Some people like it. I don't know why. If you like it, don't steal it. I will hunt you down and beat you with a half-cooked spaghetti noodle covered in Prego.

fear build your walls up high make them strong don't love or I'll get in and tear your heart to shreds

bruise tear-shaped bruises on my hands on my soul it's all your fault for hurting me this way

when I ask when I ask who is there sometimes I hear an answer I am here sometimes I hear silence am I here

Memories I have so many memories Hidden in the stars. They fly up to the moon And bounce away from there. The stars pick them up, Holding my memories Within their distant light. Every time I watch A shining star follow Its vanishing course, I know I have forgotten The memory that it held, But I can't remember which.

waterfall watch as they come down slow motion dancing light beads of glass breaking on the rocks rain against my face music in the falling the magical waterfall

Living Rush of Words Living rush of words as Water flows on the rocks Steady rhythm drums as Beating heart in the chest Even breathing calms as Air enters in, then leaves Poems live simply as Nature allows them be

The Rose You are so beautiful in outward appearance with your crimson petals stroking my skin -- perfectly formed, flawless in every way. But when I reach to hold you, I find the thorns are sharp as ever.

Slumber If death is eternal sleep Do the dead have dreams? Do they remember them When awoken? Or do they forget? I wouldn't know. I don't remember Dreaming when I was dead.

without a clue climbing on the ceiling riding on the sky doing everything crazy they're wondering why dance on the rooftops laugh at the night cry at the wonder shout at the might swinging from a cloud weaving through a rainbow doing it all your way they don't even know

From a Forgotten Poet I hope that one day people will read my words and analyze pick them apart until the poem itself is forever lost in rhetoric because once that happens I will be famous