The Book of Broken Dreams

Opinions come so quick

I drop bricks. Grab my lift and float
You cling to reality
I cling to hope.
Balancing the impossible it seems;
Left thirsty for drinks
I speak on the breeze;
shuffling the mountain peaks.
the only mountain you see is me
I cling to the snow I think
I know me.
You clutch the dirt and scream;
but I'm at the peak.

~1~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

I don't sit back to display. I don't chalk up my indifference at the gate.

I dance on the stage. I act on the roll call.
You say I am, but I am not small.
Indifference shakes- I hold my weight
Balancing beams but I never spill
In all my wanderings and thoughts, I've never been ill.
I've been a flower without a sun; pelted with opinions on how to grow.
people are quick to explain,
Ask yourself though
why do I stay silent like the rain.
Dripping on shores you can't see
Dancing pens and not conversation it seems.
It is not the dust I need but the breeze.
All this time and silence from me.
Because I know what love means.
To care is to ask
"Jessica- what do you think?"

~2~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

How heavy is it?

Weightless unless it accumulates in my heart to sit;

then it's like bricks. Sharp corners and an easy retreat.
You have no idea how hard I've worked,
deafening the urge to scream.
Now it's just static unless i decide to think.
Wild I suppose, this strange peace.
Sometimes though the thought blips,
maybe If I screamed the world would remember I exist.
I could never however;
so, a single tear escapes
and I still the beating of my heart,
so it lives another day

~3~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Judging me
Why why why
All these tears I’ve never cried.

Tossing rocks from the sky.

Blameless I burn alive every night;

blameless; No old conversation abides.

Blameless
Left to question the heights.
Blameless what is life without the night?

Castles are being built and I feel awfully small.

What is truth without hope;
What is the garden with a wall?

I am out there;
I tossed me from you and myself;
I suppose not every wish is well.

I am left to wilt;
i am left to wilt.

The caller scrapes words from his tongue.

Keep your vase,
I will grow through the rust!

~4~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Wish I could call upon the wisest.

Have an angel whisper to me..
how to breathe normal again after you’ve felt the burning of your flesh
how to sleep when your heart and your lungs
have been ripped from your chest.
how to trust again when you lose your home your kids
because of your best friend.
How do I walk with concrete legs I'm frozen.
It's like burning from the fire
the worst pain in all the world.
your mind’s numb.. but at the same time,
it's panicking.

~5~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Diligent hands to the Earth

Little ears are to teach.
No Chosen race; but one race Humanity.

~6~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

I heard in fields; when no one is near

that the trees speak
that often; old men think not to- but weep.
The tales they tell I often wonder then
if the daises they whisper and ask the men-
if they tell them-
"Live your life well.."

~7~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

If Life were a ride what would you say- Fuck I left my ticket back at the gate and
I'm seemingly overwhelmed and I can't quite escape- my fate.
There's lying I'm sure, as sure as the surety of razor blades
left flowers at my grave and I am ambiguous so the stake I raise and I
I force myself
I force myself out of my grave.

of our silence.
I fear.
We know nothing.
Who do we hurt?
Only us. Which then in turn;
..hurts it all.

All play part.

~8~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

For man I believe there comes a point where he/she is freed from inner audacity
and must see the rather bullish nature of us and our being.
We are taught to run from things. We are taught statistics then told in essence we
have no control over these things.
We are taught listen and heed as if we are nothing but buzzing hoards-
a flock a swarm of bees.
One must ask themselves at some point within their own fractal Existence
whether the staple system even has right to lead.

In the darkness you won't find me because my mind is quick, and my lips are
sweet. I roll words like Symphonies and one day one day I’ll be beyond your
reach. In the dusk you’ll hold air of trials.. trials from me and you’ll know- you’ll
know all I gave up. every little thing.

~9~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Interesting, is it not the moments we fall short-

Where we hesitate and shake
Part of us states you’re not good enough anymore.
then it’s the ever looming question that pings and haunts were you even good
enough before-
If there ever was an ever were you good enough then?
Therein the artist snares the pen.
questions shake;
I’ve struggled to love my skin
for so long.
Skin I was born with.
My Face!
I walk steady and appreciate my legs.
But where do I Iay my weight
I feel like air unless I’m standing in place.

~ 10 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Does truth come written like a song or a screech like a tire turned wrong?

Both I suppose. But I prefer the sound of waves to storybooks already wrote.

If there is destiny, I propose it's in the throat.

An unwavering voice where weakness is not shown. A calamity of tone.
Conviction in step and in speech.
Paired with a confidence that's unshaking.
Sweat only caught on still frame-
vocal desire when the heart and the eyes find attunement again.

Through all actions we reap what is and isn't destiny. Through speech we seek I
believe what the most inner parts of us need.

To be accepted, to feel free.

To not be ashamed of the desire we hold beneath
-that we're not too small for our dreams,
- that it is not destiny but I that leads.

Do my soul and my dreams not belong to me?

No one else could take their claim-

If you feel unworthy measure again. Why- Because eyes deceive, and mirrors
reflect inner beliefs.

With bravery comes calamity. A rejection of fear- it's knowing it does nothing but
render me here.

Self-respect is the greatest of all gains, but a failure to love is the heaviest of all
chains.

~ 11 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

What is the modality of life?

Is it essence, is it virtue, is it fate?
A humbling to which I may relate or a foreign steer,
an epic thrawl of
"little voices don't belong here"
If so then I propose it should be rewrote.
Out of suffering comes disposition, discourse.
Princesses are adorned with jewels and warriors scars.
The label however; I bethrall.
Innumerable at best is the height to which wisdom attests

~ 12 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

measures of a pounding chest ; soul at unrest,

we do not see the things; which should be.
I jump out into the world
then back in me.
Balancing living and being asleep.

~ 13 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

I wonder how beautiful the world would be if we realized we were flowers and
not weeds.

______________________

“Be still
Be still
My ever-beating heart.
Be still Be still
Or I may never start.”
______________________________________

~ 14 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Its unwavering strength right,

but every know and then...it’s a pause.
Its wobbling legs and a dislocated arm.
Its feeling like a fucking legend
Cast into the dark.
An insane amount of love
and life keeps me barred.
Its feeling capable of anything;
but too shrew to start.
It’s a love for Shakespeare but
feeling like Poe's heart.
The moment you succumb to fear-
That’s failures start.
It’s not liking who the world-
Tells you.. you are.
Its feeling like a chaos-
And feeling like art.
The never-ending battle
Between my brain and my heart.

~ 15 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

drum the monotonous call

“Your problems are big
And my darling you’re small!”
It’s the quake
Longing for a shovel but equipped with a rake.
The desire to defy but stuck in the drum of lies.
Walls that echo lines.
The structured forever rendered
“Laws of yours and mine.”
A pure eye amidst an insatiable cry.
The defined curse of a crumb
The string and the scream of a hum
My body is old but I am young.
The desire to write all that’s been done
The inaudible cry of
Save me please someone,

I just want to feel loved.

I feel like chum,
a churned-up curse
a genius mind
trapped in a body of lies.

~ 16 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

I could wail on any day for every day of wrong; but peace has never been
freedom's choice of song.

So much sadness in my heart,

I feel ill.
What brings better days?
in this moment.
above this.
Is it believing
that the sun thaws me-
the words that they’ll shake me;
desire sparks my heart
is that the start?

~ 17 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

“You won't find your happiness in someone else.

You have to find it in yourself.”
- Jessica Jones

~ 18 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

How do you make peace with the eye of a storm the swift
rendition of any and all forgotten lore.
On the cusp of ash was it not where man was born?
A swift breath given I suppose we should ask ourselves
how the eye was formed.
In silence speaks an inoperable roar. A shrieking
mystique of how magic was born.

Take heed and know from the truth of every woe

They devour the seed.
I am my only foe.
I am my only foe

~ 19 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

“Everything you yearn and want to be... You're already it. You just don’t realize
it.”

~ 20 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Man silence the noise just a little bit!

Unleash the rain.
It's too overwhelming when it's me and my pain.
stuck in the shallow parts of my brain
why lift the veil and throw me back in the muck.
FUCK!
I'm stumbling man and who will catch me?!
The air?! Because I don't feel you here!
Desolate;
but I won't scream out for an embrace.
Pride; always let it dissolve me
fall flat on my face.
"But there's greatness within you"
through blurred eyes I cry on the line.
the fire inside; I meet the night
it’s the proverbial walk of an angel fallen from the sky.

~ 21 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

“Why do we struggle to accept ourselves?”

-Jessica Jones

Our Chains

Destiny is not at the hands of men?

I refute. I repulse against this so called 'truth'.
Those who lay forbarren you are the decipher of your own life.
You build the constructs within your mind and you decide the length at which
you stay encaged. Imprisonment or fame. Knowledge or the masses way.
Greatness existentially roaring or a teeny tiny flame.
I bid I will engulf all wayward ways.
Never ever will I be a solemn exchange amongst the supposed 'grain'.
Strike an iron door before me
I'll show you how metal breaks.

~ 22 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Independence”

What are words my love but quaint drops in a forgotten sea.

What I am is what becomes of me.
What I exude is what I leave.
-Deep Truths from the quietest parts of me.
What a glorious thing man it is to just-...be.
Let us celebrate our Independence in other ways as well.
Let us walk a walk of brevity and not that of a shell.
-Jessica Jones
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Bid a song of peace to my heart while I wait..

~ 23 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

You don't know pain until you're looking in a mirror begging yourself to be
strong?!
You don't know pain until
you walk inside then just collapse from everything.
When your heart cries out.
That's pain when your heart screams.
I’m a warrior; I know I'm at my weakest weak.
Do I fear shame? Nah fuck it cast it all.
No one can do worse unto me than I've done to myself.
I’m nothing but a doll man,
pretty to look at;
but I stay on the shelf .
too fragile to hold
Give me one fucking person
that won't run from me.
Give me one fucking person that truly cares.
One person to just sit
and listen. One person.

And... It's me!

It's only me!! It's only ever me!

An angel. Someone… anyone to just help me?!

Imagine you’re alone on the Earth.

Thinking is my existence a curse?
who meets me?
silence. Only silence.
peace? Only when I sleep.
In my dreams;
I'm not a nightmare.
I get what they mean by black sheep
you get the shallow. (that's it.)
It's loneliness and a pen. (that's it.)
Its me and the dark holding my bleeding heart.

~ 24 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

So what's it feel like when you lose everything?

~ Hold your breath,
That clawing in your chest.
That panic. The inner scream for air and nothing else but air
it's there most of the time.
It's not feeling quite right and moments when your brain stops...
It's weighted silence... A rampant mind trying to just the unjust.
It's simple deciphering you lose.
I don't even think about food.
It's like grab a snow globe and break it;
now try to pick up the water with your hands.
And you'd think: You'd think
the days would seem forever, but they don't.
they're far too quick
it's like the weight of the world
inside your ribs.
The guilt? Fuck.
Do I feel alone? In many ways.
like a nomad with a knapsack.
always the good-bye and rarely a hello.
like the world is small... and you're too big.
It feels like something somewhere has to give
because you fear your heart may rip.

How does one sleep amidst a nightmare among their own great reprieve?
Well do the damned not walk when they feel the burn of heat.
maybe if we walk far enough and long enough
we'll be blessed to feel our own feet.
Its a terrible thing when dreams die; I feel them shaking.
It's like even the wind taunts you by it's ease.
I fear for my heart.
the way it stops and starts.

~ 25 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

"So what do you do when you can't sleep because your eyes want rest but your
soul wants to bleed- write.”

Only light truly illuminates darkness.. and it is through light we enter this world
and through light our journey is ended. It's the in between that matters. Alas! And
pity to those who live beseached. Capsized and overflowed oblivious to the power
of irrational feet.

Right before reaching every peak; in the beginning, all effort is used climbing the
mountain; but once we transcend to the steepest slope, we must use equal effort
to breath while also maintaining a sense of peace. All the while steadily climbing.
The air is thinner, colder, thicker. And the man who masters the greatest
mountains, also masters himself.
Why?
Because he must learn and be at peace with a whole new way to live, to breath;
to be.
And that. That is why we marvel at great mountains, and also at those who climb
and survive them. Because they do the impossible.
{They breath, where panic would likely cause us to cease to be}
The true meaning of strength in man's heart mind and feet.

Silence is more profound than words could ever be.

~ 26 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

What differs from the few who have historically changed the world and those
who exist in it.
🕵️ 🤔 👩🚀
🏃🚶To exist is to live, to be. You wake up and go through your roles and never
question the elements of your reality, our reality, our humanity. You recognize on
a grand scale you, are very small compared to this world. And so you shrink. An
autopiloted type life is ideal as long as finances sustain. So we chase money and
we associate being powerful, being great with material possessions and upgrades.
🤔 But if you're still here [•] you're in the same exact place as everyone else. You
are a drop of water in a river just flowing and running it's course. You seek
fulfillment and status based off our cultural idea that success is just freedom
financially. 🚶Yeah you'll have nice things and be comfortable but you stifled your
grander nature. You made home in the original confines set by society within your
mind. And in doing so your true monumental capacity for greatness will be buried
with you. And the physical things you worked so hard for will stay on this earth
and become someone else's.

The pioneers that have brought and created change, the names we all know,
displayed throughout any history book; they were you. 🙊
Shocking I know that WE ALL have the potential to create mass influence and
bring about changes in our world.
It happens the moment we stop saying,
Who.. little ‘ole me?
•

You be that me.

Your you.
When you do that..... endless possibilities exist.
We are only as powerful as we allow ourselves to be.
Don't shrink.

~ 27 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

“The hardest facet of being - is not feeling bad by doing the particular thing you
find enjoyment in for wealth and success. For some odd reason we’re taught true
happiness is wrong; it isn’t. The teaching that it’s wrong is”-Jessica Jones

"Breath the fire of life into my heart so that I may awaken."

We all possess the fire, but only those courageous enough to harness it, aware of
wielding flame and the dangers associated with the meaning to burn, can be
awakened."

And man turns away deafening himself to an inaudible whisper that all are
worthy, all are Noble. All facets of this existence are higher, and you being of this
existence as a human being, are a higher power. Your higher power burns within
you, stifled by the unnatural elements of this world, although dim it is something,
we all possess. And in this fire, it is our ego that engulfs and burns. So ask not for
the fire to awaken but let it gradually sever the notion inside that anything you
are searching for can not be found within. Then you will see past the barriers. And
those who blow the ash of their ego off into existence have already accepted
what most cannot. We are artist and observer. The ascent is made profound by
intuitively accepting we are a masterpiece and that we are also part of the
element which created it.

I am not as simple as the result of the experiences in my life. I am not just an

accumulation of moments and events. I do NOT occupy the sidelines awaiting on
the allure of "destiny or fate". No one with conscious thought waits on destiny
he’s conscious during his creation of it.
I am not a tree swaying to the movement of the universal wind,
I’m not a rock waiting for momentum or someone to toss me-
I choose. I move.

Life doesn't make or break us. We make or break ourselves.

~ 28 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

“In idle time when your mind wanders.. watch where it goes.”
-Jessica Jones

~ 29 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

A walk through the meadow

The skies are clear,
The stillness of the clouds
ushers in fear,
The flowers start to dance,
Waving gently in the crisp
morning air,
No dew covers the wilted grass,
At times like this it does not grow,
It stays withered,
Stuck in the stage of an expectant snow
The tree it loathes.
Standing tall, blocking the sun,
And all the glory that may come.
It only moves to make way for the snow,
Eagerly it gives the freezing cold.

~ 30 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Judging me
Why why why
All these tears I’ve never cried.

Tossing rocks from the sky.

Blameless I burn alive every night;

blameless; No old conversation abides.

Blameless
Left to question the heights.
Blameless what is life without the night?

Castles are being built and I feel awfully small.

What is truth without hope;
What is a garden with a wall?

I am out there;
I tossed me from you and myself;
I suppose not every wish is well.

I am left to wilt;
i am left to wilt.

The caller scrapes words from his tongue.

Keep your vase,
I will grow through the rust!

~ 31 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Look into your Soul

No man should sit upon a throne
Higher than the rest
Silently watching the storms come in,
Simply pitying those without a home.

No man should feast,

Wasting food he could not eat
Closed doors do his soul no justice
Children gather crumbs in the street.

No man should boast about his fur coat,

As he walks past those,
Laying on rocks,
Cursing the snow.

Why are we responsible for fixing the world?

How do we fix the world when the problems of the world make us freeze-
We simply don’t.
I am responsible for me.
And in being responsible for me;
What then could that do?
When you’re responsible for yourself you alleviate your own suffering.
The World’s suffering? Why?
No one deserves the weight of those who can’t choose let alone
deserve to bear the accumulation of the ones who often don’t even see the
choice.

This is also the game and feast of life

The question is;
To which game do we choose?

~ 32 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

How do we fix what’s broken?

we love.
Everyday we love?
No matter what we love.
Above all else we love?
We breathe and we love.
We breathe and we love?
…But
But
But
Who do we love?

It is not who but life that we love.

For is it not life which brings all of this miraculous love together?
If we love only people we will suffer.
If we love life and learn to Listen and properly love people
We will prosper.
When one Prospers;
All Prosper.

~ 33 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Never will I tell you

you hurt me,
you broke me,
you tore me apart;
Made me beg on my knees,
Crawl like a slave,
Sliding across a dingy floor,
For your love
That was long overdue,
Hitting walls until my knuckles bled,
Dripping proof into a life
full of lies
Your absence
stunted my growth,
You blocked me out
In happiness and in painful truth,
My moments became your moments
Never will you know
All of the Craziness
Was for you and only for you.
2009

~ 34 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

“If I could heal you of anything what would it be? Of all that smoke so deep.”

-Mom

~ 35 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Oh the strength it takes to move my feet,

Continuously walking down
this deserted street,
The wind is bitter
Whipping me reminding me
the sunshine is gone,
The leaves are at the mercy of my feet
Crunching
I send the pieces on their way,
Their perfect shape becoming
only a memory
Speckles of color dance
in the dimming sun
All is silent expect
for the whistle oh the whistle I sing
Leaving behind everything
I need no memories.

~ 36 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

[ Oh let me dance, ]
Oh let me dance,
let the music be my sun,
My voice loud,
but deaf to everyone,
Comfortable in loud silence,
That only belongs to me,
Complete and total bliss,
Let my song move the sea.

I danced.
I danced in flames.

~ 37 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

You have everything you need,

To still the mind is the journey.

How does the moon sound when it howls-

Is it soft or a growl?
Does the world know-
I hold it in my lungs

If every road I walk I saw only bare, which countenance would find me there?
Surely I cannot just smile, let my pain run wild
But what is this fire which seems to idle
the nature of this desire which so often makes me feel wild.
Could it be life which calls-
My love, sweet love let down your walls.

~ 38 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Serendipity

I like to walk occasionally

To clear my frazzled mind,
In each step I take I am aware of the time,
Careful not to be gone too long,
I don't want my daughter to cry,
To wonder where I've gone to
And left her behind.
It's sort of a secret walk,
One I prefer alone
But today as I was leaving
My daughter saw me grab my coat.
Of course I helped her lace her shoes
Let her trudge along
At first I was saddened
My moment of peace was gone
She shuffled beside me
And crushed every leaf,
And questioned every essence of what it is to be
I felt happy enveloped in pride
The sense of rush gone
I felt us growing closer
With each and every stride.

~ 39 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Within you there exists an unshakable calm.

but we’ve been taught everything wrong.

There was never a pointless cloud or wave

and we are made of the same.
An invisible dance we can’t see goes on way beneath
-the exchanging of energy.
The grace and the love in a thought, the power when hearts beat for change
is something no man can rightly equate.
If the world were to awake into truth there would be nothing we couldn’t do.

~ 40 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

A climbing steady chest,

lips caress, and I lose myself in the moment.
Nothing else exists
Like your lips were made for mine and
we’re alive only to kiss.

~ 41 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

I could sit and defile or run my brain for a mile.

I could rest, I say quit.
but my dreams would not exist.
 — always after what I miss.
Imagination if it exist.
 — the unexpected kiss.
already holding all that I wish
but it’s mist.

~ 42 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Royal Dream

The daunting silhouette,

the dream and the dance
of the princess.

Her hands formed by grace

a voice that permeates;
turns darkness into day.

An ever-enchanting youthful wish,

beauty’s haunting-ness.

Eyes that blink only

because diamonds lay underneath.

~ 43 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

Painting Aspired the Mona Lisa

Is it a weaken as it grows or a show

A glitch- an I’m just frozen for the minute.
A second neither quilt her but all the way wider.
Perhaps in the eyes we can see Roman fire.
bare chest- does your breath wither or scale higher.
A melody of ethereal desire.
From the top of stairs, an ionic riser?
Seductress building empire.
Are you all the wilder?
or feigned my love,
love framed and spilled of fire

~ 44 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

tried to understand the bible.

overall one thing sticks like glue.
why the rage; why the pain-
singing hymns of fear
spotlights on center stage
How is he truly a god if he comes back in rage?
We jail the abusive parent,
But they worship a god who acts the same.
I close books that don’t make sense to me,
My daughter sings so quick,
What kind of lyrics are fear the god that lives?
Is god not happiness?
I don’t agree.
It’s like drinking mud and saying it’s tea.
I choose when and how I bend my knees.
Life doesn’t ask me to bow to it.

She only asks that I breathe.

~ 45 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

transcendence it seems must be past all these forgotten things,

A whim and a wish on a whim.
Like a friend and a kiss that you live.
Love on the lips- pardoned eclipse my darling- my darling
what is it then the message?
Ah- but to rock and lean with acceptance.
I pardon belief- but to kiss oh please,
I am aloft it seems in such an awful dream
and the ceilings- They dare me to scream
the lines and the dots they shake
I see the in betweens- the ain’ts.

~ 46 ~
 The Book of Broken Dreams

What you told me

The worst feeling in the world is failure my mother would say. A completely obvious lack of effort a
disheveled mess would never cut it her children did their best. No matter what they had to be on top to
make a name for themselves, to be better to strive for more.

I remember her sitting there looking up at me like she was wondering what I would be, who I would
become. She was an attempt at picture perfect a single mother trying to do her best caught up in the
rushes of everyday life but still seemed so beautiful and strong in my eyes.

I'm standing before you now my feet sweeping your unswept floor breathing in your excused clouds of
dust finished with the lie that you always do so much. You are so busy you don’t have time to clean, my
example my model, my what not to do. A subject of being swallowed up by life.

I look you in the eyes and I want to cry, I want to forgive but I cannot. My dear mother you were wrong
the worst feeling in the world is not to fail but to witness someone so afraid of failing they just give up
and fall apart.

2009

~ 47 ~
The Book of Broken Dreams

~ 48 ~