And What Did You Think Love Would be Like

And what did you think love would be like?

A heart being torn a million different ways?

An explosion within?

Confusion, distrust,

Anger, and lust?

A strong, uncontrollable desire

To hug, to hit,

To kiss, to kick?

Finding the most beautiful rose,

Then pricking your finger on its thorns,

Watching as your blood slowly gathers,

Knowing you could bandage it, fix it,

But you’re still shocked that something so beautiful

Has caused you such pain?

Did you think it would be a comfort?

A security blanket to hide behind

And burry yourself beneath

To wait out the storm brewing outside?

Or an emotion too strong for one soul to hold?

What about a soldier walking through a mine field,

Searching for the mines, but not wanting to set them off

While enveloped in the dark with nothing but a spark

That could set off a high powered explosive,

An atomic bomb, affecting the lives of everyone nearby?

Or simply a never-ending childhood fantasy?

The unknown?

Did you think it would be like an old couple?

Bickering about the differences between identical things,

Knowing where the other keeps the coupon drawer,

Then finding it full of secrets

And the closet full of lies?

How about having a man

Who’s holding the cold barrel of a gun to your head

Place a hand on your shoulder

And reassure you that everything will be alright?

Could it be a warm and fuzzy ticking time-bomb?

That caresses you as it explodes

Causing you to feel the greatest and the worst feelings

Within moments of each other?

Or, at the end of the day,

After the pain, the anger, the frustration,

Wanting to do it all again?

What did you think love would be like?

A Flower, Hell, Tick-tock, and a Subway

In this hell we call life,

You are my flower.

Always blooming,

Always reaching,

Towards the sky, towards some kind of heaven.

Always growing.

Growing more beautiful everyday,

But I know, one day,

You will die.

As a flower dies in the winter.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The clock is always moving

And as the clock is moving, so are we.

Moving, always moving and racing

Racing against time

Always too busy for anything else.

Too busy to care, to listen to another’s story.

Too busy to even drop a penny in the bum’s jar on the street,

Because we are afraid of missing the subway.

But in this chaotic world of rushing and racing,

Racing and rushing,

You are my flower.

Your petals are soft and delicate.

They gently press against my nose as I breathe in their sweet scent.

They are pulled by the wind and easily crushed,

But your stem is strong, it holds you up tall.

Tall against the weeds, the grass, other flowers.

But that can still be bent, can still be broken,

In a strong wind, or once trodden upon.

But there are still the roots.

Your roots hold tight,

With all of their might to the earth.

Growing further and further,

Deeper and deeper.

Holding fast to your beliefs, your past,

To your family, your heritage.

Holding to everything that has been and still is important in your life.

And they will keep holding on

Until you are plucked from this earth,

Or the winter frost comes.

Then you will become the soil beneath our feet.

You will become earth

For another flower to grow into.

But for now,

You are my flower

In this chaotic world

I call my life.

A Welcoming

Welcome

Welcome lovers of words,

Creators of poetry,

And mere listeners.

Welcome all to a world of words.

Wonderous, beautiful, expressful words.

Welcome to a movement of freedom and engagement

Welcome to a cause that is just

A cause that will produce more words

Create more art

And entrust all to its wonder.

Now, let us all pay close attention to these words;

Marvel at their beauty and hear their true meaning.

Let us all listen to the sharing of these words.

Embrace them.

Let them caress your mind and soul

Let them envelope you for all that you are worth!

For you are worthless to them.

You pale in comparison to their power.

To their strength and to their meaning.

Without them, you are nothing.

So let go.

Lose yourself to them and they will lose themselves to you

You will become one and you will become free.

You will give them meaning and they will give you a purpose.

Use them right, and they will never fail you.

So many others will, but words will never let you down.

So be quiet now, and listen.

Listen to their meaning, do not let them deceive you.

Listen, for they have a meaning and the meaning is good.

They want to be heard,

Just as you want to be heard,

And your parents want to be heard,

And you friends, your neighbors,

And that man who lives up the street.

We all want to be heard

But to be heard, we must also listen

Listen to the words.

We must not only listen to them, but feel them.

And to make them heard we must really feel them

Become them.

If you cannot feel the words you are using,

Then no one else will.

So welcome.

Welcome to my world of words.

Welcome to a place where words and I become one.

Where they are more than mere characters upon paper

Where I have allowed them to envelope me for all that I am worth

Where I am no longer worthless for I wield the power of words.

Where I have become lost to them

Where you, too, will become lost to them

Welcome.