I'm doing it again.
I'm missing the point.
I need to open myself to this world
Not like a flower that blooms only at night
If I am going to do this
I need to do this.
I am still afraid.
I can feel it seizing up my heart,
Making me huddle in around it as if something from the outside is hurting it.
I need to pry my arms away,
Unlock my ribcage and breathe deep,
I need to say
I will accept every outcome.
I need to remember
That I have come far
That there was a time not long ago
When all this armor hadn't even been imagined
Never mind forged.
When I crawled exposed through the embers
And emerged whole
I need to remember that I have come far
And that I am going farther.
I can't stop here
Just because something has finally made me feel.
I need to accept.
Accept that I may be let down
But that I can't prepare for it.
Accept that I could lose everything I've dreamed of
But that at least I had it for a moment.
I may never know why I get only fleeting nights of happiness,
Just enough to whet the appetite of the starving soul in here.
If I am going to be vulnerable
I need to be vulnerable.
I need to do it all the way, no holds barred, no fears held,
I need to drive my misery away when I am ignored.
I need to dissolve my terror when I am forgotten.
I need to have faith that if all this time
Through all these months
She couldn't forget me entirely
That I am not so easy to shake off
As I think I am.
I don't know if I can do this.
I have never tried it.
I've been told all my life that it is foolish
But I've been shown all my life
That it is the only way I will be happy.
I need to give everything I have to this world
I need to trust it not to take everything from me.
If you willingly forgo the possibilities of nights
why, feel sad and lament for not having dreams?
find a life of fun easily without any dream-
there are millions around never dared to dream!
don't make guilt demand, the misappropriate,price of your pursuit,
The city night, regales us in the flood of artificial lights,
eradicating the distracting dreams once and for all,
all through night digital advertisements
blink and die continuously till the morning light appears.
when day dies out, on those days, night would begin,
now at the end of the day night too dies , in the flood of lights.
why make futile dreams, that wouldn't deliver anything,
make your dreams fishes in show ponds that swims at night,
On the dry ears of sleepless in cities,
music from radio demanded attention,
still solidified sleep, with the wings of darkness
sat on the night trees,
no sleep, no dreams, no secrets, what a happiness!!
the speakers of the personal computers of girls
celebrated, with fanfare...
Night stood sad at the corners of sky...
The well groomed professional takes a sip
from his Styrofoam twenty ounce coffee
He glares at me - his eyes green with disgust
the night before I walked beside the moon
that morning I rose anew, born in flames
The well groomed professional takes a sip
from the corner of my eye I see her
standing waves of gold, porcelain smile
I glare at her - my eyes red with my lust
dancing to the flickering glow of bulbs
she pauses, a breath, Red Eye anyone?
The well groomed professional takes a sip
glaring at the mirror - his eyes black with
I take my coffee and walk out the door
adrift in the cold Richmond winter air
I've successfully convinced myself that I'm over you
do I still yearn for you
as I did when I was young and foolish?
I ache for your hands
to come and explore me again
I pine for your body
to be against mine to warm me
on these cold winter days
I thirst for your lips
the warm taste mingling with that
of my peppermint chapstick
I need your hands
so nervous, yet strong
to be inside of mine again.
I was wrong.
I'm not over you
the night was quiet.
cold but sweet
rippled pools in a forest of pine.
i lounged on the couch
as you threaded round' and round' the trees
pinpricks of lights dripping from your arms.
as you carried christmas in your palms
and i watched
your grace unfolded
like a tear stained love letter
"desperate hearts belong together"
and it's true i could never find another angle like you
to perch at the top of my tree
and your eggnog lips move gently
over my mouth
brushing window panes
like fragile falling
that you don't always need a lover by your side
to keep you truly happy
and fully satisfied.
it'd sure be nice for once if I had your hand to hold
when the embers in my heart die
and the blood in me grows cold.
would seem warmer and the frost would melt away
the ice in the pipes that are my veins
would surely cease to stay.
a strength I never dreamed I'd ever feel again
a herculean kind of forte
my broken heart it would mend.
when I'll cross your path on that dark and rainy day
you'd be the ray of sunshine
to illuminate my way.
would be like my favorite book with so many things to love
I'd discover more about you each day
see, you fit me like a glove.
would beat in time with mine and bring life back into my chest
a day like this one would be dreary
but with you, it'd be my best.
Heinous, immoral, sinful swine!
To what I am demanded to oblige,
This unravelled given flesh, falsely acclaimed.
By who, are we to bestow such honorarium upon specimens?
We, this, it... YES it! For no other alias be deft to pure scum!
If it be for me, I'd not be so haste to shift to utter, cosmic vile!
And alas tis that which I am, and as all my fellow ethological, fleshy hominids.
I do not care for it.
And seek the purity of it, but such use may be eternally latent.
I put a cigarette between my teeth
While Hundreds of bats soared
Through the Brick wall corridors
Through the strobe of flashing signs
And so I cupped my hands
Before my puckered lips
Shielding the dancing flame
As though it were an infant
Shivering in the wind
I am nocturnal as well
But I do not fly
Nor do I screech through the restless night
I watch, oh I watch
And I write
you are the pillow i hug
when I sleep at night.
you are the thought that keeps coming on my mind.
you are the music that I used to sing.
you are the best ever among all of these things.
you are the tears that I cry when I am hurt.
Hurt by jealousy, it may sounds absurd.
you are the smile that is painted on my lips.
you are the one who make me dance and move my hips.
you are my sunshine that lights up my life.
my rain that washed away the pain in my life.
i tried to ran away from you.not only once, but more than two
and yet here i am, still stay where I am
I love you babe, with all I am
I smile through the blood
And laugh with every hit
Smell the booze on his breath
Won't be the last time yet
Got scabs on his forearms
And anger in his eyes
Throws me around and
My cracked lips smeared
With his hate coming down in
Ruby red droplets
He grabs me and hates me
But I already forgave him
For tomorrows bruises
Long as I don't lose him
Big as a rock
Only thing that anchors me
But he is lost in his own sea
I see him drowning in his eyes
Confusion sweeping over him
Lays himself down on the couch
And I flee to our room
And land on the bed
Feeling skin puff up
Here and and there
Feelings forgotten with each
Will I ever be loved?
I wipe the blood from my mouth an spit it out, grinning
Big and laughing,
No, no one could ever love
A bloody skinny fool
they're all just tired of her
twisted games her
silly need to be wanted
and desire for destruction
that leads them all
into hell's fire and
inflames their souls their
hearts are in fractions
over a crazy girl who doesn't
even care or even know
what she is doing
she is too busy getting high
breathing in life and
feeling unstoppable or
sometimes she wants to die
she is tired too of her broken
mind and its broken
thoughts which drive her to
actions so irrational
that hurt those she loves
those around her who
tire of being there to care
when she always falls
every week or every day she
becomes a crisis and breaks
into shards only held
together with her madness
by starving and purging
by cutting and crying she
remains alive in one piece
despite her sadness
but those around her are now
exhausted by her drama not
able to take another day
they love her but they must
say goodbye before she
burns them out like her own eyes
her own soul is dead now
she is alone with her disgust
for herself and her own corpse
maggot-ridden and sad
she is left to mourn those
she swore she'd never miss
she said she didn't need
anyone or their condescenscion
and help but now alone
she doesn't want to be like this
Poem thief can have my poems if it means you continue to share pieces of you.
Joined this site to get to know you and will not stay here if you go away.
Not into twitter or myspace but will join to be near you and hope you don't mind.
I pray you allow me to be part of your crowd on your private Facebook.
You inspired me to write poetry and to get better at what's difficult for me.
I don't smoke cigarettes to calm my nerves or drink booze to numb a man's pain.
Admitting I'm a grown ass man reading your leaving comments and about to cry.
You affect more lives than you realize Betty Ponder and I glad you shared about you.
The one who steals poems can steal this one too it will mean more will know my feelings.
Glad that I got to read the pieces of you that you cared to share.
I posed a how do you know question to my parents about knowing if it's love.
Answer was when a person leaves your life and it makes you feel like
you can't breath and you get extremely sad when they leave and you want to
swallow your pride and get down on your hands and knees and beg them not to go.
I'm sad thinking you are leaving and I wont get to read pieces of you but still
got butterflies in my stomach thinking of you and want to beg you not to go.
I kid you not. You are the best of the best of all poets on this site and it's a damned shame
you removed a lot of your fantastic poems they were the best of the best on this site.
You said my name today
And it brought me back to life.
It snapped me out of panic,
A state of complete and utter disorientation.
Your voice among a sea of screams
Scattered all my insecurities among the shadows.
I never realized how six simple letters
Could sound so much like a symphony,
With the beautiful hum of the bass
And the quaint flutter of the winds.
You woke me from my thoughts of sleep,
Though I can’t tell if they’re dreams or nightmares
When you’re in them.
"We're still doing this right? This whole band fiasco...we're still a band right?"
"I can't say things and mean them any longer, nothing's really clear. I can't trust myself enough to tell you the answer. These monsters, like night tremors, holding me up from my bed. Between my sheets and the cold, metal springs of the mattress. It's terrifying.
Every time you create something, it brings you closer to the end.
Now there's ringing in my ears, but the pain's so far away. And from sulking all these years, the head ache's like second nature. We're not living any longer, just the shadow of ourselves. When your consumed by a monster, you're the one who goes to hell.
And climbing from the ditches clutching blood-soaked dirt in your hands. You can't help but fall back down, sinking slowly to the bottom and you hear-you hear screams of agony from the whole right next to yours. But you still think there's a way out and you start climbing up again.
They're still holding me up as if I'm in the palm of a God. He's speaking directly into my conscious, telling me all of my worst thoughts. He knows the language of my imagination and the bonds that hold it together. He starts unlacing the stress knots and they collapse like little tumors.
And I can't sleep right here any longer, we're no longer doing this for each other. I'm a mad man created from the left over pieces of a half-finished puzzled. This is the end. Yes I can feel it. This is the end, and if it is not, then now it will be, because I believe it."
I felt cold air biting at my ankles
while I caught a glimpse of you across the street
I don't know if I was prepared
to see you holding her hand.
I wanted to count the seconds
to see if you dropped hers as fast as you did
why do you have to be
so goddamn beautiful.
I can't help thinking
that you keep her so you can have someone to own.
The opportunity to sculpt her mind
with a new language
to carve out new shapes for her eyes with your tongue
in more ways than one.
It's selfish of me.
I just long for you still
when I remember
in some bittersweet way
the nights where you looked at me
like I was delicate.
Now our eyes repel one another.
just once more
look at me with your lips
and kiss me with your eyes.
I want to feel something again.
she exiled herself from the
atmosphere that ended her in tears
and she lay flat on the ground,
didn't care, didn't fear.
she made an angel by herself
she wished was here
to banish her griefs
and as a snowflake landed
on her bare, exposed neck,
she fumbled over the word
love just as the snowflake
melted, her blood cells jumped
as the sheer cold drip of water
licks the lovebite solemnly.
two delinquent angles neared her
reeking of alcohol and fresh sins
salvaging her with broken thoughts
and beer bottles;
and another snowflake landed
on her bare, exposed neck,
but this time, it didn't melt.
well not really… though I told
every grinning green Catholic soul
at my school I did that and more
I did smell the wine on her breath
and watch her trip into the trailer
her gown hitting the floor
before she closed the door
her body as white as the fake snow
spitting onto the set, and
as cold perhaps
I was sixteen and she was fifty one
this was my one and only, her last,
flick, not fling, though I would have
cut off an arm for it to have been so
not the arm she touched
in our one immortal scene together…
her electric hand,
all the blond hairs on my forearm standing at attention
me wondering if the camera caught
their helpless vertical veer
it mattered not, most of the scene
landed not on the screen, but
the cutting room floor, my two lines slashed to one
my 48 seconds with her shaved to 22
I did not cry when I heard she died,
twenty months later, but my lie seem soiled
once she was in the ground
I confessed to Father Ryan
he was silent when
I asked what to tell
the fools who believed
the dying star lay with me
simply because she said,
“Call me Vivien, not Ms Leigh”
I curse the night I meet you.
I curse the night my eyes locked deep into your golden/brown skin & crimson red lips.
I curse the drug that draped my mind in lust, in confidence, to merely utter
I curse that sentmental longing of the sound of your voice again.
And the subtle approach towards my deviant nature.
Accept this call...
In need of repair
All parts important
String them all
He sits on the edge
Of a well worn seat
Concerns on the ledge
Extend your pen,
And toss him
We devour his table
Lick clean our plates
Guilty are we
Who are WE!
That we Expect!!
THAT…… we….. Expect!
Turn the page...
With words direct.
With outstretched arms
Convey with words
WE have been THERE
We ARE HERE!
So lend of yourself
I have many flaws you see
But none could ever compare
To how my eyes perceive myself;
A broken toy beyond repair
My greatest flaw-- it tops them all!--
Is that I'm never good enough
Not for my mother, nor for me
Nor for the boy that stole my love
And yet he says I'm always beautiful
He tells me I'm the only girl for him
But still I cannot bring myself
To believe a single word he's saying
~ ~ ~
Been trying so hard, You make it harder,
Been crying for too long, how do you do this?
I try and I try to remind you of me,
But it's all vain, your stoic.
Why is my heart so soft?
For every wrong you do, it makes it right.
I'm tired, bruised and wounded,
But your words are like my bandage,
Gentle at times, but not too often,
For it's your words that leave me battered but still,
I think about you, dream about you.
Now as a tear roles down my cheek,
I'm used to that sensation,
For every tear has something to say,
This last one just asked me, "Will he ever see me again?"
Waiting for you words, I'm used to that too,
But once, just once is all I ask for,
That you say to me, conscious and sub conscious,
That you miss me too.
I built a sand castle around myself
I spend hours on each intricate detail
I built the castle the way I dreamed as a child
I made sure it had all those hidden doors
The ones that weave intermittently from one wing to the next
In the tunnels are where I lose myself with my imagination
The castle keeps me safe from the bad guys
I always have a place to hide within these walls
As I lug myself about crawling on my knees
I drag a life time of sorrows worries and needs
They come in journals
Those hard backed limited editions
The beautiful ones you get scared to write in
Because you don't want to damage their perfection
You pick them up from the second hand book store
The Strand on corner of East 12th Street
You, your journal and months worth of reading
You walk into Books of Wonder
From the days you were read to at night as a child
I always believed that stories last a life time
That even in those worn down books
Oh those beautiful ones where you find a love letter
From decades ago
And you carry that book and pass over
The $2 and the stories live on
And the stories of those who bought the book live on
My castle was built with my fair hands
It's weathered almost all storms
I let no one in and it wasn't until
The day that I did
That the ocean of emotion I carried within
Flooded out and drowned us all
Me, those innocent characters and the books
The precious precious books, soaked and blurred
Out to sea we went
© Sia Jane
“We read to know that we are not alone.”
i. "Why did the number of parking tickets spike
when Persephone was carried off to the underworld?
Demeter wasn't working."
She liked greek mythology puns.
It was a good thing I was creative.
ii. Truth or Dare, I asked her what
was the best decision she's ever made.
she answered with, "In 7th grade I named my puppy Achilles,
so when I saw him I could say, 'Achilles, heel!'"
iii. It took me two weeks to realise that
when we held hands, I wasn't really
holding her hand, but a chainsaw,
ready to slash through anything that stood in our way like
Hercules chopping off the Hydra's head.
I was immortal.
iv. August eleventh; 9 PM
we watched for the meteor shower.
I connected the freckles splayed upon her knee,
told her they looked like the constellation of Cassiopeia.
"Be Sirius" she jested.
v. She had a bad habit
of smoking at the beach and I
Wondered if she knew that with
every single flick of ash into the water,
Poseidon was cursing her to the River Styx.
vi. Headaches visited her often, I joked that
maybe she was getting ready to birth
a Goddess from her cranium. She
did not find it clever.
vii. You could say we became like Aphrodite and
Hephaestus. I, longing for her. She,
lusting after another. A synonym for her
headaches would be me.
viii. Apparently if you hack off a Hydra head, two
would grow to replace it. Knowing this sooner
probably would have saved me from numerous
amounts of Kleenex and chocolate.
ix. She left me a note on the dresser,
"Fun fact: Medusa's favourite cheese was
Gorgon-zola. PS - you remind me
of Medusa, please remember to brush your hair."
She reminds of Medusa as well, I do not doubt that if we
meet again, her eyes would still turn me into
I thought of being an artist
A career I’ve always dreamed
But perhaps I wasn't the smartest
It wasn’t as it seemed
The lines disconnect and break
These colors a garish hue
A piece most bleak and fake
Is one I always rue
My hands mislead my mind
Unable to recreate for me
The picture I imagined, I find
This frustration a hefty fee
Art is expression, or so they say
But how can I express, I ask,
When my art only blocks the way
And proves a more daunting task?
It's like a photograph
of two lovers engaged in romance.
Their hands entwine like frail branches on a frigid winter night.
His hands on her hips;
she fits in his arms like a cork into a bottle of wine.
Would you look at the time?
It's time for bed.
So, crawl in next to her
& let the flame burn out.
Spark one anew.
Watch his tired eyes meet hers.
With a sense of longing, for either
He lies in her bed as he did in his mother's arms
without a desire to leave
and weary of the separation.
His chest holds her head like flower petals hold a bee;
Even when she turns away he reaches for more.
He cradled her playfully.
She was whole.
They woke up and the room was coated with despair.
He left and an emptiness filled the air.
The young girl crawled back under her sheets.
She was hollow.
& so were we.
O,Thou lands lovely afar, across
Those blue oceans,gleaming deep
Odd shapes in my old atlas torn,
Gazed wistful at, dreamt longingly
Of honeyed milks and coffers rich.
Having now made you mine by mind,
Heart,Faith and an allegiance soulful
I kiss your Earth, breathe in the Air,
Tasting somehow the same as a yearning
For the motherland quit so long ago.
Christmas Has A Meaning
Christmas has a meaning
That we must not forget to see
For a gift of love called Jesus
Was born for you and me
On a night so filled with darkness
A star did shine so bright
To guide the way for all to see
The savior born that night
The King of Kings they would proclaim
Kneeling faithful by his side
In the manger lay the son of God
The Messiah had arrived
The glory of this childs birth
We celebrate in many lands
He unites the world with love and hope
Peace on earth good will to man
Christmas has a meaning
We must not forget to see
For a gift of love called Jesus
Was born for you and me
Carl Joseph Roberts
Words wither in the air
as silence slithers between us.
The waves wash over where we sat
as rigid rocks cut water raw.
A seagulls silhouette splayed across the sky
carries a creature so soon to be crushed.
A hermit hiding in his home
pops up out of his puddle,
fleeing back when a feather flutters down
nearly nicking his new shell.
The day grows dark and dim
as rain runs down the rustling leaves.
Light house lights litter the night
showing sheltered shadows.
A bush bows to the blustering breeze,
as the smell of the salty sea settles.
While choppy waters churn violently
when wind whips around us.
Droplets tip toeing across the tide
visibly vibrant than vanishing.
The boats buckle under the beatings
as docks drown diving under desolate waters.
We walk away wincing,
at the last glance at the grey grizzly night.
try, try, try
you'll still leave behind
a path of broken glass.
try, try, try
and you will shine,
the shadow on your back.
you cannot scrub it off;
i implore that you keep it
on your back, and facing past.
look back for a moment--
a sculpture or two,
but keep it on your back.
all our undoings, unknown sublime
anxiety, those forehead lines,
regrets that haunt your tortured mind...
keep your vision sharp and light.
I'm cold cold cold.
My parent's house is not the escape I was looking for.
I lock myself in here without the heat to prove a point.
What point, you ask?
Well, uhhhh, I don't know.
I dug out an old sweatshirt from 6th grade basketball.
It's still too big.
If I stretch my arms out towards the lack of sky
My tiny, chubby, baby hands peek through.
They are very cold.
I wonder if our babies will have my hands or Javin's.
I could never be a communist.
The theoretical kind of communism, of course.
I am very territorial.
New babes cry and tiny seeds take root.
Puddle jumping. Yellow umbrella falling.
Bursts of sunshine bring forth second chances.
Breathe deeply. Become one with nature.
Thunder crackles and lightning sweeps
you back to hot nights where the music
pumped through your bodies as you danced
on rooftops against an orange sky.
Crisp air and screaming lungs
remind you to take the bitter
with the sweet. Long walks
in golden hills and warm spirits
help to ease the inevitable pain
as days grow shorter, your heart darker.
The world lay silent, blanketed
in layers of snow and sorrow.
Push through the nightmares
eating you up and rise up from
the ashes that are your despair
and find yourself a heaven
you’re still not sure exists.
Its quiet and peaceful for now.
In the distance however,
holds a war of all.
A guardian watches alongside her sisters,
They see the world through the eyes of the creator.
As the sun gleam's upon the water,
A massive horde comes closer.
Valkyries are strong,
beautiful but deadly.
We fight together for the Light,
but the darkness can overwhelm thee.
Only one Valkyrie stands out,
above them all.
She is unique, wise, and tall.
Her blue eyes only see thy soul.
As this horde comes to the waves of white.
Valkyries spread their wings to take flight.
Now she knoweth the world and becomes,
The demon they fear, Kekay the Young.
Rising into the sky,
not fearing the dragons who surround.
She looks to her kill,
and stands...her ground.
Her wings turn black and her sovereign soul abides.
As she summons the Catalyst on the heights.
Tempest Suthrane as deadly and black.
The lightning kills off anything death.
The Valkyrie stands before her sisters now,
Who watch in terror of the darkness overwhelmed.
For now she is known as Kekay Suthrane,
The Valkyrie, The young, Dragon Rider today.
Know the war that takes place within her soul,
She knows not the worldly fall.
The end will draw near of the sisterhoods kin,
The blood will show the way,
To her next kill.
The Valkyrie of light and Darkness,
The Archaic one.
Shes the one you should fear,
For Tempest comes to her call.
Silly things, silly things
I have heard, I have seen
Making words out of screams
Things to say in your dreams
Every day, every day
Something new comes my way
And I too sing and play
even though I am gray
But I know, yes, I know
That things change when you grow
Rearranged just to show
You without saying so
Let me out, let me out
Of this cage where I pout
Off this stage where I spout
Gibberish all about
And I wish, how I wish
As I drop and I squish
As I flop like a fish
That I had not done this
This is bad, this is bad
Maybe I'm not so glad
Hear the chimes, don't be mad
Do not cry, don't be sad
Ah, to die, ah, to die
Darkness comes, close your eyes
Everyone by and by
Meets their end, who knows why?
We are friends, we are friends!
Were before, are again
All the more we depend
When the long road does end
Sing a song, sing a song!
Sing it loud sing it strong
You're allowed, life is long
Nothing's hid, nothing's wrong
I'm a kid, I'm a kid!
I can run like I did
Cowboy gun, stretchy squid
stack things in pyramids
It's a sin, it's a sin!
In a wink life begins
If you stink, you can't win
Earn your wings, be with Him
Now the ring again begins
I question the laws which are shared among our youth during these hard times; we have no great war, no question that burns the nations to their knees blaring. We simply have our poverty and power, our endless struggles and our eating disorders.
We are the nation of winners and runners; we are the hypocrites of our father’s religion. Welcome to America, so jam packed with fast foods and cigarettes that you can hardly taste the reality before it has bombed you down.
And then there’s you, and you’re sitting there, staring at the screen… laughing at the mother with the black and white face have her daughter slaughter and eat her, and I’m laughing to, trying to hide the little girl inside me screaming.
“Kiss me,” I’ve had enough broken hearts and sleepless nights to know what it means to have a hand to hold and a body to cling to when the street lights flicker and people ponder about your past.
Talk to me, open your mouth and share with me the secrets of your mother, tell me what tragic car accident brought you to this position and how far you’d run to hold her hand. Question my beliefs and my relationships. Chose kind words over replaceable concerns, fight for my attention, and question my devotion. I want to watch movies with you, discuss some kind of universe beyond my mind, and our boundaries, hold me close while the lights in the theater are dim we’ll dance behind the stage. The lights will be our stars, predict my future with your soft hands and gentle grin.
Because you’re a stranger, I can get away with wanting, because you’re new to me, I can fantasize, holding your hand in mine, resting my head on your chest, listening to your heart beat as you sleep.
Because I’m alone tonight, I can fondle a thought, fish for a chance to be on my own with you. Tell me something; open your mind to the possibilities of me and you.
Of course, all this is wasted on time, and I’ve tried to send you signals, I want to be your friend, I want to talk to you into the late hours, stand in the midnight man’s circle sweating, calling out into the darkness, sharing songs and secrets until the dawn shatters our dream.
Then the bell rings, and you move, get up and leave, go outside to smoke, and my mind goes blank, the thoughts and dreams of the tomorrows that we could have spent together have disappeared, into nonentity. The audacity of my fantasies have brought me nothing, so I move back to questioning the laws which are shared among the youth of these hard times, and I am shaken into a reality of obesity and anorexia, of Christians and Muslims fallen in line with the atheists, I don’t mind, because tomorrow, we’ll meet again and I’ll smile and you’ll nod, and I’ll dream while you giggle.
Imagine a world with no discrimination
A world living in harmony comprising of peaceful nations
The only colour reference would be made to nature
Humans will no longer be judged on their nomenclature
Such is a dream seen by all
But Sir Mandela was the one who took the call
On July 18, 1918, a hero was born
But due to his colour all everyone did was scorn
No one in his family had ever attended school
He was the first one to break this rule
On the first day of school their teacher gave them an English name
This was an African custom due to British bias – how mundane
And that is how Nelson became his first name
He kept it even after he shot to fame
A member of the African National Congress
He gave his opponents a reason to stress
A great politician, revolutionist, lawyer and philanthropist
Served 27 years in jail but never used his fist
Although a controversial figure for most of his life
He won the Nobel Peace Prize for ending the South African apartheid strife
On December 5, 2013, this giant passed away
The things that we can learn from him are a lot more than I can say
You are my beat,
a part of me on permanent repeat.
Just the thought of when our eyes meet,
gives me an an elation of pure defeat.
Nothing more to do than just be,
no biased judgement on what we see.
Just our minds set eternally entwined and free,
black or white, hate or love, up or down, agree or disagree.
I would never change a thing about you, me... We.
From the external beat, to the inner workings on my heart,
you've made yourself a special place from the start.
Close, far, near, or apart,
God has painted our paths on the same piece of art.
Even when one thousand pictures cannot tell the story in your eyes,
there's no disguise, no part of you that ever lies.
My soul slowly opens, loves, and cries,
for the beat that may lead to the demise,
of all walls, opening all possibilities in the heavens and skies.
you know what it takes
you know what's the price
there isn't a love without a heartbreak
without unpleasant surprise!
you know how it breaks
you know about its curse
there isn't a love without a heartache
without bruises and scars!
you know the stakes are high
you know it takes your all
there isn't a love without a sigh
without the pain of fall!
you know its tearing claws
you know it leaves you hurt
still you love because
you believe it in your heart!
The coming of the light was disorienting at first, like the shimmer of the surface of the sea when viewed from beneath. Ossie Mae was swimming up to meet it head on with the fearlessness that only the children of the Great Depression possess. That stark light called out to her bones.
Ossie Mae could hear faint sounds of work: the crinkling of cellophane wrappers, muffled footsteps, and an incessant chatter of beeps nearby. She broke the water's surface and spied a silhouette moving gracefully around the room's only bed. The lights' intrusion subsided, and Ossie Mae was able to recognize hospital scrubs as the silhouette's garment of choice.
"Am I dead," Ossie Mae ventured feebly.
"I don't know," the silhouette responded. "Do you feel dead?"
"I don't know what dead feels like."
"Then how do you know you were ever alive?"
The question hung in the air for a moment while Ossie Mae gathered her wits. "I don't reckon it matters, does it? What happened? Where am I? What is your name?" Now the questions flowed like water over the falls.
"I am Nurse Cassandra. This is a hospital. You are here because you fell and broke your hip. You came in alone...is there anyone you would like me to call for you? Family? Friends?"
Ossie Mae's pupils dilated slightly, as if looking past Nurse Cassandra, searching. "No. My husband, Jack, passed away eight years ago. We never had children and the few friends I have are all in nursing homes or moved away to live with their babies and grand-babies, or to Florida. It's just me now...," Ossie Mae said, her voice slowly and steadily trailing off.
Nurse Cassandra, who looked to be a woman in her early fifties, set down the clipboard she had been scanning while Ossie Mae spoke. She sat down next to Ossie Mae and took her hand. Ossie Mae thought to herself that for such a young woman, Nurse Cassandra had old eyes. They were kind and gray, but seemed old and out of place.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Ossie Mae," Nurse Cassandra asked gently.
"Well...my daddy was a simple man, and he always told me 'Ossie Mae, you ain't got to know what you want in life, but it sure does help to know what you don't want.' I sure do miss Daddy...but I reckon what I don't want is to stay in this hospital any longer than I have to. Could you get me out of here? Please? I don't belong here no more."
"Are you sure? Really sure that is what you want, Ossie Mae?"
"Yes'ums. Yes ma'am." Flatly. Definitively.
"Then of course, Ossie Mae. I can help you with that." Nurse Cassandra stood up, reaching into the pocket of her scrubs. "One escape, coming right up."
Nurse Cassandra turned to Ossie Mae's I.V. drip, moving quickly with practiced hands, emptying the contents of the syringe into the port on the line.
And so it came to pass: Nurse Cassandra, Ossie Mae's Angel of Death, sent her home to Jack and Daddy.
i am still undecided if i should continue to pursue this genre....
I really dont know what to say
Whatever, i never do.
But you, know, its kind of funny how
I always muddle through.
I really can't express myself
It would never rhyme.
But, you know, its kind of funny how
i usually do fine.
I have this love relationship,
I have this hate relationship,
it always pays a price.
You know, humans are weird
we take pride in being smart.
But really how smart are we?
We can never do our part.
We can never shut our mouths,
we make people cry,
we make life miserable,
we can't even guide the blind.
You know, people are crazy,
I'm not sure i like them.
You know, what if we were extinct?
What if you and your most loved were left?
Not your family, but the opposite sex
maybe even your best friend, its up to you.
Wouldnt it be so great?
I would raid all the stores,
I would go to Africa,
see in the bad the glore.
Everything depends on money,
im sorry if you dont have it
i really truely am,
because that is definitly tradject.
I'm sorry this poem is terrible,
it doesnt really rhyme
i want to get some thoughts down,
if its incoherant, fine.
It's funny how we love,
because they never love us back
its funny how we trust
then realize theyre bad.
If you understand this,
if you even read this far,
like if you agree-
but you probably wont.
Because thats just how life works,
but ill stick my middle finger up
She gently closed her eyes and guided his hand up her thigh
Holding her breath
Trying to block out the part that comes next
Was she doing this out of anger
In spite of someone
Her father perhaps
Or was it genuine
Because sluts just enjoy the name calling
They look forward to guys ignoring them once they've had their fun
It couldn't be
She wanted to prove something
That she was independent
That she was all grown up now
And her father had missed his chance
Being over protective was no longer an option
There was nothing left to protect
She had been touched
She had been hurt
She had been alone
He wasn't there for any of that
It drove her mad
So if she gently closed her eyes and guided his hand up her thigh
And blocked out the part that came next
She would have just a few minutes go by
Without the thought of what she could have been
If he had been there
Just a few minutes of relief
are you the one
he and we are asked..
our replies express
where lately we've been..
in our bordered world
do we see interlacing..
are there open fields
in our imaging..
those fields unseen
seeming to project
each our scenes..
are wounds noticed
seeds of healing
theirs and ours..
without an answer
to the question…
Don't take offence
It is a simple matter of competence
Through my triumphs & torture
I seem to have grown
A terror of letting
Ones heart be my home
and you see right through me
I need not wish to cause you pain
But I am a bird
Without her cage
Guess what baby?
The tides are high!
I've always been afraid of heights
But I'll fly
True to your horoscope
For only you wish to be loved
& the tears wiped from your cheek
I ask you to let me soar;
Though I'll travel the entire ocean
I will always turn back up on shore.
my minds not stable enough at this time,
I wish to only speak to you
with light in my eyes
In the hour of death, after this life’s whim,
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,
And pain has exhausted every limb—
The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.
When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim,
And the mind can only disgrace its fame,
And a man is uncertain of his own name—
The power of the Lord shall fill this frame.
When the last sigh is heaved, and the last tear shed,
And the coffin is waiting beside the bed,
And the widow and child forsake the dead—
The angel of the Lord shall lift this head.
For even the purest delight may pall,
And power must fail, and the pride must fall,
And the love of the dearest friends grow small—
But the glory of the Lord is all in all.
Sticks and stones
Is what they say
looking down as they throw
A cliche for strength in her face
Words they can't even begin to understand
No matter how hard they try
A pointless attempt
Until they've felt the sting of words lash like a belt when they hit
Their every defense
Causing doubt to the extent
Where they look in the mirror and the voices
Others opinions becoming the definition of what their worth is
Sticks and stones
Is what they say
Oblivious to the fact she stares at a razor blade
While inside her mind all the names
Contemplating death of a being
with no realized purpose
Heartlessly their hate holds her captive
Sentencing her to a fate of silence
For whenever she opens her mouth to speak
Automatically she considers the negative feedback she'll receive
And quickly stops herself before the words fall out
At least someone has self control
The sea of insecurities she has to dive into everyday
To those who avoid her like the plague
Quick with the stones they cast
That the flaws they antagonize her for are of her choosing
So she's been branded
Hot and searing
What it feels like to be judged
As they create opinions regarding her existence
But a lack of acceptance is to blame
She prays for anything
Any way to escape
The constant ache, the ever present pain
Desiring to be invisible just for a day
In the end it's just a wish
she goes off like a bomb in her school
One last cut, her last breath,
She blew up like a fuse
At all of those who ever judged her
Tormented her everyday
But when the report was filed and neatly put away
It was her who was held at fault
Never once was it taken into account
The triggers that were pulled by her murderers mouths
Sticks and stones
That's all they said
In one last guilt ridden breath
As they notice her blood left on their hands
Denying her perfection
Allowing her to believe death was worth it
To escape the hell in which she lived
Literature lulled the longing; left some life.
Eliot spoke of hollow men that could be mutilated but whole. Tempting!
Auden lamented that despite the wish to turn back time we cannot stop clocks,
Volatile as we are: love does not last forever.
Every word etched upon the page made me realise I was not
Miss Havisham; but in my pusillanimous dress I kept close
Every touch and promise, and the deepest secret nobody knew.
Heaney enticed me with warm thick slobber; yellow in the sunshine, but
Eyes not mine own met me in mirrors and I felt sad that
Reality is not a poem, or a piece of prose and despite looking deeper
Each desire reflected back at me were ones I dare not meet in dreams.
Tennyson's Lady of Shallot weaved its magic but not enough for you to keep an
Old wife. I lost my glow, although even now, my lights still twinkle on dark nights in
Dickens' London. Red lights in dark doorways telling tales of a wronged
Rebecca, Jane or Moll all with different dimensions and
Each with her own story to tell, like me,
Although none of it really matters in the end does it?
Maybe now it is time to yield.
I am from unconditional happiness
frantically spinning in amusement park rides,
lemonade and ice cubes in wine glasses,
attractive titanium-blonde mystery solving in River Heights
and Morgan le Fay’s adventures.
I am from sweaty and sticky humidity
countless of mosquito bites criss crossing my spindly legs
bloody scabs and sucking up tears
a fierce loyalty to the tomboy mentality.
I am from an irrational love of horses
and an irrational fear of bikes
I am from belting the Beatles with my father
and crooning Troy and Gabriella’s duets with my friends
I am from awkwardly fitting clothes
awkwardly chosen outfits
an oblivious confidence,
ignorant to the importance of identity.
I am from first crushes and first mistakes
disastrous smokey eyes
and sex ed from Yahoo Answers
I am from learning and adapting to apathy
which I found to be much more acceptable.
I am suppressed passion and expressed passion
I am obnoxious laughter intermingled with uncontrollable tears
I am a disgruntled hipster living in fear of the word/world
I am a unique fearless monster
I am pretending to hate and attempting to love
I am trying to prove my worth
I am a great wave of emotions, a flurry of ideas and intense thoughts
I am a tinted car window
I am conditional happiness
I am lost and cannot be found
‘twas blind but now I see
Ashes on the ground
what was lost would never be found.
Thick, dark smoke
swam in and out of our guts,
the searing pain at the sight of it ingrained in our hearts.
The buildings were razed to the ground.
Early hours of yester years
christmas period, he recalled
at the stroke of the mid-night exactly
the disturbing sounds came.
Voices and chatter was at its loudest,
he curiously stepped out of his apartment.
His sight was greeted with smoke,
his nose awoke fully the rest of his half-asleep senses.
Fire, he saw.
Walking people on fire
stood still and stared
unable to run forward and help.
His ears vibrated at the sounds of the approaching foot-steps.
He could see people pouring buckets after another
on people and the buildings.
Soon, the police
and the fire men came.
The fires vexed.
The screams we heard from those inside the buildings ceased, those who worked late into the night.
Hose after hose
Ladder after ladder
till the second hour
when it flamed out.
It grew higher and higher,
darker and thicker
till the third hour
when the white smoke prevailed.
Yellow stripes made by the police contained the curious crowd.
Ambulances struggled to revive the fainting people.
Some where in the crowd the man stood.
He kept his head down
a tear trickled down his face.
He had seen fires kissing flesh
and properties transforming to ash.
He witnessed live death
and fires blazing bright.
He saw what he saw.
The National Business Center would be greatly missed.
May God grant you all the fortitude to bear the loss.
Even if you cannot shape your life as you want it,
at least try this
as much as you can; do not debase it
in excessive contact with the world,
in the excessive movements and talk.
Do not debase it by taking it,
dragging it often and exposing it
to the daily folly
of relationships and associations,
until it becomes burdensome as an alien life.
Trust is dead and gone
Buried like the corpse of the girl next door
Headless body holding no secrets
The smile that thrills me is the smile that kills me
With the eyes haunting my waking, my sleep
Such beauty held in the petri dish
To kiss the headless corpse of trust
To taste the bitter burn of lust
I die inside with every thrust
The knife in my back, the gun to my front
oh oh my love
I was crushed by your velvet glove
Swallowed whole by the tombs in your marrow
6 feet under with insatiable hunger
I tend to wonder..
Where do you ghostly things go in your lifelong slumber?
The unknown holds the needle that contains the anesthesia
23 doses and the mystery lingers
Father turned my soul into a succubus
Dropped me from the precipice
Grew wings on my way down
Now I haunt your home town
Sinking in spacetime
Wine and jazzy bass lines
Resonate from the street
Into ya feet
Until you CANNOT accept defeat
My weapon of choice is a voice that haunts the spirit in whispers
Leaking through the vents in your house
You're chest is a ghost town.
Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.
Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:
For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.
Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such pain
At any hand but hers?
Things happened so fast,they didn't gave us breaks even a blink. Don't let your hopes and dreams drifted away. The moment when you are about to think to back off you're losing the game that you're playing in your whole life. Haters are laughing. Loved ones are crying. Pull yourself together. You are not drowning, you are just dreaming to keep living. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. The doors are knocking, the phones are ringing. Unlock the doors and answer the calls. Just tumbled don't fall.
Your name is engraved on the underside of a tree I’ve yet to climb one day
I step out my pod only to see you
A glow upon your forehead calls my name
No words in this sunken land
Where music tones are breathed in
A darkness fall upon the sand
The like I’ve never seen
Heavy heart stands alone as the chosen leaves
In sweet embrace, it all comes clear in new pods
Oh no, now all see how light is dimmed
So easy to turn their backs on it
But surprise steps into a prism coat of redness
To lead the way back to joining the one
All witness the beauty of highest sacrifice
You’ve taken off your headlight to ensure
I don’t get left behind.
I've decided that should anyone
years from now
discover my body
I want them to find me blind-
not from grief and sadness that I saw
but from the beauty my eyes beheld.
I want them to find
the disks in my neck worn-
not from lifting my nose at the inferiority of this place
but rather due to the fact that I was constantly gazing up
simply to remind myself that I get to be a piece in it all.
I want my lips to have trembled, smiled, spoken, gaped
my ears to have listened, to have listened, to have heard
my wrinkles to be evidence of laughter, evidence of worrying
my hands to have been held,
to have fought, grasped
and most importantly to have let go.
When they find me
I want my piercings to be evidence of my interest in pain
and the calm that follows.
I want my body to be riddled in love
agape, philias, eros, storge
I want my scars to be testaments to
my fearlessness, my carelessness,
my courageousness, and my curiosity.
Should they find my spirit gone
should they find my body dead
I want them to know
I want them to know I lived.
What have I done?
What did I get myself into?
What did I create?
There are so many complications with the little situation.
So I’ll just tell you the story.
there was a girl who fell for a boy
(isn’t that always how it goes?).
She fell for him in the spring.
She fell for his friendship.
Then his smile
and she learned how to make him laugh.
What a reward that was.
She fell for TV marathons,
and fort building.
She fell for brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles.
She fell for nerdy adorable.
She’s never been able to get over that type.
In the summer it continued.
She fell for their rhythm and sass.
In the fall it strengthened.
She fell for the idea of him.
That very idea kept her alive through stress and tears;
bitterness masked by sarcasm.
In the winter it faded.
That boy went
and turned his life to shit.
He drowned any pain or stress with copious amounts of
drinks and drugs.
He drowned the scent of those drugs with copious amounts of
In the spring he was the same.
And she knew better than to change him.
In the summer…
Oh in the summer it all crashed down.
In the summer she saw her chance.
In the summer he made a choice
and she would be there to make sure he kept his promise.
She tried so desperately to help him.
She spent her time and effort to wake him up to the reality that
fun can be had without the life he tried to leave behind.
Instead of taking the summer for a much needed cooling period,
she smothered herself with his dirtiest depths.
The ones he had only confessed to three people before.
And she felt honored to be the fourth.
She didn’t judge,
because she too had made mistakes.
Why judge somene for a past they are leaving behind?
No, she didn’t judge.
Instead, she fell even harder for that boy
and his scars.
She fell for evolved hide and seek in the dark
and last minute volleyball in the sand.
She fell for Saturday night board games.
She fell for healing.
She told herself that he could be healed
and it could be by her.
She read stories of heroes
and now was her time to be one.
In this story, her story,
for once in her life,
she was not the damsel.
She was there for him through his own low points,
and his friends darkest hour
that cast swinging shadows across his life.
Her boy shouldn’t have had to deal with that alone.
No one should.
But she did,
She dealt with everything alone.
He pestered her for those moments of truth.
She’ll tell you now that he was only trying to dig up her dirt,
because she knew so much of his.
She will tell you this because she can’t bear to acknowledge that
maybe he really did care,
but still left.
He had sent her songs that she ‘just had to hear.’
Introduced her to new movies and shows, videos and music.
They had learned from each other in such different ways.
Each had their strengths
and oh too many weaknesses.
But they had complemented each other.
He wanted to hang out at all times.
Of course only to distract himself from the cravings.
And of course she gave in every time.
But he never wanted her,
he only wanted a crutch.
And when that crutch left,
he couldn’t stand alone.
But that’s not her fault,
He never really needed her.
He was only under an illusion.
And illusions are made to be broken.
False mirrors that will eventually shatter,
good things she never believed in bad luck.
From the full hearted laugh,
to the bittersweet smile, to the tears in her eyes,
to the rage that now fills her voice,
on might even say she fell in love that over those seasons.
And she took far too long to fall out of it.
Instead she ripped herself apart.
She tore out the pieces that reminded her of him.
But she was unwise.
Instead of throwing those far, far away like she should have,
she kept them close to her chest.
She held them tight and crushed the life out of them.
When she finally threw them out,
they were crushed to ash.
Nothing left but the marks of destruction
because that was all that was left of her.
In physics it is said that a comet traveling
At over 10000 miles an hour the
Size of Mt. Everest would be an
E.L.E. or extinction level event.
Nothing would survive.
If these physisist could figure this our,
Why is there no mathematical computation
That could , at least in theory , have
Prepared me for the impact that is
It's not our fault that we don't make good choices
It's not our fault that we hate each other
It's not our that we get angry for no reason
It's not our fault that we are never happy
It's not our fault that we say things we weren't supposed to say
It's not our fault that we make many mistakes
It's just human nature
What if I told you I found the sweet spot, the perfect combination of want, desire and satisfaction, the perfect balance of risk and thrill, the best adrenaline rush.
I'll share it with you.
Are you ready?
Can you enjoy the dark and lovely, that beautiful spinning moment, the freedom?
It's mine, it can be yours too, breathe it in, suck it down, devour every taste and color, savor it, it won't last forever. Revel in it, drown in it, wicked laughter and twisted minds, wannabe gangsters and the real thing. A sea of crazy and delight
Who are you?
What are you?
I'll show you the art of spinning out of control. Time to unwind and unravel.
This is my dream, my wild unbound satisfaction.
The writing on your face.
Its all mine, and I soak it up relentlessly.
Cocky yet humble,
Yelling at a mumble.
just another contradiction,
Self destructive predilection.
Smart enough to know better,
Yet too dumb to care whether,
I'm dead inside and rotting out,
Or simply just living with doubt.
So the story goes,
Only heaven knows
Why I do the things I do.
I just wish I knew.
Tall, small build,
Not strong willed.
yet willing to finish the mission.
Watch my plans reach their fruition.
Stuff four friends in a white panel van,
Keep them on the road as long as I can.
So we can fit our piece in the puzzle plan.
Cause I'm nothing, simply nothing without any fans.
So my hair, it grows,
And the wind it blows,
Hopefully in the right direction.
To the next intersection.
Evil, yet good,
Idle hands, busy mind
Produce horrific crimes.
Play with emotions to sway
People's affections swing my way.
Yet never carry out the dirty deed at hand.
I'll call it a conscience, say never again, but I'm just a man.
My eyes wander,
Will's getting stronger.
But it's just too hard not to see
Or adequately appreciate beauty.
Calm and enthusiastic,
Dull but charismatic,
Maybe a dash of eccentricity.
Throw in Some single minded duplicity,
Add in a heaping helping of guilt to top it off.
Let cool for twenty years and let the odor waft,
Then you get a blue eyed, brown haired douche bag.
Who wants nothing more than his childhood back.
So much for growing up.
So much for no regrets.
I wouldn't mind staying young,
But time just won't relent.
You whom I could not save
Listen to me.
Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another.
I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words.
I speak to you with silence like a cloud or a tree.
What strengthened me, for you was lethal.
You mixed up farewell to an epoch with the beginning of a new one,
Inspiration of hatred with lyrical beauty;
Blind force with accomplished shape.
Here is a valley of shallow Polish rivers. And an immense bridge
Going into white fog. Here is a broken city;
And the wind throws the screams of gulls on your grave
When I am talking with you.
What is poetry which does not save
Nations or people?
A connivance with official lies,
A song of drunkards whose throats will be cut in a moment,
Readings for sophomore girls.
That I wanted good poetry without knowing it,
That I discovered, late, its salutary aim,
In this and only this I find salvation.
They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds
To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds.
I put this book here for you, who once lived
So that you should visit us no more.
- by Czeslaw Milosz
st, 13 dec 13
Copyright © 1988 by Czeslaw Milosz Royalties, Inc.
Used by permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
Source: The Collected Poems: 1931-1987 (The Ecco Press, 1988)
Forgotten in the pages
Of the that book
Oh what was it called
That book is sitting
In my father's bookshelf
A history of the civil war
And an encyclopedia from 1949
It is lost in the depths
Of my mother's bookshelf
There the book with the pressed flowers
Covered in dust and memories
Waits for me to recapture the lost moments
Collecting and absorbing the words
And ideas trapped within the binding
Lost flowers, pressed in time
Lost in the pages of my childhood
We have been apart now longer than we were together. Strange as the time flies like a bird in the hardest wind, my heart still beats the rhythm of your name and my soul is but a broken vase without your hand held in mine. I swear to you that I have tried in honest to lose the longing that plagues my bones but my love for you persists even now. Like a river it flows onward and though its depth may change by the season, its nature is unending. I still keep your picture in my wallet not because it does some service or I bring my eyes about it often but rather that the deepest part of me will not permit its absence. My love is hard and true and nothing seems to persuade it from its purpose, not even me. I sleep more then I should now because my love remains only in my dreams and my world is made of what moves me, whether it be what all can see or just me.
I think of you often,
Please do it,
I am literally going insane
I need desperate assistance
I am very serious about this
My dreams are becoming reality
I don't know where that is going
But, Very seriously
I am being troubled
I am asking you
to tether me down
so reality doesn't escape me
Please do me a favor
So i can live..
if i hadn't met the boy that made me go insane with love and brought out all my demons,
i never would have met his best friends when i decided to move in with him
and without them, i'd be much more pathetic than i am now.
life works in mysterious ways.
without all the desperate, writhing pain my first love brought me,
i would not know the deep bond of friendship that can spark instantaneously.
i would not know how loyalty can change sides when provoked and undeserved
and i would not know the immense feeling of thankfulness that often brings me to tears
because when everything went terribly wrong,
they stuck with me.
they could have all easily thrown me away when they realized how my mistakes ruined the relationship i tried for years to attain.
but they didn't.
they praise me, tell me my strengths, appreciate my flaws, and make sure i know
i'm not alone.
all the pain i go through has a purpose,
and good things are hidden in the bad.
i don't know where i'd be without them.
probably six feet under.
your flimsy words and pity goodbyes have made his throat raw,
and yet your eyes still seek for that light, that fading away ember to show you, to prove to you,
your petty soul will be missed,
that this shit you take everyday of every moment will end up making a difference,
will change the world someday,
and will not be for absolutely,
that it will matter in where you end up,
after the deed is done,
that being the "better" person in the light of someone else's view,
will make you something more than you are all to clearly not.
and maybe your insignificant glare needs,
a never ending "life" of regret,
a "life" where everything is sliding away from you,
and it all
to an emptiness unbearable to the innocent, naïve, human,
that allows you to see your actions hurt all to many of those you thought you had "loved"
as your "life" is finally proven to you that it was not something at all but in all honesty it was nothing, nothing at all, just a glimpse of an eternity long grimace,
to show you that your pain had no meaning at all,
that in fact if you had been ecstatic you would be in the same place as now,
so why is it
my pitiful friend
in his "frighteningly" all to similar shade of white as your devils shade of black?
It’s my curiosity again
She is catching up to me
And my mind has run away again
Because it’s snagged,caught up on you.
In a way you only some times think of
And every so often ask about.
I’m so torn about saying it
Because I am scared you don’t share this same curiosity I run from.
I’m beginning to understand what He meant by “perfect”.
You see we already are and have been by being just friends
But I want to know the answer to what my mind has thought of
It is this question…
Would you kiss me?
Knowing that this “perfection” could stay the same.
Because if so
What would it feel like?
Would it thrill me?
How would you kiss me?
Would you make it soft and slow
Like in those movies
Or would you kiss me
Like the world is about to fall;
Thoughtless and with all the passion in this world…
Or do you not want to know
Because maybe you wanted things to change
So that kiss would have to come with a title.
Or just maybe we are both lucky and want things to stay the same.
But I had to ask…
Would you kiss me anyway?
I couldn't let this moment pass and never know
If you would or wouldn't
And if so
What it would be like to know your lips a little better.
With my hand on the pack of your neck
To say I know you and mean it in a way
That is more than I would say
So I’m sorry
My curiosity has me out here hoping you will say yes
Or say nothing at all and kiss me anyway.
It’s just a question
I’m so afraid it is too much to ask
Or that these painful butterflies in my stomach that I wrestle with
Will get in my way
Because we aren't changing
We are meant to stay the same
But I hope you will kiss me anyway.
I must not gaze at them although
Your eyes are dawning day;
I must not watch you as you go
Your sun-illumined way;
I hear but I must never heed
The fascinating note,
Which, fluting like a river reed,
Comes from your trembing throat;
I must not see upon your face
Love's softly glowing spark;
For there's the barrier of race,
You're fair and I am dark.
Whose mouth do I speak with
When my anxious thoughts multiply within me
from my heart or from somewhere deep within
Should I bridle my tongue?
Or wash it out after with soap
Or should I allow it to ride the wind
Until it lessen in time
It’s tempting: to give away my thoughts
I hate the sound of other poet’s pens
Should I freeze their ink cartridge
and spare the world the pain
from their internal and external mishaps
Should I close my eyes, and say
All's well with the world
The things we must do: not to offend
However, we have to endure many things
to conquer and to win bits at a time
“Comrade-in-arms to my old friends”
all isn’t well within our world.
Because I am a sonnet
In search of a poet
I am imaginative, forceful, and compelling
And sometimes disciplined
But today, who mouth must I speak with?
Your consolations delight my soul.
The plane descends
Into a smog
The sea barely visible
The runway appears suddenly.
A grey oppressive place,
Large mountains looming ahead
In the distance.
They seem to be watching. Waiting.
Cold, hard walls
Reflections are all you see
The customs were rough
A condescending look
And your passport thrown back at you
Out of the gates
The city's dead
Yet bustling with people
The smog just touches the top of the buildings
You smell smoke.
A concrete jungle
Cold and Grey.
I wish we could go back to over 3 or 4 yrs ago.....the beginning of summer....right after Michael Jackson died. The year was 2010. I was going to go to the art gallery in Beverly Hills that was displaying Michael jacksons personal items. I was on facebook watching all these Hoax videos and was becoming one to think maybe, just maybe he did fake his death. Then I saw in one of the videos that was showing the names of prescriptions that Michael Jackson would use over the years to obtain his meds. SOOOOOO I went on face book and was looking up the names.....(like mj is really going to use one of those if he did infact fake his death and start talking to me..) One of the names was Soule Shawn. I typed it in and a photo of Michael Jackson popped up but it wasn't the normal photo...it was a dark pic with a figure and you could tell it was Mj cus u could see the curl hanging down from the tip of the fedora. I clicked on the name and it said it was a private acct and u had to request the person to see if they wanted to let you on to their page and basically into their life. I clicked it and didn't think anything of it. A day or two later I went to go see what was going on with my buds and co workers and it said my friend request was accepted. I was all excited. The person wasn't on right then and I was so hoping it would be Mj....I left a message saying that I was grateful that he accepted it.....and did what I was on there to do and left. The next day I was on and it said I had a message. I clicked on it and it was from the person...I was all excited. all it said was a response to my message...it said and I wont ever forget it......."my pleasure". I was typing a response to his and was also saying that my friend and I were going to see mjs stuff on display and I made the comment of how I wish I had lots of money cus id want to buy some of his personal stuff......just then an instant thing popped up(I didn't even know u could talk like that to people that way on there) and it said "hello, how are u?" I got so nervous but answered.. "im fine and you?" We exchanged words for like an hour until he said he had to go. I was really interested in talking to him and seeing if he was infact Mj. He told me that I shouldn't waste my money on buying things of mjs cus I cant take it with me when I 'go' and I should cherish the memories I made and make and not be into materialistic artifacts. SO I didn't go see the display of things. Because the person was right , and I knew if I went I would blow all my money on a matchbook for like $400.00 or something really stupid. I couldn't wait until the next time we'd have a chance to talk cus I was bored and it was summer and I like to talk so I was really intrigued by my newly found friend. (more later)
I need you and I want you but you won't be here
I will stand here and fight for you but you'll never do the same and you say you care but you don't I wish you would but wishing is like watering a rock and waiting for it to bloom
You took my heart and slammed it into the ground
You took my demons and trained them to tell me that you weren't there
You destroyed my life making it into ruins with your name carved along the walls You slowly but surely took over each and every thought of mine and turned it against me
You hate me and I love you and this world will never let me understand why
you made me feel incapable
but I am capable
I may be young but my mind works faster than thought or time itself
I learned how to live on my own without being manipulated by your evil words that coursed through my veins
I stopped wishing for you to care because
I may not be able to make a rock bloom into a beautiful flower but I took it and made it into a luminescent rock garden
I picked up my heart and put it back together; piece by piece
I overcame my demons and painted over those ruins and made a masterpiece
I overpowered your ubsurd ways and took over my mind and made myself into something better
you might have made me feel incapable
but I am capable
i guess i miss playing with your fingers,
feeling your warm whisper on my neck
but never have i missed
the feelings of your slap on my back.
or the bruises on my arms, for that matter
and while we’re at it, i don’t miss being begged for sex
or photos that would have dissolved my purity
like when the sun slowly merges with the earth, and all that’s left is darkness.
although i miss
I was the girl of your dreams, and you finally woke up
When you did, the thought of hurting me didn't even faze you
Your hand against my skin now leaving marks, not a ghost I would soon lay in bed and think about and smile.
I hope the shame of what you did to me burns your oesophagus when your next girlfriend asks what happened with me, and I hope you tell the truth. I hope you tell her that you let me go, that you touched me in a way no man should touch his
You carved your name into my skull with a nail and a hammer. I know this because whenever I think of you, my head hurts. Whenever I think of you, my throat closes up and my eyes start to burn. Then my vision gets blurry and all I can ask myself is why you did it.
I really hope she can tell that when you lie you scratch the left side of your head and put your left hand on your right shoulder. I hope she can tell that the sides of your mouth twitch when you know with all of your heart you aren't telling the truth.
Lilingon-lingon upang makakuha
Ng isang sulyap, isang silip
Hanggang sa tinalikuran mo na ng
At hinayaan mo ang sarili mo
Sa selda na iyong pinanggalingan, nakasanayan
Pero hintay, hinto!
Hindi kita papayagan na magkaganito
Hayaan mo na yakapin kita ng mahigpit
At pawiin ang mga luha sa iyong pisngi
Wala akong mga karanasan at payo na pwedeng ibahagi
Pero susubukan ko na
Baliktarin ang iyong simangot sa isang ngiti
Makatulungan sana nang kahit kaunti
Sa mga sugat mo na humahapdi
Ilagay mo ang iyong mga kamay
Ikaw ay aking hahawakan,
Hinding-hindi ka bibitawan
Ikaw ay sasamahan lakarin
Ang nakatakdang landas
Na kailangan mong tahakin
Sa dami ng mga lubak at lindol
Siguradong tayo'y madadapa rin
Pero huwag mo na 'yun isipin
Kasi anumang mangyari
Kahit kailan, kahit saan
Ikaw ay aking iibigin
Fuck this coffee shop life
I'm making college a cliché, it's my bright new idea
I spend all day getting nothing done
I'm poor, I'm cold, I'm sad, and all my clothes smell like coffee grounds
I want to smoke a thousand cigarettes and come out pretty on the other side
Drunk and stumbling, no longer waiting for the phone to ring
No longer afraid of all the time I'll have to walk until I die
The secret that's been nagging at my brain all day,
Like the word I can't remember, the one that would make my point perfectly
Is that I was less lonely before love
Less lonely alone
Nothing new, we've always known
I'm only very bitter
Running into yet another soft eyes and open lips
Trying to magically feel something more than what exists
Running into yet another guys arms that seem so genuine from afar
He really likes me brought me my 3rd drink tonight
He's tryna tap that...
Intellectual portrait that I have painted of myself
Running into yet another false hope of maybe this one is different
He can't hurt me unless I allow him to
penetrate parts that haven't been discussed
This feels so right
Running into yet another, "your the most special girl I've met" "wouldn't ever hurt you" line
Just to be spoon fed leftovers from
the previous drunken night
Or the alcohol soaked on a pink moist thick tongue
Running into yet another clear dream... (I can see clearer now the rain is gone)
Love songs no longer play because he has taken me to a fantasy land from Saturdays night rerun of a previous session
Picture perfect perfection precious pleasing.
Please don't stop because maybe you have tuned in to the right channel
Running into yet another guys lap saying I will dance for you and only you... And maybe him and only him.
Because words have become so cliche and I no longer can count how many arms have squeezed me firmly but have released quicker.
How many lips have accepted my open invitation to stay the night within
How many eyes I have let pierce my soul but to no avail,
they get what they want and dissolve.
No satisfaction, no guaranteed refunds of that stuff he left with
No mental pictures left of what ifs or possibilities of US being more than just lust
A must of endless considerations and my ridiculous thoughts of actually
Running into the same web of deceit deception.
So many descriptions of how I ran away from myself and have been searching nonstop for the right sensation that can stop the temptations and erase the emptiness.
It started at the beginning of adulthood
where the wandering into the new house
became a chore. The doorway greeted me
by snagging my woollen jumper.
The motorway was screaming, the battered gate happily hanging from its hinges.
His image first flashed into my sight,
And when I stared through the fogged up windows
I could still figure out his figure.
Loutish, he sauntered past
On a hillside, desolate.
He didn’t move for three hours.
He was most probably entwining the thorns from the bush
into his complex mind. Maybe
the boy with the thorn in his side
Had been brought to life by this mystery animal
With a mass of unkempt mane.
Unruly, unnecessary, untouched.
The notebook on my kitchen table lay untidily
waiting to be roughened up. I picked it up
and cast light over the paper.
I imagined him doing the same
But his art was thunderstorms
And mine merely a drizzle of rain.
I made progress
and the flowers were growing from my fountain pen.
Confidence developing, I invited him inside
And there were still no words from his unfathomable jaw.
A month later, we became one
and I still didn’t know where his intentions were lying.
I’m a girl afraid, does he even have any?
Ink pot after ink pot
I ran even further in this marathon of confusion.
I slowly slid from his dismissive grasp, his matted paws light
I had drawn graffiti over his portrait.
a permanent marker changed beauty into art.
I crept before his wake, into his sleep
And his lyricism lay imbibed in the walls, the desk, the door.
I felt the gale force energy cry inside
Which erupted like a volcano, turning remnants into ashes.
Face down, mane rough, scars bright, fur singed
In the morning, I lifted his heavy paw away from me
And placed it peacefully beside him.
I based my poem upon my hero Morrissey (Duffy seems to write her poems about significant historical/well-known figures or fairytale characters) because him and the Smiths have kind of been a form of escape for me recently. I just thought it would be nice to write about him, even if it was harshly, but that is Duffy's predominant style.
I would be grateful if anyone could feedback to me regarding its quality and how I could possibly improve :-)
My senses betray me,
And the quality of a lady is what I seek
Their self worth with confidence shine,
and their smile have great energy,
Then I look to court them!
My eyes betray me.
Visual presentation of a lady is what I seek.
Type of clothes they wear,
And if they have fashion sense!
If they look beautiful,
I will approach them.
My nose betray me.
The ladies must smell good.
Ladies must give a pleasant scent,
And carry good hygienes,
If they could keep clean,
I will approach them.
My mind betray me
Lady must have an intellectual mind,
And can verbally stimulate an awesome conversation.
Must have individualism,
And stand firm in her belief,
But also have compassion in her voice!
I am shallow,
And I will not sugar coat my voice.
I know what I like,
And type of person I fall for.
My senses betray me,
But I admit who I am.
I love you.
I love the things you say.
I love the things you do.
I love you in every single way.
I love your hair.
I love your smile.
I love how you play fair.
I love how you make me stay a while.
I love your voice.
I love how you love food.
I love the face you make when making a choice.
I love you in any mood.
I love you top to bottom.
I love how you solve a problem.
I love the way you walk.
I love the way you talk.
I love how you write.
I love you, day and night.
I love the way you hold a pen.
I love you more, every now and then.
I love your taste.
I love how our memories don't get erased.
I love how you get me to do anything.
I love your rights, I love your wrongs, I love everything.
I love how you look out the window.
I love how you make sure I don't feel like a zero.
I love how you love Christmas.
I love you, can I get a witness?
I love how you can cook.
I love how you love books.
I love how you love your sister.
I love how you admit to being a sinner.
I love how you're so smart.
I love how you're good at art.
I love how I feel when I look at you.
I love you, I don't know what to do.
I love how you never really get mad.
I love how you smile even when you're sad.
I love the way you dance.
I love the fingers on your hands.
I love you even when you don't reply.
I love how you're always beautiful, even when you cry.
I love how you answer the phone.
I love you more than you will ever know.
I love the fact you're still reading my poem.
I love how my heart is what you've stolen.
I love how you're grinning at how I can't rhyme.
I love you, even if I know you'll never be mine.
If life is a building
With infinite floors
We are on the same level
Behind the same door
If love is a book
With every single name
We are right beside each other
On the same page
We are corresponding wavelengths Synchronized swimmers
Through the sea of dreams
We were radio static in a storm
Until we turned each other's dials and
Tuned in to one another
Beneath Us We will plant Our seeds
Letting roots flow together from Our feet
Above Us there is room to grow
Our limbs will stretch for all to know
We are one, and
We have won
We will lay bricks
As stable foundation
Become masters of masonry
Without building a wall between
You will no longer ache
With anger in Your bones
You will not feel so weak
Or scared and alone
We will not let these monsters
Rest inside You
Only to escape and
Paint Your face red with streaks
If We are crying
It's because We are overcome by happiness and
It's overwhelming and
We are overjoyed and
Other positive 'over' words
We will always be each other's
Shoulders to soak
We are a simultaneous song
Sung by sirens
To draw Us into one another
Chanting and charming Our souls
Thank the temptress
For showing me a goddess
I was a sinking ship
Waving flags of distress
Until I was brought to
The beauty of You
Your heavenly body
Heart beating beside me
My majestic marvelous moon
I want those low smoky bar songs
To make you think of me
I want you to want to see me
In that kind of loud dirty place
Out of place
And a little drunk
I want your frown
I want your glare at the bartender
I want your hand on my arm
When French is all I can manage
French, and your name
I'm speaking French for you
And you never notice
I want a little strong something
To bring out those r's
And your concern
I want your "lightweight"
I want your done-in kiss
I want my bad decisions
To bring one out in you.
Truth is a lie
For I am trapped in a reality
Of one not conditioned for my kind
Perception is key to the unlocked universe
But what if I'm locked out of the world in which I was born?
I don't speak their language or get their jokes,
But since we are being honest, I don't care
All the pretty images, no thought evoked
In my own dimension, no one stares.
headn back south for a big rock, big chunk of somthin to make som money with
2 have a little rock collection like texada island
stir fry wet slug salad litter ears scatter silent, high fiving finally noone this sad reptile cold-skin hurt soul crying at base tree kneeling on root trying light joint
dropping the lighter fumbling cold finger dusk shining through the shoes
im finaly gonna break up and gonna meet some girls
movies all night cuddled up eyes evil needles
or on the roof watching light shows the dark dead sky less lost like the end .
strawberry sprawled out city inbehind trailing
nests of smoke when we bow our head
captive in your web, i stuggle for release
beguile'd by the catacombs of your mind
you lured me, then chamber'd my heart
seduction was an enticing bite of euphoria
then a spun betrayal of being sealed away
stuck in this web'd hollow grotto
your den of iniquity sucked me in
impenetrable and incomprehensible,
this filigree'd labyrinth holds my soul
entangled for an eternity in this maze
i pray for redemption in that end sting,
placate your every whim to set me free
You came into my life,
Without a single hello,
Never thought you were the one,
To be my hero.
I don't know why,
I don't know how,
But all I know,
You're a part of my life,
Without I even realised,
Until you're gone,
Gone for months.
You said you missed me,
Felt like there was a sunshine in me,
A bright star above my bed,
A firefly on my head,
Summer breeze on my cheeks,
Calling my name as you speak.
The melody of your words were so true,
Felt like falling in love with every you,
We hope to meet in reality,
But the reality is just a fantasy,
That looks like a dream to me.
You were tangled with your past,
With the flashback that comes fast,
Trying to move on even when it hurts,
Trying to forget when it seems impossible.
All you need is space,
All you need is time,
I know it is hard,
I'm sorry for not understanding enough
I don't know what's happening
I don't know how you feel
I don't know what you want
I don't know how to read your mind
Am I too complicated?
Or I was just too over-reacted
Didn't you cry when I say goodbye?
Don't you say it was all a lie
I could't wait for you to be mine,
See you for the first time,
Now I just have to set in mind
To let you go for this last time.
Helen shall I dash my hopes upon your rocks
Sacrifice my ship to sinking sirens song
Chase your willowisp into the dark swamps deadly mist?
Sultry siren sing to me
And bring me
Towards the jagged expectations of your ever changing shores
I shall sink myself upon the shark filled shoals
Where sailors seek salvation
And find their high hopes drowned
To fall into the endless dark
Where skeletons enthroned
All wear the coral crown
Oh Helen I shall send a fleet with high flags flying
And chance your shifting sands
I shall risk the rocks and waves
the highs and lows of your desire
I shall steer my ship towards heaven
And hope to reach it's shores
She climbs the narrow
staircase of the tower
which is circular, now
and then a door leads
off to a room, but the
doors are closed, and
only her shoes echo on
the stairs. Her father
has forbidden her to
climb the stairs, too
dangerous, Alice, he's
said, but she climbs
them in-spite, her sense
of adventure overriding
her anxiety of possible
punishment. She stops
half way. Breathes deep.
Her cheeks flush red,
her eyes bright blue or
green, depending on
the light, her mother
says, on kissing her
goodnight. She walks
up further, putting a
small hands on her knees
to press her on. Nearly
at the top, passing
another door, pressing
her knees, onward trot.
She stands on the top
step and opens a small
door that leads to the roof.
Fresh air meets her,
warmth of sun. She
walks carefully along
the narrow ridge, peers
out over the grounds below.
The gardener is busy
in the rose beds, back
arched, hoe in hands.
Her father stands nearby
pointing a finger, words
inaudible to her, linger.
She ducks in case he
looks up. She walks,
bending low, along
the narrow ridge to
the other side. There
she peers at the back
garden and looking
down sees the thin
maid carrying a bucket
along the path. Thin
arms and hands barely
managing to haul along.
A dog barks. Someone
laughs. She ducks, and
walks the narrow ridge,
and into the door, onto
the winding stairs. She
waits. Listens. She tiptoes
down one step at a time,
ears cocked, mouth dry.
She pauses outside a
door half way down.
She turns the handle
and looks in. The room
is empty. She enters
and closes the door behind.
A bedroom. Small bed,
chair. She walks on by.
She opens the outer door
and peers along a corridor.
No one in sight. She goes
out and shuts the door
behind. The smell of polish
and flowers. Shining
floors, carpet well brushed
and clean. She walks
slowly along the corridor,
dark shadows in corner
and doorways, lights off,
sunlight barely touching.
Her father is at the other
end talking to Fedge.
Baritone to baritone.
She ducks in a doorway,
bites a lip, fiddles fingers.
Had he seen her? The voices
carry along the corridor,
rising and lowering like
heavy waves. She peeps
out of her hideaway, eyes
bright against dark shadows.
Her father stands there
towering high. She smiles,
moves out, folds her hands
in her pinafore pockets.
Where have you been?
he asks, his voice baritone
deep and vibrating doors.
Walking, she says, looking
for Dolly. He sternly stares,
dark eyes burning. Not
been on the tower roof,
I hope? She looks at the
shiny buttons on his coat,
sometimes she can see her
face in them smiling back.
Oh, no, she lies, wouldn't
dare, too dangerous, to
go there. He looks her
in the eyes, and knows
she lies, a double wrong
to be corrected, his mind
suggests, but isn't sure,
if it was she, he saw.
Could have been another,
he'll ask her mother,
to keep an eye and watch,
not to be too content; or
her naughty daughter will
receive her punishment.
You fill my head with memories,
my head is filled with lost time.
You filled my life with words,
but maybe you were never mine.
I wonder what you're doing,
I wonder where you are.
I hope that you find happiness,
because I think you stayed a liar.
I obsessed over you,
and I still see my habits.
As time slips on,
I try not to take time for granted.
I wanted something more with you,
but you couldn't fit me in.
I thought something different,
and I am still unsure how to begin.
I hope to move forward,
time heals all wounds.
I hope that time is good to you,
I know it has been to me.
I wake up now,
with more choices,
I am finally free.
I became the bottom of a shoe. Worthless, unwarranted, but there, needed.
Rubber and worn, worn away to the thinnest part, and still used.
Hands became words, and hugs became extinct, tears became invisible, the 'childhood' was erased.
Diabetes became my mother, known as rejection, and depression, her twin, known as rage.
Insulin and Fluoxetine became my equally demanding toddlers; I was feeding a family of 6 at the age of 8.
I watched my brother become a tortured child, in his sleep - the sound of his waterproof sheets would keep me awake, as i lay worried that his screams were words he could not utter at his age.
I watched my sister grow cold as she watch her house burning down around her, and crying tears at the loss of her childhood, her eyes burned at me.
As i looked in the mirror, when i cried, i would flush the toilet just to hear what it feels like to be washed away.
Disappeared down the drain.
I shrunk 4 inches in 4 years, one inch for each bottle of poison, that said 'drink me'.
I shrunk 4 inches in another 4 years for every word that said 'eat me'.
I shrunk so that I could not grow, up.
I became broken, hard to 'fix'.
I became lost, without a cause.
I became the rebel, odd-one-out.
Family grew fractured, broken mirrors lay on all our floors, that we skirted around, lest we should bled it all out, what had happened.
Relationships broke, one after another, after, another, after, another, after....
Faces lost feeling, words became laws, feelings became problems, love became, raw and unused.
We dissipated, dissolved, into a million pieces of broken, into the world, held together by very thin words of 'family'
I am not a child anymore.
It's time to be heard.
I always loved you --
wanted you close,
to breathe you in,
I wanted you between
the tips of my fingers,
you and me alone
on cold nights,
on the balcony.
I wanted to hold you,
I wanted to taste you
on my lips.
but all you could give me
was a distant smile;
all I got was the sound
of your laugh
from across crowded rooms,
a whiff of your perfume
as you walked on by.
you were second-hand smoke,
and it was never enough,
never satisfying, and
Sleep deprivation, watching the
Hair on my arm as it transforms, as
It begins to dance down to my hand,
I think I'm losing it, these shadows
Do not feel like my friends.
They seem more like demons here to
Torture what's already damned,
To devour what's already dead, to
Claim the souls of those who've given
Up, just like they did. Someone --
My eyes are heavy, tired and red--
Hearing my name being called again,
Please tell me this is all in my head.
Listening for shoes against the hardwood
Floors, hearing footsteps-- please
Tell me I'm having another bad dream
Clenching my fists, nails cutting into
My hands-- breaking skin,
Until I finally cave in, grabbing my
Shoelace and a loaded syringe.
Hoping my demons will return to
The place I must sleep to revisit.
Pushing the plunger in, I inject
Myself with more poisonous relief
And the shadows begin to fade away,
Back to the dreams I've been avoiding.
But what happens if one day,
These nightmares decide they'd rather
Stay, unable to be injected away?
Shadows are not my friends, they're
Unmistakably the enemy, here to
Devour me // to seize my sanity.
Nakedness and manifestations of the white noise mind traffic,
I watch the world turn before the fabricated glory of torches without flames and chariots without horses,
All saturated with the molecular movements of the air made with melodies not played for You,
This is the concrete sea of gasoline’s grace of novelties I once spoke of when I was a prince of sleepless men and my heart was determined to germinate the seeds of wicked kings,
Now with a crown cast down and cracked,
I am a dystopian eclipsing a dying sun to cast shadows on sleeping silent sinking houses,
As I watch them go down to where I've made my bed before,
I recall how they make me turn in my sleep before You,
Keeping keys deep below bowing floorboards whining with the weight of weeping willows grown by ghosts of a life once sewn and patched by my pity of distorted desperation,
My fingers keep my dreams from unraveling,
Locking them up tight tonight by hiding my face from it all,
Closing my eyes with my palms,
My lamps are bathed in blackness,
Darkness covers darkness,
And then I feel your hands lower the veil,
I see holes made by instruments of death forged in time,
Scarring You in a place that Kronos nor Thanatos cannot consider to tread,
I put my fingers through them,
I remember now that you paint such beautiful pictures,
Color me with your dreams now,
Your pigments have been poured out,
A gift was given to the dust,
Now I live to give it back to you,
And the haunted fluorescence of Babylon grow dim before your face,
The orchestral cries of mans machines grow silent,
Deep touches deep,
Sharing the oceans between us,
A love infinite consumes me
Through the bars I could make out your face
and I began pacing where I'd once lay
Chasing you endlessly in my dreams
No longer able to fall asleep
Out in the yard
I'd trail behind
As we walked the dirt paths carved out in time
and although I was trapped
I didn't mind
As long as I had you in my sight
I imagined us digging our way to freedom
The rain kissing our flesh like it does in film
I could envision us rejoicing and retreating together
Where we could forget the trails we've faced and weathered
It was a summer day in the midst of winter
It was hope found in hopelessness
We could entangle and enrapture eachother
Our tale a constellation told amongst other star gazers
We'd inspire them all to revolt
they'd sing our song while mapping everything out
You've made me believe our time here could be worth something
and a believer I was not
The vibrating feeling you get when in a trance of contentment, where nothing contaminates your brain, with false allusions of what to be. You hold selflessness within your heart and soul, where debility is non-existing, just sitting out of the ring. Where the roots of bitterness are snipped, because the branches were begging for mercy as to they were betrayed. You smile towards the sun waiting for infinity, and a gasp from reality. The meaning of life lies between your eyes, maybe you see it as a disguise for self contentment, but just accept that it’s happening, and you shall be happy .From the beginning of time to the gates of hell, this is where we all dwell.
The days are nowhere to be found,
when there were fairies all around,
girls and boys had their unique wars,
did you wish to the shooting star?
Like we had our own different world,
living with fancy and eating mud,
nothing was called as such absurd,
skating on floors and down to earth.
Imprisoned in a classroom for a decade,
felt like sleeping to the judgement day,
then the recess was so highly praised,
and homecoming was the best part of the day.
We all had that unconscious mind,
doing things now we can't find.
I look at the photos from the past,
and realize that time never really lasts.
i pick you up from the armpits
shining in the December of yr adolescence
this morning a 19 yr old boy asked me how to spell achievement
this afternoon i saw exhaustion in a single mother's fingers
I saw peace in the bald, pink cancer patient seeking holistic remedies at Whole Foods
the weary barista delights in his tip jar
this is the tip
of the glacier
that is hope
a shipwrecked shore to call home
you are not from here
do not anchor
yr worries to reality
we all beat the ocean
in our sleep