Jimi saw that the sky,
Has lips.
And then he died.
So now we all dance around the purples
And the watchtowers.
Trying to catch the Stars made of rocks
As they trail through the world’s wounded vein.
What I’m saying is,
He burned fast
And it is not wrong to envy that.
We are still very human,
And there is a man in me-
A Clark Kent, whom everyday does extraordinary things,
And a Superman whom every second
Wishes that he could die.
The rest of you may write the same lines,
The rest of you are Gods and at the same time
Atheists. So believe in yourselves.
Stop running-
and see that the world is feverish
with possibilities.
we can feel it all at once
if we choose to do so.
every memory of me
belongs to someone else.
and i know their stories too
and carry them with me like pistols.
the roads we all travel,
they are blissfully godless-
and the life that feeds on life
that breeds on the edges of these roads
are genuine miracles.
I am tempted to say I love America,
But instead I say
I want America.
I want every state under the wheels
Of a my 1986 Convertible Mercedes Benz 560sl,
With my brown haired, brown eyed, goddamn great kissing
American angel in the passanger seat.
I want to fish out an explosion of creatures on Maryland's rivers-
I want to rub shoulders with small towns in Delaware-
I want to watch the ocean light come alive on Miami beach-
I want to drink the Empire State building under the table-
I want to challenge my fear to a footrace on New Jersey’s bridge-
I want to bomb every untouched wall in California with colorful cursive-
and Virginia, in your mountains I want to celebrate
what it is to be full of error and curious.
I just want to fall in love
Until the sun stops coming up.
I want the moon to look me in the eyes
And know that I am smart.
i don't know what it means to be genius
i am terribly ordinary;
holding on to hands and believing in
much more than what i can see.
if i have ever felt genius
it was in my sister's face
when she kissed me goodbye.
if i have known insanity it was in loving
someone's hidden gestures
over and over again,
and expecting a different result.
if i have ever questioned what it is to be me
it has been after every poem-
after every two hour phone call-
after each and every time i have told myself
i would never cry again.
only to find that pain doesn't have walls
And happiness doesn’t portraits
but instead infinite doors.
my generation, i hope, will figure itself out.
they want peace.
they want to kiss each other so hard
and with such uncontrollable energy
that the color in their eyes might sparkle.
they want to move in together
and make breakfast last until early afternoon.
they want to grow the wild
they want to live an experience
they want to hold an instrument
and wish that they knew how to play
they want to create a castle
with ocean sand
made of diamonds...
you know,
build
something
that will last
forever
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