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
and i was forced into the shadows
unable to use my voice
it was taken
arrested by the bitterness
and the hopelessness that
i would feel empty forever.
and emotional court was present
i was a the only witness, a witness unable to give statements
but i saw it all
i saw what you did to her
you tore out her heart
a heart already suffering from wounds
was fully shattered
and for once in my life
i hated you.
i couldn't bare the thought of your selfish
i wanted nothing more then to hurt you
but revenge, you see
is no way to fight back.
i want to see the guilt
and the shame
slowly tear you apart
so your left with no one and nothing.
and to the utmost worst
i want you feel to deep
because i've seen your kind
you continue to live your lives
under the impression that people move on from betrayal.
sanity is rare
but i can't spare yours.
for you are nothing more
then a killer.
Fingers and thumbs tapping out messages
so many texts written, so many read, smiles apart
faces, eyes, feelings, never shared
music videos; lips and music separate
empty sounds, never tugging the heart strings.
Thumbs and fingers keying in distance
so much data, so little experience shared, time apart
laptops, smart phones, processing emptiness
unfeeling, sampling blandness, subtleties lost
empty words, crowding our lives.
Curves, flowing lines and spaces, passion
squashed out are the senses
sweat and smells, laughter lost.
All in the empty kingdom of bits and bytes
reigned by the gods of technology
the mantra being faster, faster
all fingers and thumbs in the affairs of the heart.
As surely as we are propelled forward
back to the dark ages
the dark castles of aloneness
Empty words, lost in the cells of our separation
all fingers and thumbs.
My Team, My Dream, My Buckeyes
The Ohio State Buckeyes
Each year their games I view
My team still undefeated
And ranked at number two
We now must play a team up north
But not the maize and blue
We beat that rival of our school
Now we'll beat the green ones too
With the game this week that we must play
We know one team must fall
With Buckeye Pride and heads held high
We will sing our victory song
The champion who will win this game
Will wear the Big Ten crown
They will give to them a trophy
And a parade for all in town
Then one more game that we must play
To be the number one of all
As college football champions
We will raise that Chrystal Ball
Go Bucks.... O. H. _. _.
THE Ohio State University
Carl Joseph Roberts
I've always felt that those I love are most beautiful in the morning
When they first awaken, their eyes puffy and their hair disheveled
Red marks from the blankets sketched across their skin
In those moments
Unaware of their surroundings for a brief moment
Newborns to the day
Before they put on their faces
Before they put on their clothes
Their identities to the world
You get a glimpse of this sweet, innocent child living inside of them
A glimpse of this person, in their most raw state
That's how I know I love you,
You're beautiful when you're vulnerable
Adorable when you're ugly.
Kiss your girl in thick of it,
The lush green chaotic knot of jungle,
Kiss her all night long,
To the tune of the hyenas' choral screech,
Take your girl to the river bank,
And spoon water into her parched mouth,
Point out the flocks of gulls that come to rest,
Near the hyenas across the pond, who wait for you.
Sit with your girl on the cliff tops,
And watch the amber sunlight pour into the clouds,
Kiss her perfect lips,
And ignore the hyenas' stares.
Walk your girl to the open plains,
And mishear her calling you her boy,
For the hyenas' are far too distracting.
Leave her there, for them.
I will listen, if you have something not nothing to say that can grab my attention
like a bear snatching salmon, I will listen to the information you chain together
and sprinkle into the air if that sprinkle can sparkle
However, If that sprinkle cannot sparkle yet is sprinkled nonetheless, I will smoothly acquiesce
stealing my future time and progress, to hearing your sprinkled nonsense.
For words left unheard can stain one’s terrain,
inside their mind where vulnerable thoughts formulate
and like a club they congregate They seep through every crack
and they weep with all the lack, of strength and inner willpower you solemnly accept is not there.
But you’re dreadfully wrong! Enough force to move mountains lies within your bag of tricks
yet you’re still focusing on a whining stair you need to fix.
The whine in the coal mine echoing for days
it’s been your voice all along finding its way through the maze,
of minerals and fears buried in the rubble, excavating through has been causing you some trouble.
Breathe as if this oxygen is sweet and pure, breathe as if you feel relief and sure
Patience wafts inside you not causing a stir, but in content, a peaceful breeze, an all knowing powerful cure.