Days

Derty fingers press hard agenst the derty wight pages turning nothing to days days in the life of this man and that's my first problum I'm a man some days all I think about is sex and others it's the fact weman confuse me to know ends just days serching for that one word phrase that will turn You and me in to u and s one fanomanale combanashen of anething ever sead biy any desent man in the intier world into one pakege redy to blow these days I'm not look for motents to clime I'm look for a rhyem anuf to make som hot air and filla baloon so mabe i can fly and one day say a three word vers that will brake the cerse and turn you and me in to us with crispy crust and a charry resting on tope of a monten of dust contaning the ashes of the past still asender in lust turn wood to wildfiers Im a man imperfect and askue but that does not change my feeling for you. they transend the stars and play b ball on mars where the water comes in cups overflowing with ink derty fingers press hard agenst the wight pages turning nothing to days days i go with out you day i go with out speking days of artestic bliss i turn to you and air exapes my lungs and these days when the moutens you clime are but grains of sand you take my hand and turn singals plerals and i'm looking forword to the days when I can take my words from the secret place and show you and say a two word incantation turning you and me In to use and we
by jhone doe

Age

Fear insumsn the things outsid these doors I hould to for sacurety I wonder if the feeling we had when the pasen was young still lingers behind your distent eyes that have darknd to me over the years darling do I still move you tdo I turn over in your mind as you sleep or have man outsid ower walls timpted you with the lies o this world my dear do you still hold me high in your mind or has the age around my face and hands turn me to unatractractive statue you shall not cleng to do I still free you from this world with my kiss love or has youthfule lusts tired old feelings to new experences I no longer can give to you can I chang your mind walking out the door is not the only chose you have my dear all I won't is you my love the years have been good to you but in your eyes where they good to me do I steel turn the lights on in your house or will you have to find some one new my love I can no longer move you like I onec did but does that mean you no longer can stay with me love don't leve me deth liyes behind that door for me it's up to you darling do you love
by jhone doe

This is real

I'm sorry if I have to shak your drape of sacurity A little bit to hard or brake you vase of realityI'm sorry to point out the derty man on the corner because that is all he knowsI'm sorry if I have point out the boy how got Betten up in school because he was smaller then every one or bully who bet him up because he was raped as a childI'm sorry to point out the class clown who acts out only because he is so scared o what Is insid of him or the shy girl in the corner who is so scared of the world she hides her poetic butiy from it,I'm sorry if I have to point out the fat kid who's only sin was he was smarter then evrey one els or the prep who got locked up at 13 because she only wonted a little love or the giy who left her because he only wonted someI'm sorry to point out the singal mom working three jobs just to make her childs life a little better or the husbened who cumetted suisied after the devorseI'm sorry if I have to shake your drapes of sacurity a little too hard or make your reality a little less real but this is real what life looks like I'm the morning with out any make up on the world outsid of your for walls and a roof the truth that we fail to teach ower kids so I'm sorry to wake you up but this is real
by jhone doe

To you

To you yes you you are butiful your eyes have intise me to stare in to your soul and wonder if three winks and a smile will tell you how I feel you are butiful to you inspire me and your butiy knows no ends I see you for who you are nit just another pritty face or a mark on a bead post no you are speahel these feelings I have for you are real I won't to be that smile you can't explan at work cuz I will Tret you like a prensses I won't to fill you bowl with worth so you will never be could agen you are butiful to me you are my every thing the voice that escapes my mothe the words in the air these are all you and this is how I feel for you you are butiful to me weman cower I fear when you walk throw a door and you turn ever head we Are so mutch alike we should be togither you are butiful and if you feel the same plz leve your number and name after the beep.
by jhone doe

Days in the life of a poor man

Good morning how can I help youThis phrase makes my inside bleedFake smial on my face fake clothes on my body fake me siting at a table behind a computer smiling at people who can biy and sell me in a hart beet and I work for the man like Clark cent I hid my true identaty behind hour glasses filled with sand counting the secns till I am super man no longer a slave to the real world haveing to repet the same movement the same lerecs the same rhimes over and over vishens of instrucshanil videos dance in my head all I am laking is a goverment Holaday and some fat giy to delever my five minet sermen on locked and keys to people who can biy and sell me 8-5 in a jail unable to create not wonting to live drenking resicaled air from the goverment tap time I will never git back lost realitys lost ideas lost poems all kill biy father time mothers money and the creation of the wheelTiers of these people who can biy and sell me who are more interested in the dollersiyns then the people giving them to them there calling on me my time to sin and all I won't to do is stand up and smak them and tell them how wrong they are but in sted I sayGood morning how can I help you?
by jhone doe

13, Demon

Angle flytless wings peeled from frams of inasence biy hands atached to hateful lems of saten free. I can never go back never retern to happly ever afters where knights in glisining armor carry me to worlds outsid realites door I am no longer sweet core turnd sour from misplaced lust blossoms no longer puer tanted with vishens of thing I was to youg to under stand. Ragedoll salilaqe limes strown cross faces saying two word anticdots to cellings falling on plaster blank faces. Stealing gifts that where not yours to unrap interdusing sin to the immaculate clock of witch I doned. Emptyed forms dancing cross mirrored places showing shells of things long past I am no longer butiful no longer free traped limbo unable to go lower then the floor. I am no longer a princess houlding out for prenses to take hands of heels away to casles and velvet sheet you have taken away every last happy moment in my life and replaced it with fear what deamons you conger with fingers paid to pray what desalet waslands have you left in your wake demon what have you done to me what dreams have you riped from my flesh what dark pools that swerl behind babby blue brightness lieing to thows around me demon you know not what you have taken from me for now I am peowed posteg not able to maile myself plans to nowhere express I am nolnger misused muse I am taken broken and alone demon what have you done to me? What formless tarers have you consived what dreams have you crushed in others demon I wonder when you flows your eyes at night if I hont your dreams of mening and torched you with images you unwish open a shining little gril demon what thoughts cascad your mind as doters turn to open ageless night of past you have forgoten I wonder if I tourcher you when you lay down to rest demon do you fear me or I you demon take your fingrs that are payed to pry and ripp out harts from chests not of this world leve them broken and alone like torn hardwood shadow dancing on the back of the thing that used to be a little girl mosenless forms liying lost of mening leve me your damage has allredy left my felds baren of life demon there nothing more you can do to me i am broken
by jhone doe

12, Art to me

Picter me this two people siting at a table tenchens rising over there heads eating shaking hands cuz they don't know what to do with them self and emagen you where see them so mutch in coomen that nothing could brake there bond and you know they are mention to be both to soared to take to big a lep for fear the other would be left behind in a heap and emagen you panted this down on to a canvise what would you change about this would you put your brush to the man face to chang his like ness as you see fit or would you make what you will of the man but put them some where a little less potent so no deseshens had to be mad or If I may if you had the choise would you put the two of use together worm embrace tenderly hanging on eatchers word holding out that the thought of the two of use in a room does not friten but delight you would you pant ower souls tiying nots unforsee bonds in the air above ower head or would you wish it back to the time befor This soule of mine met your cryin out to you I'm yours and make it not so. just so time would revers it self or would you wish backe pasts of pasts and never leve the hands of the first one you held to. not trading it for the would I would like to see the picters you would draw for me this imag you would pant for me mabe you would brake for me turn the canvis upsid down to revele the truth behind the fact panting imortaliIng truths that you won't to see then wish it be what would you paint of me love would you even paint me.
by jhone doe

11, Nervana sunrise

Midnidnight tacos after three am turned it to fallen agels on the sid of the bed fighting for space besid your head bucause you are a goddess fethers protruting from the ends of the fingers you touch paper with golden Locks asid your head died fier to hid your ture intenshens eyes deeper then the sea of thought I swim through to touch pin to papper only so that I can Wright you. herts in unisen dace above the tops of trees of the place I call home like I'm cry to the moon as if it where the only thing stand between you and me. stars jeles of the elumanashen that you bring to light buy a touch of you hand to mine frontera dancing across screens crating galixeys wher only you and me my dwel hanging up past like derty cots out sid the door we take a step high twords good intenshens making something that only a grater bing could have posably dreampet up on a bad day there somthin in this some deeper then meer cindals and flame more the another chapter that we have to deal with only to move to a grater end there is so muth more to this things only cheldren could explan throw word deriving from a sorse Mitch grater then the two of use there is something here something predesten something set in stone now standing buy her side I wonder if the thing I am can compare to what I see in her why would a goddess settle for me why would she i am traped bound to forms to jagged to hold on to imperfect acsadents thrown together to forme a babby with two arm and legs and these words on my sleev why would she won't me I only hould her to this humAn form ceeping her from freefloting to wourlds I could only dream of having to reiterat the last hours of my life cuz I can't belive this replaying the seconds that predesrened this us this thing witch I can't bleve in to exestence pinching my self hoping drams arnt the result of what I am going throw waking to nervana sunrise houlding the hands of a goddess.
by jhone doe

Ten, Butityful

This is it nothing more nothing less this is it the fina the end tuis is the deth of a friend this is the crying sky on the day of the first time you cut this is it this I the world I see I'm sorry I see the would throw Rosie shads covers in blood cuz the would at perfict yhall but it is buityful evert moment butiful the giy that steels to servive butiiful th end of a long book butiful kisses on the tail end of dawn butiful cream soda after dark butiful halos and horn butiful dead friends butiful i won't you to see the world through my eyes cuz it is all so butiful every moment butiful criss crossing butiful diaganals butiful Deth butiful every singal thing butiful so I sorry you can't see things my way but I'm trying to show you this world isn't perfict but It sher is butiful.
by jhone doe

fuse

8, LieI seewtly lie to your prying eyes I need this all of it every second you brerh in to me I need this so know this I am not some solver standing at your side I am not a statue I am not a tree I am me this man the one who thought you understand that I needed you and you needed me and we where sopost to be etchothers every thing but it was a lie you took my hand and led me to coeadors filled with sand and left me there for dead tell lie to hide your eyes from me I am not imortil I bleed and with every time you staned me in the hart or in the back I hav the wound to show that it enters and exeted my body multable times in places I can not reach on my own i feel for you yea because I am a man but you turned this in to a friend ship with out a bout and where sinking in to abilven and yet I can leve you side cuz I mad a promis till you screming for me to go away I will stand here at your side even thow you lied I now that you had your resins I know that you hide I know some of the pain you feel I feel it to or els I would not wright poetry for you and yet you make it sound like i never asked you to tell me the world was agenst you and you needed my help when evry day I sold inches from fighting it off for you I am not perfic all thow I try but I lie too to hide from yon the secrets I tell noone for they are mine the pins I have the things I have done where wher you my love when the monsters at my door had shotguns and razed blads holding the hand of another telling him that universas and raibows make you cry and how you won't to die and and that you lie I stand here at you sid wondering if I am misinf something9, RefundWas it three am or for that made me screming for more it was the day after the end from where I stand the sky looks like marbles routating arond no center point not. Any more not ever sence you walked out that door holding the hands of some new lover with broken wings able to do anything crossing arms over chest plats and crossbows you shot me with arrows barking the inside sparrows falling for you ties your lies the things you Gould me for a smile if only for a whil I never wonted this never wonted you to take my hand and dance around my emoshens till they lie ruwand on the grind then fly away like and agle free to another man higher then me I am sorry I never mention to turn you away but I was not a door mat for you to wip you feet on so I sent you back to the would I got you from for a refund and a bag of m&ms you where the only thing I ever wonted now I got to what a moth for next moths feld and see if the newer modls can make me feel but the tiers in my eye won't heal for toy where every thing to me and now your nothing
by jhone doe

Six, Wright me

Wright me love write me any thing wright me two words on a piece of paper like supercalafragalisticexpealadoshes refregeraters or whuts up wright me the sun wright it down wright me new shoes wright me a new world wright me a rhrym wright me love wright me wright me a song wright me a house wright me a sole wright me to the end o the earth wright me a winter wright me a spring wright me anything wrigh it on the sky wright I on my arm wrght in on the left hand of god wright it down wright it on the walled and when you run out of placers to wright wright me put me on paper every thing you see in me every thing you need of me every thing you won't from me and then speke it to exestence so pleas my lobe wright me something even two simple word like whuts up
by jhone doe

Five, Hands holding hart strings

Nothing els on my mind but the idea of you in my life completing my days with your smile holding on to happyness with a ferm hand bleeding out these words agen to the people who don't even know who are what or why I see in you and how can it be we where just friends three years ago aqatences in halls hugs mad espeshaly for you to briten your day just to say your butiful your hand I dar not touch for fear I might hert the delecat balince of the in tier univers because to me it revolve around the finger point and thar can only be you. I cry out at night from not being more awar that you where there not just hallway fornacation for despret hug lies you where there. Not even three years ago only near menchens of exectence of formulations made me think you where some one I should evod at all cost like the pleg to touch you was sine. I allwas saw you for what you where never routed that at all but now the aplafacation of random fondashens has turnd hugs In public places to mindnight rids home from gods knows where cuz really only thing there I cared about was you all I won't is to know that you are there when noone els will be thet is more the a friend I won't you at my side through thick and thin through rum and gin throw middleage madness and old people farts I won't to die knowing that I completed something that no one els on earth could posable even fathom exestse an at the end of the day we hug just Luke we did in the hallways of ower youth and fall deeply in to something worth drowning in and when we emerg we can do it agen like just so this time it will ba perfect not three year so mutch has changed and when but all I really won't from you is to be more then just my firend be chapter two of a two chapter book called life staring me and ending with you on the front pourch houlding a shotgun in your hand wording off intruters on ower land I'm not asking for boxing maches between sheet cover alltow the though I do say has crossed my mind but to me with your hand in mind hart beting in orcastra like unison is better then any IFC fight that goes on behind clowsed doors all I'm realy asking for is the idea that we can be more then just a maybe and a siy
by jhone doe

Four, The field

I playing thr field like some cind of sick virson of minesweeper I am trying to evoed the explosive ones with bondry issues complacsring a simple hunt and pit to qontum fisics in the bathroom with a bome straped to you wong. Red flags go on in your head for the ones not to touch for fear of a boom holding out hands redy to remove the garbige and find the one that I won't to hold on to for true rest of my life the one with the shades. I'm back in the field agen plying flag football with the sants front line paking submChen guns aNd rocket loncherz and plan to use them both to git my flags mad of gold I run full sprint to the ege of a cliff and jump to the moon with the up draft of the wind that is behind my wings I'm playing the field agen never though that would hapen hopen I not here long the feld is Cinda dangeris.
by jhone doe

Three, onex best

Drop by drop I drips from the tips of thows who use it darkens tip staned from the sole that it has taken to another plan crafited in the pits of hell and bless bit the grace of god it never goes dull It tip never brakes it hold is ferm and it s movement finel. Blackens vinam drips from it's lips posing all who dare to stand agenst it drawn to be welded by the one who's actions Speke louder then the words he scraches in to the mind of his unexpectiomg victims blowing there minds out the back of there head with a mead flick o his rist curing out the word you saw this in there eyes leving them alive only to tell the teal of how he took down so miny men and leving not a singalong one dead brething life in to there lifless skulls with the vinam the tip brings forth from it's insides how and with every new victim it strives for more blood thersty for the ear that has not herd it's sound craving a bar slat in witch to carve out it's idels in and leve badly brething only to be a wikness to what it did. It onex vinim leving them un able to tuen away this best the bringer ofdeth he legers not far from my head inches form my skull and I winder if u have tamed him or him me.
by jhone doe

Two, Poets git layed like this

Hellow whats you name
git lost i know whats on your mindreally what
your a man what els would it be
well let me tell you it's my
Fritened eyes turning the insid of my head to tornado stile cowtipping with no way out crying out for some one to take my hand and hold on for dear life for I might blow away In the next wind tour between the blue and green serching for a way out of this mixed up emoshenal rollercoster I call my life and into the one that better suits that of the man I won't to be the man I strive to be, houlding out for randishens of the true me to shine throw this broken shell of a man forming the the kiss on the lips of the girl I meet in the bars I travel to after a show showing them a man can do more then just look for sex and a good beer that
I feel
I live
I breth
I move
that I am real not just another cardbored cut out of male shovenisum and asshole vandictions that I am not just a man I am more then a man I a a voice on a roof top to thows who have no voice to bring i am the voice to the tiers and hungry because they have given up trying I am a voice in the derkness screming out to thows holding up trees in there hands and ther hart full of love I am the voice for every fat kid in any high school in amarica because they are afrad of stoking up to the bully I am a light to the lost when your pretchers no longer hold the word with there hands I am a poet a voice in the wilderness so I am not just a man my dear can I intrest you in a drink this will take a while and Mabel later you and me can creat another smile.
by jhone doe

7, Nothing good

Fiery skys light up the eye of the one I can't yet see my self without hats and hands making it hard to consentrate on the task at hand fear turning simplisity out to a visit to the one place I never thought I would be crashing on my bested clutch sleep aluding my eyes fritened to now what's out sid the walls of this house as lions and wolfs fall on the ground outside turning the first night alone to tarred and fed for the monsters thar awat the deems I hold away for dear life dancing rainbows in the forgeound of dinasors eating the left over remnents of old horror fliks travling to oz in a papercup full of the ink I wasted last year drowning in the thought I will not wake up in the morning cluching wooden frames for fear I might fall off the earth to tiers to care I try to sleep away sword of ink at my side redy to stab the lions at the window redy to kill
by jhone doe

One, children for the street

Incomdesent halos turn above the head of the children we saw last night so pure and poor hands out streched serching for god with there fingertips screening for the extra changh in ower pockets hoping for enuf to make a lofe of bred apper in there hands eating the flesh of servivle stealing some times just to fit buy holding up stranger for a Copley bucks and a dream of a better life these child of the streets cardbord conasuers eating from broken heps of yesterdays luch for the poeople how pass them ther hands in there pocket serching for a small something or nothing just to git rid of this child of the street with there fingers serching for the god they so gratly need passing out on park bunches and underpasses bathed in this worlds hate wharing golden rags as Jesus did hopeing someone will put some chang in there hands witch are still serching for god Prying for a batter life outsid there cardbord bosses and daily morning begging sechens on street corners not safe enuf to walk alone down these children of the streets cry out to the god they are serching for hoping he can bring forth enuf changh to put food on the tabel another day cersing the giy who passed ther way and empted a full cup of starbuks Corrie and a un eten hamberger in to the suwers inches form there face these children who hand over flow with the hope that some one wil have enuf love to spar a cuple buks in to there hand that are still serching for the god that has seemed to left there side a man dead today in the cryer of cetrel and main be was pour and was killed boy a man too bisy to kar he found his awser in the rear tiers of a 87 convertable where is yours.
by jhone doe