November 4, 2008
Soothing to a sleeper’s ears,
It is both beautiful and deadly.

Stand in it and you shall become damp,
Beware of its weapon-Lightning.

When its water on water, Rain shall dance,
Anywhere else and nothing happens.

Some call it “Falling Dancers” others call it “God’s Tears ”

I call it “Nature’s Wrath”

Running in Rain

Tear falling onto you,
Your clothes becoming moist.

You stop running and stare,
You feel the pleasure on the rhythm.

Rhythm tap…tap…tap,
The rhythm so relaxing and soothing.

You start running again,
Hoping it to never stop.

Puddles are the keepers of rain,
They keep it, collect it, and savor it.

Without puddles rain would have no home,
Rain would only be temporary, brief, and short-lived.

A puddle can be as shallow as a inch or as deep as a mile,
It can be as clear as glass, or as obscure as fog.

Puddles are the minuscule version of their originators,
The waters of the world.

Thunder and Lightning

The weaponry of the natural world.

It is the power source of the fireworks of the heavens.

The spear of nature’s wrath.

It is the connection from Thunder to Earth.

Red Umbrella

The red umbrella,
The difference in similarity.

Use it on a rainy day and
You are asking to be different.

In a world of black umbrellas,
The red umbrellas represent the individuals.

Individuality is what created the red umbrella and the red umbrella is the representation of individuality.

Climb Tree

Up and up you climb,
All the way to the top.

On the way up you are
pushing to reach the crest.

Reach for that branch,
Steadying your feet.

On the top you stop and gaze,
Seeing the world at ease for the very first time.


There was an exquisite Bartender,

Who’s specialty uses a Blender.

One day something went Wrong,

The Blender was as loud as a Gong.

And now his ears are so Tender.


Vines swirling upward on cut sticks,
On the ends sprout pure green leaves,

Where there is no leaves there is a dead branch,
Leaves are folded like two pocket folders,

No protection, it is as bear as human skin,
In the forests they can suffocate a tree to death,

It is cut free in time the tree can live,
No emotion this death plant has,

It is a spineless, odorless killer.


Polished Music Machine,
Rhythm Making,
Heart Racer.

Strings to Notes,
Notes to Beats,
Beats to Rhythms,
Rhythm to Music.

Designed perfectly Flawless.

Fabricating lifestyles

VOLUME control

This knob you turn

Creates the emotion

Turn it up and

you make a concert

Turn it down and

create silence The volume you use with

This control creates the

purpose of the music


Freedom is

The place where

A Person is

At Peace.

Why Dreamers Dream

Dreamers Dream because Dreams are the gateway to opposites.

Dreams invented the opposite.

In Dreams the Sick are Healed, the Depressed become Happy, and the Weak become Strong.


Love and hate is good and evil, yin and yang, and right and wrong. Love, a word that means affection. Affection, the sensation that created love’s counterpart-hate. Hatred is the opposition in openness. Without hate love could not be. If one does not hate one then they do love one

Tumble Weed
I am…
The one you push aside.

I cant feel what all others can, that is affection.

I am a tumble weed, only to move along till the end of

Time, never able to stop.

When I get a feeling for something,

I am only able to hold onto it for a moment,

For that is all they allow.

I will never get the chance to know what it is like to

Feel affection for a soul,

For I am a tumble weed,

And that is what I will always be.

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