The problems with simplicity are as follows:

We waste no time figuring a       way out
             because the path rests rightinfront of our feet,
and we're  amazed when
  the pages of instructions   lead us to the   complete,

but isn't that exactly what they're for?

The simplest of designs can portray
the exact    same     messages
that   are     hidden   amongst
      some of    the   most controversial and  complicated    presages.

and complicated doesn't run our planet earth anymore.

We're   trapped inside  an    age    of simplicity,
         starting at    A          and   landing at  B,
connecting dots     that were   so obviously   layed before us,
 because  we want things A.S.A.P.

 it's   a struggle just to try   to paint a    picture.

And if we fall out of the flow          with no  simple mindedness,
    we run   out   into  the world   with   extreme  eccentricity,
and we, at often times,  find ourselves,
         falling into the  simpleness of   simplicity.

Is there a problem?

    the simple    brilliance of a   simple man,
can   simply drive him      to  finish   what    he   intends,
with   a whole new outlook, and  whole new  eyes,
just      so        things        will      be    easier   in the end.

Are we  in   an  age  of laziness?

Or are  we  just   simply   brilliant.
because there are  thousands  upon   thousands  of ways,
to  complete      simple   tasks, and there are       easier     ways,
      to complete them, so  the   complex  mind will  appraise.

And this is          where       complexity  stands  strong.

   with    what   we  know,  we can play out every outcome,
and   we  can   shadow  the   easiest and more  efficient way,
but   by  opening  up   our   minds   to the  complexion of every situation,
and realizing        that  we   don't      have to live   in  dog  days

anymore.

and   realizing   that  the  most  difficult   of tasks,
can be tackled with   new eyes  and  we can  clear away  the haziness,
and  discover  efficiency over the old   ways
and we can exercise every place in our brain and know that it's not laziness

but simple brilliance.

Simpleness is the world I’m growing up in,
and i plan on making my contribution simpler,
by tackling things with brand new eyes.
and walking life a little easier.


© 2011 the still air

we're all the same, we're all uniqiue

we're all composed
of 206 bones
layered with skin
layered with sin
we're constantly told, "we're all the same"
blood cells, muscles, tissues, brain.
we all contain similar physique,
so why are we told, "we're all unique?"
our insides, in a way
are all the same,
though some pieces are missing,
hearts are still beating
pumping blood at intense pressure like some sort of perk,
brains are functioning even if they don't work
and we live the same life,
find our meaning, and then die,
so if we're all so unique
why are our days on repeat?
the outside is where the differences are.
we're labeled like we're in boxes and jars,
and sub-categorized for our own terms
even if we don't affirm.
if we looked in our mirrors,
would we see any clearer?
or would the question ponder
would we even slightly wonder.
are we all the same,
or all unique in different ways.

or are we all the same because we're all unique?


© 2011 The Still Air

When was the last time?

When was the last time you stopped for a moment,
forgot      what time was,     forgot what  movement was capable of at best
   and just focused on  you,     blocked your    mind from    being potent,
listened to yourself   breathe,   listened  to  the   heart inside   your own chest?
       when was the last time you even noticed your own existence
   noticed that  you are   a human being  wandering aimlessly along    this planet   earth,
but   noticed that you     are not just a human being  wandering aimlessly looking for   assistance
but   realized that you   are    something    worth  talking   about.   you   are    something   with   worth?

     when was the last time you listened to your own breathing?


© 2011 The Still Air

one thousand pictures

the  words    begin  to      s li p

   right   offyour   lips,

         from       yourprettyface.

   the th r e e   word      confession

       f lls in every         question

    with   oneanswer in           their place.

   The    words     melt      into my   s k i n,

   and my       heart      op ens    up    when,

 the pictures   begin to           BLOOM

      because

                    A pictures worth a      t h o u s a n d    words,

  and I know my                 own standards;

                           onethousand picturesfollow                     ‘I love you’

© 2010 The Still Air

A heart stained white

White  w as a    difference,
and   now   i ncorpor ated
in t he   w heel  of   things
to   be    inter p ret ed

                    a s ;

worried
heart
ignoring
the
events.

i d  on't   surrender.  even if      i 'm  s tai ned w hite  .


© 2010 The Still Air

knowledge

if  knowledge                 comes with age,
does    age define our             knowledge?
or  does       knowledge                define itself,
with  the     experience   of                   how far's the edge?

the        close                  mind,    no matter the     age,
will     not                   develop its    knowledge,
     and                  cannot      define itself,
 even           after slipping over the
                                                    edge.

© 2010 The Still Air

Someones Light

I saw a light across the creek,
it meant nothing at first,
but it became clear,
someone’s night must be the worst.


I wouldn’t leave my light on,
with my fascination of the dark;
it’s an escape from reality,
yet strange terrain to embark.


A mystery, to me, 
is who is over there?
Is someone so troubled,
perhaps needs some care?


It’s easy to see,
what this light means.
At 4:12 am,
no one feels like kings or queens.

© 2010 The Still Air

before this

              It makes          Noise
me wander                            destroys the
               from just        simple life
a bother makes you fall
   turning thoughts         into melodies
from one lie causing alone
        into another         and another
and I watch being
 until silence         doesn’t exist
grabs a hold and you can’t
       and you can’t         seem to remember
help, even                               yourself or
          if there was         any other point
any way to help to living
                  before         this
I stager off into broken life.
    thin air.

© 2010 The Still Air

Even Dogs Eat Crumbs

I’m going to            need help,
and       justasmuch     as you,
cause                      I find the old self,
waiting for             the new.

I       still watch             apparitions,
     dancing in               a background,
and I still know of              the heard,
making       music and sweet          sound.

But I’m merely                  just another,
walkingamongst                   the others
and              I need just as much       saving,
as a man who finds he             druthers.

            So                I’ll reminisce on this,
that as I feel all      senses numb,
                               that with everything I do,
even dogs eat crumbs.

© 2010 The Still Air

an ocean and a sea

An ocean holds a sea inside,
while a sea holds in an ocean wide.
What makes this interesting to me,
is that you are an ocean, I am a sea.

Your horizon, spaceless, meets the sky.
The sailing ships will never know why,
the old, dead, lost ships don't haunt,
at least not anymore, you've said what you want.

My sea holds a heart, lights up the depth,
light enough to stop me to confess.
I'll push more waves, with my salt water,
and watch as my sea, appears to grow deeper.

I know what's inside, your love so deep,
You're greater than I, my sea so weak.
So as sails navigate my calm waters,
others look to yours for open adventures.

                    it scares me to see,
                    how much separation there can be
                    between and ocean and a sea.

                               but it works        .

© 2010 The Still Air

the last stamp.

Years of stamp collecting
Made me realize the truth:
That every stamp is perfect,
But should be left unused.

Anytime I tried to dip
The perfect stamp in ink,
The imprint was off balanced,
asymmetrical, out of sync.

Again! Again! Never give in,
Words in ink that I’d replay;
However, it’s hard to say
How much ‘never’ decayed.

I reused the best stamps,
The ones that truly stood out,
‘Till their lines were flat and feckless
And I’d have to learn to live without.

My collection had run dry,
When I separated good from bad
And looked at others piles,
Looked at what they had.

All the things I needed,
To complete my stamp collection.
Everything would come together;
A pattern with direction.

When I thought I’d have no more;
As I looked at my good pile,
Someone stumbled upon me,
Tried to offer me a smile.

He had no words on his lips,
No speech in his cheeks,
But a stamp in his hand,
A stamp so oblique.

Was no fit to my collection,
But was beautifully inlayed;
A rose with perfect shape
Peerlessly weighed.

I dipped the stamp in ink
And placed it on the pad,
But before I could reveal,
The unknown result I had,

I opened up my lips
And my voice had begun,
“This is the last stamp I’ll use,
I pray it’s a good one.”

© 2010 The Still Air

colours&shapes.

So perfectly aligned,
like I’ve never seen before,
so intertwined,
the colours and the shapes.

I’ve never seen something corresponding,
with such a vary of lively things,
or something so responding,
these colours and shapes.

And with the simple breath they were given,
they can be free with all potential,
but this complex world they live in,
reducing the colours and the shapes.

Although living amongst the rest,
even if you don’t notice it,
I looked for, only the best,
in the colours and the shapes.

What was it I saw?
I don’t even know,
whatever it was, it left me in awe,
the colours and the shapes.

© 2010 The Still Air

discrimination.

planting feet on firm foundation,
where i stand is solid plantation,
but i find now, i've no explanation,
I'm hiding all of my frustration,
inbetween cracks of fake elation,
cause now, I learn, i'm a creation,
finding my way to a new location,
I can't live up to expectations,
i'm just my own personification,
learning through infatuation.
Discovering the horrors of imagination,
finding it's only collaboration,
of my mind and fear of my desperation,
cause what i'm going through, you've no relation,
I've stormed the beaches of compassion,
hearing voices and screaming vibrations,
I'm trying so hard, to run from temptation,
but only finding more cheap sensations.
Sometimes my mind will take a vacation,
from scared to alone, then back to hesitation,
and i stutter my words, in my own deprivation,
but i'm finding peace in salvation.
being one with someone, allows integration,
back to health,
cause the only discrimination,
is from me to myself.

© 2010 The Still Air

you&me.

                                  I've got my life built on phobias,
you've got yours up on a carousel.
                                  my story stays hidden, cause it's scared of answers,
while yours only looks for an answer to dwell.

                                     I try to wear my heart on my sleeve,
but somehow, you're already there.
                                     and although life isn't hard for me,
              we're both in need of repair.

Your crying breaks off a piece of me,
                                      as my heart falls under attack,
                                      and having the chance to hold you up,
                                      well, that just puts that piece back.

                  If life's full of ignorance, and echoed replies,
                  that we realize are only our own,
                  then why don't we hold onto each other,

                                                  so love won't be postponed?

© 2010 The Still Air

walls.

are these muffled crIes,
 and stupId lullaby’s,
enough just to get by
 your sore, dIsconsolate heart?

             i am
        falling
                   falling

  failing...

Is your Inconsolable heart,
 rememberIng depart?
Is It mIssIng a part?
 or Is It mIssIng out?

               i am
                               calling
        calling

  failing...

Is there somethIng InsIde,
 that scares away your butterflIes?
that takes all your prIde?
 that turns your lIt heart to dawn?

 i am
      watching
                watching

   waiting...

waIting for a tIme where doors are opened?
 when you can depend,
on someone as close as a frIend?
 or just for someone’s heart?

                             tell me,
       when i am left between
                                  four symmetrical walls,
someone like me is no longer
            struck by calls?

makes me wonder...


                 god put,
   everything around me,
                     and called me his own,
and the things as useless to me
       as a telephone,

make me wonder...

               wonder why,
          i was put on this earth
 with everyone else,
yet i am seeing no signs
                                of the slightest pulse,

so why am i alive?

why
                do i sit talking to walls
   when i should be talking with someone?
why
                do i stand in awe of others talent,
   when i am merely as talented as them?
why
                do i dread life’s failures,
   when i should be learning from them?
why
                when i am given something wonderful,
     i simply let it drift away?
why
                                   do i do the things I do,
           when i am the one who hates them?
why
             does my mind wander,
          when the path is right in front?

                                                              i am learning that life,
                                       is not good enough for all of us,
                             but, for me, the only strife,
          is between me and a wall.

                           So a glimpse to my future.
              falling
        falling




  failing...

© 2010 The Still Air

Alive.

Help, a word commonly used when one is troubled,
But my trouble won't stop, and help isn't the word I would've used.
I think just a few more drinks, I'll be fine... I'll be fine even when I've stumbled.
I feel them at my back, laughing, God, Why are they so amused?

love... Love? well, I never new real love.
True I had her every now and again. It was just her to myself
but she.. she seemed so... so proud of,
so damn proud of herself.

And the chemicals. Yes! The depressants,
Thank God for the narcotics that filled my breath.
who knew such wonderful things could come from plants,
and... and... fuck, I can see my death.

I was drunk at the wheel, summer of 08.
They said "get a taxi", but I was out of my mind.
If they had just helped instead letting me take the wheel of fate...
It's not my fault, right? cause something tells me it is... something inside

I lay here now... alone, but alive.
I'll cling onto life, no matter what's happened.
I know... I know I should've, could've strived,
but, lets face it, we all get distracted.

So as I lie here on my bedroom floor, tears...
tears across my face and scars on my arms,
I'm confused, and I doubted you for years.
but you... you can take me from worlds reach... from the worlds harm.

Help, it's hard enough just to think I'm alive...

© 2010 The Still Air

If?

If life is not worth                       living,
then why are           we still here?
From lifeanddeath we're                           hiding,
underneath our
            fear.

And if life is not worth               undertaking,
then why do          we still care?
Forgetting       almost                          everything,
                                   air.
and tossing it in the

And if life cannot be comp   lete,
then why do I      feelthisway?
about all the times                   we'll meet.
and all                the words we'll say.

And if I was put on this
        earth,
was it to be                    nexttoyou?
The fire inside,
                      brought up from birth,
tell me,                                       can you see it too?

But if it was                               all coincidence,
then why should it happen to                             me?
May I say,                         if it's not pretense,
then clearly, i can't see?

                    If it takes a heart to find a heart,
would you let it die?
                   Would you save me, or do your part,
If I fell down tonight?

© 2010 The Still Air