It had never been about the words

Not the spelling

The grammar

Or the penmanship

It was always about the meaning.

The understanding

Grammar was made so we knew when to yell pause and list

So we knew what and how the words sounded

And we knew how and what to feel.

The tone of a great writing is what makes it great.

If you spell every word wrong and never have a period but somehow the reader still cries when there supposed to.

Still laughs at the joke

Still feels the nostalgia in your words

Then by all means a great writer has been found

Let freedom ring, They screamed

As the death Bell, Had stopped calling people home.

Dance rejoice and sing

For we must no longer sit alone.

But as I try to smile in delight

I can't forget the horrid nights

When you were made to die unseen.

Un-mourned, Un-buried,

Un-everything

So much was taken in such a hurry

And now the days aren't filled with worry

But still it hurts

These unsaid goodbyes

So in these pages

I guess, I'll try

Lay my burdens bare and broken

For all of you

Who'd never woken

May you sleep

In the warmest slumbers

For you were more

Than just climbing numbers

You bared the brunt

Of this tragic pain

And in our heart you'll live again

For history

will remember you

For what it's worth...

Grandma-grandpa-sister-brother- friend...

We made it through

I knew the taste of hatred stained the mind

A constant memory

And so instead

I asked them what love was

I asked him

I asked her

I asked anyone I could get my hands on

After so many bodies

I eventually stopped asking...

In truth

I couldn't quite remember what the question was

And I realized...

That we had ALL forgotten

So there I was... Pants down, painted blue, with paper mache wings taped onto my back. Vision blurry, words slurred, and a grin so lopsided that I had thought the world was turning, even though now that I say it, I guess technically it was. It was on this day, in this position, in front of everyone, that I finally knew...

To die is to not live

to not live is to be embodied by the emptiness of connections

I've heard that it's the hearing that goes first

As the lack of words grace your lobes in silence.

It must seem that no one ever talks to you anymore

That the caress of words have left you cold and trembling

That the whispers of hope have all but faded away

But still you were not dead

When the tears gave way to the sullen eyes of darkness

I could not call for you

I could not write to you

My face left in the corridors of imagination

But still you were not dead

for i refused to give you to the hollow ghost of deathful fear

for you were still here

In the form of my hug you still knew the written words of actions

H-U-G me

The words may never leave the creases of your brain

K-I-S-S me

you understand the movements of my hope for you

and remember the words that kept us intertwined

because still you were not dead

As your thoughts formed words for you to see

And your heart felt the fullness of words that drove away the silence of your mind

drove away the loneliness which faded at the moemory

erased in the curve of your letters

you could not escape into the abyss

And even when you are dead

it still will be these words that stay and keep you

even if you are dead

i will turn to the words of which connected us

and say

that the words which once resided in the the smoothness of your voice

the swiftness of your pen

no longer lives in you

but instead i find you living in the words

as if here was where you always belonged

Now the words have reached my mind

and reminded me of you

So even here in what once was the blankness of a page

you still are not dead

As the words encapsulate your essence

reject the absense of your being

These words bring you back to me time and time again

Because as long as you are not dead

The connection will be ever present

and the words

like our memories and moments

will too

not die

What is a poem?

But the sweet fascinations of thought

Which trail through my mind

Like railroads at midnight

With broken train headlights

It is scary here

So i write these words

to draw you in

For a Poem

Is a trap

And now I am not Alone

Facts are made by leaders

For the truth is mere opinion

Of which everyone agrees

Get them to believe what you say

And your words willl ring like anthems

sing like songs

will be written into the histories of tomorrow

My mind raced

of what to leave you with

What to say to void all questions

but

In my panic

I had no words

Until I said...

"goodbye. "