the sting of regret
always echoes in my head and sits on my shoulders,
wearing me down.
I've got to get out of here,
find a solitary place
where I can sit and be silent.
This town holds too many memories,
they stay with me like a ball and chain.
I fear a wasted life,
like heaven can't seem to penetrate the darkness that surrounds me
and give me a clear picture of who it wants me to be.
I fear the lonely bitter life,
one not shared with a significant other.
I fear the settled life even more,
one shared with someone I know is not right.
I fear the emptiness
of a life lived without you,
bracing myself for impact
against a wall of indecision.
Maybe one day I'll have hit it enough times to peek through the cracks
and see the other side.
But love doesn't worry me,
the future worries me.
It holds me in a death grip with its claws around my neck.
I gasp for air and flash my hands about,
trying to pull them off me
but I only cause myself to sink deeper and deeper
into this pit of uncertainty.
When did my life become a waiting game?
To see whether or not you were right about your so-called plans?
They were yours to begin with,
but now I fear that I made the wrong choice
and sent myself down a wrong, desolate road.
I once wrote of lost love,
so many times
that I lost myself.
To say to you our union's hue
is all I wish to do,
so let's lie down
our fate unfound
and let the colors choose.
There's green beneath
these waves of sleep;
the sheets we speak between
keep words of gold
within their folds
no lip nor tongue nor cheek can hold.
The dreams that bring the warmth of oneness
keep the cold at bay
and makes of us a mote of dust
on sunlight swept away.
As we trade our blues and greys
for the white of water, red of rocks,
the pink of sparks they spray
stop like stars in space and stay.
In this way love is made.
You want me
You take all of me
My many flaws
Covered up by painful scars
You want me then
You accept my past
All my failures,
My guilt, my shame
You want me you have to work
I promise it won't be easy
To take my pain away
Kiss away all the scars
Heal the pain
Protruding in my heart
You want me
You shower me
With love and affection
Show me what it's like to be loved
Take my hand as we
Throw ourselves into the unknown
I have finally come to see that no matter what I do...or what I become my mom will still say its not good enough and im just some worthless bum.
She makes me feel like im worthless and a waste of human skin.....she keeps the depression inside of me churning and to regain my sanity for it will never ever win.
She doesn't even remember things as they have taken place....and when u explain your reasons why...she looks at you as if she may say.... "really?" with that look on her face.
She doesn't try to understand you or take into consideration how u may feel.....its always just some brush it under the carpet and pretend were all happy and make it seem real.
But in the meantime its only doing more bad then any good.....parenting should automatically come with manuals so you know that what ur doing is what you should.
Ive been crying for hours tonight...cus the way I am treated by them~it just aint right....you don't treat one child different then the others.....like one set of rules for each ....its just absurd and if it was u being treated uncool ...youd want them to practice as they were to preach.
But not in this house ....they have different rules for each kid...which is complete shit....I never should have moved here like I did.
Being here has made me think a lot about suicide....its really bad if a persons worth had been\
suppressed by all the tears they they've cried.
I wish I could turn back the clock so I wasn't infact here....then maybe just maybe I could be given a little repair...since love in my heart from them .....hasn't ever really been there....
Please stop looking at the world with a black and white filter,
Painting it like a biased picture.
Your mind wants to think simple; it does not want to think deep.
I think you're afraid of taking that leap.
Don't tell me what to believe, at the very least.
Everyone has their own soul, so unique.
We can all think for ourselves, we don't need to keep
A guidebook around like a flock of sheep.
i know it's hard
to wake up
to open your eyes
to not roll over and
cry yourself back to
dreams you never want to-
you never want to
open your eyes again
i know it's hard
to put on your shoes
to pull on your pants
to hide the marks you
thought you deserved
you never want to
i know it's hard
to step outside
to feel the chill of
the winter wind
to feel the chill of
you never want to
when your bed was
your only friend
and you shared it with
tears and had parties
alongside razors and
heart breaks and
when the parties ended
just before you would have
got the door
when life gets hard
your tears are your friends
and that's okay
the razors are only
just as cold
as the rest of the world
sleep for awhile as
the world will soon realize
you are only a
And life is easy.
Life is being tired tomorrow
To do your neighbor a favor today.
Life is prioritizing homework
Life is loving people
Who don't always love you back.
Life is doing what's right
Even if you don't want to.
And life is watching snowflakes drift,
Wishing you could go with them.
But life is a reward,
Because Neighbors return favors.
And doing homework now,
Means you can spend time with your family in the future.
And not everyone loves you too,
But there will be one.
And doing what's right,
Makes everyone's day a little brighter.
Even though you can't drift like a snowflake,
It just means that you belong somewhere.
Life is hard,
And life is easy.
And life is worth living,
No matter what.
the lonely light
upon the hill,
every beam of light,
just another sigh,
just another kind word,
just another death
of your beauty.
you selfless piece of steel,
but the trees don’t notice.
if only they could see
what i do;
if only they would love you
like i do,
but they are blind.
they profit off your
they don’t know
they grow and grow,
and you just die.
it’s a slow suicide,
but you don’t care.
is all you know.
you keep on draining,
every beam of light,
just another wound.
A picture is worth a thousand words
Some words aren’t worth the wisp of air they cling to
Faintly tingling your eardrum and brushed away
By the whip of a tail
These countless frames flash by
Chaotically pressing and poking images through your eyes
Protruding jagged in the cave
Leaving your feet cut and bloody as you roam through
Projecting billions of words
When you begin a sentence and see the receiver’s face
And can see they will not hold interest in what you say
Because your mouth is awkwardly twisting to form the words
Feeling unnatural around the dehydrated sounds
You’re talking just to talk
Those kinds of words
Gorging down handfuls of a tremendous cake
Overflowing with flavors that wind your lips into a grin
Filling your body with calories
Yet your legs unsteadily shake when you attempt to rise
Those kinds of words
A hot-air balloon expanding to enormous size
Its torso uncovering vibrant colors and vivid geometric patterns
Floating aloft and peering upwards
Knowing that once all the air escapes the vessel will wilt
Those kinds of words
Leaking your consciousness
Your eyes and ears are narrow to funnel in the enormity of world
The condensed shapes of language
They are absorbed into your running blood
Alighting the dried grasses that have sat stagnant in your head
The smoke slowly drifting upwards forming ethereal shapes
Your mind expanding into countless parallel sheets of glass
Each smeared with an illustration that is squirming with life
That no one else will ever see
Light bending through each to cast different hues on every plane
A seed, unplanted, will not sprout
A coagulate of color at your feet without canvas
A psychoactive drug just a compound without a brain to create as many worlds
As it picks apart
Beauty is beheld in the eye of the beautiful
I didn't intend to do that--
I HATE it when people
sneak up on me
with evangelical intent!
I merely opened my heart
to hear a poem, and
God bubbled to the surface.
No, not that God,
the one claimed
by the Christian right:
(who want you
to believe that Jesus
is a Republican--)
I mean the God you knew
as a kid.
Of course there's a God!
Every kid knows that.
It's so obvious when you look,
wide-eyed and innocent,
at the mere fact of existence--
how cool it is
just to be alive!
But then, growing up,
you found out
that there are Religions
that each have all this STUFF
about who God is.
They make it seem so complicated!
But really it's very simple:
No, it's NOT easy,
but it is simple.
It works in every heart
It works in every culture
with or without
Religion might help you
find your heart's door handle--
the loving kindness of
But it could be
that God is singing
a love song to you
through a flower,
the voice of a friend,
this little poem.
Are you listening?
driven to the edge of her passion by another for another time
the taunting of the clock hands can no longer clearly be heard
above the endless beat of dreamlike devotion her heart sings
above the harsh, hard, sting of what could be
driven intensely through the night to her paradoxical moon
the ink trail binding every trauma to her person floods from her
below her wary, carried, submitted body quickly dies her dirt
below, the oceans overflow pulled by pluto into black
across the star scene i'm shooting far
for ancient resonance i want close
moon and sun, what's been done?
what love lives here still, i watch you burn
and feel resurrection
in this fire
on your leash
i'm burning at your feet
hot and cold
magically to your lure
from your hooks
from just one look
There sits a lovely maiden,
The ocean murmuring nigh;
She throws the hook, and watches;
The fishes pass it by.
A ring, with a red jewel,
Is sparkling on her hand;
Upon the hook she binds it,
And flings it from the land.
Uprises from the water
A hand like ivory fair.
What gleams upon its finger?
The golden ring is there.
Uprises from the bottom
A young and handsome knight;
In golden scales he rises,
That glitter in the light.
The maid is pale with terror--
"Nay, Knight of Ocean, nay,
It was not thee I wanted;
Let go the ring, I pray."
"Ah, maiden, not to fishes
The bait of gold is thrown;
The ring shall never leave me,
And thou must be my own."
Bitter, cold anxiety
sends shivers down my spine
I'd speak up if I had the voice
seek help if I had the time.
But crippling pain
and constant ill have brought me to my bed
unable to get up and move
around my messy head.
Depression seeps in slowly
and ties me up with ropes
it rapes away my innocence
and takes away my hopes.
Motivation's far away
so out of my view,
the only thing I look forward to
at the end of these days is... you.
No one really cares
Unless you're really pretty
Or only if
You have a stash of cash
In the back of your jeans
For as long as I lived
I've noticed things
How a child eyes would light up
Like a candle lit dinner
On the Eve of Christmas
How precious she was
But not anymore
It's as if we've lost our values
Guarding cheap things
Such as necklaces and gold rings
Most fail to see
How much life means to me
I would guard you
Or anyone for that matter
Even by all means
That my iPod will shatter
you are not good enough
no one likes you, might as well die
go hurt yourself you ugly bitch!
Meet the voices in my head
They try their very best to get to me
They almost caused me to be dead
And they were the reason i wanted to flee
I did not want to be me anymore
They made me hate myself so much
I started walking to a door
I knew this was my way out with one touch
I had to get the key
This was hard, but worth it in the end
That key helped me to flee
Flee from the voices in my head
But i will not get too comfortable
For these voices may return
These voices make me uncomfortable
Dont play with fire darling, you will burn
Ripples of effulgent colors
Reaching out from waters disturbed
Waves bothering no one
Except silent moods
And heavy sighs
Leaves falling like the fire from the skies
Sitting at the river bed alone
Hearing the blazing trumpets of angels
In the air for all of the world to hear
Definite, gazing and profound
The streets echoing the screams
Maybe millions burning
The people melting
turning to ash
Visions so pristine, with pools of clear waters
Where the universe dances with shooting stars
Nights so serene, with comets and saucers
Where multi-verse poets tell fables from mars
Mirrors orbiting realms of light and sound
Along ghost ships, serpents and mango worlds
Wormholes overwhelms clouds that surround
Near women’s hips and flowing hair swirls
The earths below like a burning molten orb of muck
Where Rephaite giants wrestle behemoths in vile seas
The dreams glow here like a harem where angels fuck
And centaurs play Gato Barbieri tunes full of gleam
That sad moment where I wake up in an opium pit
Below the Broadway theater
And a little Chinese lady scoots me out for new customers
And I stumble out into the streets
And buy a paper
Reading of a stock market crash
and the end of my job
as I fend for life in the jungles of Vietnam
I see friends of mine get their faces shot to pieces
And their brains fall to my lap
And I scream as the Vietcong rush me
Hack my limbs off and leave me for dead
And I wake up in a hospital bed
A quadruple amputee
Falling in love with a nurse I might never see
Again, so I ask her to hold me and let me
Cry into her shoulder
Then I pay a homeless man
to push me off a bridge with him
We fall and hit the water hard and—
I float up to the surface
And when I emerge I see
myself at the edge of a river
Tossing rocks into the water
I call out to help
But He doesn’t hear me
He stands up and leaves
I crawl up from the river with new arms and legs
Crying with an emotion I cannot describe
For what dreams and past-lives have been here
On this Day of Wrath?
On this beach of trash and rocks?
Where I can see my grand-kids playing
In the southern California dusk
And my wife reminds me of the first time we met
In that hospital
Next to the opium den
At the end of the world.
It's been a few months
Maybe a few less than it feels
Since you ripped us; your head and our heart
The leaves have gone from green to vibrant purples, oranges
And other colours you couldn't see
Your funeral was nice, quiet, simple and not made a big deal
We didn't bury you naturally in the forest though
With a proud Oak above your head like you wanted
That made me mad, you won't live on like you should have
You were buried in an anonymous graveyard
Which held some importance to the people that knew you least
I visited your gravestone more than a few times
Everyone, the whole group and I have
It's a cold gravestone, more ornate that you would have wanted
That simply reads your name
Followed by January. 30 1996- August 17, 2012
The 2 words and 4 numbers that add up to 4063
Don't do justice, don't sum up your life quite right
At least in our eyes it doesn't...
I know you would have just wanted your name
Or nothing at all since they killed the forest you had in mind
"The tree will live on, I will rot and my body will be used
To create a forest, to create life"
Is what you always said
But you shouldn't be surprised by all I this like I am,
Like the group is
No one it appears, ever listened to your muted voice
Halloween came and people celebrated by wearing masks over their masks as you'd say
"The ghosts and ghouls and goblins
Are much better looking when people think
Their being clever and finally letting them down
Because it's Halloween and no ones paying attention because everyone's doing it"
It wasn't the same without you
Everyone came over but it was quiet and awkward
None of us covered our masks like everyone else
Rather, we all took them off for another night
Sitting around, talking, laughing and spraying blood on the walls
I decided I'd give myself a tattoo
To remind me of you and something you said a really long time ago;
Keep your feet grounded and so I did
An arrow pointing down on my ankle
Just as a reminder
I did it with a sewing needle in my room
While the group watched and provided expert commentary
They all wanted one but they didn't
I don't care if my parents find out
And I don't care if it gets infected
I did it for a reason and I'll stand by it
It'll kill my dreams of the military
You told me but I can't say I care anymore
My dreams died when you did
SELFISH EDUCATION MINUS POETICAL WISDOM
MAKES THE WORLD LAME
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; email@example.com)
Nothing is wrong with selfish education;
Career is an important part of a good life
Much of human life over the years
Is devoted to career acquisition
In oblivion of poetical wisdom
Philosophy does not make it any easier,ok
For apothecaries to remove a prostate gland;
Apothecarical education is long, arduous and dear in cost
Never temper it with apparent irrelevance
But poetical wisdom soothes the tools
Helps apothecaries to volite in dilemma
Poetical wisdom is essential for apothecary’s work
Without it; apothecary tells a mother-to-be
Your baby will be a dwarf dwarfishly
The apothecary explains the mother’s options yet in fault
Since it takes more than just knowledge of genetics
Since it requires an understanding of suffering,
Of disappointment and puerperal attachment
Apothecary tell a daughter but in sham; that
Your mother’s life support needs to be removed
It takes more than just knowledge of physiology
It too requires an understanding of emotional loss
A casualty room apothecary goofs to avoid despair
When faced with a baby battered nearly to death
By its own zinjathropus father
Such horror requires a faith in humanity
That cannot be learned in the selfish education
It’s not just apothecaries absolute
To benefit from a broader learning
It is but entire humanity
Studying drama would no help financiers
Devise capricious financial parasites
That doomed the world into financial mire
But, if they were familiar with Faust,
They may have thought twice about
The consequences of their vice,
Being able to sing from Shelley’s poems
Will not help politicians get elected
Carousing Ozymandias might make them more humble
And thoughtful about their accomplishments
Rupert Murdoch might not now be shaking his head
And whining; how I wish I new
Instead, he were to echo Shakespeare’s words
About how easy it is to be; done to death by a slanderous tongue,
I sing this poem in a crouch in the twilight
Around the world as my audience
Behold poetic eyebrows of my comrades,
A generation of humanity familiar poetical kingdoms
Of history, philosophy and literature is a wonderful vision
Doubts not that reading Goethe
And Shelley and Shakespeare guarantees wisdom
You are correct, kudos to you,
Reading, by itself, won’t make anyone a sage
Experience is a pertinent Florence
As Odysseus learns on his journey back to Ithaca,
Important lessons can only be learned the hard way
Through bitter experience, perhaps has a change,
Youth start out with sex, drugs, rock and roll
With experience they eventually emotions decadence
In calm appreciation that; nothing to excess,
Tragic exceptions like poor Amy Wine house;
Only serve to prove the rule, there is a problem,
Ergo, Experience alone cannot guarantee wisdom
Any more than reading books can
The lessons of life are only available
To those who are ready to learn them
If wisdom is the goal, then humanity must walk 10,000 miles,
To read 10,000 books
Said 17th century Chinese philosopher, GU Yanwu
Becoming wise requires more than set of adventures
But a cultured mind that is open and liberal
Readily able to absorb the lessons that experience teaches
Pasteur famously said that; Chance favours the prepared mind
Our job as learning humanity is to take his words seriously
Prepare mankind to learn from experience,
Humanity is to go beyond selfish education
To learn colours of hope in the poetical wisdom;
Life, death, tragedy, love, beauty, courage, loyalty
All of these are omitted from selfish education
yet, when it comes time to sum up our lives,
They are the only things that ever go places,
Catholic priesthood ever admonishes the flocks;
Thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return
A salutary reminder of what we all have in waiting f
Like the Preacher in the Ecclesiastes;
We spend our years trying to find some meaning in our lives
It is easy to fall into the bottomless pit
Life is tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing
But before humanity reaches Macbeth’s conclusion,
We must provide with the poetical glory
Musing fortunately as all humanities is anxious
There is a thirsty for poetical wisdom
Which parochial selfish education cannot quench,
There ought to be a list of great poetical works
From east, west, north and south of the world
Globalectically Nursing poetic urge of the earth
With which every piece of humanity should suckle
In wisdom that Books have the power to convey wisdom,
From these poetical sources that humanity learn about love
And loss, about memory and desire,
About loyalty and duty,
About our world and love-bound universe
And about what it means to be a human being
I awaken to find my mind either a complete blur, a fuzzy, foggy place, or a place of a maelstrom of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, some from the previous day, some from even before that. Electrifying anxiety, paralyzing fear, crippling doubt and depression are the orders of the day, when I fully awaken. I eat, then take my pills, to get my thoughts in some semblence of order. I go through the day, feeling trapped by problems my medications cannot control. I find myself either blaming everything and everyone else for said problems, or ripping out my own entrails as I blame myself - one extreme or another. I have visions, dreams, hopes of success, but then my depression, or whatever it is, kicks in, and wipes out those dreams, reducing me to a mess of shattered hopes and dreams. This is why I spend most of my days on tumblr, where people see me for who I am, but even there, people judge and discriminate against me, for whatever I have. On tumblr, I have friends that I roleplay out various characters with, different personalities, sometimes variations of myself take shape. Tumblr is the only place where I can seemingly have a reality in which I have control. The Internet is my portal to reality, my line of defense against what could be described as agoraphobia. But I still desire the company of people my own age, physically, rather than electronically, but I do not have the same interests of most of them, and am scared to death of doing so. The very thought of meeting a large group, or even an individual, sends me into a panic attack-like state, then I fall quickly into a state of depression because of that. I hate myself for that anxiety, the awkwardness I have. Loathe is the correct word. This is why I hide behind a computer screen. It may not be perfect, but I find it easier to interact online. I do not know how to translate how my characters act to my own actions, as some have suggested for me to do. I have been told that I need to choose to get out of this hole in which I am trapped. It is a struggle every day to even get enough energy to care, much less try to get out of the hole. The only way out is by climbing a steep cliff, covered by snow and ice, cut by the howling, bone-chilling wind, with only two hooks, in my hands, to claw my way out, fighting the falling snow and ice, occasional rock and hail, sleet too. There seems to be no place to make a camp, where I may rest, only the long, arduous, grueling climb, my vertical trek, my seemingly Sisyphean task that awaits me. A choice that may seemingly kill me. People have suggested that I turn to the supernatural, but that is a fool’s bet, a folly of hope, a wish of the people who build their castles in the sky.
Look out your window
Onto the valley below,
How the sun capped peaks
Around you glow,
With no reservation
Does the sun's favor show,
What can I do when it rains?
Gather it into a box of rain?
The sun's shadow transpires to arch from the clouds, faintly, the raindrops themselves
Yikes! Let it flow, let it flow
As if a river were churning,
Note: the earth that turns streams
You can do anything,
Who ought to yearn for the heavens,
Throw away illusory shackles
Throw away your box of rain,
I love you so and it hurts to burn
In the fellowly outlines of your pain,
Your box of rain, it splinters outward
Like a rock in a pond, negative space had
Throw away the pain! It's not yours
And turn to face new rain
Hour by hour, yours
And with each drop you will grow.
Honestly, nobody really cares about the faded pink hash marks which track their course up your forearms and thighs
Honestly, they will feel bad for you then forget
Honestly, it's an effort of futility
Honestly, this is not a world for cowards
Honestly, that's probably what you are
Honestly, drinking and smoking is just another form of razor
Honestly, you need balls. Women and Men.
Honestly, whatever you are is perfectly okay and that is just perfect
Honestly, the majority of people you meet will try to tear you down
Honestly, these monsters are mortal
Honestly, I made a lot of mistakes along the way
Honestly, I don't care
Honestly, they make me who I am
Honestly, this poem will end soon
Honestly, no matter where who what when how, you will be better than fine
When I called the visual appeal of your body topography, you laughed. You misunderstood.
The sharp angles, the planes, the curves and the hollows of your body, of your skin stretched thin over bone, these are what I find beautiful. This is the topography of you, the places I want to map with my lips and teeth. The familiar places, my home within a home, my love.
Your body is geometry, trigonometry, mathematics you hate almost as much as the way I can trace your every rib and vertebrae. Perspective translates your flaws into aesthetic beauty, but your perspective is your own and you will never see what I do. I will love you enough for the both of us, darling, love your flaws more than your perfection just to give you what you deserve.
You tasted like a Monday morning
not the kind where you drag yourself out of bed
but the kind where you get up
excited for the day.
You tasted like a Tuesday night
watching crime shows
in a snuggie
on the couch.
You tasted like a Wednesday riding lesson
cantering at a wall
that we won't just keep going forever
You tasted like a Thursday
anticipation of the end of the week
watching the seconds tick by
until you're released.
You tasted like a Friday
having all the time in the world.
You tasted like a Saturday morning
and slowly waking up
to the noon-day sunlight
shining through a window.
You tasted like a Sunday
going to church
is right there
Anxiety is not
Only sweaty palms and racing thoughts
It's thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and oh my god I need to stop but I can't because if I do what if my world stops too?
Anxiety is not
Because there are things and things and things and things and
That need to be done and you can't just stop at one.
Anxiety is depression's friend
The friend that springs you out of bed fifteen minutes before your alarm, wrenching you from depression's arms and shattering your sadness.
But upon impact with the floor,
Your feet are cemented down and your goals are just out of reach because god you have the will power and you swear you're trying but why can't you be perfect and perfect and perfect and perfect.
Anxiety is the feeling
That pushes and pushes and pushes and pushes and pushes
Until it pushes you over the cliff
And you land amongst the lives anxiety has claimed that litter the bottom of the canyon that surrounds you and stops you from achieving what you wanted because god forbid you're actually trying.
A beam of swirling light in the heart of the city
As families flee for their lives
Lightning, fire, explosions
Cars being flipped, debris everywhere
Lives taken, just to take
Evil has consumed the city
And its flame seems ever burning
A shock to the corrupted nerves of the city
Goodness and virtue battle the tyranny
But are put in the ground
Left in the rain and forgotten
Why must there be good and evil
It only causes pain
The division, the knowledge, the temptation and the fear
Holy rain fall on me
On these skid marked streets and grow a rose
Red as the blood we all hold
Push my whispered wishes toward your ear
Their full of desperation and curiosity
I trade you the morals, my honor and all I hold true
For all of this evil to be drained from my home
For without the darkness there’s is no need for light
And the ever spirit can rest and the world can flow as intended
So fly high red rose
Gather energy from the land and see
Chant the sacred words and flush this place
Flashing implosion of energy silence the streets
The sun in the eyes of the saved
The children can sing once more
And we can all be as innocent as the children
May the sun forever shine
Guilt free and enlightened they give thanks
Their lives renewed and cleared
Praise the rain drop, praise the rose it has cultivated
Hold it high, in the highest power
They give their lives for the flower
The live their lives for the flower
They only know it to be the truth
For security they go to the plant
But now their freedom belongs to the flower, instead of their own fears and temptations
All hope gone
The flower promised to delete all evil
But the flower itself is wicked
Draining lives and giving false hope to those in fear of the world and themselves
Ignorance is all I see
The love of being able to create something and understand it
The hate of being unable to destroy everything you don’t understand
Cry life look at today you’ll soon know
Wit out the darkness we wouldn’t need light to see
Without the light there would be no darkness to hide what must be seen
Without both there is nothing to see
The universe over my head
I see Life grows, flows and goes
Good or bad it pushes through
The goodness should not be your guiding light
Nor should the badness
You yourself must chose your own path for it is your choice and yours alone
And that is what life is about
The choices we make cause the earth to spin and balance perfectly
Do not let anyone or anything dictate your life
What is it to smile…
when the eyes you cherish
turn from you,
peering off into the distance,
seeking another sight,
encased in a theme
that does not include you?
What is it to desire…
if what you long for hides
behind curtains of pain,
blacked out windows
redirecting the sunlight
to a place
that longs for nothing?
What is it to breathe…
within a life that does not matter,
in full view of your imagination
crumbling like so much dust
beneath cushions of your heart,
mingling with lost change
alone in muffled visions?
What is it to love?
I woke up with a headache again today.
This time because I knew
you didn't want to stay.
It's strange how words repeat themselves.
And no matter how much I thought
it couldn't all be for nothing,
I guess it was.
But that's okay.
I'm used to this place.
At least I know I won't
ever let anyone else in again.
It's just easier than losing
something you never had.
How foolish of me to think
I could ever be what you wanted.
You'll always deserve oceans;
I'm sorry that I am only rain.
And no matter how much I give,
I will never be enough.
You say you don't feel the same
as you used to, and that's okay.
At least you love me enough
to tell me you don't.
The world is Gray,
A slate wiped clean.
One day, I wandered
from pane to pane,
glancing out windows,
dreading Gray, the bête noire,
now it's come,
now it shall stay,
let me explain tomorrow's day.
A light erased the colors I knew;
came from dawn, swept on through,
break by break, it grew and grew,
morning fell, the horrors new,
my world of Gray appeared.
So now I wait for your return;
you took it all,
where've you been?
you took it all, all for your own,
and now I reap what's never sown.
The children sleep,
they do not know:
the things they seek
will never grow;
The children sleep,
they'll never see
what was a color means,
what it could be;
The children sleep,
they cannot know
how dawn has stolen what we know.
Drizzle, drizzle, rain outside,
you stole my heart and now you've died,
you stole the rain, yet now it pours,
I'm blocked by windows, hidden doors,
the day is darker, starker, gone,
the Gray has come, the game is on.
Flickering candles shall know no light,
the Gray-ness will take over night;
Ice will fall, winter's here,
Still, the Gray is crystal clear.
Cool, uncaring, blood seeps from the sky,
or maybe not,
Who knows, when all the world is Gray with fear?
The children sleep soundlessly,
forever marked in harmony.
The children sleep a dreadful sleep,
they will not wake,
Oh! the dreadful steps we take?
The children sleep a dying sleep,
the Gray has taken them.
The Gray has come, my dear,
are you now, too, drawing near?
Will you stay for one last dance?
Help me from this horrid trance.
Will you help me shake my fear
that only appears when Gray is near?
the children sleep,
the rain, it falls;
Shh! The Gray, it listens.
Time's up, I'm afraid,
the Gray is here,
so very near,
it scorches with it's burning sneer,
Tick tock, tick tock,
time's up, my dear.
And as you- can very well see,
the Gray has taken over me,
and there upon an evening clear,
at thirteen o'clock, the time that's feared,
the Blackness began drawing near.
A plane passed through a severe storm. The turbulence was awful, and things went from bad to worse when one wing was struck by lightning.
One woman lost it completely.
She stood up in the front of the plane and screamed, 'I'm too young to die,' she cried. Then she yelled, 'If I'm going to die, I want my last minutes on earth to be memorable! Is there anyone on this plane who can make me feel like a WOMAN?'
For a moment, there was silence. Everyone stared at the desperate woman in the front of the plane. Then the man from Texas stood up in the rear of the plane.
He was handsome, tall, well built, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Slowly, he started to walk up the aisle, unbuttoning his shirt as he went, one button at a time. No one moved. He removed his shirt. Muscles rippled across his chest.
Then, he spoke...
'Iron this -- and then get me a beer.'
the sky seemed so clear then;
you, me, the storm, and a song.
we swayed and dreamed feeling the universe,
her swift and complicated hands,
drawing us ever closer to that desperate tipping point.
dropping you to your knees, world rocked,
and touching down on me.
we drifted and captured one another:
body on top of body, eyes closed, legs wrapped, lips locked.
and that blue lightening,
it never stopped.
He loves me.
The single yellow petal falls like I fell for you.
He loves me not.
Another drops to the ground like my heart did when you forgot to call.
He loves me.
The softness of the flower reminds me of your kiss that night under the stars.
He loves me not.
The inaudible sound of the section being ripped from it’s origin almost sounds like my heart did when I realized you deserved more.
He loves me.
The easiness of pulling the petal resembles how easy it was to fall in love with you.
He loves me not.
The small scar in the top corner of the delicate foliole disenchants the image like the ones on my wrist did to the way you looked at me.
He loves me.
I grab on to this last petal like I grabbed on to that last, “I love you.”
He loves me not.
This tattered, empty skeleton of something once breathtaking will never truly be able to convey the hollowness of my being when I lost you.
He loves me not.
We are curled up on that old maroon couch
It’s ratty and old but it’s always been our spot,
Even when we were small it was
We’ve been talking for hours but it feels like minutes
Your teaching me about your car and I give you advice
We are so happy like this.
Yet in the back of my mind I feel the time slipping away
But you look at the clock and you ask me to stay just a little longer
But my dad said to be home by nine.
I start to feel nervous and your hands gently shake
We have so much to say but we never have enough time
Our words run together just so we can feel closer for these last few minutes
My chest begins to feel tight with the words I don’t have the strength to say out loud
And in a spare moment of silence my words
I love you.
Yeah, I said it. I love you, it’s there.
You look at me clueless
Almost like you didn’t notice
Then I see your ears go red the way they do when your
And I know you heard me
Words hanging in the open I know you feel my fear
I remember months before when you said the same thing
But my fear controlled me and instead excuses broke free
I’m not ready.
I’m not right for you.
Why would you love me?
You pulled back
Then you hid from me
What might have seemed like a week to you
Were really years for me.
The next time I saw you she was clinging to your arm
I couldn’t believe it
I was shocked
But I hid my feelings and covered them up with a smile
Then everything was normal again
Except for her
Yeah I said it. I love you. It’s there.
I get it now. I understand
It’s insane and irrational
But I now stand where you stood.
I’m feeling what you felt.
How did this happen to calm
But there is this wedge that slides between us
You used to be by me constantly
Strength in our bond
But she walks in and flips her hair
I don’t stand a chance
And your place next to me stands unfilled
She makes me feel out of place
With her dirty looks and glares
I’m not your competition
Or at least so I thought
She’s young and she’s pretty
Sometimes she’s what I’m not
But I’ve been there when you’ve needed me
That’s not something that she’s got
Yeah I said it. I love you. Its there
I hate the fact I haven’t said
The words that I can’t bear
Remember just last week
When you whispered in my ear
You said I’m yours, just yours
I help you when others cant
You understand me when I don’t understand myself
But then I blushed and pulled away
Why did I?
But then you talked about her
And I couldn’t help but feel sad
For a moment I had you back
For a moment things were back to normal.
We still have our moments
Though they are few and far between
You gave me your jacket
We’ve gazed at stars at night
But I come back to reality
And we are sitting on the couch
The time still ticks away
Its time for me to leave
I have to say goodnight
I’d rather stay for hours, or until the suns first light
But we both get up, still shaking
And we quietly say good night
I leave the house I’m on my way
But I know I lost the fight
So, yeah. I said it.
But only in my head.
Ill always wish I said it out loud
Until I find my strength
I love you.
My insanity lies in your hands.
Every move you make are my commands.
You stole away the apple of my eye.
Leading me on to every bad guy.
Leaving me to fend for myself.
Then like a toy, putting me back on the shelf.
My stone cold soul lies in your hands.
Every thought creates a new demand.
I always end up falling for your tricks and schemes.
This why no person is what they seem.
My poison drenched heart fills your hands.
With every trembling beat comes a wretched new plan.
Drizzled in ink, it leaks out sorrow.
Sorrow that fills my veins and prepares me for tomorrow.
Eyes are blue like the sky,
you're with me and I wonder why.
You became my best friend,
we'll be together till the end.
For you I'd do anything,
you're my queen, I'm your king.
I love you with all my heart,
when you sleep, you always fart.
My kids and you are all I have,
you love the way, I make you laugh.
You have a magical touch,
I love you so very much.
Even when life goes wrong,
all the bad things make us strong.
In the bed, we love to cuddle,
after sex, you leave a puddle.
We disagree on many subjects,
being in love is always complex.
Living together has many rewards,
our love making has won many awards.
You are so very beautiful,
even though you can be delusional.
We fight more than we should,
when I see you, I still get wood.
Money we don't have much of,
it doesn't matter cause we're in love.
How to make a poem,
That will never end
How to fix a broken heart,
When you know it will never mend.
How to be gorgeous with grace,
How to stop an infinate hate.
Snowbirds should be beautiful,
Girls should not be rude
But, oh, how we've changed
Even the best are crude.
Light blue lace insilks a treasure,
embroidery and patterns,
They used to make life better.
But oh, how we greed,
How we want,
How we seize.
Oh, how we loath
There is so much hate.
Everyone's so nice,
Everyone's so mean.
Everyone's a fake,
But they're all how they seem.
No need for emotions,
When you can't tell them apart.
No need to care,
When the whole world's in park.
Yet everyone loves,
And everyone's loved
And God has plans,
Near, but so far above.
Life is beautiful,
Even if it's in a twisted way,
Life is gorgeous,
Respect it all, because it will stay.
Horses running wild,
Penguins waddle free.
No matter who they are,
No matter the species.
How to contain an anger,
How to accept,
Nothing can happen
Live life at it's best.
But of course things do happen,
And of course they will
But you don't need to acknowledge that
Move on when you've had your fill.
How to be beautiful,
How to not care,
How to be a poet,
Because I'm not quite there.
How to be a writer,
How to know a deer,
To live like a hunter,
What is infinate fear?
Your soul animal,
Well, it runs through your soul
Picking little fights,
Warming you when you're cold.
It's a dark night,
But you can see the moon
It's a clear night,
But fog will drop soon.
It's a bright morning,
The birds chirp with cheer
But they are shot dead, not far from here.
Now, please, fear not,
There's this thing called the sun,
It works magic wonders
But this was part one.
look at you
fumbling at the clasp
of your bra
to the core
hoping I see you
hoping I save you
as if I have some
form of cure for
what you've done
you plead with me
--breath of a cheap
to let you stay
you ask me if I
think you're pretty
sure I respond
sure you're pretty
hell I haven't met
many naked women
standing in my
bedroom who aren't
but I can't save you
I'm not the one who
will keep you honest
not the one to kiss
you on the head
and tell you goodnight
sure you're pretty and
sure I'll fuck you, baby
but I don't think I can fix you
Dear Heavenly Father, I have a confession to make.
For I have received yet another heart break.
She stole my heart, broke it in two,
Then said, “I’m no longer in love with you”
Father, why does she have to be this way?
Please tell her I don’t want to hear what she has to say.
Father, for I have committed a sin,
That day when I let her in.
I want to forget her & what we once had.
All because she lied to me and made me sad.
Father, I am done playing her game.
I’m done with her handing me all the blame.
So if you would father, help me out,
And please show her what this is about.
For I still love her father
But she doesn’t love me so don’t even bother.
She said it was all a lie,
Father she made me cry.
I am weak but have to be strong
Father, what she did was wrong.
I know that now, I knew that then
Please father; get rid of these horrible women.
She used to control me father
Stop what things used to be.
I guess what we had was fake father.
This is the confession I had to make
She never loved me father.
So please don’t even bother
I don’t need someone to hold me tight
I was wrong & they were right
All I need is something that’s not there father
All I needed was for her to care
Father I do not want to let her go.
But its time, and we all know.
Father, my confession may be sad, or a bore,
But my heart hurts so much more.
Pleases father take the pain.
Remember she once said I was a little insane.
Take away the scars caused by this knife.
Oh please father, just take her out of my life.
I miss her so much father.
I miss her kiss and his touch.
For I must leave father,
Cause no one will ever replace my baby father
This is my confession.
They all said she was ‘my obsession’.
Father the time has come for me to stop needing her,
Now I believe them father.
Father I need some help down here.
Because you knew loosing her was my fear.
Now you’ve heard my confession, the one I had to make,
So please forgive her for her love, that was so fake
Poem a day, day 4
Falling is just like flying
Until you hit the ground.
Hit rock bottom.
Maybe that's why they call it falling in love.
Feels like flying
Or a bit like dying.
Stomach in your throat
At the sudden drop.
Exiting and scary
Where is this going
Am I soaring
Or am I crashing?
Which way's up,
Which way's down?
Don't let me hit the ground.
In his arms,
Is he my superman?
Will he catch me as I fall
And keep me from harm?
It's out of my control now
I fell without warning.
Surrender to the trip, wow
Sensations overwhelm me.
There you are, structure, bones
standing tall in the sunlight
all of the personality drained away.
Oh, goodbye to that twinkle in your eye
Goodbye to that thing we couldn't put our fingers on, that thing that sparked passion
Because all you are now, is a skeleton.
A skeleton with so many ghosts, war veterans, teachers and teenage girls that I used to know,
That old version of me who skipped, smiled and run her fingers through her hair
she dances through the corridors when no-one else is there.
Along they came. Dress you up, ready for business. That's one thing I learned from this, patch yourself up, make yourself look okay and no-one will realise how broken you are. No.
No, they won't notice the graffiti marks of those who have been,
on your skin.
No, they won't notice those damp patches,
in the corner,
of your eye.
They didn't notice how your ribs creaked as you let out a sigh,
your final goodbye.
They certainly didn't notice when you closed your eyes to die,
I remember when you comforted me from the world with soft, warm arms and friendly words.
I remembered how you nurtured us and watched us grow.
A loving kiss on the cheek and off we go, but I couldn't let you go.
So here I stayed to watch you drift away with each passing day as they measured your waist,
for the suit.
Pull it in tighter.
A stitch here,
a stitch there.
Iron out the crease.
No room to breathe.
The suit may not cover your face, but it is a mask, covering up mistakes.
The mistake of your missing heart, the drive, the ambition.
The mistake of your missing eyes, seeing goodness in the world, giving beauty to the hopeless.
And the mistake of your missing smile, inspiration for lost souls trying to find their way home.
But you, you were home to me, my skeleton.
Now however much you lose or decay, you will never go away.
You will always be there, a ghost in my memory.
My loving skeleton who is now in a suit.
No chains bound to my feet
No ropes tying my wings
No pain when I open my eyes
No ceilings to cover my skies
No tape to silence my mouth
No glue to bind me to the couch
No walls to cover my ears
No wheel to control my steer
No gloves to tame my fingertips
No needles to sew my lips
No mountains to block my path
No whips to lash my back
No shield to contain my feelings
No evil that grows for feeding
No cap to bottle my tears
No darkness when light is near
I don't like long poems much
I find them using complex emotion as a crutch
Occasionally apprehending the context of truth
Written only in the moment, shaken & little vermouth
They toy around attempting to play with words
Refusing to admit tomorrow this passing prose will uphold little worth
Between each line sleeps at least a second helping of second guessing
People write them as if we never get our feel, turkey extra dressing.
I'm occasionally the asshole who hurries to the last verse,
Avoiding connection with the writer, even if my own pieces suffer most
One of the most difficult things to achieve is to become what the world wants;
It's a great accomplishment to be who you are in a world that is making you something else;
Many people are not who they really are because they want to conform to the beauty of the world;
You now have a chance to say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind either.
Trying to be someone else is like making a new creation out of nothing, it will be nothing;
It's time to know that everyone else has already been taken, it's time you be yourself in everything;
Don't mind imperfection because it's beauty, madness is trying to be perfect, it's absolutely boring;
You now have a chance to follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness of imperfection.
Keenly look at those who are living the lives of their parents, they are older than their parents;
You will end up with a boring life because you wanted to be someone else, you don't deserve that;
Being who you are will invite many people to your life, being someone else will do the contrary;
Of course, people will love you for what you can do for them, and some won't like you at all, so be yourself.
If people love you, they will give you a chance to be yourself;
You will find friendship in people who give you total freedom to be yourself-and moreso to feel;
Whatever you happen to be feeling at any moment is fine with them. That's what real love is;
If I were you, I'd have started being myself even before finishing to read this poem. Be yourself.
The circles under my eyes darken with all the sleepless nights I’ve spent
By the answer I can never be
For my loves haunted by addiction
For all the fragments
I’m wondering if all my empty spots where love didn’t learn to grow are showing
Wondering if only God can love the broken things, if only God can love me
It took three days back in that life to make me question
Of my value
Worried people can see the sadness induced insecurity that’s triggering desperate longing
Craving the wrong places, people and choices because my haunted loves are right –
short term escape is more tempting
But it means murder of who I was meant to be and I’m unwilling to sacrifice everything I fought for
Everything I am
Today it’s a battle of tear stained lullabies and vintage heartbreak revivals
And I may be losing now
But I’ll be damned if I lose the war
Will anybody accept me
See I'm tring to help
That's all I try to do
I can't remember
The last time I was selfish
All I try to do is help
And all they do is hurt me
Well I'm done with it
Fed up with it
You don't want my help
See if I care
All they do
Is cause me pain
I think I'm a good person
I hope I'm a good man
We will see who is happy
In the end
I'll have the woman I love
In my arms
A roof over our head
Food on our plate
And plenty more
that I can promise
And they will
And see if I care
The love I feel is not all consuming. It does not come from a place of fear or hope, rather from the space the keeps my feet from touching the ground.
The love I feel is not all consuming. I have no unfortunate circumstance that threw me into this love. I am not damaged, simply unapproachable.
The love I feel is not all consuming. I do not think of his lips when I drift into a dreamless sleep. I do not compare the passion in his eyes to the burst of light at daybreak. He is a snow drift.
The love I feel is not all consuming. I don't reach out in the middle of the night wishing he were there. I do not read over our texts when he is gone and I am missing him. He is a rock in my hand: something to hold on to.
The love I feel is not all consuming, but I know that if I were honest with myself, I would write of all the times his kisses made me lose my breath, and the days that I spent in his arms, writing his name into my heart.
I call the beyond
the feather light side
I have seen it
held hands with my guardian there
and my Father as I walked
through a vivid garden
in silent paradise
It is so peaceful there
just a lightness of being
I can't help but think that life
this side of the cobwebbed door
is similar to a falling leaf
surrendered in autumn's change
A constant reminder
that we all fall
I tire of welcoming the hours
to get through another day
I am homesick
The feather light side
I call it
It is so peaceful there
I never wanted to leave
least to be here again
I'll close my eyes
And just drift away.
Maybe sometime soon,
You'll be here to stay.
I know it takes time.
Darling, that's okay.
I'll be by your side.
Just don't fade away.
You're scared, I can see.
Everyone around worries you.
Please realize that there is no need
For you to be afraid of me.
You can take my hand,
I'll show you the way.
I won't misguide you,
Or lead you astray.
I won't hurt you,
Or leave any scars.
You can stay by my side,
Like the moon and the stars.
I won't say that I love you.
For that, it's a bit too soon,
But darling, believe me when I say
That I truly care about you.
I'll open my eyes,
You're not by my side.
I'll just drift back off,
Then I can hide.
never strange enough i imagined
that some of my beloved friends,
who I so faithfully adore and admire..
are coequal participants of my life
with those dead poets, singers and writers
who left trace in my heart
and helped me to survive through weird times
thats what i clearly imagined
and i had imagined it for quite long index of time..
i thought when we talk with eachother
there is always invisible presence
of those dead evergreen souls acompannies us
the life served me contrar perspective
what a folly i only was
to think that my dear feelows-artists
have ever deserved my such gentle & sincere treat
like they were as tall as nervous souls like
antonin artaud, camille claudel or arthur rimbaud...
yeah, alas, i brutally failed..
if i look exactlier who is here for me
then the dreary fact reveals
to my deepest mourn
the tragic fact reveals
those dead poets are actually the lone living souls,
while my dear living friends are perfectly dead
I fall, helplessly into the meadow. The tall grasses embrace me with their long fingers. The soft yellow bells droop down onto my cheeks. They cover me in their sweet scent, and the warm butter sun melts onto my face. I push myself up with my arms to gaze at the sanctuary around me. A gentle breeze wisps in circles around my head. Several stray strands of hair dance on my cheeks, and catch in my eyelashes. I pull the tangles away from my face, and stand up. I am surrounded in a barrier of ancient willows and maples. They seem misplaced here, old, wrinkled, and sagging. For the rest of the meadow is a swaying sea of oddly touchable pastel flowers. I bring my hands up to my head, and touch my hair. The light is warming my agave colored hair. I step forward, and laugh melodically at the feeling beneath my feet. The soil is welcoming, and the long tentacles of the green grass tickle my toes. I realize when I look down, that my feet are bare. I forget what happened to my sandals. In a flash, the thought of how I arrived here passes through my mind. And then it’s gone.
The grass whispers and brushes, rustling a delicate sound. But apart from that, there is only one sound. Somewhere distant, somewhere unknown, my ear catches the music of my childhood. Ocean waves, pulsing against the earth. Suddenly, a current of air snags the light fabric of my dress. And with that current, like a child’s kite, I am picked up from my feet. I can feel an indescribable sensation in my stomach. It flutters like the butterflies that float around me. My feet pedal like on a bicycle, and I roll around in the magic that lifts me. My laughter rings in the sanctuary as I drift higher, up into the sky. Beyond the wall of trees, I can hardly distinguish the features of the land. Pillowy clouds lie low, and random branches from the trees sometimes peak out the tops. The horizon erupts in a splash of rose pink, mango, and turquoise. A pure, innocent beauty.
The ecstasy is abruptly interrupted. I look beneath me, and I am painfully, suddenly aware that I am floating, high above the ground beneath me. The spell is broken. My body drops, plummeting down, fast. I scrunch my eyes shut, and brace for the hit. But there is none. I cautiously open my eyes and realize I am mere inches above the ground, suspended in the current. I reach my fingers down, to kiss the earth with my fingertips. My legs and waist elegantly lower with the rest of me to the ground. I turn over onto my knees, breathing rigidly, attempting to regain my composure.
Where am I? This world, I am found in, is curious. I doubt this reality. One cannot simply escape from the world! With great doubt, I raise up my hand to cup the daffodil in my palm in front of me. It never falls into my palm. Instead, the petals begin to grain, and distort. And in a matter of seconds, it simply vanishes. In confusion, I look to the sky, and watch as the vibrant blue fades to a wan purple and cracks, like the shell of an egg.
“This can’t be real-“ I mutter to myself. The long branches of the willows evaporate their leaves, and like skeletons and bones, dry up as if submerged in acid. I stand up, and spin, desperately looking for a part of this world. Something, still alive, something animate. I twist and turn in desperation, the world around me smearing into nothing.
My breathing is rapid, and uneven. I lift my face from my pillow. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my hair sticks to my neck. I look down, still in pajamas. Lying in my bed.
I am baffled. Was this a nightmare? No. Not quite. But, was it? I scoff at my ridiculousness. Of course it wasn’t real. What am I thinking? I sigh, and lie my head back down to my pillow, and turn my head to the window. ‘Sleep again, it wasn’t real’, I tell myself. But, just as I start to shut my eyes, something catches my eye. Despite the impenetrable darkness that lurks in my bedroom, I spot something soft and yellow. Set atop my rug, lies the same delicate, yellow daffodil, waiting for me to cup it gently in my palm.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5860#sthash.AZ9GFLye.dpuf
She struggles to bring
the pen to the page
she wants to tattoo the
page with their story.
She is skeptical
why does she want to
live in the past?
That's what it
will be tomorrow.
create her to be stuck
wanting to believe her
Lets cling to the unknowing
and love the ignorance
there is no hurting if
you have no one.
That's the only
truth that holds true.
All those words we shared,
funny how now they mean
Forever is just a fairytale
to keep you reading until the
last page is found
a blank white canvas;
no prince charming ending.
Yet she still
lets it burn into her pages.
She wants an impossible
Light is out why you toss on the bed
is there a poem storming your head?
is it some ache gnawing at your heart
bubbles of thoughts are breaking for a start?
How the night passes hours you don't keep
eyes forget closing shut tight in sleep
with tears and joys you bring the newborn
hold them close so they live to see the morn.
At the nightly hunt eyes glow like hawk
preying on words defying the restive clock
your mind runs roaring maneuvers your hand
turbulent oceans, the sky and the land.
You move beyond boundaries, cities and towns
reaching up the mountains digging deep down
sailing with the drift when an oasis you find
you let the night go, blank goes your mind.
When I feel like I'm cracking and thinking of packing it in,when suicide is no more than a sin and the only thing I'm likely to win at,and the rat that I am becomes less of a man the more that I think,I sink into depression, my expression shows nothing and nothing can help me.
I see dark brooding clouds overhead,with my head in the ground,I can scream not a sound will be heard by the herds of humanity,insanity it may be,nobody sees me and so,down I go, to the rapture of the rhapsody show,where the mad moans of inmates grate on my nerves,which all serves to send me more herds of humanity,
and they trample me down even more,
when the train comes I crack and the track looks inviting,fighting is pointless,the darkness is endless,and
white noise for bad boys, and the steel lines chime as they mark out my passing,mass said at the graveyard for the man who tried so hard to put on a smile,missed by a mile though and sometimes that's the way that things go.
The words they slept in shadows,
Unspoken in the night.
When a hand reached forth
With nightshade blade,
To poison anothers plight.
Oh Lord of Lamentations.
Let the aether surround
With reams of false augmentation.
For the sick and the weak
Those we ignore and mistreat
Are no longer eight hours away.
Empires will fall
While we rest and decay
To the light of day.
my dreams walk
the blurred lines
hopes and fears
than i dare think
in waking moments,
from some sleeping recess
the dusty musings
of experiences forgotten,
a painting masterful
and then defiles
with the random spatterings
of fearful colors,
from frame to easel
and onward to the floor
until it pools at my feet...
where it wakes me
from my restless sleep
leaving me to wonder
just how many more
and rooms are waiting
to be unlocked...
feels unfinished... but then...
aren't they all
There once was a boy
Who took on destiny
Standing on one leg
And without a slither of mercy
He killed her
With a funny joke
And his old wooden cane
It may not seem like it
And it wont for a while
But those bolts and pins in your leg
Are for Your smile
She's a sultry one, I know
seducing me with words I've used before
but never felt the weight until they came
From fingers nimbly graceful as her' s
When I see her profile I smile
Knowing what her words will do
though she's a thousand miles away
she can whisper clear as day
Make me feel again all those things
I ran from and forgot (or tried to)
She reminds me that I am not
Pining alone, or uselessly
If written words were miles
and reading the same as traveling
I'd be at your front door by now
begging for one more verse
These greedy walls
as they suck
my breath away,
They leave me here
in haunting thoughts
My body struggles
of paralytic thought,
I try to open
just one window
but find it sealed ...
with bolts & locks.
In my weakest hour
the doors and windows fly open wide,
Released by the warmth of your kiss
and from the chains
I've tried to hide.
they wanted to be high school
to reignite that past flame
a chance did arise for the two
they seized the opportunity
to link up
they've done all in their power
to rerun their high school days
the ember of love
was ever in the background
just waiting for the appropriate time
back in 1977 they left Grafton High School
to pursue careers
and as a consequence
they lost touch
but a fellow pupil
was organizing a class reunion
she invited them
to the get together
once they locked eyes at this occasion
those old feelings
their love was rekindled
as it was
in those high school days
A waif on this earth,
Sick, ugly and small,
Contemned from my birth
And rejected by all,
From my lips broke a cry,
Such as anguish may wring,
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
By Wealth's coach besmeared
With dirt in a shower,
Insulted and jeered
By the minions of power,
Where — oh where shall I fly?
Who comfort will bring?
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
Life struck me with fright —
Full of chances and pain,
So I hugged with delight
The drudge's hard chain;
One must eat, — yet I die,
Like a bird with clipped wing,
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
Love cheered for a while
My morn with his ray,
But like a ripple or smile
My youth passed away.
Now near Beauty I sigh,
But fled is the spring!
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
All men have a task,
And to sing is my lot —
No meed from men I ask
But one kindly thought.
My vocation is high —
'Mid the glasses that ring,
Still — still comes that reply,
Chant poor little thing.
Such a tedious thing,
I sense our existence appears.
For my chest to breech to the sky,
A tightened blossom of whipping purity.
Then to sink towards such a vicarious engulfment of hell.
With each palpitating symposium,
My lungs waver.
To crust over,
and bless the,
upon gilded guffaws.
Perturbed of my ascension.
Or shall they sink,
Sallow under chagrined blasphemy,
My horridness inked upon
parchment seasoned skin.
a child of bitter consideration.
I shall butter myself in ashes,
just to perceive myself a shadow.
For at dusk's beckon,
perturbed; to kiss the constellations.
Blemishes I conjured,
beneath a quavering lip,
a gentle crease of my nose.
I silence their whimpering of wrongdoings,
which I have failed to rupture.
in such a bubbling manner.
It gurgles at my lips.
Dribbles before me,
Whilst the sun blinks back a yawn.
Yet, upon a lunar serenade,
the talons which protrude from my veins,
To my supposed
I see no anchor.
From them, to what lay before me.
To where I shall drift.
And good sir,
label my simplistic existence,
if you must.
Yet I shall soon die,
and so, you will too.
And by that flicker of seconds,
we should matter no more.
Billy got a shovel.
Chipmunk sat on his shoulder.
They wandered away from town,
away from the businesses and restaurants,
far from the counting and court houses,
past the auto service stations,
until even the roads were gone.
Chipmunk said, Stop here.
"This spot looks good?" Billy asked.
The ground is soft.
"It's too soft. It won't do."
Billy stamped his foot down onto the flesh of the earth
and his brand-spanking-new boots caked themselves in mud.
"No no, this won't do."
We're far enough, now. You can dig here.
So, Billy dug.
At first the digging was easy
and shovelful after shovelful flew behind them both.
Then, Bill struck a pipe
and clean water geysered straight up for a hundred and fifty feet in the air
and splashed down all around them, but they were in the eye of it
so neither of them got wet, and Chipmunk hated water.
"Not the place- I told you."
Three and a half miles later, the pair stopped for a slice of rhubarb pie they brought with them.
What time do you have?
"I don't have a watch."
I bet it's forty minutes past the hour. And this place looks perfect.
Billy sunk his shovel into the ground, again.
He dug and dug and dug and dug and dug
[and eventually found an old brass sheriff's star, which he discarded,
but not before Chipmunk sunk teeth into it and deemed it to be
"antique-trash that belongs next to a green glass Coke bottle and a dirty skull"]
and dug and dug and dug and dug and dug and-
One more shovelful and we'll be in Colorado,
and we'll never make it back from that cold.
"What should I do?"
Put down the shovel, Billy Boy.
People had started to gather
because a tabloid published
a picture of Billy shirtless,
[he gets sweaty while digging],
and they wanted to know what
all the fuss was about.
So, Chipmunk got a hold of a megaphone
and addressed the seemingly-ever-increasing crowd:
If a wild beast sleeps under a poisoned tree,
and all night the tree poisons the thoughts of the dreamer,
do you blame the beast or the tree when the dreams come true?
If your heart is held together by very tight stitches,
and one of those stitches starts coming loose, and you feel it,
will a cold glass of cognac, and a warm hand to hold put it back together?
The crowd was dead silent.
An elderly man in the back stroked a long white beard
and a child standing next to him looked up at him stroking his beard
and the mother of that child looked down at the child looking at the man
and the light struck her glasses just so that the stars saw her light years away
and nobody noticed Billy, eyes closed at the bottom of the pit.
A steamy trail of particulate vapor issues from her lips
tracing the outline of her silhouette and rising
it diffuses into nothingness
Don’t listen to what your parents or teachers tell you, kids-
smoke is very sexy.
she exhales again
slithers languidly through the still air
stretching for something-
rolls across my coffee table
like dunes in fast-forward
drips off the edges-
She puffs a thick ring at me
it crosses through the void space toward me;
I reach out to touch it- to grasp it
and it dissipates;
it traces the airflow-
the negative space
like a jungle cat pretending to be
the light between the leaves
she knows this
and she can see that I know she does
is why I am so captivated
and in general-
escaping you was no easy task
my brain erupted with fear,
but when it came to facing you
your voice was all i could hear
"what are you doing darling?"
you whispered, so very close
i really don't want to be here
a face too pale for a ghost
my stomach, tied in knots
your waterfall eyes, began to grow
i am sorry, so very sorry
and then the tears, begun to flow
with small, paced footsteps
i turned to walk away;
to dive back into the ocean
darling, i cannot stay.
I want all the cliches with you
I want the kiss underneath the mistletoe,
I want the kiss on New Year's,
I want to give you roses and chocolate on Valentine's Day,
I want to go egg hunting with you,
I want a picnic, ants and all,
I want to sit and watch the stars,
And I want to kiss your nose when it's cold
But even though I won't get it,
I can still dream can't I?
Dreams are all I have left
They're all I have left.
Bottled up inside
Are the things I never said,
The feelings that I hide,
The lines you never read
You can see it in my eyes,
Read it on my face,
Trapped inside are lies,
Of the past I can't replace
With memories that linger,
And won't seem to go away,
Why can't I be happier?
Today’s a brand new day
Yesterdays are over
Even though the hurting is not,
Nothing lasts forever,
I must cherish what I've got
Don't take my love for granted,
For soon it will be gone,
All you've ever wanted,
Of the love you thought you won
The feelings I have now
Won’t disappear overnight,
But somehow, someway everything will be alright
I'm leaving now
To slay the foe
Fight my battles
High and low
I'm leaving parents
Hear me go
Please wish me luck today
I've grown my wings, I want to fly
Seize my victories where they lie
I'm going guys, but please don't cry
Just let me find my way
I want to see, and touch, and hear,
Though there are dangers, thoughts, and fears,
I'll smile my smiles, and wipe my tears
Please let me speak my say
I'm off to find, my world, my dreams,
Carve my niche, sew my seams
Remember as I sail my seas,
I'll love you all the way
dots riddle my face
for what looks like a game in a child's activity book
hiding from the world
feeling scarred and broke
these blemishes make up me
some are physical and most our mental
but still every one is so judgmental
they say society is ugly
then I must be society
i feel them stare as walk past
not wanting any moment to last
for every battle i win, a war awaits me
i see the beauty of the sun
just to watch the darkness of the night take over
confidence is key
but where's the lock
these blemishes make up me
some are physical and most our mental
but still every one is so judgmental
i wake up every morning to to rest again
dreading the hours to past
locked up in my own chain
getting called cute or hot
only lasts a moment
while i remember the ugly within
I am the oak bent or' and aged
That once stood brave as natured raged
the lines were drawn the battle staged
and man with time compassion caged
I am the field scarred by each track
that shared the weight of soldiers pack
and too felt pain from shell and flak
and those gone forth no more came back
I am the breeze scented with death
as noxious gas inhaled as breath
sent young men blind without the f
and yet their leaders ears were deaf
I am the rain washed or their blood
and roused the poppies from their bud
to honour all whom fought for good
but died before they ever should
I am the cross the epitaph
the stolen kiss the chance to laugh
when young men walked the broken path
of anguish and the aftermath
I am the note that says beware
tread lightly here with tender care
for fresh eyed boys with features fair
bore arms for you now your weight bare
I am the oak with shrapnel scars
that guides their souls to waiting stars
where commoners prop up the bars
toasting their faith with three hoorars
Everyone journeys to be more but stuck in the struggle
Some desire love while others chase dreams
Careers that others told them would never happen
Obsessed and determined to more
Stuck with less deep down you can be the best
Limits and held back all you want to do is breakout
Feeling good others poison the mind with doubt
Stand tall others want to see you fall
Broken within hide the pain keeping busy not lost in thought
Shattered memories remain that one wants to relive
With the good comes the bad everything will be fine
Be happy over sad moments stuck in tim
Tell me how to hold you
Tell me how to care
Please, confide in me
Your secrets wont you share?
Don't just walk away
I can see the pain in your eyes
Don't say you're okay
Stop feeding me lies
I see the way they treat you
You walk with your head hung low
You're sweating and you're shaking
You think I don't know?
I want to stop the hurting
I want to end your grief
You're not worthless
Trust in my belief
Your smile dazzles in any lighting
You're always gentle with your touch
You're amazing to me
I hope that's not too much
I want to make you happy
I want to make you dance
I want you to live
And this may be my last chance
Sing with me to the heavens
Let's close our eyes with prayer
And when I wake up tomorrow
I really hope you're there
You're everything I wish to be
And I'm nothing at all
You're everything I'll ever need
And I'm nothing you'll ever want
And sure, you say you love me now,
But what about tomorrow?
What happens when we go back to school
And everyone's cold stares follow?
I'm scared --Scared of losing you
To someone else's selfish desires
But for now, listen when I call you in the dark
Be my lover --Be my fire
Keep me warm in the cold the late nights bring
Shed your light down upon me,
Show me the paths I must take to your heart
So that I may steal it for myself
Because I know that if it isn't me,
It'll be someone else
A thought I cannot comprehend enough
To even write about
I guess what I'm trying to say
I don't care how many glances get shot our way
It doesn't matter if your mind changes
And it's okay to make many mistakes
As long as its we who face them
Be my lover --Be my fire
Be my everything and know
That you are my selfish desire
And nothing I'm ever letting go
I know you said you'd never leave.
But I can't trust that cause so did he.
I was going to be with him forever.
That was my dream.
He would be my king.
And I his queen.
For the love that he gave me.
Was just as ours.
We were happy together
Until his popularity grew large.
He was too got for me,
The shy, sad, bother to the world.
I wanted so badly to be good enough for him
So I changed myself completely just to fit in.
In the blink of an eye I was gone.
I would never be found again.
I tried to be happy for as long as could be.
But every one could tell it really wasn't me.
He became my everything.
I breathed him in and held him for as long as I could.
But the thing about inhaling a substance
Is eventually you have to exhale.
And our exhale was sudden and scary.
It was the cough that gets stuck in your throat.
I held it in anyway. Through the cough and the pain
And for that I'm sorry
I held on for too long when clearly you didn't want me anymore.
That is my only regret with him.
That and falling too fast
And as long as I live
I'll remember what he did and I'll never be the same
And the words I love you will never come out of my mouth again
So thank your dear old friend for what he did to me
Because now our love is tarnished.
I guess we weren't meant to be
She waits for the school bus with her younger sister and a few others. The weather is warm and dry, clear blue and white clouds in the sky. Elaine knows he'll be on the bus; she's thought of nothing else, but that, since she woke that morning. Even on the loo, she thought about him; about how he had kissed her the day before; about how it was her first kiss from a boy, brushing of lips, not pressed hard. Over breakfast, she sat eating the breakfast her mother had prepared for her, thinking of him, mouthing the cereal, seeing him in her mind’s eye. As she washed after breakfast, she had him in mind, wondering if he would want to kiss her again that day, wondering if she'd let him or if she should. She had dressed slow, him in mind, taking her time, having borrowed her mother's old fashion scent, put on underwear, bra, blouse, skirt and white ankle socks and sat gazing at herself in the mirror, looking through her just cleaned with spittle, spectacles. She looked frumpish. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her head, raised her chin, gazed. She was so shy it hurt. Not then, while looking at herself in the mirror, but when she was with others, and they were gazing at her, or talking to her or at or about her. Teachers could make her cry, by just a stern look or words bellowed at her. Her stomach churned; nerves, she supposed, going once more to the loo, shutting the door, locking it, sitting. A book was on the shelf. Her father's book of butterflies. He kept it there to view while on the loo. He had a room full of books. Most beyond her understanding. She took the book down; the dust jacket was torn. She opened it up and randomly looked at the pictures. What was the butterfly, John had said about? She tried to recall, but she couldn't, there were so many. She closed the book and put it back on the shelf. The bus was coming around the bend in the road, thoughts of the morning at home, vanish in a wave of nerves that grips her stomach. The bus stops and the door opens. She waits with her sister and the others, then boards the bus herself. She feels self-conscious, aware that others are gazing at her as she makes she way along the aisle of the bus, to the seats, where she and her sister, usually sit. Some one says, Hello, Frumpy, and there is scattered laughter, she blushes, looks at the floor as she walks on, tries to focus, knowing he is on the other side of the aisle, maybe looking at her, maybe not. The normal chatter resumes, the radio is blasting out a pop song, she sits by the window, looks out, gets herself comfortable, undoes her coat. Her sister chats to friends nearby, laughter, giggles, loud voices. Is he looking? She stares out the window. The bus moves away, hedges, trees and fields, pass by quickly. She wonders about him. Is he there? has he come today? She wants to look and see, but can't get her head to turn. The scene changes quickly: hedges, fields, cottages, birds in flight, a tractor in a field, a road, sheep, cows, and a man by a fence. Is John looking over his seat at her? Have a look. No, I can't. Go on. No I can't. She fidgets, moves in the seat, pulls at her skirt, adjusts her bra that's tight. Some one sings along to the song on the radio. Her sister joins in. Life and soul of. Have a look. Casually. She pushes her toes to the top of her shoes. Presses hard. She pushes her hands in between her thighs. Feels anxious. Feels the need to pee come on; nerves that’s all, nothing more. Ignore, think of something else. That morning, as she washed under her arms, she noticed, what seemed for the first time, hairs, dark, curly, under her armpits. She'd not noticed before. Not cared more like. But now she did see them, and thought: he might see. How? Going to show him your armpits and say look at these hairs, John? She blushed as she soaped, rinsed and dried. And lower down, where he mother had said to keep clean and fresh, she noticed, as if it had grown over night, pubic hairs. She tried not to notice usually; pretended they weren't there, as she had once tried to ignore, the first swellings on her chest, the bulb-like swellings that worried her, until her mother, under her breath, said: they're your breasts, all girls get them eventually; it means you’re becoming a woman. What a burden. She wasn't sure she wanted to become a woman, she told her mother. No choice in the matter, her mother said, smiling. She hates the long bus ride to school; hates the chatter, laughter, music bellowing, snorts and giggles. Is he looking? Have a quick gaze. No, I can't. Should she? Just a quick glimpse, turn of her head, a innocent turn and look. What if he's looking at her and she blushes red as a spanked backside? No, best not to. Pretend we don't care. Look at the passing view. When she had undressed for bed the night before, and stood there, staring at herself in the tall mirror, she thought herself frumpy. She stood there gazing. Her sister asleep. Stood looking at her face. The glasses, her eyes, large and dark. Her nose, flattish, broad. Her mouth, too wide, like a fish grinning. She had made a kissing sound. Pursed her lips. Some one laughs on the bus; she looks around, Goldfinch, the boy next to John, guffaws noisily, but John has his head turned towards the window, unconcerned. She sits and studies the top of his head, the hair, the turn of head, half profile, glimpse. As she removed her bra the night before, as she prepared for bed, she unclipped the back fiddly bits, and let it slip away; her breasts feeling free, warm, and just there, waiting, a fully fledged nature study. She had dressed quickly, pretended they weren't hers. She was stepping out of her comfort zone. She looks out of the window, the passing scene: trees, hedges, fields, hills, rabbits, cows and onward. She closes her eyes. Tries not to think of her bladder calling. Pushes her hands deeper between her thighs. Shuts out sounds, laughs, chatter, music, snorts and giggles. She sees behind her closed eyes, the kiss again, him kissing her on the sports field, the day before. Feels it still. The slight touch of lips. Brushing skin on skin. And his hand, where had that been? One on her arm, holding her nearer to him, the other, touching her back, her spine, fingers walking downwards. The touch, lips, warm, wet, and she opens her eyes, and feels a rush of feelings, along her nerves, spine, arms and legs, and her stomach churns, her heart thumps wildly as if it's her last. But none has seen, none has felt. Her sister still talks, Goldfinch sits and gabbles, and John, he sits unaware, that she is burning wildly, inwardly, a rush of electricity rushes along her nerves, a glow down below, her mind is confused and alive, and she sitting there with that: I'm out of my comfort zone, scared look and soft moan.
I held you so close
The stitches of our clothes hissed with envy;
Turning white fibres a subtle vomit-green.
Like we poisoned them with our
Whispers, desperate toes curling,
Fingers gripping bed posts
With the earthy sound of sleepy wood chipping.
And teeth on skin,
Back bones bucking upwards to eachother
From neck-nibbles that spread like wildfire.
But that's just it,
You are wildfire.
You spread from limb to limb,
With all but a flicker and a heavy sigh,
And I'm helpless when you set me alight.
Nought but the deepest pain could bring me
To part with your smoky husk
And fiery hips,
And all the ways you find your way inside me.
I wish I could tell you it was a Thursday,
Maybe give the beginning of our extra load a concrete date.
But I can't tell you it was Thursday and I
Can't tell you it wasn't.
Sometimes I'm glad the devil is in the details
Because then with me he'll never be found.
I know I should be able to tell you how my
Bones felt that day will all that new weight,
But honestly they feel the same today.
I swear the palms of my hands look too thin for the
Weight of my world,
My fingers too short to count the number of
Times I've been unsure how much longer
My legs can go.
But where my body fails my heart wont,
And though sometimes strength dictates that
The words I can't write leave paper cuts beneath my nails,
I swallow every word for safekeeping.
I'd give them back if I had any pounds to lose,
But I don't worry anymore for the safety of
The pages choked down,
Because I don't need a bookmark to remember
Where to add in more,
That is what my heart is for.
i drove into one of those famous tunnels beneath the Chesapeake
under a freighter that lumbered in its foggy distance,
still off about half a mile
i thought the kids might get a kick out of this experience
but they were busy in the rear view mirror,
snared in silent worlds of mini screen devices i bought to see them smile
there's only static on the radio now, like no more bourbon left in the bottle
and you're so quiet
this is my life - the thrumming dented van within a sterile white tile fortress,
ears on verge of popping
i hear humming tires, the thumps of each heart beat
trapped inside, heterodyned
the waters are still as time walks over them
with hushed footsteps, tentative and scared
the quietly pale whispered morning mist
covers the dawn in a blushing glow
the trees rustle a slowly brilliant melody
green to green
a red sun rising
a red sun rises
a red sun hangs suspended in the air like magic
clouds pass by, here lies shadow and shade
sounds of an expanse too great to fathom
tickle my ears and fill my stomach
the grass grows up and curls between my toes
green to green
a red sun setting
a red sun sets
the thin golden veil left when the sun leaves flows like melting butter
the evening is slashed apart by speeding cars
with hands saying takemehometakemehome
sing to me the universe, a dinnertime serenade
as the day bleeds into darkness
gold to deep blue
a black moon rising
a black moon rises
the night is an unrequited love moved deeply by stardust
it shifts like the undersea, pulled back by the moon
midnight greetings to those up above this ocean
mother points her finger to make circles in the stream
bask in the glory of a melancholy sky
gold to deep blue
a black moon fading
a black moon fades
the waters are still as time walks over them
Imagine if the nativity
Took place now instead of then
With technological advancement
It'd be on the news at ten
In fact it would make youtube
A film clip at the stable
Taken by a shepherd boy
Underneath a table
The three wisemen would go on Skype
The gifts would be en route
No need to travel all the way
With the traffic in Beirut
Phone banks would be all set up
To raise funds for the birth
The internet would be a buzz
With the greatest news on earth
No camels, inns or drummer boys
There'd be no one there at all
The Angel of The Lord would be
Black Friday shopping at the mall
In fact I do not think that it
Would be a deal that we would follow
Social media and the press
Would make it all seem hollow
I'm glad it happened when it did
As time has come to pass
With Jesus in a manger
And wisemen there en masse
I don't think it'd be Christmas
If Christ was born today
Without a cd or a movie deal
Or a sport that he would play
Christmas is...and always will
Be the story we were told
I'm glad it didn't happen now
If I may be quite so bold
Unto man a child was born
And he, the son of God....
i never thought i'd be this person
addict; stealing, stealing, stealing
say it out loud, mom
your daughter is an addict
i'm not saying its your fault you couldn't have known
but you neglected your pills; you left them alone
and i couldn't resist the temptation
seen it on tv. heard it in songs. oxy
three letters consumed me.
one taste; i was in love
god, the high
the high it was like
heaven heaven heaven
but soon, two wasn't enough
and thus came the first increased dose
three four five now six
snort them, baby. the burn!
obsessed with the burn
and my glazed eyes, god you could see the ocean
but the comedown was hell
even more so because i was used to heaven
it was hard for me to comedown
keep poppin' em so you're always up
always in the clouds
you wont understand that metaphor
unless you've been there;
unless you've seen yourself floating
surrounded by white; high
I was born forgotten, and grew up alone.
But i always saw an ambient light shining down on me..
I can feel the pain in people's hearts and cry for them.
I can't cry for myself..
abandoned, judged, and forgotten, yet smiling like i have everything in the world..
and suffering on the inside..
I was born forgotten...and grew up alone..
But i still found a way to give people there happiness..
I never gave up..
at a young age i knew everyone deserves to smile..
I was born forgotten.. and grew up alone...
of course i had "friends".
but i also had a best friend
he knew me so well and i loved him dearly.
he's always been there..
I was born forgotten...and grew up alone..
My bestfriend died..
but i still smile..
thats a plus right?
i'm so strong..
i can still help people..
I was forgotten and growing up alone...
I have a new bestfriend..
but he understands me..
he gives me the best advice..
"die, your better off"
"i can't, not until i've helped everyone find there happiness "
I'm dying forgotten and will die alone.
depressed says im stubborn..
i tell him to fuck off..
he says no one loves me..not even her..
i tell him but i do..
depressed says i should stop trying..
I tell him i still have to help..
I'm forgotten and alone..
I'm giving up now..
depression introduced me to death but he just understands himself..
that's probably why he has alot of friends..
i want friends..
death says he will be my friend..
i was born forgotten... and died alone...
death is waiting..
but there are still people crying..
i know im better off...
but i can still help..
or maybe not.
i like artists
artists of all kinds
artists of words
artists of colour
artists of thoughts
they're the civilisation
they're the world
they're the visionaries
the hearts of gold
an artist is the one with the voice
the radiance of the sun
the summer in your eyes
the lover in disguise
the hurt in the dark
the tears and the smiles
an artist hides deep down
the one who lives in pain and shame
they say artists will never survive
i say artists are the reason we're still alive
Following in the footsteps
of a lady dressed in white
not quite day
not quite night
We reach a pearly car
pop open the trunk
Startled by the cow skull
then she howls at the moon
I do too
as if our savage
want to be
you are no one
darling i'm lost
you are the only one that has my back
and you are no one
I hear the echoes of all the laughter of these times i forgot to enjoy
in every half-step between breath and anxiousness.
I know you will remember that i loved you all until it hurt
and that helps to alleviate the guilt of making it my aim to miss.
I can't help felt, i crash standing up
between the spaces of my grace and shamelessness
I have left up to my haphazard luck
and you are no one
a howl in the night maybe
you are a ghost
that only whispers in my ear
when i've lost all sense of self-control
and i've become no one
you know I know you did it
darling i'm drunk
and i know you know i'll just forget it
because we are no one
Let me whisper you a world spread in open-palm
and lay you wide-pictures etched in cobble-stone
till your feet find their way in the wake of alt-time
Let me grow you orchards on margins of probabilities
and capture breezy-smiles to place upon your sleeve
till illumined-steps of afternoon crumble before angels
Let me turn the planets on fingertip high upon wheel-rim
and show you matte mirror-lakes of superb-chances
till the evening-sky feels the shy-tiptoe of moon-kiss
please… let me….?
S T - 4 dec 13
Inspired by kate bush song.
even if you (ever) go away in the afternoon
I will wait for you
even in the next time
the odds are.. evening out
I lost myself
in all of my sorrows
I forgot who I was
I forgot what I stood for
I forgot why people liked being around me
I forgot how it feels to feel happy with myself
I forgot how it feels to be able to look in the mirror
Without shedding tears that could produce an ocean
I forgot what I promised myself
I forgot what it felt like to exist
I forgot what it felt like to be cared for
I forgot what it felt like to feed off of true love
not the love in intimate relationships
but the love of my family and friends
I became so focused on artificial love
I was addicted to it
But every time I loved
They'd tell me I wasn't enough
One boy even told me I should never feel love
because I don't deserve it
Another told me that I was an item
And the one after that told me he loved me
He made me feel like I was finally worth something
But then, he just left
and I promise all of you
that when I do something wrong
or when I'm telling a story of a fight or a breakup
I list the things that I did wrong as well
I'm never biased with my side of the story
But when I tell you
I did nothing but try
I mean it
I was just being myself
and I guess that's where I went wrong
And I've heard all the advice before
"You need to learn to be independent"
"You need to stop falling so fast"
"You need to stop giving yourself up"
I know all of these things, I really do
But I don't think they understand how hard it is
to walk with broken legs
to breathe in polluted air
to exist without a purpose
to love but never be worth it
As I lay in the bedroom,
My own personal confinement'
in which I oh so willingly created for myself,
I feel myself on fire,
My hands shaking out of utter frustration,
fighting every tear welling up in my eyes with all that I have left of my sense of mind,
But for what reason?
to be strong,
to reassure myself,
I ask myself what use is it to be strong if your utterly alone,
With no one to care weather your strong or not,
So I let go,
but just for a moment,
I allow myself to remember the pain,
the memories I locked away,
hoping someday they would cease to exist,
The troubling feelings that twist my heart and bring me to my knee's
letting out slow puffs of breath I calm my emotions,
wipe the water from my eye's ,
clear the tortured expression that once lay on my face,
I leave the moment and enter back into the world I made myself believe in,
I pretend to be strong.
Tell me your dreams
The desires for which you so
Tell me so I can see the burning passion
in your piercing eyes
The sparkles that shine so prominently
Tell me your fears
The nightmares where dreaded creatures lurk in the
darkness, attempting to penetrate your mind
Tell me so I can prevent those common shadows before
they befuddle and torment you
The burning fury they obtain when they engulf you
at your most vulnerable state
Tell me how your mind works
The intricate way for which those wonderful
thoughts of yours flow
Tell me how to be so magically profound about
life, time, and death
The ways of straying away from reality to catch
a glimpse of paradise
Tell me the forbidding truth about my unfortunate path
The cold, naked, and abandoned road for which
I have regrettably travelled upon
Tell me that paradise is at the bottom of a trench
And I shall allow myself to fall, so that my life
shall perish happily upon landing in paradise
The corpse lied untouched,
In the crepuscular light,
her shadow enkindled.
Her kins stood panic-stricken.
Her fidelity was being questioned.
It was time now for the sun to set.
The birds were finding there way.
And the darkness was about descend like everyday
The shadows seemed to be taking over the grimaced faces
But she however,
Was trying to resurrect her soul.
This was the epitome of her infatuation.
But she had always been an Ailurophile,
words are better on paper and candlelight
the smell of ink and crisp turns of pages white
the binding creaks and soul writ in
this screen is not the same thing friend
it's maddening for this phone to change my words
ah, how often it does so
as if it knows
as if it grows
what could it show
when has itself,
alone so rowed
of feelings felt
or horrors shown
or magick felt
or fury spoke
or walked along a razors edge
hanging on by just a thread
or strained beyond all known thought
or had a thought that wasn't taught
or quenched a lust
so fervent wrought
or plagued its mind
with glory sought
or told a tale
that others'd not
what a soul
that this thing's got
So what if you think I'm crazy
No phase if you can't handle me
I'm too honest for anybody's games
"Jennaveve, is that..your real name?"
No it's not, it's Jenny from the block
Work two jobs always looking at the clock.
If you want, I'd take a pit stop road trip.
Anywhere but don't make it so quick.
This is where I list off a bunch of places I'd rather be. Nothing different just different faces I'd rather see. Venice, California or Lanikai, Hawaii
I write a lot but once n a while these trapped thoughts convey messages that ought to be taught.
This rap is only half through.
For a white girl it's kind of hard to do.
Nahhh it's not being racist is inside of a box,
it's closed, locked, sealed up tight.
Only open minded people
can see daylight in the night.
"Or rides the night train
all the way to the light"-said Mr. Ahmad
I've learned that there may not be a God
And that everyone has there quirky little flaws
. But flaws are perfect to work with cause that's what's unique. Just speak the words though they come out bleak. Honesty filled with lies are more common than you think. But there is no truth, only what you live and see.
Alone midst my wayward thoughts, upon the caravel of agony
A storm among the twisted seas with wrath had drew upon me
Fastened between my linen sheets which purpose served me dryly
I shiver in the heartless night waiting for death to crawl upon thee
My wishes ever poisonous with malicious intent meant only to beseech you
To return as a creature of the night, but in spite the knife, the knife!
The one which impales with strife upon the meaning of fight
The weapon of an imp suddenly is thrust upon me meant to take a life!
But could I simply take this man, who's family awaits back in our mother land
Yet here he rests in sweet slumber and I must fear not to linger
Or be caught in the act of murder, my conscious flees me, my body violently disagrees
Is something so vital as this my right? But the choice is mine in hindsight
Before the curtains of the night, draw back and release the hellish light
Upon my skin revealing my plight, leaving me in clear sight
It is truly judgement I fear, from the devilish eyes of the venire
Ignorance flees, all is clear, the right direction, the path appears
For now at the end of the pole, looking thousands of feet below
I see a shadow of a man, and I know I am the one to go
I take my life.