Learning to write letter "B"
my little son tries, I curiously see
to get in to its spirit so abstract
through its concrete form,
by finding an analogy-
he could relate well and not forgotten easily.
more like a bee using wax to make a shape it likes
and then seeing it as the hive he wanted to make,
watching him I think, as his cute hands draw
the twin swells forward, with such interest,
eyes for a moment glint, as if to say" yes,I get it"
"Look dad, isn't it just like milk?" he exclaims!
I know 'milk' is the word he associates
with the source of milk, from the days he was breastfed,
"B'with its shape fits the bill, to be treated with love
"B" he finds reminds him the milk of mother's love.
unlucky are the days; these
keys no longer open doors.
Pennies exchanged for emotions
on the sleeves.
loyalty poured unevenly;
sitting here forever
bewildered by the simplicity.
questions on the faces;
wind-chapped lips silenced
the song, lyrics removed
to unfamiliar places.
stains on the rug from
the colored wax, indiscreet;
lost imaginations beneath
Afraid of the dark
Afraid of the shadows
Watching from behind
Afraid of the sparrows.
Afraid of the night,
Afraid of the flight.
Hiding behind the curtains,
Afraid of moonlight.
Afraid of the trees,
Afraid of the breeze.
He didnt like his place,
Afraid of the seas.
Afraid of the jaguar,
Afraid to go too far.
Hated the idea of living,
Afraid of the scars.
Afraid of the oceans,
Of the ships sailing by.
Afraid of the sunrise,
Also Afraid of the sky.
Afraid of the drums,
Afraid of the beats.
He told like liked competition but
Afraid to sow the seeds.
Afraid of the cross,
Afraid of the shine.
Hated to boast himself a lot
Afraid of the rhyme.
Afraid of the colours,
Afraid of the rainbow.
Colour blind he wishes he was
Afraid of the world .
Afraid of the melody,
Afraid of the songs.
Broken strings of the guitar,
Afraid of the strong.
Afraid of the screams,
Afraid of the dreams.
Wasn't sure of his abilities,
Afraid of the teams.
Afraid of the paradise,
Afraid to rise.
He wanted death,
Afraid of the lies.
Remember all these days,
for it's the beginning of always.
Here is a promise.
for persisting though life so long alone,
in the possibility and achievement of true love.
to ignore and simply rise above the pain of the past.
which at once binds two souls and yet severs prior ties.
of the chance taken and the challenges that lie ahead.
For two will always be stronger than one,
like a team braced against the world.
Trust that Love shall always be the guiding force in our lives.
For even saying words
"I Love You"
is just a mere formality.
An announcement to the world
of feelings long held.
Promises made long ago..
In the scared spaces of our hearts.
Today's the day..
Where all the
Where doubts are relinquished
and worries diminished.
Here we are so long later from meeting
and being total strangers to now being all this.
We both have been through lots together in this short time.
We've braved through some tough days but also we've had some of the greatest days together too.
The best part,
The happiest part,
I know we have so many more to come.
This is without a doubt one of the craziest and biggest decisions I've ever made,
But.. I have never wanted something or someone this bad in my life, so it's you —
You're the one I want standing next to me when all my dreams come true.
I'd make this choice only if it was with you.
We've earned this babe,
everything up to this moment.
We're one huge step closer and soon,
I'll be seeing you.
I Love You.
The things that I never ever told you
And all the smiles that are never ever, gonna be
All the wounds that are forever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are forever gonna haunt me
The sun will rise tomorrow with that pure orange that fills the sky at dawn and awakens the birds who chirp us into semi-consciousness
And I will turn in my bed to face the darkness and whisper that life is magnificent
I won't remember that when I wake up
But it’s the subconscious thoughts that really count when the world is falling apart
We might lose ourselves and succumb to animalism but deep down we will always be there,
and what is more perfect than an object constantly at risk for breaking
We are these objects
Look in the mirror and witness your perfection
See the hands of god that once shaped your face embracing you still
Realise that you are bruised flesh and broken bone always healing and always being hurt
When aliens invade they will watch old movies and witness the archetype of humanity in each of us
They will wonder why we label each other when we all breath the same air and therefore contain bits of each other
Look in the mirror and realize you have done bad things but the beauty of life is that change is inevitable
For the good or the better
And that God probably wonders sometimes why he bothered making us
she wears a set of keys
on a chain round her neck
one for each of the nights alone
unlock my heart with these she whispers as if it were obvious
but then she casts her love letters into the river
saying that nobody ever understands her point of view
so we might as well all be blind
there are no real desperate words
on her tragically trembling lips
but what dose come out jiggles like a carnival crier
to the harmonica players thoughtful song
she used to sing it in the coffee shop she loved
back in one of her yesterdays
now her days are an egg shell blue patchwork of plaster fixes that
define the destitute box and its failings at life's tiresome money game
its trail of paperwork attempts to find a prophet
who could give us a defining moment and photo op for time magazines cover
somebody to tell us that we are on the wrong road
she spends her days taking care of me and
sweeping up the dusts
of all our yesterdays
and neatening up the lines of mason jars
filled with jams and jellies
the sunlight falling through them makes a rainbow she smiles to me
as she settles into a cup of coffee to stare wistfully off into the morning
i ask what's shes thinking but she never dose say
she just runs a thin hand through her auburn hair
and laughs that its snowing somewhere far away
that some field in a distant wood is peaceful and filled with the grace of innocence
that one finds in the stillness of fresh snowfall
that one finds in a newborn child
or a newborn day
she's convincing me to run away with her to a wasteland, above the clouds
a paradise where no one ever comes down
but they're holding so tight, singing 'I'll never let you go'
while she's on the other end, the voice in my head, saying just let go, be free, let your demons rest
but I'm remembering bright eyes and the shine of the moon on ocean waters
and I don't get how 5 months ago
everything was more than fine
I'm lightheaded now, delusional and untrustworthy to open my mouth
I'm afraid if I try to speak, all my secrets will spill out and I won't be able to stop myself from showing you my naked, wrecked mine
queen of hearts
the sun sets on her tongue
the night sinks into her eyes
king of spades
his mouth brings a myriad of painful pleasures
his hands can hold the world
grasp her gauzy waist
whisper swirls of diamonds that will encircle the heart and render it frozen and glowing
slide your hand under his skin
weave your milky way through his veins and render them fiery and frightening
queen of diamonds
she speaks only in retributive tongues
she loves desperately
the clouds behind her lips are gathering in a storm
kings of clubs
he speaks only in the language of power
he loves fiercely
his garden is thirsting for rain
swim in rapturous glaze of mind
experience this plethora of feeling
let your fingers get pruny and divine the message inside the lines
sink your teeth into a stalactite heart, you’ll find your mind explodes with colours- a death worth the last image that consumes you before you’re gone.
the rings of saturn are chandelier crowns and strawberry throats; so close but never touching.
let the lightjuice drip down your spine as you contemplate the reasons you’re still on earth
Suddenly, without expectation.
There he was.
Friendly, jolly little fella that many called Santa.
Standing within the room with various present.
Next to him was two little elves.
Two little people barely shorter than him.
One a female.
One a male.
Helping out the jolly little fella.
They didn't see me pretending to sleep.
Seeing the sight of Santa has always been a dream of a child.
Just to imagine him took over my imagination.
All the stories told to different in opinions.
But many was exactly like I remember.
Except, one of the person looked like Mom or Dad.
I never heard of them in any Santa stories
So, I dose off to sleep after my dream came true.
I have seen Santa like I never knew.
He was joyful.
He was kind.
And magical too.
Cause I imagine in my sleep that he rose through the Chimney unto the roof.
So when people question, if he's real?
I'm living proof.
That all kids parents, are Santa too.
Some just refuses to tell you.
Love's a master, rich but cruel.
I know, I was her slave.
Doing work you should of knew
It will dig yourself a grave.
Love's a poet, I've herd her songs.
Her words are gentle. Her words are wise.
But naked, blind and naive as such
I never noticed that they were lies.
Love's a friend you call at night
To wipe those problems off your neck.
But such close friends you have to watch
Not to stab you in the back.
As love is lovely, but harsh sometimes.
It makes you cry. It makes you dance.
It's scary, at first, but you learn in time
She's always worth a second chance.
You're the sweetest person I’ve ever met and I’ve only known you for a short while. italic
Nothing like a carefree person (which you are) to make me blow away.italic
I admire you...only a child who’s smarter than he looksitalic
My undeniable love for you can’t ever be enoughitalic
When were hand in hand I smile and so do youitalic
I cant find a bigger, stronger word to say how much I love youitalic
And though your small now, you’ll get bigger soonitalic
My darling child, just want you to know my undeniable loveitalic
Is how much I care for you.italic
Your brown skin is way to soft
And I’m sure those girls will target you
When you smile, the worlds happy
And when you frown it makes me wanna cry
I still haven’t found the right words...not yet
Still haven’t found the right feeling...not yet
Still haven’t found the right hugs to give you...not just yet
But I know I've found the love for you when I held you in my arms
I was scared because you were fragile
Because you were small
Because you were precious...more precious than the stars
And since your growing now I just want you to know
I LOVE YOU…bold
YOU KNOW WHO YOU AREbold
Dedicated to: Jacob Micah Murray, italic
It's like a light bulb.
When it's on, it's bright and lights up the room
When it's off, it's dark.
It's so dark.
The thoughts creep through the darkness, they are haunting, they taunt emotions.
They sneak through, and they attack.
It switches, as quick as a snap.
Their off. They're gone and it's out.
I'm trying to fight it, I'm trying to stay focused, trying to break back into brightness.
It's too late, it's gone.
I Can't control myself.
These thoughts are overwhelming
They flow through my head, around my brain.
No direction, just pounding.
A Painful, Powerful Punch.
Like an anchor thrown out of a ship,
weighing me down.
I'm struggling to feel, I can't control myself.
From a flash of a second i'm high, then i'm low. deep in the ground.
the ground is drowning me
Thoughts of hate and despise rush through my mind.
I hate everything, everything i've ever touched, loved or cared about.
My eyes blacken, and i'm gone.
My blood thickens to poison, no escape or exit route.
I have no control,
The words flow out of my mouth so effortlessly,
Small words that destroy worlds.
Words that the devil himself created.
I was made as a Monster, and i will never love again.
A summer night on this island I call home
I wander on the beach, where its usually dark and cold
The hawksbill sea turtle crawling up to nest
The mongoose chasing after each other
because they haven’t eaten yet
The palm trees dancing
Tranquility has been found
it reminds me of the girl I am
The island girl
And the beach is where I can be found
But in this enchanting moon light you see it all
The wash up trash bags and the garbage that falls
The broken glass within the sand that cut your feet
The unwanted fishing poles and hooks
The nets that traps the sea creatures that bring me serenity
My enchanting moon light that I once love
has now becomes dim
And the beach goes back to being dark and cold
hawksbill, green, leatherback and loggerhead
they don’t come to visit me anymore
Someone has taken my home and turned it into a rubbish bin
The enchanting moon light that once lit up my home
Has brought my attention to the injustice
That continues to go on
i breathe deep, breathe slow
for the atmosphere to consume my lungs
keep my heart beating
one slow inhale
expected to work
until it doesn't
breathing in expecting air
but getting death instead
my heart reached out expecting your affection
but got death instead
Society's hot breath whispers its ugly secret
"You're not good enough"
Like claws to the skin
It rips up the past
Resurfaces old sin
"Forget the good, you've wasted away"
It feeds the demons
You've tried so hard to forget
But it's not that easy
You can't forget yet
"No love for the ugly, the damned, the poor"
It's way right into your soul
Digging up the dirt
That once filled the black hole
melancholy souls encased
behind the glass of the faceless
they see in but not out
drowning in a introspective about-face
they never sit still
it gets so bright out here you can barely see
when the sunlight kisses the snow white
you haven't seen the last of me
wait until i creep into your dreams at night
and slowly make my way through your veins
meshing with your cells
i'll build a garden in your rib cage
and spend the night in your entrails
and in the end, if all else fails
i'll leave a lock of my hair safe in your heart
just know i've been digging holes in there from the start
when the city sleeps
and you're wide awake
the time grows deeper
when you've got no way to escape
the shadows all around you
dance and sing your name
in dysphoric shades of tones
he can't tell you what to do
with the feelings you've tried so hard to tame
forget that itch in your bones
it's time to go home.
May 20th, 2013
Water falls down around me drenching everything. Spraying my back as it's turned up from the ground by the tires of my bike. They race across the pavement as fast as my legs pump. Sweat drips down my face. It's promptly washed away by the rain hailing in on me. Cars zip by. Passing by, leaving pockets of dryness in their wake. Heat curls off my skin, banished by the cool wind threatening to rip off my hat. Wind outmatched by the racing of my heart. The heaving of my lungs. The pumping of my blood. My legs spin faster as I push harder and harder. I have nowhere to go. I only focus on my exertion. My energy. I only focus on the going. The destination is lost in the drive. I push harder still. Then I get there. The world crashed up from behind me. Suddenly catching up. The rain drumming down. The dizziness in my head. My legs shake as I step off my bike. I'm home.
It is not often I dream of you.
Dressed in copper and brick,
Growing green with vines,
Climbing your crumbling walls.
This castle you once kept in an
Easily forgotten part of my body.
A bastion against burial
Between shoulder blade and spine.
You who choose never to announce your
Presence when entering the room.
Simply sit in the corner, tilting your wine glass
Till I notice your ever increasing stare.
Most nights, I ignore you.
Ignore your black miniskirt and pearls,
Ignore your orange sundress
And turquoise necklace,
Ignore gladiator sandals,
And Barcelona bracelet,
First worn when we still
Had the simplicity of spring.
Some rare nights like this one
I grab you by your thumbs
And pull you under the table.
Relive our longing out of the sight
Of these new dinner guests,
Crawling awkwardly between their legs.
This is how
You have always worked.
Drawing ink from my body,
One pen:knife awakening at a time
Your love affects my body parts
Your grey eyes clothes my heart
Your touch devours my doubts
Your lips flatters my mouth
Only your words make up my dictionary
The magical fires of our chemistry
is un-common and evolutionary
Relationships are entitled to obstacles
Your patience and understanding makes my everywhere peaceful.
It is impossible
To be miserable
When we are together and comfortable
Love is tough
Pain is rough
What is visible eventually fades away
What is invincible is there to eternally stay
Let love chew you up
We have alot to live for
Fallen from my life,
this surreal specter
who tempered my heart
in words of love,
undressed my soul
with the eyes of an artist,
who beheld me in my totality.
The kisses before dawn,
in between dreams,
I'll miss those spots in the dark
where soft lips used
sonar for closed eyes,
and nude warm skin
which once begged us
to bed till noon
no longer clings.
How cold to sleep alone.
A solo light in a dark room
with her shadow still on the wall,
and an indentation in the bed
where I had pressed her down
to bite her neck,
our passion lingers.
Our love loiters in
the walls of my atria,
with every beat reminding
me of how our love
turned my blood into hot wine,
but now I drink our love alone
My blood toasting to the
shadow on the wall.
Nervous. Boot heels click clack up steps. Walk around back.
Step in. People in pockets everywhere. Swerve straight to cooler.
Take a beer. Cracks open with crisp click. Drink drink drink. Ellipse of friends block out world.
Finish beer. Talking a little louder now. Confidence enough to walk to cooler
alone and grab more beers. See Steph and stop to chat. Move on. Keep on drinking the whole way back.
Two and a half beers and I’m starting to feel it. The excitement, the loosening of social limits. The loosening of myself. Boy whose name starts with a “C” but I just can’t remember starts talking to us. He’s kind of cute.
My fourth beer drains down my throat and I’m laughing at a joke. I’m friendly, people are friendly. The world is all kindness.
My sixth(and three fourths) beer in my hand, my head starts to droop and my hips are swaying of their own accord. It’s like the sky has puppet strings, twisting me side to side. The beat controls me, the world whispers my movements. Who whispers to the earth is beyond me.
…am I on my seventh or my eighth beer? People walk off to dark corners, hands on hips and breasts and chests. Still I dance somewhere in the vast dim basement. Still I twirl, rhythm gone but gravity still clinging to the movements.
But where am I? What am I doing here on this dance floor, on this city-planet floating or falling or patiently waiting on the ice-slicked footsteps of space? The world is spinning as it pirouettes around the sun, the sun circling a superstar, that star swirling around the center of the galaxy, spinning like the top in the rest of the full dark silk of space, stars clapping and nebula soaring and supernovas shattering, guests all to the raves of light years. I dance on earth’s doormat drunk and spinning, feeling a giant in my world and a broken bottle in the worlds of others. Oh god, in the words of that song that’s beating in the bones of the earth and the air in my lungs, can we get much higher?
Those few shy sun rays
That fill the saddest valleys
With the grace of their warmness
Are not aware of the joy they bring when
They steal their way in from the 70's clouds
White, grey and dark as the night
Choked by the rage of the stormy skies
Putting up with our accusing eyes
Blaming them for this furious weather
Not knowing that they're under the pain and pressure
Of the scrunchy lightening tearing them up like a whip
Few of them survive while others slip
Between the hands of the mad forces pushing them to cry
Yes, they boil with the urge to pry
As raindrops ,as cold as the heavens' heart,
With the demons pressing "restart",
Soak us with the filthy rain
Of this silly, slavering game
Every round that a devil gains
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
that runaway's life once again felt
cut short of finding new home
instead a odyssey
of heart and mind forged
inside this extended mull
knowing no end
..where the land petered out
narrowing to nothing
where cold tides
always running in and out
on top of each other
and are hard to tell apart
they don't matter here
unattended thin stretch
he stays brooded upon
allowing him to run no further
..his unfolding life
into the swift gulf stream
pulling him down into the rip
one day it is as dangerous as hell
the following day
becoming less treacherous
where all his visions can toss and roll
calmly out to sea
something either ended or began here long ago
but i don't remember which
but it is enough to just be
he says with half a care
his voice a swell of low tones
old as the atlantic now
looking back over his shoulder
he is reconciled to all the other places
that might have been
just as remote
of a possibility
as this one his life places in
but the runaway will always be here
as perpetual as the shift in the dunes
that purple silhouette again
up beach, following the sunset
as far as it can go
my shattered heart.
Caught in a crossfire
confused with desire
out of focus, a rush
longing for touch
two paths, which to choose
left or right
stuck in a plight
so very confused about what is right
Hope is foolish and love makes you blind, you seem to be out of time.
The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
You were left hanging there
like a fish on a hook
helpless like a lost child
and crying out like a wolf does to the moon
and then I rescued you
pulled you out as you were drowning
in your overwhelming feelings
flailing in your problems
that tore at your heart
your heart hurting
gashed by the trials you faced
beat by the people who wronged you
and shot in the chest
by the people who left you
and then he came
you were still drowning
you were still flailing
but a little better
and I was still trying my best
to help you
reaching my hand
over the edge of the cliff
as you were falling
but I wasn't good enough for you
and then he caught you
and took you away from me
Our hunting party chased the thundering herd
over the endless plains from the sunrise
into the sunset with her splendid colors
resting for the time being.
We abandoned the prosperous foray
as the Great Spirit’s
twinkling diamonds began to cover,
spill like milk across the cold night sky
with great blessings.
Somewhere the coyotes laughed.
The fires raged high, danced shadows on our faces
as we sat cross-legged, describing the day’s events
with much fervor. Tall Crow Chief and Crooked Nose
laughed like children when they talked about their kills.
Those two had great skill when it came to hunting Tatonka.
As I listened wearily, the voices of my tribesmen
began to sound muffled, things felt more surreal,
I could not comprehend their words, which seemed eerily to go silent.
As if in a trance, my wanton-mind drifted with sensuous thoughts,
floating in space, back to my pretty maiden waiting in my lodge,
a full three-days ride from this manly-place.
I envisioned us both naked,
wrapped in each other’s gentle-arms,
her underneath me on top,
she submitting to my will,
my fervent desire to seed her
with my fiery warrior spirit.
She is a spectacular sight to be seen!
Her thick flowing hair is like the pitch of the night
with a voice like the nightingale,
keen-eyes as dark as raven’s tail feathers.
Her sienna-skin smooth as white man’s silk,
she has a strong feminine-sinew grip,
nips at my neck in
our primal ecstasy-states.
flow like a cascade with lovely fragrance,
sweet as sweet grass in the Spring.
I cannot ignore her tender kisses
when I release, when I spring forth.
Her sighs comfort me like none other,
her eager pushes to get more of me,
every single drop of me,
makes this hunt worthwhile.
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Sweat takes over my skin peeling layers of invisible masks yearning for chemical feedings. It's been days- I've been thinking slow and fragile. Bedtime has no name and it hurts. There's caution in my eyes screaming " Stay Away"! Drowning in my own body of water. "Come Clean" he whispers.
Solace and silence. I want. Dirty migraines to migrate forever. Shivers to shed as I travel back into time -not swallowing so much inside to feel OK with chemicals balancing brain beats. "Come Clean" he whispers. Flashback: I see the love of my life holding a ring on the day strange beauty died in his arms. Images creep of a little boy begging for my wake. Awake I stay.
Beginnings to a next day with no recollection. Trying to find expression in lost graphs and schedules that were once dictated by "the medicine". It made sense. Cycling back and forth through highs and lows trying to remember that God made all things. "Come clean".
In this moment I want to live only because in the next moment I'll be dead- again. I can hear the race of my heart and I want a beautiful design only because in the next moment I will come down and want nothing." Come clean".
In this moment I convince myself to skip my daily dose only because a PHD took away the nightly dose. "Come clean".
Relapse. In this moment I swallow untitled entries to close my mind from a few moments.
Drapes of madness cover the sky
As fiends run and cower to hide
Nevertheless they prey on the young
As the young go to sleep
When the light breaks through the village womb
The delirium burrows to sleep
Oil paintings of bride and groom
Made for fiends to keep
Friends of fiends mope and mope
Lamenting in fear; they cope and cope
Hence their gentle persistence
To shy away their evil
Sky shifts from orange vigor to madness
The fangs of loved ones feed off one another
Fiends run and cower to their only Mistress
Deep within the sappy dark cypress
When their bodies frolic with need
The pale eyes of love dance and feed
Luminous they are in front of black cloth
Draping the beautiful sky
Once I undertook a journey,
Out upon and completely around,
the very face of our entire world.
To view for myself the many pictures,
And written descriptions of all the writers
In all those History Classes, books and movies.
My personal Quest to see with my own eyes
What I had only experienced second hand.
And in my mid twenties, like a dream,
One foot in front of the other,
There I was doing it.
I sniffed and tasted the scents of foreign lands,
Incense, Sage and Frankincense, fish curry,
fried snake and even monkey brains.
Walked in lush Jungle Bush and Desert sands,
Along the shores of many Islands and the coasts
Of Four Continents’.
Heard the voices of 30 divergent Dialects
And cultures. Smiling and laughing with,
The beautiful children of all of them.
Set beside the fires of primitive tribal men,
Heard their chants to their gods above,
Or upon the land and sea.
Clapped my hands and moved my feet in
Their Ancient mystic dances.
Drank their tea, Kava or whatever they shared
Grateful for their offered unselfish brotherhood.
Stood on the flanks of the tallest Mountains
In the world, on my toe tips, to try to see the
Face of the God of my youthful teachings,
Mildly disappointed when I did not see him, or Her.
Found instead an inner tranquility, imparted to me
By Red robbed Monks from within their chants of
Peace and wise earthly enlightenment.
Strolled the cobbled streets of two thousand year
Old Cities. Walked among the ruined remnants of
Nearly forgotten once great Civilizations.
Explored Modern Euopean Citiadels of wealth and learning.
Over time rode on planes, ships, buses, backs of open trucks,
Horse pulled carts and human drawn rickshaws, taxis, subways,
Rented motorcycles and cars. Walked perhaps a 1000 miles.
In all a journey of the mind and heart lasting for over three years.
And why you might ask, why travel so far, for so long?
And what was I looking for? A fair question indeed.
When a boy, I read a simple five word line,
“Seek and thee shall find”.
And it stayed with me all my life.
I read books, saw films, did Research,
all in a quest to understand,
what those five words truly meant.
After a stint in the Military,
still wondering and seeking,
I embarked on my own personal,
physical and emotional Journey.
The next obvious question you might
of course ask is, after all that;
“What did I find?”
Well I guess the answer is very simple,
after all that, I found myself.
She was not a cliché kind of beautiful,
but she was not a ‘rare’ kind of beautiful.
She was humanly beautiful, in the most natural way.
She was earthly though she didn’t mean to be, it came easily to her without effort.
She was intelligently beautiful, with wit and charm that came smoothly.
It didn’t make her intimidating though, no no, never.
She was kindly beautiful, in the way that
someone could slap her and she would retaliate with only gentleness,
but that did not make her vulnerable, it made her mature.
But most of all, as many may of seen it, she was physically beautiful.
Not in the sense of a perfect body and flawless features, no, she was beautiful to look at
because her face radiated all her other beauties.
You could see her charm in the way her eyes dazzled, and you could sense her wit in the way
she smirked before she said something.
Her always blushed cheeks eternally made people around her feel comfortable, even if
they disliked her..
for she was understanding and soft, like a young girl.
And lastly, she was beautiful appearance wise.
Though she was not perfect, for the boy didn’t have a definition for that yet,
he found her peaking towards it.
Her smile was not one of a model or an angel.
In fact, in his eyes, her worst feature was her smile, as horrid as it sounded.
To the boy, she had never smiled.
Everytime she laughed or ‘smiled’ as someone greeted her, she looked pained..
like she wanted to cry.
Her smiles were never real, though he knew she wanted them to be genuine.
That was the thing, she was genuine, but her smiles were not.
He knew, as much as she denied it, that her smiles were always forced and never true.
He knew this in the only way one knows when they’re in love.
He’d watched for countless nights as she reached her fantasies, sitting by herself,
books scattered around her as she read her favourite fairytales for the hundreth time.
He watched as she giggled over the same jokes and cried over the same deaths,
but he focused on her especially when she reached her favourite part of the story.
Her eyes would brighten and her shoulders would rise slightly,
and she’d do this silly little thing where she would put her tongue in between her teeth,
that drove him mad, but he grew to love it.
And at last he had seen her smile, as her soft dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth,
and her eyes crinkled ever so slightly, nose scrunching up the tiniest bit.
But just as he found himself getting lost in her beautiful smile, she would look up from her book and leave her world for a while, smile dropping and shoulders hunching as she told him
to get some rest, for every following day to her would be a long one.
And that was how he knew, the girl would never be in love like he was, she would never,
as understanding as she was, grasp that someone could possibly love as madly as he did.
She would never allow him to peek into her fantasies, let alone give him her heart.
But the boy was afraid she already had his in tight grip, and he would never have hers.
Souls standing in line
As the world pulls out its knife
To whittle them down
Carve up their lives
Does it have an idea
An insatiable need
As it keeps whittling
On them endlessly
You do have to wonder
What it truly sees
As it carves on you
And whittles on me
Like an old mountain man
By a cool mountain stream
With Father Time standing by
The world keeps on whittling
And it'll certainly not tolerate
Any back talk from you
Just sit still and be quite
Like a good piece of wood
As the world whistles
It whittles away
Impressed with itself
At the carvings it's made
But if it whittles to much
And doesn't care for the you that it's made
The world tosses you out
And lets the dogs play
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
I take a breath and hold.
I tell myself,
“Pick up the pieces…
Because nobody else will.”
You’re not coming back.
And why would you?
Why would I expect you to walk backwards through this cold, storming heart?
It’s freezing rain,
I guess you could say I trust myself about as much as you do.
Trust, what a funny word, I think,
Because everybody wants it but nobody gives it.
We walk around demanding trust from each other,
But nobody really gives the benefit of the doubt to anyone else.
The ones that do end up cold and broken,
Singing sad songs in their cars on a drive going nowhere.
The thought of driving makes me dizzy now,
Because being able to feel something for the first time in months
Has made me not want to let go of the air lying still in my compressed lungs…
To feel the burning of desire for oxygen,
This internal battle reaching for the end,
Lungs squeezing tighter, suffocation…
Everything is so dark right now that it is beginning to look bright.
Funny how the lack of something you can’t live without makes you delusional.
When you’re so caught up in something that you could fix,
You forget how to fix it.
Like that my lungs know all I need to do is inhale,
But the lack of oxygen in my brain is confusing my entire body.
It almost feels good, being able to feel the pain.
Sometimes I think I deserve this…
This pain that is rushing through my veins at this very second.
Like it is my own fault,
And I feel I need to prove the capacity of my own breathing,
The ability to stop it if I want to.
And I know that if you have been following along,
You and I both need to breathe because your lungs are about to give up…
I finally exhale.
I take a large breath in,
And feel my heart rejoicing as blood pumps through rapidly,
My body’s way of thanking me for not ending it now…
Instantly, I’m crying.
Because I feel numb already.
Numbness is an interesting feeling,
Or lack thereof,
Because even though tears are leaving my eyes,
My nerves and emotions feel unsettlingly calm.
It feels like when I swim out far enough into the ocean that
The waves stop crashing on you and begin swaying underneath,
Moving you as you float on your back.
That moment of utter peace and confusion before a wave finally carries you back.
I’ve been floating out here for some time, now, though,
Waiting for my wave or my raft or even my shark,
To either save me or end me,
Because I am so sick of this emotionless limbo I am stuck in
Due to the fact that I have forgotten how to swim.
Out here, peaceful music plays,
And I forget about everything for a moment or a lifetime.
I think of all the things I have messed up.
But if there’s one thing I wish I could change,
It’s hurting you.
I’m feeling myself being slowly pulled back to shore,
By a figure who looks just like you…
Suddenly, I am remembering how to move my arms and legs,
You just stare at me, though,
You don’t try to help me and you don’t acknowledge my presence.
It seems as if you’ve been waiting to watch me drown.
I don’t have to wonder why you aren’t extending your hand for me.
I wouldn’t help me either.
Finally, a wave falls on top of me, spinning me in circles.
You seem so close, though,
Almost ready to pull me from this high tide.
Are you ready to pull me away from the ocean?
The magnificent burden, of a gentle touch
could it be I care too much?
could my actions lead to distractions,
and wind up backfiring on me?
I long for you as far as the eye can see,
but does my own vision deceive?
Am I blinded by lust and confused by love
or do my words mean nothing
because my actions mean everything?
The only thing we can hold true to us,
is sight, and sound and taste and touch.
But what happens when I’m just too much?
Am I what you bargained for,
or were you hoping for something more?
I have given bits and pieces of myself,
to everything I’ve ever loved
and taken back the same.
But what happens
when you end up forgetting
why exactly these pieces remain?
Parts of me, aren’t apart of me
and apart of me is missing.
Seems to me, what’s left
is just a puzzle with history.
So will you take me
in all of my glory, and sorrow, and despair
or will you throw away the security blanket
and tell me what I don’t want to hear?
Don’t tap-dance through my tragedy,
and try not to console my wounded soul.
Tell me what you feel and fear
and maybe, potentially,
you could fill this hole.
It fills my ears like liquid goal.
I take a breath to stop the need of unspoken remity.
The strokes of the lost voilen rythems the beats of my heart; the easy rhyme of the piano mocks my soul.
To not jump and leap would be to unfoster a child, an action that I take for granted.
My heart calls out for the music set before me.
The rythem takes me away, as I loose hope.
Easing my Pain and anger, I take it.
Dance. My mind tells me as I harness the music of a loss child.
Bowing, leaping, gliding.
Letting the fluid of the strokes take my body prisoner.
The world becomes a wirle of colors.
Fire. Water. Earth.
All dancing with perfect rythem with my soul and heart.
So beautiful, it makes a grown man cry.
Violen, Chelo, Piano.
All screaming at me to fly.
So I obey.
I feel so alone.
And I wish you were here.
It's very cold and very dark
And all I really want
is to hold something warm
that will hold me in return
With stolen kisses and meaningful glances.
I can't help but feel like the older you get,
the less material you want, and you find that the
things you truly want for Christmas
cannot be bought in a store.
Welcome to my magic show
Where only the brave dare to go;
Beyond the depths of reality
Hidden under lock and key.
There's not rabbit in a hat, no graceful dove,
Just an angel with broken wings, fallen from above.
There's no illusion, no trick of scorn;
Only a lonely girl, tattered and torn
Welcome to the freakshow, look through the glass.
She cowers in fear, gazing at the points and laughs.
They mock, they tease,
They bring her to her knees.
With a desperate plea she lifts her eyes
And everyone sees she's a devil in disguise.
The confusion is evident on every face
This girl has a side that caused her to fall from grace.
Assumptions are made, a decision reached
Everyone with an opinion they morbidly preached
The girl lifts her hands in absolute fear
And in a flash of smoke she disappeared.
I hope you enjoyed the show
Where she went, you may never know.
I am afraid.
I am afraid because I am here
And I want to walk away
But instead I am right here.
I sit here.
Do I sit here?
I think I'm doing it
Just to see how long I can.
It's like holding your fingers over a burning candle
To see how long you can stand the heat
Before your skin blisters
And you pull away, defeated.
I sit still.
I always sit still when it hurts.
I think stillness
Started a few years ago.
When I first hit the ground
I was afraid to breathe.
It was like I had been dropped from a high bridge onto a concrete sidewalk
And I knew
Knew beyond any doubt
That things were broken.
Things inside were very very broken.
Things were splintered and punctured,
And if I moved, even to draw a breath,
I would bleed out right there.
I think that's when the stillness started.
And now whenever I am hurt
Whenever something hits me
I go still as stone
Except for shaking hands
That flutter, fragile and white, until I clasp them tight together.
The world moves around me
But I stay still as death
Not even daring to breathe
As if I will be found
As if I will tear apart into a million shreds of wasted paper
And drift to the floor.
I stay so still my muscles ache.
I never cry.
I can't cry.
I just sit there and feel how peculiar the sense of damage is.
How odd it is to be full of explosions and debris whipping around inside
An utterly motionless body.
And part of me, even as I feel
With how much I know I'd die if my body betrayed my anguish in real injury
Part of me looks on from above,
With a detached analysis
Of this and that
Of just where I feel this blow
And this stabbing pain,
Of just how each moment changes me.
I freeze like ice outside
And burn like hell inside.
It is the most curious sensation in the world
And I hate it so much I would die to escape it.
And yet when it comes upon me
I do nothing
Nothing at all.
I say nothing.
I turn to stone, part by part,
Like I'm being submerged in drying cement
And finally my lungs
The top of my head
Until all that is left
Are my eyes
I am paralyzed
And I look out on a world in motion
Moments before I was a part of the rhythm like a heartbeat
But that was moments ago,
And we all know how much can change in just a moment.
When I am stone
You can come at me with a chisel
And I will say nothing.
Bang bang bang
And little chunks come off
A shard of my cheek
A finger at the joint
The swell of my collarbone,
They crumble when struck
But I can't move an inch.
I sit still.
I always sit still.
My stillness is the waiting.
It is the wish
It is the craving
Hot and metallic
To do something
To slice away how much I hate my own helplessness.
It is knowing that there is a relief
Besides just being saved.
There is a way to save myself
From this chaos inside
A way to feel better
My stillness is the resistance
The longing and the "No, I can't."
The firm denial
Cold as ice
Hard as granite.
Is it strong to let the world dismantle you by the inch
When you know you could get there first?
Is it strong to sit and take take take
And do nothing whatsoever?
Is a statue strong
Or is it just
Underdog sitting in a Main Street bar
Fading star on his arm
But no cause for alarm
He's made his bed
Left his head on some old dirty couch
In the end if he wins
He'll let us know what it's all about.
Changing moons are bittersweet
He sits there
Can't even eat
But the brew
Goes down good
And the brew tells him he should:
Count his teeth cause some are missing,
Sing some songs cause no ones listening
Run the streets and see the city.
So he does.
Underdog's doing what an underdog does.
leather of codes
child of no garden I want to be trash shining metal bucket streets
echoes of his scars crash deeply from his quick glance and words
his crushed inner faces blow by me like shotgun shells flipping ejected
a warm burn enters my ear and falls to the ground like pure seed
there has been a siberian tiger heart perhaps
a trumpet's bright coming tip in the night is his voice
but night has no color, only the air of space and eternal infinite collossalness
he has not been there, he knows I think I have been
his voice hunts in silence the opening of his throat
I never felt my neck arch as though I were angelic spinning holy pollen
my feet are broken from my birth's uncertain angles
my white skin is somber to me and it dreams of thick, muscular hair
his back hunts me like a prowling silent perfect killer
he has no meat for me in his most beautiful kind thoughts, nor ice
I know he does not want my soul, its irrelevance like bad country music
he glares at me his eyes are beautiful in their transubstantial wizardry
as though I a child with no hope to ever be less or more
this is the way beer cans bounce of cars better than wet silken breasts may rise
he has felt his lover's wine fully enter him in his sweetest moments
I am a child of no garden he would have
but thoughts of exclusion are often only private codes of want
his serbian tiger motion is utter but I am child of no garden until I can dance
I know he so poignantly relevant would in some fierce and mad
teach me of my father
that I might be coddled beyond redemption my white skin
he wants to giggle a soft stance or a minion of pretense
I am fully truly what he sees, yet I cannot touch him
he has no time for me I would see my heritage's murderous take
he knows I bow down to his conspicuous innocence
he has forgotten the child he knows I think I have been
he wears a leather of codes I can never remember
How does the competent optimist endure the positives opposite?
The prerogative to remain positive is the only option for an optimist.
Every day is a happy belated celebration of its creation.
Exposing pearly white incisors to express a bipolar condition.
A giant grin with lips spread open.
A face with a giggle in the face of sin to face demons.
The monster with in becomes, a polite bestial delight, a young baby boy eating joy, the excitement emitting the submission to a feeling of complete air under the soles of feet.
The feat of sky walking never lukewarm, a feeling newborn.
Yesterday was the best day ever you could have sworn.
However, today will be so much better the endeavor to find pleasure in everything and whatever.
There is water in half of my jar and it’s warmer than I would like it to be.
There is a toothbrush on the floor.
There was once a time when I was confident
in the things that didn’t matter as much.
There is a crazy person on the loose, somewhere, and he has no idea.
People will cower behind bookcases
or television stands when they catch wind of the news:
There wasn’t anything wrong with the way we were.
There isn’t anything I can do about the texture of my personality
so I will just sit here and ponder whereabouts.
Accepting the overall consumption of garbage has come to irk me
but being a nice person, I will have some garbage too, please.
i love to read
because I can wrap myself
in the security of
someone else's story
i can envelop myself in the warmth
of the characters who become
and when the book ends
a nostalgic longing to be near again
that is distant,
that has been loved and then
"The love that remains"
and that is the best fit definition
i could find
because that feeling feels so
but characters become so real
they become friends
and you can't help but feel
after the story is over
and then the process repeats.
Let me take a moment
To study you
I want to discover every intricate detail
I want to memorize
The way your eyes light up the room
The way I can see your wisdom
Your your love
Pool in the vast oceans
Of the most beautiful blue I have ever seen.
I want to savor
The way your lips move
When you speak
As the sound moving through those lips
Washes over me
Filling me with warmth
Infinitely sweeter than anything I have ever encountered.
I want to lose myself
In the beauty of your hairFlowing down
As Elegant and breathtaking
As a waterfall
It's scent filling my nostrils
Overwhelming me with the feeling of home
I want to permanently embed into my memory
The curvature of your neck
So soft and warm
Captivating me with the feel
Of your skin.
I want to synchronize myself with your heartbeat
Stronger than the largest river
Spreading your blood
Throughout your body.
I remember your hands
Strong and delicate at the same time
Wiping away my tears
Stroking my hair
Holding me up
Fighting away my fears.
I want to memorize your body
Every curve enticing and beautiful
The way it feels perfect while it's against mine
No part of your body needs any change
Its perfect that's all there is to it.
I want to keep these all in my mind forever.
I never want to forget
The way you make me feel.
I want to love you forever
That's what I intend to do.
We were given love in a season,
we loved each other without reason,
we lost ourselves in the crowd.
You took my hand and said to run,
the year had just begun.
When the leaves fall from the trees,
I want you to please,
Words dripped from my mouth,
two free souls trapped in the same house,
the silence just got too loud.
April washed away dreams,
May brought on new beauty.
The world was never so clear,
till the day came,
Spring time was here.
We lost ourselves in love,
we could never get enough.
Shuffling through the crowd,
we became the same,
we got lost in love's game.
A romantic believes in six senses
Taste, touch, hearing, sight, and smell
So they know the smell of a rose
And touch, a warmth in the cold
Hearing, a voice soothing in any pitch
Taste, a kiss
Sight, a beauty that may just last the ages
All of these can be between any two and perish at the end of one
But the sixth is not physical
It is not sex but passion
Not human but soul
Not relationship but transcending
It is not borrowed or bought or born but found
It is love existing and unexplainable
There at once and always
Beyond mere ashes and dust
No water tastes sweeter
then that sip in the desert
No touch is finer
then that hand on the shoulder
when encased in loneliness.
No paycheck more abundant
then following employment deprivation.
No buffet more filling
then that first bite in hunger.
No idea more stimulating
to a mind so hungry
then a poem which catches
the moment so perfectly.
No love more appreciated
then when awash in self judgement
No praise more received
then when lost in condemnation.
No warmth more soothing
then when lost in the snow.
No light so bright
as that first sunlight
when lost in the demons
of one's night.
No sensation so
pure as an open
heart after numbness descends
Compassion in hatred
A laugh when joyless.
A lover's kiss after betrayal
A loving look after the cold white wall
A loving word after tense stone silence.
No embrace more healing
then when you come home to me.
The receding waters after the tusnami
The stillness after the earthquake.
The peace after the warfare.
The spring flowers after the winter
The coolness of fall after the blistering summer's heat.
The wood stove so warm when the house is so cold.
No bed so content
No home so sweet
after being stuck out on the streets.
Without our joys no sorrow
Without our sorrows no joy.
It's that time of year
to spread love and cheer
On the 25th of December
It's the good times we'll remember
For it will be Christmas day
Where Santa delivers gifts while traveling on his sleigh
Snow on the ground
gifts all around
Laughter and joy
Gifts for all no mater if you're a girl or boy
Santa is kind, he gives us gifts
he climbs down chimneys and doesn't use lifts
So Merry Christmas everyone
Have a great day
Remember to look out for Santa and his sleigh
When I'm there to believe in
No one is there
to believe in me
Should I stick with the lie?
Should I just, live under the sea?
Of all the expectations put on me
And All the lies I have put on others
Should I take away my life, giving it to another?
Some one who
Can do something Important with it
I want to take there pain
Someone Important could benefit
After all what is there to believe in anymore
My body my mind, it's all so sore
I'm just another soon to be High school drop out
I'll Just be another
Who toke the easy way
The cop out..
These feet trodden benumbed
enslaved by the weight of the load
loamy earth no longer soft , supple , forgiving of cold tender feet
the pang of crystalline frost heaves beneath winter moss
as if walking barefoot on frigid rocky ground
each step taken in effort to draw nearer ,
apportion the distance between a place once so close ,
and yet ,
now the distance appears so wide
the gravity of the metaphysical makes me weak in the knees
and I drop down and kiss the wintry ground
knowing all my cares lie frozen far below ...
the scent of burning sage
sweetgrass permeates the chill ,
smoke rising like mist into the mystic
a healing smudge carefully brushed with reverence ,
an abounding LOVE cleansing in this earth ,
the atmosphere stirs
I feel the muted words' silence emanating in the air
... knowing I’m not a stranger in the hands of the maker
I shouldn't miss you but I do
It’s too late
I miss all the ways you used to pull me in
Windows down, music blaring
The best of us
I was your best friend
Those where the best days
I shouldn't miss you but I do
And it’s too late
As I sit here looking out
At the cold winters rain
I can’t get your voice and your laugh out of my head
My mind can’t think straight
Your green eyes seared into my brain
You skin and hands, I loved them
Because I loved you
You said id always be your best friend
Shows how naive I was to believe you
I shouldn't miss you but I am
I was a disaster abandoned
I wasn't sure I would live
It’s been three years now
I’m pretty sure I got over you
But why is it so hard to not remember
All of the things we did
Places we’d been
I wish I could wipe you out of my memory
Because that’s what you did with me
Any one could see
Only if they knew the difference
Of how you used to be
When I was with you.
I miss the way we’d laugh
Cry and carry on about how are parents are so bad
Drive around because we had nothing better to do
But that was fine because
We had fun no matter what we would do
So I hope you miss the smile on my face
They way id play with your hair when you where tired
On a rainy day
I hope you miss the things I would say
“I love you!”
And how we thought
Forever and Always
No one would have thought it would end at all
Because of how we used play
Like children, I was in love
But never knew it
Till it was too late
In this world of pure immensity
United we were in a wonderful serendipity
In this madness where I don't belong
The only thing that keeps me strong
Is the sparkle of your eyes
You must be the devil in disguise
I can feel your heartbeat
I'm holding on to every dream
Yes, I feel your heartbeat
Pumping though my veins, so extreme
With us, nothing is impossible
You see, our love is invincible
I just need to hold you tonight
So that I can die in your arms, holding you tight
Cogs and free wheels chains and hubs
Twist and turns loud creeks and rubs
Sears and Snap-on won't do the job
Park and Pedro worth a few bob
Your problems are complex and real
You're tormented cry: squeak and squeal
Not a job for the feeble man
I have the tools, do what I can
Put you in my vice and hold tight
Crank the toggle bolt, torqued just right
I am the wrench to smooth your ride
Hand me the tools, stand by my side
Silent train ride deep in the city
Each person on their own path
On their minds is contemplation, frustration, illumination,
Whatever it may be it holds close to their heart, it is the wake of their being
What drives us together is the exact same substance that keeps us apart
We are all here presently in the past motioning quickly into our thoughts, our fears, our anticipations of what lies ahead
I can recall when I first felt a void
Too young to realize, a child,
What day did I wake up and begin to see the trouble that surrounded me?
We all experience it,
Sometime in your life it comes crashing down.
I remember it all, vividly,
My eyes are blurry now,
The exact moment everything in my life became a question
The pieces of the puzzle came apart,
All at once;
It's in my mind-it replays like a silent film
The currents of emotion overtake me
And I'm suddenly swept away at sea
I've lost control of the sails
The wind has thrashed me around
And my boat has sunk to the bottom of the ocean,
I'm lost and broken
My ship is destroyed, in pieces and I will never get it back
my anchor is no more!
I could have never expected a storm this big.
i lay awake at night
listen to the sound the rain makes.
it spatters onto the ground with such purpose
that i can not help but feel jealousy in the pit
of my empty stomach.
the rain knows where its going and where its been.
i wander, confused at who i am and who i'm going to be.
i crave the feeling of certainty.
to know if i'm going to pull the string attached to my lips
and pull it into another forced smile another day.
i lay awake at night and
wish to be a drop of rain.
I feel like I am on the tail end of a masterpiece
Built from my own and other's catastrophes
Billions of blasphemies plated in gold
Locked up, not to be opened until we're old
Until the cold winds have done as their told
Leaving our frozen hearts to crack as we fold
All is still and the gentle breeze has ceased
Our puzzles, together, have been pieced
At least it feels that the solution has materialized
Right before our eyes and I have finally realized
That the mysteries, the clouds of confusion
Have departed, taking with them their dark illusion
The end has completed its hasty advance
I surrender and take its hand in this final dance
You laid your eyes on me and beamed. Oh gosh I can feel my stomach flutter!
You walked away. I turned away. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me.
Someone is calling someone and suddenly I hear someone calling my name.
That voice, the voice I wanted to hear everyday,
The same voice I dream to have conversations with.
I missed that voice. The voice I used to hear singing me songs.
The voice I used to hear saying my name, sweetly.
That voice that sent shivers through my spine.
The same voice that I hear even when I’m dreaming.
Your voice who told me those two big words, “Trust me.”
I glance back and saw you, nearer. As if you wanted to talk to me.
That hair, your messy hair that goes beyond perfect with your looks.
Those dimples, your five goddamn dimples that will only be visible when you smile.
And yet I’m seeing that smile, as if it was made for me, only for me to see.
Those eyes, those brown smoky eyes that lit up my soul whenever I look at it.
But I instantly pushed those thoughts away. Maybe he’ll going to ask me why I’m here.
“Why are you here?” Watching you. I’m watching you from afar. That’s the truth!
“I just want to talk to her.” To you! It’s you that I want to talk to, always.
⎯ “I need to ask her something.” What’s wrong with my mouth? It says clashing words from what I really wanted to say. It’s like it’s have it’s own life that I can’t control. Or maybe,
I’m just afraid to reveal my feelings in view of the fact that you might not feel the same.
“Oh, I thought you’re wat⎯” you murmur, “never mind. It’s nothing.” You walked away.
And as your body walk off with mine, you brought my heart but never left yours with mine.
Most of the times it confuse me, why are we afraid?
Here we go again… Afraid to say the words worth saying, and not risking anything.
And maybe, I’ll kill that someone who introduce us the phrase, “Prevention is better than cure.”
As it is harder to prevent someone you love, when you know that it’s them who can cure you.
A dark river
The treacherous rapids,
and stretches of gentle water,
that never last.
Even the river ends,
spilling out into a lake
or an ocean,
or even another river.
Some rivers are underground.
Those are the darkest rivers,
one hopes they can cross when the time comes.
But from this position,
on top of a small pile of rocks,
in the gentle stretch of the river,
there are rapids ahead,
another battle to be fought.
But beyond the churning water,
is this mist.
it's so beautiful,
it feels safe,
but it's unknown.
And if the battle is won,
i'll be lost in that sparkling mist,
that hides all shadows.
When the sun rises
and the mist fades away,
will I fade as well?
Or, when the mist fades
will it clear my vision?
But I have to leave my island
and fight those dark, churning waters
Then I'll know for sure.
i know it probably wasn't meant for me
but as always,
i pour your words straight into my heart
and they are pumped through my veins,
flowing miles through my body
until they are echoing against
the walls of my ribcage
and leaking from
the ducts of my eyes.
broken glass can be dangerous to clean up,
it might cut your fingers and the blood
could stain your shirt,
or a lingering, invisible splinter
could cause you pain for weeks.
but if you are careful and take your time,
making sure to collect even the smallest slivers,
and handle each piece delicately
because there is no need to rush,
then you might not get hurt.
a broken vase may never again resemble
its initial form,
but with love and patience,
dedication, creativity, and time,
you can take the broken pieces
and make something whole again.
art formed from broken pieces
has always been the most beautiful to me,
maybe because it's the tangible proof
of second chances.
the vase, once full of emptiness,
now has room to be filled again
with something new.
summer caught me
like a hammock. i was
sure i would fall through,
turn into diamond shapes
between the woven rope
and drip, shimmering
off the curve of the earth
whenever the breeze
i was unsteady on my feet so he stole kisses from me whimsically
on the lawn. at first i thought that it made me dirty, then he said
everything that could be held is damp and crying salt in the palms
of affinity, and it all starts from the ground, that’s when i grew
captivated by his asymmetry and
saw queen anne’s lace
flourishing in the still center
of his rain softened eyes.
the air was pink powdered sugar
and it tickled each time we inhaled
it wove ribbons into my hair and
tied itself in figure eights around my feet,
i trip over this drug infinity
i wonder when my limbs turned to phantom
my sleep to hot sweat hallucination
dissolved the melt-in-my-mouth dreams but
i’d also like to think in
a somewhere’s summer
he is driving windows
down with that girl who
he thought could never
love him back
she finally realized what
i know: there is no better
soundtrack for any season
and they are both singing
together with the cicadas.
Running through these dark halls,
being chased by bulls and
my own thoughts.
I'm more afraid of the bulls.
My thoughts are dull and focus on
rocket science and The Green Arrow.
That might be a lie.
I am no scientist.
The arrow flies through this thick air.
I am choking on the pollution of others.
Air so dense,
it makes the weeds ashamed.
They are pushed off of their pedestal.
What happens if I fall?
Left to die in this dark hall.
Crawling towards freedom,
while the hall runs away from my memories.
The door grows larger,
encompassing the wall.
The door handle is made of solid brass,
too heavy to turn.
A knocking fills the hall with thunderous applause.
all is white,
I can smell the subtle hint of perfume and
feel the wind on my face.
It's comforting to know
that this is how I will die.
Happiness fades to sadness,
Just as the sun fades to dark.
Alone and cold
I feel agony, hopelessness, despair.
My world that was once filled with sunshine
Is now pitch black.
The peace and serenity
Is now anger and frustration.
The love and caring
Is now hatred and bitterness.
But just as the sun fades to dark,
The dark fades to light.
And the cycle repeats itself
© Fully Copyrighted, all rights reserved. Rebekah Fleck.
I am an artist.
I can make myself into something new
Imagine the possibilities you could
Just let me know what you want.
Here, flip through this magazine for some
And tell me what you like best!
It’s all about pleasing your audience
It doesn't matter what I want,
Nobody cares about that.
They just want to see something pretty.
I sculpt and paint imagery out of tools
To end up with a fake canvas.
Day to day I suppress myself with the lies.
I chip and chisel,
Dissect and carve,
Bits and pieces,
Until I’m left trembling,
Just to be tossed away in the end.
Splashes of red,
And strokes of black ignite your appeal,
And this is what you label as real?
Hunger strikes itself through the bones
Revealing its power through the limbs
Of the body, eye sockets, sinking down,
Death could possibly be the resemblance.
What a terrible piece, a shame it is.
Maybe just a few more tweaks,
And it will at least look halfway decent.
Trim down the sides,
Thin out any extras,
Fill in what is needed.
Even just a tad more color,
Then we have something.
Time strolls by,
A year soon passes,
And one day I just happen to actually
And look at my masterpiece,
But only for a moment.
In the mirror,
A reflection stares back at a wretched,
Beads of liquid build up into my pallid
Unable to contain the weight of their
reasons any longer,
Tears begin to burst,
They trickle down my rose stained
Fueled by the absence of perfection,
And I feel nothing.
Needs more work.
Wisp of smoke
The poem writhes and sheds bloody words
As it tries escape into the alleyway
But the high school clowns
Wavin their bloody razor blades
And with their filthy saliva drooling down from their mouths
Are chasin the poem down
In murderous imitation of the Police
Wisp of smoke
Weakened by the close contact with the insanity
Buries itself in the garbage
Forgetting that this is what the high school clowns
Love to eat
And he is found!
After it is violently destroyed
The high school clowns go on their way
Chanting their victory song
NO TRUTH ALLOWED
NO TRUTH ALLOWED
NO TRUTH ALLOWED
and then go home to
It's a cycle
You hurt me and I'll become you
There isn't anything to prevent this
I've never been much to conform
You shaped me from the start
Hollow and fragile
Someone broke you.
You put me on the verge of shatter
Small cracks form on the edges
Nothing but a breeze could make it crumble.
I'm you and you sucked all me out.
You get my pain now baby.
Have fun with the bits you thought you'd get.
I can be a bitch too
There isn't anything you can have now it's been empty for years
Nothing worth waiting for
Jokes on you sweetie
Hope you have fun with everything you've obtained
I'll be sure to pass on your good grief
Next adventure with surely get enough to spare
If anyone deserves my love it'd be you deary
Have fun with all my love
There's quite a bit
Good luck trying to control it now that you've taken it all.
You told me about a radio show you hosted, once a week.
I found myself listening to a pod cast, your free spirit transcending through the airwaves.
It became a pleasure, a joy to hear you.
The lilt in your voice, enthusiasm and laughter you can't fake.
Rolling off recommendations, free events and advice.
I saw your passion come alive.
Cynicism and anxiety melting away.
We met in a hot pit of pressure, anxiety and nerves the order of the day.
Happiness cannot show its face in every environment.
I know that all too well.
I felt I might listen again, were I not to see you for a while
your presence in some abstract way makes me feel safe
keeps my demons at bay.
My home is the whispering willow
where shade and rest can be found
a clump of grass, I use for a pillow
I make my bed right on the ground
my home is in the flowing stream
where the cool waters seem to heal
the sounds seem like i'm in a dream
but my senses tell me that it's real
my home is on the mountain top
where the squirrels and rabbits play
my natural life, I would never swap
I just can't see it any other way
I know I am so monotonous
for always write a romantic poetry
with black ink on a plain white paper
I know I am so dull
to imagine you as my muse
to sing you a soft lullaby
when you are not even here
I know I am so pathetic
as a girl who fails at everything
as a girl who creates lots of mistakes and sins
as a girl who has not achieve anything
in her bloody - dark world
I know I am not enchanting
and I see your gorgeous smile
almost every night in my nightmare
and I see your misty eyes
almost everytime in my beautiful daydream
I know I am not beautiful
like the stars above tonight's sky
or like the small streams in a green field
all I can think about is
making a lovely poetry for you,
composing flowing rhythms for you,
letting my fingers dance around my paintbrush
and painting every single thing on your face
in a smooth empty paper
and I am sorry for doing all of that
and I am sorry for thinking I have a chance
and I am sorry for dreaming of you as my stars
and I am sorry for hurting myself
with the thoughts of you in every minute of my life
As a child I knew nothing
and needed even less,
content with being happy
but 'growing up' required me to digress.
I took life as a challenge
chose myself an aim,
let the goals laid out for me
become the rules of the game.
Years of living like this
distraction and reward,
suddenly I realised
I was cold, alone and bored.
My knuckles white and fingers raw
from trying to hold on,
to the rules I made as a child
but the reasons were long gone.
But whose choice is it
what I see, I want and need,
the thought that these are 'my' desires
could be called the root of greed.
So I spent years on this journey
back into my head,
to find the child I left behind
hoping he wasn't dead.
In a dream one night I found him
he laughed when he saw I forgot,
that logic was an emotion
and that love was not.
So these days I give back
what my fear took away,
now I let that child come out and sing
rather than hiding how he plays.
I know it makes it easier
to control what you think and say,
but if you let go long enough
there's a very different way.
Nothing is wrong
But everything is wrong
There’s no reason for this sadness,
But it’s inescapable
It’s pulling me down, drowning me
Over and over again
Lost in this sea of thoughts
Unable to find the way home
Tired of being here,
But unable to move
So lonely, but so unable to talk
But always awake
The waves of guilt and shame never sleep
Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me. Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.
The sun sent a kiss through
The window but it never landed on his lips.
The sun tried to feel
his rounded his face
but he left with the shadows
Preventing the sun's radiant fingers
Caressing his face.
I too sent a kiss
Tried to feel
but my advancements
were met with
dodging behind the shadows
Pulling back at the last second
avoidance of any kind.
We stare with tear stricken eyes
from a distance
while our anger
Consumes all logic
A friendship formed from the start
I looked beneath
I saw her heart
No malice found
Just love and grace
Reflected upon her face
She had no friends
She lived alone
Her weight ballooned
To 30 stone
Her house unkempt
Her life a struggle
Lots of children
Who lived by
Through rocks and sticks
They made her cry
They laughed at her
Called her names
One of there favourite games
She did look different
From the average
Person that we see
But she held a lesson
For us all
Don't judge by appearance
This lessons tall
I wondered why
We ever met
Each second spent
With no regret
As I now reflect
It's plain to see
The lesson learned
Was meant for me
To look beyond
What the minds eye told
As deep within
Was a heart of gold
you're not him
and I love you more
for sticking through
when I was a bitch
and remainig to hold
my hand whenever
I get scared of big
wanting to delve into
the darkness that is me
I love you more
for being alive
I love you
maybe the sun looks different in california;
maybe the stars are duller, the water warmer.
maybe someday i will visit you,
and i will taste the west coast in the form of wine coolers
or a stranger's lips.
you promised that minutes and miles were weaker
than our secrets, our confessions, our connection.
but california smells like train tracks and your mother's marijuana
and brightly-colored sea glass, and sometimes i am scared
that i only love you so much because blue eyes and best friends
are hard to find on the east coast.
i don't care.
i miss you.
Your body, is a story for me
The story tells me
We've all been through something
And it hurts and it stings
But with struggle comes strength
-as cliche as it is-
Connecting your beauty marks with my finger tips
my lips on your soft but thick skin
deep smells, deep spells
Intertwined with love and compassion
sex and lust
smelling scents that are addicting
your noises, my reactions
Is it true?
Scared and frightened
But its a breath of fresh air
Because I've been craving and wanting
someone who responds
With a ring around my neck
Cross your fingers, hope to love
Slit your thoat, with hope
Whatever disease you have, you catched me
And its truth
I feel for you
torn down sympathy
i weep not for you
but those around you
who are covered in your darkness
spewed across their white clothing, are you
mocking their purity with your sullied words
they stand there still
too sunken to move again
their will has been removed
and now they stay with compliance
your ability for worship ties them to the ground
never allowing them to drift
peacefully away from the pain you provide
wide awake and torn
praying for your forgiveness
if that is what you intended
forcibly, i rip
the threads of your manipulation from my back
and struggle to my feet
you impress your power over me
but i refuse to linger
with my new found freedom
i spit at your feet and turn from you
walking into the oncoming slaughter
of distant storming clouds
Oh my ever fragile bird
Do not fret your lovely mind
Your hearts wandering over mine
Your words are in my head
Do not quiver your brow
Or bite your lip
Over the things we have
Not yet said
And how could I ever not need you?
With this connection so rare
Almost in describable
But I'll try my best
If you can bear
You are the crisp clean breeze of January
You are the smell of May at dusk
You warm me with your July sun
You fill me with October rush
And please believe me when I say
We'll walk through a forest on a perfect summer day
Through the warmth, recite the Decemberists
And play me your beautiful tunes
& baby stay
In the wake of
ADP and ATP,
RNA provides ridicule and cruelty.
Death note delivery.
Blood laughs and screams as it pours from slit veins.
It doesn't care about the souls its owner has stained!
What have you feigned?
What selflessness remains?
None to be sure as parasitic reality you frame.
What are we then?
Surely not worth baiting.
An existential lion's den.
But does it matter if we're waiting?
The most important question is "When?"
We exist to cause our problems,
to eliminate the heretic race.
It's a race that know one wins when,
They always have their problems to chase.
So enlighten us with,
Your sacred soul's bliss,
Or grow up from this tantrum of toil and piss.
Science of religion,
An oxymoron to say the least.
It is one thing to take the message.
Another to let your mind waste.
Savor what you have to the nucleus of your soul.
Know what makes you righteous.
Know it well and full.
Know what you live life for.
We're abiotic to assume that we "know" things we won't search for.
two candles but they're only your eyes.
twisting and contorting, and they can articulate your desires better than your mouth ever could.
candle wax only exists on the crests of your cheekbones when your eyes have been blazing for days.
they drip down in patterns that God himself could only hope to decipher.
your eyes as they burn are subjective only to the sound of her voice, or the curvature of her body as it writhes beneath you.
your visceral reactions have nothing on the hidden semantics that litter her skin.
ubiquitous presences gazing down at you, gazing down at her, windows fogging and cracking.
now, This is Poetry
This is Catharsis
this is raining hell down on her until she's every saturated colour she could never define.
like forcing her to write every pro and con of sleeping on the floor while you held a gun to her head.
and she knows better than to scream with the lights turned on.
give me guided meditation as a self defence mechanism.
give me self reflection as a form of shock therapy.
give me militant offensive tactics.
give me blood, give me a martyr.
whisper her name into the sheets and send them into space.
and let them drift along forever.
and send her into space after them.
and admire the way it can rob her of her last breath the way you never could.
maybe now you can look yourself in the eye in the mirror.
maybe you can stop burning all those goddamn candles.
maybe now you can stop trying to burn yourself down.
I think I'd like to fall asleep
For a very long time
And not wake up for anyone
Or anything, or to go anywhere.
Just sleep until I cannot sleep
No, longer than that.
I'd like to sleep until I cannot sleep
Any longer, and then go back to sleep.
I want to sleep a million years,
A million months,
A million weeks,
A million days,
A million hours,
But not a million seconds.
Because that is just over eleven days.
And eleven days would not suffice.
truth about women
craigslist posts on women
Things women hate about other women (MICHIGAN)
I'm a man and I got no problems with beautiful women and love looking at and spending time with them. Listed some of the problems women have with other women and why some of them get to be targets of world's biggest haters.
1. Beauty - If the women think you are prettier than them, the more threatened they feel. They feel like ogre and hags around the woman and become haters.
2. Intelligence - It's okay to be smart but not if people are reaching for dictionaries or have to google to translate your last sentence. The bigger the words, the smaller your audience feels.
3. Hard Work Ethic - no woman wants to know another woman is working harder and reaping rewards from it. Women want that hard working woman gone.
4. Confidence - Women can't stand women who are confident.
5. Dress better - women hate other women who dress better than them. Women who dress flashy are called trashy by bitchy ones who hate them.
6. Strong Personality - women have serious issues with women who are strong and speak minds.
7. Competitive - women are competitive by nature and when they feel they can't compete they hate.
8. Affluent - women being richer than another woman is not what other women want. You see women have to have more money than other women or the richer one get called all kinds of name.
Women feel threatened and intimidated by other women faster than by men who they flirt with and plot to get as sugar dads. Biggest problem of women are women who hate other women
Response to post
competition in women
Ever have a female friend who flirted with you knowing you had feelings for another woman? Been there with a few ladies who wanted nothing to do with me when I alone. Moment the office sweetheart started saying hi and took interest, I got popular with some of my co-workers who started saying hi and flirting. That's the competitive thing happening in women's brains. Where the hell were all the women when nobody wanted me?
Outside, it's cold and dark.
Your smile was special, your own trademark.
I'm going numb, can't even walk.
All I hear is the clock. Tick tock.
These woods are lonely and cold.
Hard to be bold, when your soul you have sold.
These tears puddle, like an ocean.
Your love always unique, quite golden.
Reality is wrong.
Still need to stay strong.
Dreams are for real.
How does that make you feel?
This mountain called life is steep.
But I've got promises to keep.
I'll go out on a limb to say.
Life's a game no one learns to play.
Life is a never ending exam.
Never anytime to cram.
I like to think that I tried.
But at the same time
they used to like to think that the world was flat
and that green eyes meant that you were cursed.
I also like to think that I would go to the end of the galaxy for you,
just so that I could fetch a few stars and bring them back
to show you that not every light is burnt out yet.
I like to think that the scars on both of our wrists
will fade with time and will heal with care.
But so far, the redness has not subsided.
Your voice is still ringing in my ears.
I’m not sure what you are saying, but you’re there.
And you’re here.
For the most part, you are everywhere.
And if I could spend one more restless night
curled in your arms so that I could kiss the inside of your wrist
and hope for magic to appear, I could die tomorrow
and be okay with that.
My tombstone could be painted yellow
and my corpse could grow flowers.
All because I hoped for a little magic
while the howling wind touched the windowpane
and your breath quickened on my shoulder.
I would let the coolness of your eyes
take my memory back to the Bahamian sea.
I would let the flutter of your eyelashes remind me
of the rainbow parrotfish and the fire coral.
I would let the salty softness of your skin sink into mine
so that maybe I won’t be so sharp anymore.
I would let myself drown in you
and this time
I wouldn’t call for help.
I would save my last gasping breath
to let you know how beautiful you are.
Then I would succumb to your sea
and I would sink to the bottom
to let my corpse plant flowers in you.
I sat there,
Thinking about the simple
And the impossible.
Why am I still fighting?
Why am I still standing?
Why am I still alive?
This is all seems to unreal to me,
Just a shattered reality,
Nothing seems real to me anymore.
My memories are fading,
My dreams are breaking,
Everything seems... empty.
For years, I have been fighting,
But after all those years,
Only one thing came out in the end.
That one light bulb was flickering,
On and off.
I thought it had burnt out,
But it was just flickering,
On and off.
As I reached for the light,
A sudden sharp pain in my chest grew,
And everything went black.
Everything but you.
You still glowed, shined even.
I saw nothing but you.
In all of the emptiness,
You were still there,
Shining bright as ever.
Then it clicked me.
I know why I'm still fighting.
I know why I'm still standing.
I know why I'm still alive.
I know why I felt so empty all those years.
Can you fill this empty hole in my chest?
I think you can.
I know you can.
pull me through time pull me through rips in the universe that my gods scratched with harsh voices
bask in the pale of ignorance and the lack of structure in my words
bathe in my pretentiousness
and look for the beauty
in the small things
the spot on her nose and the way a pine tree smells
scream scream scream because i'm almost something scream scream scream because i can't feel who i am from the inside of myself scream scream scream because i have lost so much i have suffocated a person inside of me scream scream scream
whisper whisper because i hurt myself today whisper whisper because there's ink in my veins now whisper whisper there's purple underneath my nails and it isn't my own whisper whisper whisper
i'm turning my suffering down so i can fit into the lives of others and be comfortable i cannot bare to take up all the space my body wants me too
what will happen?
i will slip under the quicksand and my body will go back to the earth
which is pretty okay all considering I CAN HEAR A CAR SCREECHING I CAN HEAR A LIFE FLEETING I CAN FEEL THE WORLD SPINNING AROUND ME I COULD JUMP OFF I COULD JUMP OFF IF I COULD FIND AN EDGE
Everywhere I go, each step I take
it is only your face, your laugh
that I ever see
closing my eyes to rest
the ripping and shredding
of my heart, I only see
How I fell and how safe it felt
cursing myself for believing
once more that my heart
guarded as it is
my wellspring of all life
choosing to say
Be gone the protection
weaponry, armoury and
letting her smile, generosity
of heart, comfort and seduce
my naive self, love is blind
as we spoke whispers of
Calling myself a crazy girl
in love, maybe I imagined
the realness of the encounter
trying to believe she's just
another girl who I love
no different than lovers
But she'll never be just another
my love for her deeper than
all those others who reached
inside my body grasping
my soul, always forgotten
drifting away, like all the others
I really am the forgotten girl.
© Sia Jane
"For the moment I can think of nothing— except that I am a sentient being stabbed by the miracle of these waters that reflect a forgotten world."
This will be the smallest, most insignificant, most trivial,
And most forgettable poetic parable anyone has ever written
Because for once I’ve been wrung of all my deep evocations
I’ve been whittled of my angular description of the commonplace
Of verbose, grandiose trajectories mapped out
By minds I will never exist alongside but I will sure emulate
I have sat down and asked myself, innumerable times,
“Okay, so how will I describe the sunrise now?”
And more importantly, perhaps more existentially:
“What about the sunset?”
What colors haven’t I used, what other comparable thing
Haven’t I eluded those colors to,
And what kind of uncharted, beautiful, spiritually-boggling human emotion
Hasn’t been tapped by this setting star until right now,
Right as I string together letters like they’ve
Never been strung before?
There’s the endless wellspring of my poetic—
Oh, look, there I go, visualizing thoughts and feelings
As a mystical, water-associated apparatus
(It’s my go-to)
For a time more innumerable than the sunrise.
I’m getting tired of it,
And I can’t imagine how mind-blowingly dull it must be for you
So I’m going to try it like this:
I see the sunset again, and tonight it’s very pretty.
But, poet, this kind of routine, boring description
Doesn’t do much for me.
I know what a sunset is, I’ve seen it
My three year old can probably
Get a pretty accurate crayon drawing penned out in a few seconds
And that will hardly distinguish itself from
What you’ve made the sunset out to be
But, poet, from all across the world, from their unique angles
All the aspiring poets gaze toward the same sun,
Whether in setting, whether rising, or hung there in the sky
And describe it as a tantalizing metaphor
And then relate that sun
To a deep, embedding, defining emotion or craving for human connection
As if to say,
I see the sun that way too
I feel that way too
And then those poets submit their poems to publishing
And watch the sunset as any normal person would
Once they’re out of the mode.
In fact, what’s on television? / Shut the blinds, Dylan,
There’s a glare on the screen.
This poem hasn’t brought itself out there, out to you
As a grand accomplishment of absolute detachment
As a way to try to break the barrier of poetry once again,
To define itself as a new genre, or an edgy statement the author
Very desperately intends his audience ‘gets’
Or even to prove an angle nobody has ever seen or attempted before
Because how I am supposed to know how you think?
Or what you see, and how you see it?
This poem is a message of the ordinary,
That it’s okay, it’s absolutely fine, to remove the mysticism from the mundane
And understand the world as a beauty in itself,
One that doesn’t need the aloof, grand, mystical verbosity of poetry
To be felt as something poetic
In fact, I won’t even leave you to ponder the greater meaning of it,
Of this line, or that line. I will say it here,
At the end, at the climactic and awesome point of emotional delivery
That all poetry intends:
I see the sunset again, and tonight it’s very pretty.
Sorry you're not finding it to your liking and to my knowledge,
"Borrowing" isn't the "norm" on this site, it's the exception to the rule.
I read poems; but, far less than what's posted. Who has that much time?
From what I gather, the alleged person who "borrowed", was a tad upset.
Upset and sought revenge due to comments she didn't agree with at all.
Her revenge; a rapid and endless stream of posting posts by fellow poets?
I am so not into and highly allergic to mentally draining drama. ARRGH!
I'm on daily when I create poetry and my friends are also to lend support.
Does it matter how many hours adults spend on this site or on the net?
Better question; Is it really anyone's business? Short answer; Who cares!
In regards to criticism in general: They're "personal opinions" and that's it.
If you fall apart, get upset or are seeker of revenge over random's comments,
lock yourself indoors, don't go out in public and don't post on the internet.
What's truly impossible; Finding a way to please everyone at the same time.
Grow a thick skin, roll with the punches and graciously learn to take criticism.
It is not my heart that is breaking.
We are lost and ever abandoned.
You let the waves engulf me,
I'll let you think I drowned.
It is not my heart that is breaking.
All that shattered shall be mended,
You made the decision to let me fall,
I'll let you scatter the pieces.
It is not my heart that is breaking.
I teaspoon teardrops into a glass vase
Magnifying my soft whimpers
These flowers wilt and die
For nothing can flourish on sadness
As the vase fills up with emptiness
Reaching the breaking point
It begins to bubble on the brim
Catching your eye
Moments before my tears
Flood the tabletop
I feel your hands grip firmly
Around the base, holding tight
Straining to keep the pieces together
As you watch your vase shatter
Into a million pieces
Teardrops falling at your feet
You let go,
And leave the broken pieces of me
For someone else to clean up