I've been hoarding poems for a while now, and I figured rather than make a million posts and sharing them all there, I will post them all below.

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Friend

You are my friend.
But you are also more than that.
A peaceful night.
A relaxing voice.

The best at what you do,
The champion of our Super Bowl.
You are a conscious being
And also my conscience.

When I do bad,
You set me straight

Been through a lot,
But we are still friends.
Actually, wait.

No.

You are more than a friend.

You are like a brother.

A calming influence.
Family.

We have no blood ties,
We have no relations,
We are not even 3rd or 4th,
Or probably 18th cousins.

No.

We are a family
Forged in a trial by fire.
Our tribe is one
It is a wolf pack.

You are my friend.
But you are also a brother.
Family.
But most importantly, yes.

You are my friend.
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Chicken Bonfire

Roast it.
Cook it.
Toss it.
Singe it.

Chicken chicken chicken.
We all love chicken
It's a universal food
That brings us together.

Sit by the fire,
Relax, tell tall tales
All while the chicken is cooking

It doesn't even have to be chicken.
It just happens to be.
We talk about our adventures.
Silly anecdotes more than anything.

We talk into the day.
The night being long gone.
We grow tired and hungry,
And get ready to dig in.

Oops. We burned the chicken.

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A tale of grey.

Look at the photo album,
Look at all the colors
Red, blue, green, yellow,
Flip through the past.

Go so far back, and watch the color fade.
The colors get less vibrant and clear.
The saturation is leaving the pages.
Eventually, we go so far back that we find...

Nothing but black and white.

The color is gone, but the feeling is there.
You put your hand to the picture,
Wonder what it was like back then.

Black and white.
White and black.
Several shades of gray.
No red, nor blue, nor green, nor yellow.

The color is gone.

The meaning is there.

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The Bandana on the Floor

One day we were rebels.
The bandana was clear and true.
We weren't a gang, so to say,
But we all wore them.

The bandana waves true
Through everything
A friend moves away.
The bandana is still flying.

No matter where you are,
No matter where you go,
You can be reminded by one simple thing.
The bandana.

Through the rise and fall,
We still stay forever true,
We may meet again one day,
But the bandana will be nowhere to be seen.

But should one fly, you will know
It was he who you remember.
We were a two man army,
The bandana being our flag.

Mine lays here.
On the floor,
For the most part forgotten.
I look back and remember the brotherhood.

I hang it on the wall
Never again to be lost.

It's not who we are anymore,
But it's a reminder of who we were.
The days when we were rebellious

Not anymore.
Just a distant memory.