Poem - Ketchup

Ketchup 

Once created with oysters, mussels, walnuts, mushrooms or other foods, 

But now when you hear its name, tomatoe is what you assume. 

You have mayonnaise, mustard, and other flavors you can cross,

But you may never come across such a amazing sauce.

It is come so far from its ancient history

Starting with the Chinese in the 17th century. 

So many flavors, to be bold or just a hint,

You can smother or accent with this condiment.

Great for dipping you can put it in a bowl or in a cup,

If you live in America, you cannot escape ketchup. 

Poem - build the robots

We have worked on them for many years,

Advancing with hard drives and chips starting from gears.

With artificial intelligence they could take over as one of our fears,

However they may forever need human engineers.

Created for space travel by the lowest bidder,

To advance human life, but some would reconsider.

Knowledge can take us down or often bring us hire,

With beings made of metal with veins of wire.

If you ask me,

to create an our own likeness, many will bogart,

How long in the future do you think it will be, 

before we each have our own robot?

Poem - Cherry blossoms

To raise your arms, and run free. 

To anticipate the fruit that will come to be.

To sit and listen to the buzzing of the bees,

And hear the wind rustling through the trees.

It's their aluring nature that will invite,

With blossoms of pink, red and white.

The sight the smell the ora is awesome,

To be surrounded by the cherry blossom.

Poem - XZanthia

XZanthia

From a painter, poet and actor,  I am a artist.

With whatever I dabble in, I will try my hardest.

For I noticed if I do not do my best,

I will quickly become depressed.

For its my quest to have a prolific artistic harvest.

For many have considered me wild since I was a child.

My ambitions never were mild, and production made me smile. 

My reality I have learned to start ruling,

With my intellect some of you I may be fooling,

The reality is I have not had much schooling.

To a outsider my studies may seem quiet grueling,

But I must, for my mind has a constant need for refueling.

From the moment of my birth,

I have a need to discover everything of this earth. 

My head in the clouds and try to stay rooted,

I have often felt to our society, I am not well suited.

To study history but try to stay away from propaganda,

To constantly be developing an endless idea, 

These are some of the things that encompass XZanthia. 

Poem - God

GOD - 

This soft week creature scared of the dark, 

To explain the unknown was the spark. 

From a story to a belief structure will embark, 

On the creation of man to Noah's Ark. 

 Each structures base is the same. 

Difference is their language, for a different name. 

The truth of reality each culture will claim, 

And if you do not believe as they, could bring you shame. 

 To explain beauty and all that awed, 

With literature vague and often broad. 

To some it's truth and others a fraud,

 Did it create us or did we created God?

Awake as the skies

As morning break and I raise my eyes,

With the breeze, leaves fly through the teeth of my rake 

and as it flies of the trees trees it cries.

As the branches shake and the pollen flies. 

Learn to flow with it for heavens sake release breath and let it rise.

Never be fake I would advise. 

Let your ego break and let go of your disguise.

It's time to partake in what the wind supplies

For it would be a mistake to not take the prize.

To become as awake as the skies.

The library

Written November 15, 2004

Books of bleeding pages needing, truth be told to those that learn.

You're in to learn, stay to play with those books that teach us so.

Wish to know, so I read, this need to read fills my soul.

Desire of words, bring me higher, this truth is what makes me float.

Pages begging for my eyes to see them, to separate the truth from lies.

So I wonder deep into them, for only the truth can make us fly.

Although this need not shallow, much of my time here is spent alone.

Others fear, so they never venture near, fear to learn what lies here.

Ignorance maybe bless, I would miss the thoughts of constructive flow.

So I know, here I sit, with these books I can't resist, I wish to see, here alone, to find my own, I wish to be in my mind library.

You see that only here, I may dissect, what it is, that makes me whole.

Watching over you

Written November 15, 2004

Stocking, needing, bleeding, seeing everything that you do.

As you travel, you will not see me, however, I will not ever be that far from you.

Seeking closeness that I may never for Phil, yet I crave it still.

So now I watch, but at what cost, it just makes me want you more.

As I see things, that seem to feed me, my desire does grow as you lour. 

And I may never know what it is that causes this, or why you intrigue me so.

In your room as you turn on your lights, no just out of sight, I climb to your window seal.

I only wish to see, what it is that intrigues me.

As you sleep, in your window I will creep, to watch this angel in her bed.

By the morning my interest is temporally fed, so I fled, I would I go, and you'll never know, that I was watching over you.

I do this every night, just out of sight, and I will always be true.

I just wish you would realize, with the love in my eyes, that this relationship is real.

And although it is hard, my actions I have barred, so I will never from this world steel you.

So don't worry your little head, as you head off to bed, for I will forever, be watching over you.

My choice

Will I ever be satisfied, or forever be a miss?

I have had a few flings, and they seem to staying my soul, for I know, that I am better than this.

Yet to be owned by someone, that makes this whole grow.

I wish not to be controlled; you cannot put a fence around my soul.

You cannot put a fence around my soul, so please, don't even try.

I wish not to cry, and it's not that my heart has died, it's just that I'm not truly sure, how much I really care to a door.

Without this, my life is far from there; my career is my lifelong companion.

I need not your son to make me complete, for he will only be jealous of my time spent with me.

Can't you see, that perhaps officially, much of my time is spent on my career.

Four in the past, I have helped many others, and their ambitions never did last.

So why even try to live this lie, I now wish to focus on me.

However my heart is still quite large, and I hold several there.

And although no one will ever hold all of me, you may just get a piece.

You cannot buy so don't even try, but you may forever hold the lease.

For now I may just be, a little too free, and very, comfortable with me.

So you see I do not need another in my arms to keep me from harm. 

So if I lay in your arms, be it known that this is not the need to hear another voice.

If I am with you, it is because I want to, you see, it is my choice.

Poetic river

Written November 15, 2004

As these prophetic thoughts flow from my mind to fit my fingertips, this time more abundantly than ever before.

I do not know what for, or what was the cause of this poetic transformation.

My life's creation and forms of art, now flows as a river.

I have dipped into the water, to become the world's daughter, and see things as never before.

As I explore my mind to begin to find that the thoughts are not that different than before.

I do see a little more clearly, and this is my theory of why I am less weary, as I tread into deeper water.

The current takes me, I wish not to escape or flea; for now I am truly, understanding me.

Now with the river of literature, profound poetic's of this nature.

How long will this river flow, I do not know.

How long can I received from this river that I believe, is feeding my soul?

Before once again, the thoughts get jammed, and create a prophetic damn.

Flying thought

Written November 14, 2004

What is this drive, that I have inside, that forces me to go further and further, learn more, need to explore and wish to implore?

I forever must release myself in my art, I feel that I must, or I may fall apart.

I urine to learn, and if I do not, I feel that my life may have been a waste.

This is a fear that I have face, and too many nights I have paste over this thought.

So I want to be all I can be, for only with my art and these words can I truly be free.

Now I see, to be free, I must complete me.

With only my fist, can I complete this, and this I will.

For my thoughts will spell, if I do not gather them and share them with you, I will go mad. So here I go, deeper than ever before.

Myself I explore, as I believe my soul onto these pages. For many ages I have felt the need to believe in this way. The thoughts would not go away, I need to see so many things. Now, I am truly ready, to grow my wings.

The best teacher

Written November 12, 2004

As I drain my brain, to find my mind, the only truth that I can find is that intelligence, is not that far from insanity.

I do know how this can be, for you see, insanity does run through me.

It is in my blood, and I choose to sit in the mud as I write this poem. 

I must clear away the foam to recite these words which create my reality.

In these testimonies, you will see my tragedy, see me go free, play with insanity, and perhaps, you will wish to be me. 

These thoughts feel as they run through my veins, and although never the same, I do not know if I do it for fame or the need to be free by releasing these stories.

I do suppose, that it is of both, and for my god Thoth, I must release in this way.

So here I stay, and you will forever hear me say things that you may consider insane.

If you must find a culprit, my past is to blame.

I do feel that the past is the trigger, culprit I see it not, but the best teacher.

Potential

Written November 12, 2004

To live in this pain, is inhumane.

However with suicide, I would lose my pride.

All I find in my mind,

It is fully crucial, to for fill my potential.

Rapist in me

As I lay in the mud, prepared to decay,

 belly down then flipped around I can feel his breath grasp the back of my neck.

 The hands of a rapist caress my tattered body on his floor of damp cardboard. 

With a knife at at my throat, sweat rolling off his face onto mine. 

The only thought that I can find, to make this terrible occurrence tolerable, 

to get me through, is that, he may not be that different from me. 

This is something that he needs, and he was denied it. 

I can taste his mangled ora of childhood pain and rejection from so many woman that created this monster that has hunted me.

 It was his rejection, that became his creation, and although this is not a excuse for this abuse it does help me see the transformation from this man to a monster that sadly feels this is a victory.

 How empty can one man be?

 I give him and empathy.

 Because of a lack of attention that created this addiction causing him to go this direction seeking satisfaction in a irrational physical need for a place to stick his erection.

 Now captured, fearing murder, in his grasp, his being penetrates me.

 I close my eyes hoping it is all a dream and if I only scream, perhaps my lover will be there to awakened me. 

However I do feel that this is all too real and once the paint peels, 

 could there be a rapist in me?

CRASH

Written on November 12, 2004 

 Then it all stopped. 

Blood on the rearview mirror, 

tattered and torn, dripping like delicate lace down the windshield that was spiderwebed by this action of pain, and unseen beauty. 

 Metal torn into human flesh, 

both by mingling and to mend their broken bones as to mend their broken souls. 

Are you awake now? Can you see? 

 Only when you smell the burning rubber, 

Double with the blood and sweat of one whose hands are still grasping the steering wheel as a lost lover, 

you can only then truly appreciate the throbbing feeling in your chest. 

And that, 

It did not stop.

Do not call me Gothic

Written October 13, 2004 in Denver Colorado 

 Do not call me Gothic. 

I am not a style, a label or a way for you to simplify to I am. 

Do not use any preconception of my attire to assume what it is that makes me. 

I am not one way. In fact I don't always. 

I do see as much as you do you and love as I do in pain.

 Do not call me Gothic. 

As so many oddly do. 

Despite my constant ability to not close myself and black, 

my love for the sun and my ability to bring my many styles into one. 

 Do not call me Gothic. 

 For although my past was not a happy one, 

you will not see me using my past as a excuse of who I am. 

I agree that our past does contribute to our personality, 

however we create our reality. 

So many are blind to this. 

 Do not call me Gothic. 

 For some of my poetry may be a bit on the Darkside, 

as a coin and any good Libra my other side is bright. 

I am as much a child of darkness, as I am of light. 

I hold a lot of love, 

however the willingness to remain alone.

Buy your own mind

From October 13, 2004 

 Daily I see those who discriminate the integrity rarely seen among humanity today. 

Why must we pay to motivate those with no soul of their own? 

Every day the extraordinary are both praised and envied.

 Many abominate and wish to castrate us for thoughts that you complicated their simple world. 

Others we do captivate with our theories, testimonies, and tragedies. 

Truly most primate wish to participate, however the ability was successfully directly placed into them by the society that they praise, to restrain any feelings of true beauty.

 However the creativity of humanity does determinate that those who can only imitate, make it their duty to irritate all those who have a mind of their own. 

Why must the world be so cold for us to be so bold and create for all those who do not understand? 

We must obligate ourselves to this world isolated from the community of unfortunate normality. 

It is our responsibility to show them beauty, tell them the story of the world they simulate.

 If they did not alienate us for our psychology then perhaps we would not see as we see,

 learn how to be free and unfortunately they are not worthy of the aluminate truth. 

Some do find truth in our words that isolate feelings that bind us. 

Most would truly never understand and if it weren't for their hand of ignorance, 

we would hence to captivate those who funded us by 

buying their own minds.

Utilization of power

Utilization of power 

 I feel I have so much power that grows by the hour, 

 in with inspiration I become filled with the sensation will encompass and begin to sour. 

 For this delicate flower would begin to mold and I would fold and cower if I did not learn how to hold and use this power. 

 This fire inside can be misunderstood as pride,

 if not used would be abused, and i refuse to let this passion become confused. 

 Perception that may inspire, and if I fly with it will bring me higher. 

 With my ambition by my side so many tears I've cried. 

 For this power is intense and often leaves me fried. 

 Sometimes being encompassed with so much inspiration 

makes me simply wish to change the station. 

 Create this desire I must abide, for it forever sits by my side, 

 This is my creation, I must provide with all this passion I hold inside. 

 So I begin to scold this pest for I will explode this test,

 I can't just sit and expect my power to simply manifest. 

 So even if I question my mental health, 

I must raise to these occasion myself. 

 It would be a lie to say I have not tried, 

 This rumbling inside has caused me to cry and wish to hide. 

 with this frog in my throat for fear of opportunities missed 

 I have lost much hope and become frustrated by my own fist,. 

 I become diffused and rather confused. 

 I wonder about this mist of this catalyst. 

 But I must find my way out, for this is the reason that I exist. 

 If I could be so bold and stealth, 

 to learn how to use it to mold myself. 

 I know that I could find that the answers in my mind to aline this mental wealth. 

 However with every year I hold, 

 if I do not learn how to steer this lane I fear I am getting old, 

 my heart becomes cold here as the ambitions create pain 

 and make me question whether or not I am sane. 

 This creates distain, 

For much of childhood it has stold, 

 but as the pieces of gold lay at my feet and I begin to sift 

 I start to see this is actually the greatest gift, 

 if I just learn how to utilize it.

Inspire belief

To inspire the fire that brings us higher,

To admire the actions that we had done prior.

To raise of a mirror to see our true self,

To package the fear and put it away on a shelf.

Every liar will find a buyer for their deception stealth.

Steer clear of eyes turned south and trash of the mouth.

Never let the world become our infection,

Surrounding ourselves with people of positive reflection.

For only we can make our inhibitions leave.

For truth is truly what we believe.

Burn the man

To embrace our true passion and believe that we can.

To be fully aware and know where we stand.

It is time now to stand forth and open our eyes.

To rid the judgment and remove all the lies.

To learn from the lows as we lived for the highs.

To love life and lend a hand.

To pass by temptation and burn the man.