Known for original, and I won’t replicate them.
Today’s sun is gone, still got the moon.
But why so soon? I’m tired of this tune.
My heart’s been broke, too many, too much.
Pain finally made me numb..or perhaps I’m just at peace..
Turn off the clock, turn on my watch..
Let me escape with only some scotch
Dim the lights, only a notch..
Don’t feel a thing, not even a sting
What will this bring? A heart break till spring..
Finally went numb..or perhaps I’m just at peace
Sometimes you strike me as a
Somewhat crumpled up
Stumbling on and swaying-
A product of all those
And of all those sleepless nights
Preparing for them
Unsure how to open and close
Your mouth properly.
And sometimes you strike me as alive.
Like you wanted it this way.
You trained your body to be
To allow your spirit
More room to
Dance with the beams of light
That lap at your heels
Cheap dirty playground from youth.
don't mean maybe
here i come
slap the baby
hear me screaming
now i'm breathing
the proud parents
it is chilly
named me mike
instead of billy
before you know it
kind of shy
don't you blow it
because of dad
friends i had
plus the weather
all i had
took no time
skin to leather
from the color
here's the years
full time friends
part time lovers
a few times
things got drastic
drank to much
worked on fattening
mom and dad
were not laughing
as they begged
on their knees
find a job
so you can leave
i joined in
with no war
not too scary
found a girl
we got married
had some kids
now it's scary
lost my job
lost my dime
found a job
things are fine
the prime of life
with the kids
still at home
things are moving
from the left
to the right
that's the story
of my life
papa remember when you used to spin stories out of gold thread
the thread that came from your teeth
it wove me a blanket so i could fall soundly asleep
papa remember when late on a summer night
we danced to music that was alive and wafted in the warm breeze like night blooming jasmine
sweet, and crawling up your nose and infecting your head
papa remember when you said you’d call
that was last year
and that same song came back on and I was surprised to find tears sneaking up
burning canals into my cheeks
because you told me goodnight
and never said good morning again
because you left in my god damned
don’t you just hate it
when someone repeats your…
because THEY failed to read
the infinity minus one
then all the souls
who read that cherished verse
will not know YOU
had such a colossal corner
on the market of “truth”
all the devotees
will follow the newer sages
(FURTHER down the pages)
without regard for
the accumulated wisdom
you were so willing to share
YOUR avatar got the
eternal divine credit)
don’t you just hate it?
On January 1, 2013, I decided that I was actually going to try something that I found on pintrest. The instructions were simple. You start off the year with an empty jar, and when something good happens, you write it down on a piece of paper and put it in the jar. Then, on New Year's Eve you open the jar and read about all of the good things that happened in 2013.
My jar is pretty filled up, even though this year hasn't been the best. Most of what I wrote to myself was clichè "never give up" crap. Just because I thought I would feel more hopeless in January than I did in April. But then summer flew by, and as the new school year approached, I thought that I wouldn't need those words anymore. I had found some people that made me really happy, and I thought that the search for inner peace, and a place to belong was over. But... somehow I let everything fall apart, and now things are worse than they have ever been.
I broke the pintrest rules. Today I got desperate enough to open the jar for reassurance that things can be okay. that things do change. Who knows? Today is December 3, 2013, and I'm extremely lost, but maybe I can find myself again before The New Year. I still have time left. This year doesn't have to end in flames.
Think of me not as some maritime devotion,
born upon the salt, suspended in the air,
our friendship but a spit of land, a temporal
bank set upon its tidal death through erosion.
Tarry not on your scattered desk of grey matter.
The folded notes and pencil shavings you horde,
in the sorry hope they’ll fall to a collage of memoirs
and make sense of all this, their endless chatter.
They talk in circles, double-dealing confidants,
so free of tongue, yet so confined in spirit.
In haste they claim unto you their longing
for the fame, the glamour of the on-screen debutants.
Still stubbornly, you cling to those memories anew.
A memory of a memory, a doctored past is
a game of whispers, to colour in the grey,
to fill beauty in the present, to set ourselves askew.
So you rest with sad grace, thinking on what’s gone.
You make a bed and twist in the sheets of old deceptions,
your pillow case of cigarette ash, wasted petals;
instead, old friend, here are my words to lay upon.
So think of me not as some wasted emotion,
born upon the haze, a clinch of jutting bones,
our friendship but a stretch of truth, a temporal
face set to fade, in all of life’s commotion.
Night, the oldest of mysteries
settles, spreading like hunger.
A pall of mist
shrouding over the world.
Siren sounds and firefighters,
drunken brawls, and
Eyes of wonder asleep,
emerging out of
the network of shadows
Stray nuggets of light
also reach the eyes shut
Furtive shadows of passion,
elsewhere. Muffled joys;
Shades of bottle-grey.
faint. Raspy owl-calls,
In the deep, secret
rites of initiation.
Somewhere in the far
the stars and
the broken moon peep in.
Old song on a highway truck.
Courtyards in the distance,
little lamps adorning the hills.
Thumping away, the waning
music of the discotheque.
Still developing this piece, more abstractions needed...
Poetry died a gut-shot coyote
Chewing at its own entrails
Which is to say, it starved
At an academic outhouse, where
Deceased professors presented each other awards
For most original use of masturbation and italics
A snuffed torch, passed to vanilla infants
Who write in text-speak and snores
About high school vampires winking at werewolves
A tragedy for the ages
A most unfortunate eulogy
That ran between two late night infomercials
Sent from my iPad
I'm hoping you have no doubts I'm writing this to and about you. : )
Thank you for finally letting me know you know I'm alive.
Just thinking about talking to you makes the butterflies go crazy.
My heart beats skips a beat when I see you around town and I
swear it's strictly by accident. I'm not actively following you around.
I haven't been to sleep because I'm up thinking about you
but not in the sick and twisted Bardo way of stalking then killing.
I haven't been searching for your address or where you hang
out like that anonymous lunatic posting that on Craigslist forum.
I still want your phone number but only if you want to give it.
You asked the impossible melting snow against weatherman's
predictions and you got this hold over me like I never felt before.
Are you a keeper of unworldly secrets of magic or someone who is
quite lovely and is just plain an extraordinarily special and gifted lady?
I'd like to discover that for myself if you would agree to meet me at
Little Bohemia it's aka Lil Bo's by us locals to hear a Jazz band.
It's a public place and I heard it through the grapevine you popped
in a few times but I can't say that's true, I wasn't there and it's hear say.
Person said you entered alone but didn't sing and it looked like
you were having a good time being a chatty patty and hearing the band.
The more I get to know about you lady the more I want to discover.
You got a wish and mine is not as impossible as yours I'm hoping.
I want in my life a lady like you who oozes confidence when she enters
a room and when she's being chatted up by complete strangers.
I will be in the parking lot watching the door and enter if you enter.
Hoping to see you Friday night and hoping to see that gorgeous smile.
Hoping you agree to meet me but if not I will keep on hoping for that.
Can't write poetry well,
haven't ever given it much thought,
really haven't been able to figure out my voice in it,
i guess it doesn't have to be for me,
still it irks me,
I'll still give it a shot,
Like I do with many hobbies in my life,
obviously I should settle on one,
very certain that I'm stretching myself too thin,
everyone has their strong points,
You are definitely mine,
often I find myself laughing to myself,
utterly aware of how lucky I am,
To have someone like you,
one who I can be myself with,
one that is truly a dingus (which is a-okay).
Our minds are what create our stress, our doubt, our fear, our anxiety, our questions. More times than I can count have I wished for silence within just so I can see & hear clearly without any preconceived notions. I want to live my life through feeling! I don't want logic or "morals" to control my way of living... I want to act based on feelings, not based on what I think or what others think. I want my heart & my emotions to drive this soul of mine. Not many people do, which is why I know certain people were placed in my life. I'm sorry if at times my cluttered mind gets the best of me & creates chaos, but I swear it's only bc this fist of blood that pounds in my chest is begging to take over.
Sweet songstress of turmoil
You grabbed ahold
Of my soul
Long long ago
And your grip keeps tightening
The moon won't hide us
The stars won't save me
It's beautiful and frightening
black birds circling
you'll be dead by night
but you close in
showered by dim light
the way you sway
I'm willing prey
I'll die a thousand
you chill me to the bone
more so than I've ever known
for that slow
at your mercy
of the fall
at your claws
My heart is cold. It had been previously overheated, by emotions that my mind took in like sweet ecstasy only to spit these emotions out like sour milk. My body learned to stare at the milk carton, and no longer have the urge to drink the liquid that is perfectly fine. Expiration date: five weeks from now. But no, ever since I drank that sour glass, I can’t be emotional anymore. I want to sympathize and empathize, but only with you. Because here, empathy could be easy and sympathy would be natural. But, all I want to feel is you. I want to feel the shape of your thoughts. I want to be constricted to you and only you. You’re the only milk I’ll ever drink. You’re today, tomorrow, and yesterday. You’ve told me that your father is an alcoholic. He would get drunk off wine, and you called him a “pussy”. You always stare into my eyes before we conform to each other’s bodies and say “Why are you always so sad”. My response is never fulfilling, and I’m sure you want to know about me, but I’m not ready to tell me story, so tell me yours. Your father is an addict. He had a difficult childhood and grew up to be a man, both hated and praised. Your mother had breast cancer and back surgery, but why? Maybe I don’t even need to know about your parents, what about you? You stare into my pupils and question my ever-present sorrow, so, may I question yours? Why do you shut off your emotions, the same way I do. Why do you remain unaffected by the pain of others? I have tasted the sour milk on my tongue, and I vow to never taste it again. But, when our lips touch, I taste honey and I smell lilac, and I feel home. So tell me, what your story is, please… We feed off each other’s agony and cry in our beds at night, we meet up at midnight so that we don’t feel alone, we rest in the pain that makes us bitter and unkind. I need to know your story, because although I have seen bits and pieces of an overcomplicated puzzle, I need to see the whole picture, and you need to see mine. Please, you’re all I have. Let me taste honey and smell lilac and feel at home, because with you, my heart is warm,
That nefarious disorder that usurps my sleep every night holds the anchors above my head
And once the looming presence creates an unyielding uncomfortable feeling within me-
The anchors are dropped at once as I clutch my heart and watch my life flash by in intense but short clips reflecting off of my irises
Drowning in a waking nightmare consisting of life-altering decisions yet to be made and a ubiquitous, haunting past that never fails to ascertain me, despite the innumerable heat runs I've taken to escape it's chokehold
Wistful versus Wishful thinking keeps an insomniac busy at night- contemplating the universe's unhealthy obsession with showering sullen loads upon my already feeble stature and yearning for a change to form like how the leaves just fled the trees they were accustomed to for so long
Ruminative habits that not even the toughest of diamonds could scratch to erase them from my routine nightly thinking
But I am constantly torn between resenting every constant and vowel meant for you and all of my feckless attempts at achieving perfection
And optimistically hoping for a banishment from all negativity, and acceptance of the elation spreading faster through the airwaves of people open to recognition and reversal
But my anchors are breaking through the floor boards as my weary but restless eyes scan the page for errors and I am cautious in giving them a tug out of fear of a perpetual fall that insists on torturing me through an insomnia-flavored death-to-be
What is to ensue after countless hours of wistful and wishful thinking?
Am I to write until the moisture leaves my fingertips and the blood rushes to my head because my amygdala is housing all of my aggressions and fears, close to explosions upon anything in my vicinity?
Or am I to close my eyes and daydream of better, happier times to arrive at my front doorstep sometime in the near future?
But my overactive thoughts stimulate several situations that could play out, and the ones I decide on making permanent effects in the future are the ones that end with me crying and hopeless
Maybe the life of an insomniac is even worse than people think- it is not the fact that we do not sleep that unnerves us, it is the fact that when we do not sleep, we overthink, and when we overthink, we depress ourselves with all of the outcomes and possibilities that can arise from the most trivial decisions to the most climactic ones
My anchors act as my comforter and hold me tight during my REM sleep when the vivid and electrifying dreams and nightmares play simultaneously like a horror film I am entrapped in
I hone in on the conflict and I am taken away in shackles into dreamland, a world worse than reality
And I cannot lucid dream, so my control, my grip on the direction of the thoughts slips away and the fabrication of my unconscious takes over until I wake up every hour on the hour breathless and sweating
I awake at all the wrong times, on all wrong sides of the bed
And falling back asleep is a difficult task to carry out each time, because of the lack of melatonin that seemed to be crossed of the checklist of necessities of being born
And so the cycle ensues for the next 5 hours
And I continue this routine day in, and day out
This is the life of an Insomniac.
Were I real, I would paint the sky.
Were I alive, I would chase the stars.
Were I plastic, I would never die.
Were I honest, I would be the King of Mars.
But I'm not these, nor am I yours,
for the die had been cast far before
I looked deep into your eyes, entranced,
and unable to perceive any but you.
Time froze for an eternal moment,
then I blinked, causing the world to
return to around me.
Ruination was the path before me,
disguised as promising hope and
potential happiness, so in disregard
I continued forward, blind.
My heart ran ahead, like an excited
child, letting go of my hand, it
raced forward towards wonder
but instead found a broken clock.
It's face cracked and missing glass,
it's arms bent and twisted into mockery,
it's frame warped and weathered,
it's intentions dead and silent.
I lift it up and gaze solemnly,
my reflection broken up by the cracks,
and anger burns through me, my
reflex to throw it away.
But the beauty of it's brokenness
drives human nature home and
I can't release it from my hands
out of violence.
I replace it on the ground for another
to find, for another to hold for a moment,
hoping that soul can maintain it,
can bring some life back to it.
So I fade away into mist and memory,
never suitable and again less than enough,
praying that my heart will hold my hand,
and only leave to be held by an understanding soul.
It's time to shake our money makers
and see if we find any takers
i'm telling you, we're real heartbreakers
we were born to be ass shakers
don't look past my body and face
that would be a total waste
we really know a woman's place
just another wasted case
don't talk to us about intellect
that's a concept that we reject
we let our looks and sensuality reflect
our total mindless neglect
This block that’s been haunting me
I finally know what it is
It’s not that my thoughts have ever ceased to exist
(no matter how hard I wish)
Has never been poetic.
My 4 shots of honesty
Are tucked under unclean bed-sheets
Because I haven’t found a soul
With good enough reason to trust
I work with formulated brushstrokes
My polished softer madness
Because I’ve been told that
This much eye contact makes you
I say things
that you didn't
want to (or know how)
Enough for you to swallow
So shove yours down my throat
with a gleam in your eye
like you actually think
you’ve solved my mystery
have covered up
every last shadow
every vicious glimmer
of your fingerprints
marring the fabric
of my skin
my natural form
is your sin
I shudder to think
That I’m waiting
For my censored text to be read
Waiting for repercussions
Of wounds that I’ve already bled
Is that I blurred through the boundaries
Between memories and lies
That I often can’t remember
What I made up and why
there was so much to
with false nostalgia
and there’s no logic behind that
no reason to
forget how to feel
to go three days
with my eyes glazed
until I can grasp on
to what's real
a patched up framework of sane
and I want to see blood
to feel purpose for pain
Every time my tremors
Shake in new directions
I want to cry because
That’s just one step further away
Was just imagination
until it was dysfunction
and I set fire to my lungs
Because no matter what
I was never good enough
I choke on my breath
And the burn of swallowed blood
out of place
like a breeze to the bone
Dripping past the place that
Your name once called home
I still visit
The grave of a legend
In my body
So heavy with the weight
Of lives I never lived
It was never like
The words I so hopefully drowned in
The promises that
my fears were unfounded
That no one could really
Not like this
Being left to remember your kiss
Nail marks in the palms of clenched fists
Not like fading in and out of dreams
Which reality is this?
Untangling from cold sweats
With the ringing in my ears
Reminding me ruthlessly
That god damnit I’m still here
And you’re gone
I hate that “I miss you”
Is mistaken for cliché
But it’s my truth
It’s my indescribable
My around every corner
Staring me right in the face
Over and over
Your absence impacts like a train
dripping in honey sweet
we were my first us
it's hard to find salvation
foundation gives up
Is sharp breaths
It tastes like
Vomit coming out my nose
Splashing against my skin
It burns a little like
Coming up my throat
And a whole lot less
Than the loneliness
That vacant isolation
That booms so stubborn
Trying to heal
Reminding me that
Summer by summer
I become something
That I wont
be willing to save.
At this point
I'm not sure what I crave.
it feels like thunder
on the horizon
of my intangible
you are so much more
than a metaphor
for how perspective
but my story
was never about you
birthed from ashes
your favourite taboo
Better than me
Is that what you are?
Better than me,
Is what you should be.
Your knees wobble, it’s all I see.
Your voice quivers, giving me shivers.
As I cringe,
I need you to be, better then me.
My walls are crumbled
As your words grow jumbled,
I stand there with you,
In front of the crowd.
Seems so loud
As you face
My fear with grace.
WE are the dear
Caught in a headlight,
I feel the cold
Of the lonesome night.
I feel the sweat drip
Down my face,
I feel a disgrace
As I quicken my pace.
But i need you to see
You are better than me.
This is inspired by the bravery that it takes to stand infront of a crowd and show something you have created. It highlights that public speaking, at least infront of highschoolers, is a big fear and weakness of mine. It also highlights the empathy and solidarity I feel with people who feel the same way as I do when they stand up there, next to that microphone.
The reason I fell so hard
Was because I thought
That you were a guy
Not a girl spinning me
Into her web of lies
You seemed genuine
And I fell for you
But now your words
Have no meaning
wrote this months ago. seems relevant still.
I own an ugly sweater
It has tatters and tears
And holes everywhere
From the missing tag
That’s been savagely clawed and cut out
Why companies make them so scratchy
I have yet to find out.
Cheese grader sized holes
From where hungry moths attacked
For their personal enjoyment
Or a midnight snack.
A perfectly good sweater
And being prone to sharp corners
Don’t pair well together
Just ask my unraveling thread
That’s been caught onto edges
And hideously snagged.
It’s humorously sad
Go ahead, you can laugh
Your sweater is next
The moths are coming
I promise you that.
The bottom frays like a hippy
I would say it looks cool
But that style died in the seventies
Just wait, that that trend will recycle
I’m not in denial.
The fabric and material
What’s left of it
Is a delicate cashmere…
Alright fine, it’s a scratchy wool
Ancient, archaic, and feels like Velcro.
Sometimes leaves cling
So I look like a tree
The optimistic side of me
Just says nature loves me.
But I could do without the bees
Ohh so many stings…
The insides are bumpy
From being cleaned on high heat
Now my sweater suffers from dwarfism
It’s challenged vertically.
The wrists are stretched out
From being rolled up and down
Permanently smells like dirt or meat
Depending on my activity
Or what I had to eat.
Blackened mascara speckles the sleeve
From dramatic tears
Or being too lazy to grab a tissue
As if my sweater doesn’t have enough issues
I drag in my problems
My pendulum swinging emotions
If my sweater were human
I swear, it would leave me.
It’s been thrown on the floor
Tossed in the back of my car
Tied around my waist
And forgotten in stores
I always say sorry
I hope it forgives me.
From the sleeves that cradles sneezes
Hugs are completed
Sharing germs or sharing love
All becomes one experience.
The front like a canvas
A Jackson Pollock painting
Ubiquitous splatters of coffee stains.
Missing sips that dripped off my lips
From being scolding hot
Or scare concentration
But nine times out of ten
It’s my deficient attention.
Looking like it’s been through hell
And no denying it has.
Sure, I could donate this human sized rag
But they wouldn’t know the story behind
Each stain and frayed thread.
They would see the sweater as just ugly
Dismiss there was even a journey
They wouldn’t ask
The why’s or how’s it came to be.
This sweater is not just fabric
It’s a memory
An extension of me.
I should get this dry-cleaned
But I love it.
Lovers,of God's world, I say to you.
For hurt doesn't come to you blindly to be hurt.
Love your enemies, do good by loving them.
Love those that blast you for security.
When there's really no need.
Because of being hurt by insecurity.
Hunger for wisdom to stand strong.
When you're the only one right.
And hosts of others are completely wrong.
Love attitudes, comes from knowledge.
And who know you better?
Laugh at your pain, instead of cry.
When you do you realize later you're wearing a smile.
Rejoice in joy, your life will shines more when it does come.
Happy is anyone that has someone.
Not that being lonely doesn't make you that way.
Remember and admit that love is a dangerous weapon
Against those that drive themselves to be evil.
Humble yourself in God's teaching.
His words that's written has a powerful meaning.
Find nothing that He hadn't predicted to be false.
Cause in reality they have appeared.
God gives it.
Do good and your reward shall be great?
Even among the unthankful.
Remember God does this.
The measure of your graciousness will determine your heart.
When we must answer to the Lord.
i think my brain is faulty
dark thoughts swirl through my mind
like a demon, possessed
i want to hurt myself
scratch the thoughts from my skin
but they return on dark nights
sometimes when i least expect them
come crawling back
like a bad smell
i try to release the thoughts
through my finger tips
onto blank pages with biro
but they are lodged inside
sometimes tears flow
and its like i can breath again
but then the emptiness follows
stuck in my throat
like an incurable illness
please make them go away
i beg you
What magic is this?
Hath done this!
Whose corpse is this?
He lives ! He lives-
Whose silver tongue
Bewitched the fools
For the armor
Of brave Achilles,
On Mount Olympus.
The armor is mine
By right of conquest-
Was it not I
That saved the ships
Of Greece from hordes
Of Hector's men
The wine besotted
Fools of sentries?
From Athena's curse
Now to find not
Upon my blade
But that of cattle.
Dishonored I be,
Fair sword, fail not.
Ajax and Odysseus both claimed the armor of Achilles after he was slain by Paris.Odysseus oratory surpassed the simple speech of Ajax and Odysseus took the armor.Enraged, Ajax cursed the gods , causing Athena to place a curse on him.Ajax, under the curse went mad, killing cattle thinking they were Odysseus and his men.When Ajax recovered from the curse he saw what he had done, and dishonored, committed suicide by falling on his own sword
as fast as you can.
Greed is closing in.
Dragging you down the
there is no vacancy here.
No quarter will be given to your kind.
forgotten your senses,
There is a special place in this world
for people like you.
Counting coins until
the gold becomes flesh.
Trading life for life.
This system has broken you.
The beast is off the chain,
attacking at random.
Showing no remorse for it's actions.
Why should it?
It has done nothing wrong.
You fed the beast,
gave it a home.
Now it is time to pay the piper,
You have woven this tale,
and you alone must draft it's ending.
It is coming undone.
It was foolish to think there would be no repercussions.
nothing can save you.
It is simple really.
The ending will show your true nature.
Make you want to believe again,
that this is a worthwhile cause.
Try to escape from Neverland.
as fast as you can.
Razor blade wishes,
Torn from cracked lips.
A self-destructive elegy,
Whimpered with resignation.
Cries for redemption,
Fall silent when they matter most.
All smiles and jokes,
When everyone can hear.
There is darkness within,
And my Sentinel is gone.
Hope bleeds from my heart,
as I walk my life alone.
© 1-07-04 John Stevens
He waits at the door of my heart this hour
Knocking so gently for me.
To answer the call, through His power
To be all I can be.
The choice is mine to make this hour.
To accept or reject His love.
The choice I make for eternity
Will decide my life for above.
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?
Will I invite Him in only on Sunday
And set Him close to the door?
Then invite Him out when church is over
When no one's looking any more?
Will I when Monday morning comes
Forget the lessons He taught?
Of love, forgiveness, grace and more
By His blood on the Cross He bought.
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?
Will I do the right and shun the wrong
In the work that I perform?
Not leave my faith on a hook by the door
Until the next Sunday morn.
Will I park Him outside some of the doors
Of my favorite places to be?
And pretend it is ok to do the things,
I'm ashamed for Jesus to see?
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?
The lessons I have learned today
Must not be shelved tomorrow.
For I've been set free to do His will
In all happiness and sorrow.
He cleansed my heart- all the rooms.
And the closets so dark today.
His love shone 'round in all the corners
The gloom and darkness went away
(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will I open my heart today
I will open the door, invite Him in.
I will give Him the key to my heart's door
I will give Him control of all my life.
I will love Him forever and more.
I will listen to His every whisper.
I will do His thoughts for me.
I will praise His Holy name this hour.
I will shine His light for others to see.
(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will I open my heart today
When my heart is breaking from the pain
Of things in my life I start.
He is there the moment I breathe His name
He mends my broken heart.
I have been forgiven by His blood
My sin on the cross He bore.
I have been forgiven, cleansed by His blood
I bare the guilt no more.
I have been forgiven..
Praise His Holy Name.
I am forgiven.........
Thank you Jesus, today.
He waits at the door Calling for you
To open your heart To let Him in.
What will you do? What will you say?
What a wondrously distraught thing Life is
To pull lives together
And to tear them apart
But Death is the great equalizer of all things
For it cares not for beauty, race, wealth, or even love
It does not lie to us
Only whispering the honest truths
And tonight, it whispered to me
Death whispered to me that it wished to take my Siren from me
To leave me alone at sea, so close to my destination
Oh the way she smiled such a sad, but knowing smile
She knew that it was only a matter of time
And I, so arrogant to that one, blunt truth
He made no apologies, he felt nothing for the shattering of my world
Death only shook its hooded head, blaming Life for my false hope
So she left
Not for a new Sailor, or the murky depths of anchored sea bottoms
But with Death, to the Inky Black
Shocked, filled with an unwanted rage and feeling of helplessness
I followed after to her
I slowly drifted further into the sea
Letting the waves blanket me to the Forever Sleep
But she pleaded with Death for just a simple moment
She caressed my body, and I struggled
She carried me to shore and showed me all the wonderful things that Death couldn't take
The joke of a friend, the leaves in Autumn, the paintings on the walls
In her death throws, she gave me reasons to live
She sang purpose into my heart
And though her song was not long
It was meaningful and it was beautiful and mostly
It was mine
Goodbye, my Siren
I will always be your sailor
Awake! arise! the hour is late!
Angels are knocking at thy door!
They are in haste and cannot wait,
And once departed come no more.
Awake! arise! the athlete’s arm
Loses its strength by too much rest;
The fallow land, the untilled farm
Produces only weeds at best.
Let me touch you.
Not where you think I'm going to,
but where my hands were meant to be.
Let me kiss you.
Not on you lips,
but on every other body part that's never been kissed.
Passion runs through my veins
as my nails run through your hair.
Scratching and pulling while our bodies breathe in unison.
Sex isn't an option.
Make love to me like only you know how.
Make your name my lips favorite word.
Make my legs go numb from the pleasure
you've caused between them;
the pleasure you've caused between us.
Stopping isn't an option.
Let me explode. Physically and mentally.
Let your fingers be the reason my mind won't set you free.
Let's just… be, B.
Never been sure who to be
Never been sure who to believe
Who am I supposed to trust?
Who am I supposed to keep my distance from?
Why isn’t there a handbook
Indicating who is a demon and who is an angel?
You can see the halos when you’re up there,
But don’t they know that down here we can’t see a thing?
Demons and angels all look the same to me
And if the only way to see the difference is up there,
I’ll have to take my chances
I’ll probably pick the wrong choice,
Just like flipping heads or tails,
And only then I get to see the difference
The problem is that
By that point,
I’ll be seeing it from down there
Because knowing me
I’ll pick heads over tails
Leading me to walk over to the sweeter looking one
Who smiles and waves in such a reassuring way
Who coaxes me into evil intentions
Yet I don’t mind
Because, oh lord, what a beautiful voice
So rich and full and inviting…
Lying Lying Lying
Every single word is a lie
I say, “Let’s go down that path
With all the trees and butterflies”
Then you say, “No, that road scares me,
Let’s take the darker one”
So I go along
Since I have learned that you’re always right
The path gets darker with every step I take
And soon it’s not a road but an inky black cloud
I can’t see
“Where are you!?”
Fear grows inside me
Then I see you:
Blood red eyes, leather wings, daggers for teeth
You laughed then, an evil, bone-chilling cackle I’ll never forget
As you approached, folding your sickening wings around me,
I knew where I was going
Finally now I can tell the difference:
The halos from the claws
Except this isn’t exactly where I wanted to be
I’m not up there
Although, through the process,
I have learned that you don’t always get what you want
Now, all I get to do is watch as more victims get roped in
Lured by the fake smiles and seducing faces
And I can’t do a single thing about it
Today I was thinking,
of your lips kissing every part of me.
Do you remember that?
The morning we just couldn't let go of each other.
Pure energy every times your lips would meet my skin.
You were going to lock up for the weekend.
Our goodbye of sorts.
It was the most passion and the closest thing to love I felt in so long.
The thought, that you would be sitting alone,
thinking of all the parts of me you kissed all weekend,
You would have that memory to keep you company,
made it that much more enticing.
I actually said I love you, and was so glad you didn't hear.
We were far too early for anyone to say things like that.
I wouldn't want what was happening to change for anything in the world.
You gave me that watch,
I was so amazed that for whatever reason you had it,
You would think of me.
And that made me want you close so much more, you would never know.
He smashed it, he took it and smashed it.
I screamed at him, I cried so hard and I couldn't tell you.
I still think about it and the pain is still there
the emptiness feeling in my stomach when I saw the pieces lying there.
He had grabbed me and gave me the watch he had given me.
Screamed at me to wear it instead, I threw it at him.
Told him I wanted nothing more than for him to stay away.
I told him not to ruin what I wanted anymore.
He did I guess, or did I? Did you?
That night at my house,
you know the one,
Where his rage took a stab at us.
And we left,
That night I chose you.
I left all my belongings, my home and I chose a new chapter.
I chose you.
Remember when you took my hand in the cab and pulled me close?
The safest I have felt in years.
The closest to anyone as well.
I felt your heart and who you were and I hoped for time with you like this.
You stole my heart and made me believe again.
And now your hateful words and absence make me know.
How utterly silly of me to give my heart away,
how ridiculous to think I would ever mean anything.
I didn't love him you know.
I was falling for you.
I loved falling asleep in your arms.
I loved looking into your gorgeous eyes.
I hate how it ended.
And now, I wish it was just beginning again.
I have the memories, your gorgeous face and eyes I can still see.
I think I will hold on for a little while more.
Call me arrogant
and before you pull out
the bible verse on humility
let me save you the trouble
I've read it
so call me a Pharisee
but I've paid my dues
and the damage is done
I'd love to call it my friend
but it's a lie if it's anything
other than my mistress
There's no name for the trials
the errors and successes
no name for how I feel
when they surround me
and my whole life
becomes the comparing
of two human hues
of win and lose
because when I win
I see it in bold colors
shining brighter than the losses
if only to dim their light
if only to wipe the record
because arrogance only works
if there's no one to notice the flaws
I love all the preparation
For December celebration
The office and school parties
Gifts for those you can’t deny
Sending cards and buying wrapping paper
It’s all just to prevent jealousy and anger
Now to the family you'll agree it’s time
To pick up that tree and make it chime
With lights shining on branches and colorful wrapped packages under the tree
Don’t forget the Nativity scene and color wheel don’t you feel a bit of glee?
Great care is taken to wrap presents and decorate
All for the day when the relatives and family aggravate
Soon another year will be out of the way
And then the Christmas bills come to stay
All rights Reserved
I live in a land of three stars and a sun
The pearl of the orient, surrounded with sands
A country for years have been independent
Back from the invasions, where history's ancient
With a government tainted with corruption and greed
The beauty has been stripped off leaving our country to bleed
Suffering from apathy, puberty and dread
The people's revolting for their cries never heard
Looking at the Brightside, it is the people that is ugly
Staining the pride of the country with deeds that are unpretty
Beyond that, the pearl still shines with all its glory
That someday will be known for its natural beauty
I am a man who live in a land of three stars and a sun
Red, white, blue and yellow designed the flag of my clan
I'll wave it with valor, the courage for the right I've done
With love and honor here I am born and die where I stand
you ever read this.
I hope you maybe, just maybe
why I am incapable
of ever leaving you alone.
I spent that hole year, trying to make you like me.
I was an absolute idiot, yes I'll admit it.
Then I was scared that the year would end, as of course it would
So when the end did come,
as of course it would.
I wept and crept
away from the sun.
Into my dark mind away from everyone.
Then I could not extinguish that flame,
that you'd so annoyingly implanted,
in my heart,
in my mind and brain.
So I kept on getting singed,
moth to a candle,
flame that you are,
and I cringed...
But again I tried, to see you,
though it was always cut short
and I never knew if you loved me or not
But I will probably always continue to try to
24 hours a day for the rest of our time together,
we'll walk with glutton in our shoes
walking with weight on our backs
covering distances only known in novels.
They'll get us you know,
those men selling cigarettes out of
office blocks, down that block there-
it's 62nd street and they never clock off.
What windows see aren't what we see.
Windows hear and feel and
we see and never heal;
we hold wounds like flowers bought
in hospital foyers, late to see a relative.
Buy ones and get some free:
it's a ploy so we spend that little bit more
than we need to.
I had a dream the other night
For people like me, dreams are nonexistent
We never sleep, so we never dream but I was so tired
I had been around the world more than hundred times that day
My body was drained of energy
So I fell asleep, and well, dreamed
The rain has finally let up, clouds begin to clear
Rays of light soon peeked out from behind
Trees surround the walking paths, grass covers patches of land
I take a seat right next to a fountain
Mist attacks the pores of my skin
My fingers graze against the slight sheen
Just as I am about to turn around, let the water hit my face
A woman appears next to me
She wears a red scarf with a bright, yellow coat
It sort of screams McDonald’s
But when her elegant, innocent face with big blue eyes and brown hair
Turn to me, Mickey D’s is the last thing on my mind
A soft smile graces her lips and I return it hesitantly
Not sure why she is here, or what’s going on
Do you come here often?
She asks and I almost laugh at the pick-up line used by so many
But those eyes and that innocent expression refrain me from doing so
Um no, I don’t even know where I’m at
I reply honestly, because I don’t remember this place
There are so many; I can never keep track
That’s a shame
I love coming here
There’s a silence here, not many places have that
Silence, something I rarely hear
But it encompasses this entire area
I notice it then, we’re the only ones here
The thought vanishes when she speaks again
So why are you here?
I stare at her then look all around me
Tall and lean trees surround the vicinity
Encroaching on the small stone trails
Sunlight blotches in thin lines between leaves
Green, plush grass covers the land between paths
The soft water of the fountain can be heard and small chirping sounds emerge
I begin to relax, let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding
I needed a break
She nods her head and doesn’t ask why
Something I’m grateful for
Instead she says
I know what you mean
Someplace to catch your breath
Find a moment of peace
When she says it, it hits me square in the face
Peace, that’s what I needed
I nod my head once, indicating I understood her
You can’t stay for very long, can you?
I shake my head no
That’s what I thought
Don’t you ever just want to settle down?
I look at her—this girl, this woman, this stranger
Who reads me like a book
Turns every page and reads every line
And finds all the secrets hidden inside
I wish it were that simple
I say looking down the shady path
Well, I have to be off
She says as she rises and rearranges her scarf
I grab her wrist, signaling her to wait
Where are you going?
I ask looking up with an expression that surely reads displeasure
She smiles with a teasing glint in her eye and takes my hand
Come on, you can walk me out
I follow like a man in a daze
Her hand warm in mine
I glance down at her and realize how much taller I am
She’s so petite but so breathtaking
What’s your name?
I have to know that at least
Her lips turn up slightly and the glint returns to her blue orbs
We reach the end of the path
Where the trees widen
Into an open area
Full of grass, knee high
But I see it, in a distance, another trail, as trees part for its way
One, I assume she is going to get on
Well, here we are
It was a pleasure
She states facing me
I look down at her
At a loss for words
I stare at her in discontentment, not knowing why this has to end
I don’t want to say goodbye
She smiles wider this time and reaches up to touch my cheek
Oh how different you are
I almost forget to breathe
Emotions swirling around me
Captivating my body
I blink to regain some motion
And she’s gone
I look around frantically
Searching for her
Then I catch sight of her
Across the way on the other path
Waving in yellow and red
I attempt to run to her
But my feet don’t move
I look down and see them fading
Before I know it, the sun becomes cloudy, trees blur and vanish
And I wake up feeling a loss like none other
I had lost time, during the dream that night
But I knew, those hours, those minutes of peace
Were worth it, even for just a moment
Then I remembered, I did know her
I try to stop by every chance I get
Just to look at her, make sure she’s okay
Even though she sees right through me
Her innocent charm, her wonderful personality
Of course, it would only be her
I placed a bet earlier on
In the spirit of the spring that
I, or should I say, you
Would still be here - not moving
Staying as stale as a couch dorito.
And to think that
I placed this bounty on your head
While you sat still and slowly spun in reverse
Then raised the stakes
One hundred stacks.
To the last verse in the old King James;
You really made your mother proud.
You took the hammer and made two.
You stole the sunshine in hopes of a better view
Of your "holier" nightmares.
You made the one drop lock up so tight
That not a n'er not a sheep could slip through.
You wore that sweater that stole at least
One hundred hearts
Right out of the chests of the sunken treasure
That I fought so hard for,
But they were all for you.
I bet you never guessed that
You were always right when
You never guessed and I bet
You never guessed that
You should have guessed wrong
I was the one that dropped the screwdriver in your mind.
I never stopped to visit, I just didn't get the time.
I used to always cut the cactus off just a little too soon.
I remember I once left the moon in a hopeful wish that
I could go home too.
I guess I guessed a mess of a mess
Thus ends this insanity, thus ends this madness.
Alone in her room, she writes feverishly,
Fueled by adoration:
“I love you because you fear
The very thing that will unite us;
I’ll remember you, even in oblivion.”
Alone in her thoughts, the moon rises
With her chest as she takes deep breaths
As she smears the ink, the liquid words that read:
“Can you feel my heartbeats
In the indentations of this letter?”
She begs him to remember,
To try and picture their first date;
She says, “I know it’s hard right now,
But you are stronger than the things
That has ever dared to bring you down.”
She begs him to recall
Sitting in a coffee shop somewhere
In the heart of a beautiful fall
And if he wakes up, she wonders,
“Will he remember me at all?”
This letter is not about her,
Though her scent engulfs the page;
No, this was never about her,
Though she wants him to remember her name
When he wakes from someone else’s mistake
And if the sound of her voice
Is not enough to provoke
Even the simplest memory of their love,
She prays through tears that her
Ink-stained words will be enough.
It's hard to express every moment, every breath
Of a person who can manipulate the eyes, while leaving your heart full...of nothing left
Not due to pain, nor intense distress
It's the visionary beauty you get when you imagine waking up to her on your left..
Of a moment of pure lust that's completely fixated with love
This moment of pleasurable sin
With the representation of an angel from above.
Two become one...or is it one becomes a pair?
Is it both hearts that will suffer? Is it two illusions who really weren't there?
Is it sadness we are heading towards?
"True Love" that is really all a lie and we were just fooling our minds...
Of the idea of opportunity, with two hearts that were completely blind.
I can't help but sit...and wait patiently, to hear you reply back.
If not..I've concluded right
Love isn't real, affections a beautiful lie
And heartache is the only thing we can guarantee...perhaps.
Do you feel that
The attraction we both try to hide
The desire we both push to the side
Do you hear how fast my heart races whenever your near
My bet is that its pretty close to yours
Have you noticed how much I smile and laugh,
I've noticed you do the same.
And how both of our faces tend to go bright red.
This all occurs whenever we talk.
We flirt like crazy.
None of this makes any sense.
We both miss each other
But I guess to you, how you feel doesn't matter anymore.
You never stop flirting.
Its all so confusing
Do you notice how much I still like you.
Do you ever catch me staring at you.
Like I catch you staring at me.
Do you even notice all that you do to me
All that you say to me,
And how greatly that affects me.
I don't know what to do anymore.
I feel like I'm getting played by the sweetest guy I know.
Do you understand how hard this all is on me.
To be so close to you,
But to not be able to have you.
To call you mine.
I hate this,
the back and forth we both play.
Do you care how much it kills me inside.
You still say that you love me...
So why are we still so far apart.
And this is how it starts
Whistling wind and dashed lines
Drawn across the horizon
Of your omnibenevolent body
Pressed against mine
On battered bed sheets
In both pouring rain
And insistent sunshine
You're able to smile radiantly
Growing from the ground
Into a twisted, thorn-full flower
Becoming just one
Without a care in the world
You would eventually go
To explore the world
Repelling the company
Of a poor, spotted girl
Such as myself
Torn completely in two
That would be us
Separated and suppressed
Beyond my control
Dancing on the edge
No longer together, but alone
It’s what we do.
Kisses are the flowers of love in bloom.
Count on joy,
The sun will shine again.
I remember the smell of her apartment, burned popcorn and a new teal green leather sofa.
An awesome smile of achievement is what she wore.
American Express and Visa’s credit card applications are fanned out over the dinning room table.
Jodeci plays in the background, as we slow dance, nice and close.
We laughed on how high I jumped when her grandfather walked in on us being naughty.
Laughter is the air of the soul.
I move in closer to seal my fate.
How soon we forget, that we’re all shadows on the wall of time.
It’s very clear I got to make that move.
I motion that I am leaving.
She blocks my exit, in an attempt to make me feel her touch.
Lost in love,
The lover wins every time.
Entre vous et moi
I promise her that I would return.
We both know it’s a lie.
There once was a boy who was but a slender
Line in a portrait or a smudge on a fender
Nothing more than would be passed by your eye
Was the boy so young who did nothing but cry
The world was a cruel one, but he wasn't so tainted
His picture more perfect than of David's statue painted
But the world would soon tear this boy apart
It would end in the mind what began in the heart
You see, innocence thrives where ignorance rules
For blissfulness is the kindest of the ignorant's tools
But this boy would be taught to feel and to hurt
His tears turned to ash as they fall from lips to dirt
He was now cold and vulgar and swore
His opinions had changed when his brother died in the war
There was no point to heaven and less point to hell
When they called out your name, you either stood up or fell
Chipped bricks covered in posters past
Graffiti from people of phrases that last
Like one-liners, humourless, gaining a laugh
And the three-word with the sketch of a heart cut in half
The best philosophes of this past generation
Write thoughts on the wall from their closed imagination
And the boy with his eyes red grew darker
As he reached in his pocket and pulled out a marker
With a couple quick slashes a ballot was drawn
And he labeled the man in the voting booth "pawn"
Underneath it he wrote what might be a phrase
That just didn't catch on in those olden days:
It said, "A stone cast down as in defeat
Will hit thine foot before the street
For he who gives up his voting right
Will have no say in where we fight."
The boy capped the pen and he walked away
He had written down all that he wanted to say
His hands now were smudged from the marks on the wall
And he thought to himself, "In short time, it'll fall"
Right around the corner he was halted by the law
"You thought no one was watching, but guess what, kid? I saw.
The truth is, you're right, we vote for our wars
But the man up on top of the nation? He's yours."
The boy smiled slightly, for this cop was wrong
And he reached deep past the tears in himself to be strong
"That man isn't mine; he approved of this war
And congress has made my brother break the oath that he swore"
The cop looked at boy and the boy at the cop
They weren't talking graffiti, but the man up on top
Two strangers, two people, agreeing the fact
That the choice on the ballot was a serious act
"Most kids don't realize just what a vote can mean
They don't attribute the choice to the step in between
Old ideas corrupted or improved upon
All they know is their voice can make the other guy gone"
The boy nodded and looked the cop right in the eye
Saying, "This president let my brother ship out to die
If you try to make us think that his empathy wasn't fake
Contradiction in contrite diction will no conviction make
"You can't justify death because the harder you try
The more your arguments fade like the clouds in the sky
But before they dissolve and assimilate with the air
They leave behind pain to show that they were there"
The cop nodded, waved, and went back to the beat
More hoodlums and lost souls to help off the street
He passed a dark alley and his instincts erupted
His mind yelling to him, "Check for something corrupted!"
So he turned down in darkness to check out the spot
It looked like a place where blackmarket is hot
The fungus and mold that once grew peeled off
Leaving yellowish stains and the urge to cough
A voice near the brickwork called out saying, "Hey,"
"If it's not to much trouble, mister, couldja stay?
See honest to goodness, mister, I tried to stay clean
But when you take your own product, separation is mean"
"I don't know exactly who is to blame"
Said cop to the girl he could see but not name
"There's no one to blame," said the girl to the man
"There's things that will happen, and with time they all can
"For a creature that thrives on flesh alone
Will bite through the skin to steal the bone
And he must be careful, lest he find
That he's been feasting upon his own behind"
"Yes, sometimes it's true: Desire drives us too fast
Sometimes to places where sanity's long since passed
But sanity's fleeting and must be sought after
Come; let me find you some lodgings and laughter"
"No, mister! I'm a lost cause, my fate's without hope!
Permit me now to symbolize: I'm at the end of my rope!"
"Now miss don't you think like that, No one's soldered to their fate
Such thinking will confine you like a cage with bitter bait!"
This world's harsh and confusing and you've had the short stick
But don't let hopelessness be the only thing that's gonna make you tick
Like treading water in the ocean, panic makes you die
Find beauty out of terror, spread your arms and fly!"
The girl sat there blinking. She'd never heard such talk
She'd never been another thought on anybody's walk
"Now let me tell you, I'm not short on self doubt
But I've got to say: that's not what it's all about
See I met this boy earlier, who told me his story
About how the status of the world often makes him worry
This boy's actin' out, but he'll turn out just fine
But if you're giving up hope, then you're crossing the line
Because we've never needed Merry Men and Robin Hood
To stand up at bugle-call to turn the world good
We just need to remember: We're in it forever!
Fight the urge to look upward and shout angrily, 'Never!'
The world, good and bad, is mixed unto itself
And you can't take you your recipe book from the shelf
And add pinches of falsehoods like seasonings for a mask
You must fix it internally, for that is your task
See, though you've given up, that's something I just won't allow
You're gonna go out and fix it, let somebody show you how
Because there's more than one way to a proper conclusion
Some ways are hard and still others illusion
But become obsessed with the truth, with doin' things right
Become a shining green beacon to lead others at night
Promise me, here and now, in this alley proclaim!
That you will set forth and make good of your name."
The girl gently nodded and as time's hands were wound
She grew like a flower from that dank piece of ground
It's the tiny conversations that can so alter life
And cut the crust of complication like a peace-bringing knife
The boy with his brother who'd gone up in the fight
Was just like the cop said: he turned out alright
He put his mind to better things, gave up the childish art
And in the realm of history, his bio did its part
Because he realized how tangible the change he wanted was
He set aside resentments as the true reformer does
He spoke of love, acceptance. . . And then switched to compromise
Because when you're just a visionary, the vision always dies
He used the good and bad to weld a better, stronger, net
To catch the lost and lonely, his was the best support to get
He filled the heads of others with the change that he once viewed
And little inch by little inch corruption and violence met with feud
A verbal dispute filled with picketing people
Who shouted, "Change!" from their electronic steeple
And the media members had themselves a field day
As they caught on the camera what the boy had to say:
"Too often we forget, that apathy isn't peace
But we allow ourselves to be served it by the leaders filled with grease
And we skip along, ignoring things that should rightly upset us
Bombs abroad are wholly fine but not the one that's gonna get us
We've got to think of the whole picture, got to figure out the puzzle
Though you think the lion's fierce, it always has time to nuzzle
So let's switch the view and take on that trait
And put aside the thought that nuzzling can wait."
The cop saw the boy who was on T.V.
And said to himself, "that kid talked to me!
He smiled a bit, "his speech is pleasing as a wren
And in the case of my boasting, I'll say I knew him when!"
The girl wasn't taped, but she was out changing lives
By having conversations that we've likened to knives
And so it was when time was up on the impending revolution
Armed with words she voyaged forth to fufill her resolution
The boy and she stood side by side and led the people on
And using power words of choice, the old regime was gone
What started out as compromise, effloresced to peace and love
And the cop the two had talked to nodded at boy and girl above
A change in heart, a change in mind, can spark a worldly change
Though originality is difficult, ideas can rearrange
To fit the modern times, and indeed to mold it best
And the answer's sometimes difficult, but as we all know: life's a test
This boy and girl were lost, then found, and so was their whole world
And their string of conversations were around their finger curled
Reminding them that there was out there a better way to live
And revolution was the message that the cop had had to give
Some things cannot be helped;
that time of the month
(which is widely considered a natural disaster)
going to the bathroom
Have some, won't you?
Emergent and forming I feel a storm is imploring that soon without any warning you beg to cross a line
Every time, nothing is sacred but sacramental complacence is marked as roles of the shameless
Mean to skip a line another time? Is this too rough and obtuse for a cutie like you to boost the power line?
Number 9, completion is power and stricken chords every hour proceed to timeline devour those daily entities
I do decree that opposition to me is free and withered beatings to meetings, detours and dealings
understanding demands of variable plans is held by the hand that feeds the depleted need
I see it from every angle, the tangle, the multishifted frame though it dangles, I can't be stuck in my own head when
I see the reflections of me in the treasure it jangles, brings into focus where my head fell to float in the
moments set to wrangle, pull it in, dwell upon the good and discard where it hampers new fangled notions like
truth effusions of love and devotion are swallowed up in the daily ocean of noise traffic, the more verbose,
Graphic dispatches matches blasted disasters dashed and rash past distractions amass magic attacks balanced
Secular motion entwined with metaphysical potions, divided what is your quotient? It doesn't add up in this
Interpersonal, intergalactic, universal assertions disturbed by verbage of outrance
Message mismanaged mischief mallaeble mayhem managed maganamously mallicous mannered when I
would proclaim them. Members materialized meriting masturbatory movements and monetized
malappropriation I have no patience nor pathos for indiscriminant egos demonstrating a tangent as canon and
paralyzing progressions toward psychic visions of heaven, eyes as the cosmos, and pressures upended.
I'll cope with associations disastrous and tainted, but keep in my visage all that scratches my lenses
I know far too much to be content with the situation, but far too little to shatter falsehood's intitiation
When I think back of our time,
I think about our fights.
The only time I could see a glimpse of the real you,
real, pure and passionate.
Honest and sincere, you were my lights.
It made me feel weird, yet I needed it sometimes.
Just to feel alright, to feel your fire raging.
Though that passion hit me hard, it made me feel alive.
The energy from your thunder,
made my body go insane, heartbeat racing
and adrenalin pumping through my veins.
You in our fights were like a thunder in a stormy night.
And without your thunder, the night doesn't comfort me.
I try to walk
As if my every step is a lullaby to the soil.
I try to tread lightly
And remember that I am a song
And songs are made
To be heard
To be sung
To be played.
I try to recall
With every step I take
That my voice is trying to reach you.
That you are
Something to sing about.
In a world where
Most people mutter their lives
Like curses under their breath
Which rises in plumes like smoke from chimney stacks
And disperses just as quickly,
I want to echo.
I want to ring
Across the land like a sweet, low bell
And clear the smog for a moment
To let the sun in.
I want to hum
With the brave joy I cannot stand to silence,
The song I sing
Because I know you.
I'm so sorry mom
But I can't look you in
The eyes and say what's wrong
After you look at me
And you say
"I hate that you're hurting
And that you feel this way"
You hate that I'm hurting
But a big problem in my life
Is that the world is cold and I'm alone
And I've been hurting myself
Burgundy scars litter
My thigh and the
Crevice of my arm
A way to escape pain
It's been over two years time
When the razor first greeted the
Fresh pale skin and
I don't know how to stop
They elope each night
Kiss till I am red
The razor abuses the skin
But the skin can't let go of relief
I feel like you won't understand
That you'll take the razors away
What would I do then
Have panic attacks each and every day?
I'm sorry I'm hurting mom
I know you're hurting too
That's why I don't talk
About the self harm I do
I stash the razors, the blades
The ace bandages that I wrap
Myself each night
And I hide it so well
I'm sorry mom
Reflection, you aren't me.
I know your beauty, but it's your flaws I see.
The you in the mirror, the me in my head
Seem like they could never be wed.
Your eyes, they change, your cheeks are flushed,
Your skin remains freckled, but your spirit is hushed.
You seem so off, like something's wrong
And has been wrong all along.
So strong the song of emotions I feel,
I suppose that's what you want to conceal.
Conceal that they're real, you pesky reflection,
Pretend that will get you perfection, connection
You can fool the others all you want,
Just please remember that it's me you haunt.
You looking off makes me seem tainted,
Imperfect, unfinished to those with whom I'm not acquainted.
Even when I feel lively to me you seem dead.
We're not alike, the you in the mirror, the me in my head.
Refelection, you aren't me.
what can i say;
truth is a never ending battle
of life or death
tell the truth
tell the lies
either way you'll end up
the bad guy
lies are nothing but a sorry excuse
of hurtful agony
of a road leading to despair
tell whatever you please
tell them all
either way they'll wind up
hating you more
than you already do yourself
- a. m. b.
There is a freedom in delusion,
It is artificially flavoured and cheap-
for anyone desperate enough to buy it.
Like this, there are many more copies of the originals.
It is the promise of Love,
The dissapointment of failure,
and the bitter taste of regret.
Yes, there is a blind happiness in the act of faith;
believing in the shadows reflected on the walls of the cave.
A hard truth to accept- the lies you tell to yourself
as you go to bed and succumb to wishful dreams.
Another day wasted-another mind twisted.
The vitality of grass and the prattle of the birds ceases
love fades away, as does the vigor of the summer.
Words once fluent, now cease to forced murmurs of dispassion.
There goes the first leaf of autumn-
in the cold harshness of the creeping wind.
There is honesty and pain in recognition,
Deceit and grief at the eyes of imitation.
Yes, there is a temporal taste of forged happiness;
A comfort in the theater of deception.
red dress in the closet
shots, shots, shots
shots, shots, shots,
used till emotionally exhausted
kissing against the closet
life planned out on notebook paper
shots, shots, shots
squats and drops and swim and swim and swim
pack up & move
I told you I was trying my hardest
imprisoned in my own body
25 extra lbs.
only silence when everyone sleeps
5.8% my ass
breathes in nothing but fear
disappointment kicks into gear
pancakes started my rugged day,
I quit hittin' the hay,
roughly around 10am.
I refused High Focus,
and wondered why
the medication the
prescribed was so
I know why,
but we keep these
things to ourselves.
Once I took my headphones
out, I began to hear
The man at the library,
Telecon, christmas shopping,
Mr. Walker dead too
And as I sit in these
seats once again,
the same I sat in when
the SAT's were the only
importance to me,
I wonder where I was.
So I took off on
It felt good,
gosh it felt great.
One stop on the narrow's
at a waterfall to fly back to
a blackout and memory lane.
Over the Delaware,
away from NJ,
take me to PA.
One stop at the homestead
for a buck-fifty coffee
fix and a few chapters
from On the Road.
I needed those laughs.
So I carry on,
on the toe-path
along the canal.
and squares to remind
me of hopscotch,
or maybe a sign.
A light up of an American
Spirit, and I can never
seem to escape everyone
when I'm on the run.
a woman and her Labradors,
a handsome man with shades,
a blonde, gelled, comb-over,
and a cell phone to the ear in one
oh, and ME, the smoker
on the cycle.
I know I said those packs
were my last, but really,
I've hit rock bottom,
a broke rock bottom,
and this pack is
surely my last.
So I made it over the
Delaware, searching for
a treasure hunt.
The Frenchtown Market,
was beat, so I peddled
on Rt.12 and made it
to Chris's Citgo-
if you care to know.
Made it to the center
smells, and found my
In fact, the generous man
gave me two.
Pedal to the metal,
click-clack the sound of
metal banging from
something, on a bike
I can't call my own.
I continue on Rt.12
and pass by the dead
deer, a water break,
here and there.
Hot sweat, cold sweat,
de-layer, zipper up.
The fake flowers,
a pretty hint,
that some one maybe
And I keep my eyes
fixated on what is
in front of me-
a car passes,
I LOVE YOU
writes the handwriting
on a white vehicle.
So, pedal to the metal,
I carry on towards
to a place I feel
No intentions of even
renting a thing-
except maybe Lolita.
However, finish what I start,
can't seem to do that so
easily these days.
Ohh, but I'd like to.
That's a start.
A quick stop,
for a quick slice,
and the time to skim the
Oh a beautiful day,
I made it from start
I'm sorry I can't
seem to do as you say,
and the options,
they really do slay.
I asked what's a home?
And she said
"a place where we know how to turn on the water."
And I thought maybe it wasn't my home.
So I'll go get some midnight coffee down the street.
And pretend there's no one back there to yell at me
Maybe then I can keep these words in my head long enough to write them down
Or maybe I'll get drunk craning my neck to see the stars
And realizing it's the lights of on-coming cars.
The streetlights in this town are too dim.
I think that's why there's no hope here anymore.
Before the audience.
From their fractured minds.
By the inherent corruption.
With insatiable vengeance.
The reckless devastation,
An undeserved consequence.
A tale known by many,
Yet told by few.
Meanings are shattered,
As blood drips
From guiltless hands.
For months I thought it was your love I needed to keep me alive.
Recently I found out I was wrong.
It is your hate which gives me life.
Every piercing word you've said.
Every attack towards me,
it gives me strength.
It gives me joy.
It gives me everything I lacked.
I feed on your hate towards me,
so please, baby, hate me.
Sharpen your words so they pierce even further.
Make your thoughts sting me, and leave me bleeding.
I know you like it, and so do I.
Forget about the love!
Such a weak feeling, waiting for the wind to shatter it.
Instead lets hate each other.
Kill me so I can be alive.
Hate me, baby. Hate me!
Feed me with your hate.
After all, you don't seem to love me anymore,
so enter my sick game.
Two Souls Apart (Part I)
Two souls met
They fell in love
At the wrong time
The right people
In the wrong place
She was beautiful
Hair gold as the sun
Flaring like wildfire
He was simple enough
An artist with sound
With a wanderers heart
She was never who
She told him she was
Maybe he was never
With her either
They always meant well
And they were so happy
Plans of running away
Far from everyone else
Isolation on an island
Separated by miles of water
Away from judging eyes
But how long could it last
These fairy-tale romances
Just never seem to survive
The cold winters of distance
So they parted ways
Hearts torn into pieces
Plagued by memories
The taste of her lips
Her skin warm and soft
She tried to drown him out
With another in her bed
He screamed his songs
Desperate to be rid of her
She was slowly overwhelmed
So far away from home
He threw himself into the divine
Turning from the sin he held
Becoming a saint of high regard
He found someone new
On the Saint Who Fell for the Sinner (Part II)
He didn't go looking for her
Truth be told she just fell into his life
He was held captive
At the beauty she possessed
Her eyes as spacious as the sky
Deeper than any well of knowledge
So he chased her
She led him through the woods
A deep dark and twisted path
More than once he nearly gave up
But she played him well
She held his attention until he was hopelessly lost
When she felt safe she stopped
The saint wondered at her
Such a fair and beautiful creature
She showed him her scars
Her sins and filthy addictions
Somehow he was not repelled by this
Instead he found himself drawn even more
So he sheltered her fragile soul
Until the day she forgot to maintain her lies
The saint was destroyed at the deception of the sinner
He was driven to madness
The saint searched for comfort
Something to help find the pieces of his shattered heart
To stitch it together again
But he found no cure
No method of healing that would bring him back
In this way the sinner destroyed the saint
Integration (Part III)
He wondered hopelessly for months on end
Searching for peace
All he could find was distractions
Nothing permanent to occupy his time
Functioning was near impossible
Nothing held his interest anymore
He played his songs but was discouraged
Wrote his words but they seemed empty
He could not bring himself back into civilization
He separated himself from all others
As much as he could
He couldn't merge back
Made no connections with any meaning
He was so disconnected
And old memories resurfaced
He found himself longing for her again
For her kiss and her touch
To feel the warmth of her skin again
Her hand holding his so tight
He wondered if she felt the same
The second half of his soul
Evanesce the Island (Part IV)
Maybe all their plans
Weren't so foolish after all
What if they had known exactly
What they needed to survive
Shouldn't they run away from the world
To set themselves apart
From a cruel and cold world
That they aren't fit for
Let it be just them so far away
From all the rest of the world
Let them do as they please away
From all eyes
Let them love like they were made
On a beach under the sun
Away from these rainy days
That never end
The loneliest summer with a boatload of goodbye
with a non existent voice of whisper, I wished the new love away
never knowing that the infatuation could make me feel so high
Sitting with words stumbling over shot glasses to forget that day
smoking cigarettes because they reminisce of your scent yet lie
but like love, scents burn bitter sweet sensation
nothing and everything I never again confide
but I wish not remember that changing season confrontation
knowing you were not mundane thought so moon phase new
take that lipstick off my lips as easily as you can keep your word
true colors release, as hostility grew
living in your life -now- off only what I heard
scared to speak three words, eight letters feel
manipulation to keep always as need
promise of nature that you would not leave scars to heal
but you dear knew I loved you, why did you need power to succeed
in case you feel despair, you still twist my mind
leave me with a solitary life, not ready to let this go
i'm scared that infatuated feeling will be hard to find
still hung up like rope, melting low
still hear that voice speaking soft almost speech but less
the loneliest summer with a boatload of goodbye
I still love you, this is the coffee stained paper confess
never knowing that infatuation could make me feel so high
your shoulder, again
and i turn to face you
fleeting eye contact swims
in the air between us
and i refuse to catch it
i will not take hold of this feeling
i will not go fishing
for the truth
and i use these days gone by
the words that occupy my mind
glowing eye contact swims
in the space between us
and i refuse to reach out and touch it
i will not take hold of this feeling
i will not go fishing
for the truth
eye contact, slow smile
and the miles i have walked to get here
are melting beneath my feet
and down i go
dry ground swallowed by your voice
and i refuse to hear the meaning
of the cold air warming round our hands
i will not take hold of this feeling
i will not go fishing
for the truth
i will not take hold of this feeling
but for now, i will
take hold of you
I'm watching burning flowers,
For the flames and for the symbols,
The purest colours burnt to black,
As the burning of old idols,
This place is searing my heart strings,
And burning my soul,
I can't breath from the smoke,
As my lungs are the coals,
Tears flow out like fountains,
But even they cannot douse these fumes,
That blur out all my vision,
And eventually consumes,
Walking outside the threshold,
Is like the pouring rain,
Putting out all the hatred,
That turns itself into flames,
But her look is lighter fluid,
No mothers acceptance in her eyes,
And with every word she lights the match,
Burns all things her daughter holds inside,
As venom drips from every tongue,
I feel it searing through my heart,
As the world's opinion brands its words,
And tears my skin apart,
There are few in which I find comfort,
Find a temporary breeze,
That my heart starts to cool down from,
And my spirit begins to breath,
Who's ice removes my fire,
And the steam creates our sighs,
Of syncopated heart beats,
And kills the flames behind my eyes,
My heat can melt your frozen veins,
Turning each breath into tears,
Because we are not eachother's nightmares,
Even though we know eachother's fears,
So as I breath into your presence,
Keep your promise and I'll keep mine,
Be there during the thunder,
And I'll make sure you always shine
So I'll keep watching flaming flowers,
As you play across my mind,
And cool over the worst burning,
As we lose track of time…
In certain minds
There is a love confined
For only joy
And sights to see,
And plans to be,
But I am caught
And tangled taut
To pay a priceless fee.
We want much more.
A simple scour within
To find that wrecked
And torn, that screaming
Heart of darkness.
We lay it out
To eat or smoke,
To stab or stress,
And so we love
What that can do
To damage us.
"What?" question asked,
"Why must you continue?
A curious thing,
How can you love
What you hate?"
The strength of holes.
The ones we dig
To love ourselves.
We'll never be
What our dreams
Had always wanted,
But I guess we'll have to settle
For a little
Had I ever thought that I could
Be this way?
To be torn by ever loss and fails.
A willing kind of hit
Across my face.
Only ever to make sure
That I'll always be
The last one in the race.
So to make sure that I'll keep ahead
I will take my stares
To another place,
Where blank walls will be read
And I can move at my pace,
Where all directions are gone
And only I to die instead
With something inside
But not a love confined.
Hold your tears little man,
Ignore the hurtful things they say.
Rest your head here, with me.
Ten year old kids can be cruel,
Say things they should not say,
Hurt even their friends for no reason,
As yours have done today,
Thoughtless and mean words they were,
Said without thinking,
using bad judgment no doubt.
This thing they called you, “Fat Boy”
Or words to that effect, they mean nothing
Unless you let them, unless you don’t
Understand. . . Let me explain,
You are a growing boy, nearing what is
Called adolescents, a physical change of
Your body from a little boy, on the way
to being a full grown man. Your body
will be ever changing, it’s how it is,
how it’s supposed to be, how it is for all people.
When I was your age, I had a more rounded
Shape as did your Dad at your age as well,
We too heard those mean thoughtless
Words directed at us. And I cannot lie
it hurt every bit as much as these words
and names hurt you today.
Rest assured son of my son, dearest friend,
This chubby stuff, it’s only temporary not a
Now as to the stupidity of Mean people,
that hurt other people so thoughtlessly,
for them that state of Ignorance and
stupidity might just last forever.
Now dry your eyes and go get the ball
and Gloves and let’s play us some catch.
Here wipe your eyes and blow your nose
on my sleeve and think no more about it.
Some things never change when it comes to dealing with other people.
Meanness and ignorance it seems is generational.
To my grandson "W" you won't see this 'till you're more
grown up, until what I have told you has become a truth
apparent even to you.
With Love Poppy
I love you deeper than the ocean, farther than fish can swim, I love you as high as the stars beyond our sky, oh the happiness that you bring. Love is such a complicated thing I just could never understand, I'd never waste my time on any boys or let them ever hold my hand. When I look into your eyes its not like the others I've ever seen, when I look in your eyes I see the whole world, I feel as if I'm in a dream. Is this real? Is it true? I can't even comprehend, all I know is I dream of being in your arms until the very end. Time ticks on, the days drag on, and I grow fonder of who you are, in this dark black sky that is my life, you're the one and only shining star who guides me through my times of sadness, hopelessness, and despair, truly without any doubts, you're the only one who cares. I've never had a man look at me the way that you do, it seems as if I'm seeing the world as if it is brand new. As I lay down before I go to sleep, I pray to the god above us that my heart, you'll always keep. I felt like a flower in a vase, slowly but surely withering away, but you are the water that was poured into me, and kept me alive, don't you see? without you, love, I could not be, my darling without you, I wouldn't breathe. without you my love, surely I would cry, my darling without you, surely I would die.
This women is beautiful she's something to be seen, but all the guys they wonder what's Beneath those jeans. They want to see her body to judge it openly, but she dumbs down her hair to dumb down their thoughts. The queen of the scene is dressed in rags and cloths, she hides her beauty from these mad men who come in flocks. She's waiting for the one, the one that will see that true beauty is what the eyes cannot see but must believe. Her heart is strong as she moves along, to confront the coming days when people will say "why do you look that way?". As days pass by those suitors denied this beautiful women because her looks are her lies. But She vowed to keep the charade until her true love has come through, To sweep her away in his chariot to play with her hair under the moon. To live the life she dreamed evermore, to never have to hide herself behind the curtains she had worn.
And yet I am still here. Insanity does not drive me as it does others.
The constant crackle pestering as an innocent tries to sleep; most would explode.
And yet I am still here.
Sanity does not drive me other, teetering on the edge
Is how I live my life, control everything,
Keep everything under control.
The popping cause tears last night. The horrible sound of blood dripping on metal, breaking bones,
A horrid sound that radiates from outside my black velvet curtains where the demons peer in.
They want me to lay atop of that metal table and force my body to make this sounds.
I can not sleep when the agony is so obvious.
Last night I let an ice cube melt in my palm
so I could put into perspective how quickly things dissolve
I never want us to dissolve
I always want my hips to be your favourite place to rest your lips
and I need my back to be your road map
I, the tour guide to all the places you want to go
I need to be that person you send postcards to when you're gone
saying you can't wait to get home, to this
I want to be that person that you miss
I want to be the butterflies in your chest, fireflies igniting your sky
I dream to your perfect mess
always, not just today
I want to wear your favourite dress
I want to bless you with my breath
I want to watch you catch your breath when you see me
I want you to call me "honey"
I want you to say "honey" like it's suckle on your breath
I want to be the sweetest thing you've ever tasted on your neck
I want you to tell me "lover, I never want to rest
without your head against my chest"
I want to promise "yes, I can do that"
I think we're both semi automatic guns
loaded for love
locked in a time frame
like a love grenade
I want to throw away our keys
And from thine lips, the truth
released behind the transparent
glass. Life-body extended into the
mind that's expanded with chemical
imbalances. You have walked
away with a piece of my soul.
Rays of warmth hit to cause perspiration
frozen over by the expectation that,
unfortunately, lives with a heart beat of it's own.
Sending sound waves into my black
The truth rotting away
the enamel due to the barricades
screwed into our jaws.
We must die our complete skulls.
Here is my key. Will you give me yours?
she cries sometimes
when she thinks
no one can see or hear.
i started noticing,
anguish flooded my aura
"your anxiety is showing.
baby, what's wrong?"
"you're too real to ever lie to me.
talk to me"
"since we're being real,
why have you been crying?"
(i love when she calls me "baby")
"i have been realizing,
for the first time in my life....
what it means to be happy, content
and completely in love"
she smiled back
yeh.....she cries sometimes.
One Sunday morning
There he lied
Awoken by a message beep
There he smiled
What else could be better?
One Sunday morning
There he lied
Couldn’t get out of his bed
There he waited
When will she reply?
One Sunday night
There he stood
Waiting as if for eternity
There he thought
“Perhaps she's busy?”
One Monday morning
There it was
“I’ve forgotten” she said
There he sighed
“I shouldn’t have cared.”
As to why the Memory of Dad prevails
Even to Strangers his Fine Peel permeate
As to why one's Faith mine behind the Rails
Purposed a Wish through Decent Thoughts complete
As to why Three Soldiers thrust their Doubts consume
Of Race, Kind or Creed one's Innocence bide
As to why from Harm's Way Heal these Wounds presume
Even as Friendship one's Gospel confide
As to why such Deeds by Honour preserve
And let the Ego bow as Humbled Guest
As to why one's Sounds condemn this Deserve
When all it Sings for Note's Support at Best.
Answers a-bound beyond Twin-Years instill
Human the Father be as Divine fulfill.
Lesser people have been teachers
Lesser people have been president
Lesser people have been injected with poison to fight poison
and have come out the other side crying like a newborn child
gasping real air.
Lesser people have made babies.
Lesser people have had shrapnel explode through them
and the shards remain as floating knives.
Lesser people wake up everyday and commute
while greater ones litter cemeteries.
And lesser people have been loved and have loved in return.
And so I accept your love, although I am lesser.
It would not be the first time someone has been unqualified for the job.
Are you going to the show?
They're playing jazz tonight down on Main Street.
If you're going, let me know.
We'll find a quiet place we can both meet.
I want to dance with you all night.
I want to sing and cheer until the morning.
I want to dance in the moonlight.
I want to do something so this night ain't boring.
Will you take my hand?
If you do I'll show you all around town.
I'm not the most handsome man,
but I'll show you the world if you come with me now.
We'll live a life we've only dreamed.
We'll spend the night living like never before.
We'll hold hands under the moon beams.
We won't stop until it is the morning.
This town is such a small place.
There's so many places I want to go.
So just let me know,
are you going to the show?
We have all loved skeletons at one point- maybe as lovers, a person with benefits, or a friend. Skeletons that looked just like us; zombies walking the same path, no longer caring for their way. Pieces of a soul that were so shattered no amount of band aids and peroxide could heal it
Your expressions that entranced not just I, but many past lovers. Ones that are not intended for me, but if I try hard enough, I imagine they are so
Your hands were delicately carved work, and your bones, your bones, the finely formed structure of intricate words, whispered in the dead of night to the crook of your neck
You overtook my thoughts; shadowed me in my sleep, molding my dreams to nightmares. All I can think is “would they like this?” or “that?”. You are a dictator with an iron fist on my heart of weathered steel. You are the reason I write; why I wrote until the crack of dawn when no other soul was awake except for the lonely and the in love
My nightmares and reality merge into one, until I do not know which is which, but I do know that wherever you are, I am searching for you in the deepest corners of my mind to find lost memories, waiting to create new ones
And I know that, despite our differences, you are buried deep into my skin, a fragrance that I cannot wash away with tomato juice no matter how much I match the sticky substance
The one beautiful thing I have not gotten bored of; the one person I have not walked away from. When you have an obsessive personality, which quickly turns to boredom, it is hard to find that one person who keeps you from that
You are the one beautiful thing I never regretted latching on to
But the minute I saw you, I knew I would not do the same, no matter how much I would want to. The second I saw you, I knew I wanted to be the one who was the first to see your face each morning, and the last at night. I knew I wanted to be the one to kiss your wrinkles between your brows away, to wipe your salted tears off your cheeks and wash them from your pillows; I knew that if I were to meet your family, I would say “Thank you for him. Thank you for this great person who not only brings light to my world, but is a sun to many others.”
I knew that despite all that, you would never be mine. For you see, you are a star, a planet bigger then the solar system that contains your tiny toy of a body, and I was simply orbiting you, pulling farther away with each passing day
You wield a weapon, dangling from your fingertips that no one sees, but you can feel inwardly, pushing deeper and deeper until it is so embedded I no longer feel it. You morph me between your nails like the water cuts through rocks and forms them into sand, leaving nothing but the past remains of centuries of wear and tear and pushing and pulling and-
You control every turn I take- “Do not walk out in front of that car” and “Do not push yourself so far down you cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel”
You are the reason I wake up each day, and vow to myself to survive, for if I survive today, one day I will live
I count the days until I will tell you; fearing each day that you will find someone who could love you better then I, a person who is not a whirlwind of emotions and hair and everything negative in the world but is beautiful and a doll and will become the grass on your core, melting the molten rock and oozing out on late nights when no one is home and not a soul is awake
And I cannot sleep knowing there will be someone who will love you better than I; cannot breath knowing there will be the doomsday of my heart, when it falls to pieces and is crushed like marrow with the same nails that molded me to be something I was not; cannot stay in one place as long as I know I have one in a million chance of winning you, a piece in the lottery that is greater then the reward; cannot scream for my lungs have given out, my throat has dried out and there are no more tears left to spill for a man who does not look at me twice
You are the first beautiful thing I have latched on to, and you will not be the last I will let go of
I am so anxious and paranoid that you'll leave me
I'll never hold another pair of hands if you do
If I can't die I won't be able to endure the emotions that devour me when I see you
All I do is sit in this cardboard box of a room & let the rain rot away the roof
& When memories, photographs, letters & words are all that remain
There is no hiding the truth
I am endlessly, unconditionally, helplessly in love with you
I never knew what it felt like to lose composure & then you said its over
Then, I knew
The reality of the situation hit me in the stomach like a ton of bricks
& Here I am on my knees again, beaten & bruised
Begging for you, like I always do
Like it makes any difference in the way you'll look at me afterwards
Like it makes any difference at all, I live to please you
My brain is rotting like the roof on this cardboard box of a room
My heart is stopping because I feel like I'm losing you
Stone cold, the blackening sky, stole our fields of flowers
They came like a silent flood over our continents
To block our sun and steal our humanity.
The ships were silent, and filled the skies.
Then down their marching hoards descended
Overwhelmed our puny technology, rendering us as apes.
Under their shadows our world went neolithic
They rendered all that was electrical or light to junk
We were left as scurrying dirty things among the soil.
Vastly reduced, our very memories were threatened
Forgetting how once we ruled our own planet
They plucked up our people like we once picked flowers.
When they came for me I was a child
The elders still telling me of the times I never knew
I had to learn their ways as I learned our own.
One day all our careful plans came together
And I sat hidden deep within their ship,
The thing so long pursued was found
Within that place, their robot brain
Where I could redefine their enemy as themselves
Then quick to a transport and back to my people.
Shortly then with a single bullet
We sparked their hostility sensors
The dark metal clouds burst soon with sun-like flame
We will never know the all that they knew,
Though we pick still among the mechanized ruins
And try to discover "from where" and "why."
More powerful than all our smartest elders
Covering the world with their dark mechanized oppression
But brought to an end by hands of a boy.
Many years now, since we brought them down
The hulking hulls worked now into barns and homes.
And once again we learn to talk across the oceans.
It wasn't long after the flames had ended
When in the fields the sun again warmed the soil
And fields of flowers there began to bloom.
-First line borrowed from CA Guilfoyle's "Stolen"
He carried her on his shoulders
And for a moment she could fly
She hung high above it all
Taking a piece of the cotton candy sky
Holding hands and walking,
He whistled her favorite song
She knew every line by heart
Knowing just where she belonged
Then happy days became fewer
And kisses goodnight went away
The little girl sat reeling
Praying for a better day
Then no one carried her up high
For they couldn’t bear the weight of the guilt
And music became but a memory
And she’s trapped in a house that sorrow built
But she found other ways to taste the sky
And she wishes on stars at night,
Giving the moon a blow,
And she wonders if she’s doing this right
She carries her prison with her
Seldom letting herself forget
And if home is where the heart is,
She and her misery are set
you grew up with a lot of
mommy didn't love me issues
and sooner than later
you ran out of tissues
smothering yourself in hate
you grew too afraid to change
take that leap of faith?
now your problems are
its too late
you are a permanent creation
of your past situation
and even though your
bones are older
I grew from your
the better path
I hate to say I don't miss you
but its true
I miss the person
I thought was you
but she died
along with my innocence
goodbye childhood blindness
life slapped me with a cold
"hun you grew up"
So with everlasting love
I say a final goodbye
but sitting alongside
our closeted skeletons
is necessary pain
you need to
your oblivious arrogance
wasn't in vain
contributed to the evolution
of our souls
and in retrospect
it was worth the
I saw my last sunset
spun out of control
darkness knocking at my door
no longer could I hide
stillness in my life
the bells were ringing
Darkness crossing over
dimming the glowing light of my soul
helplessness befell upon me
it interposed my life
and well being
Running in circles - I was falling
Reborn into a world of evil
shinning with the others in the name of our savior
caught my fall
open your door with open arms
no fear - only light
I will not stop for death
running with the light not hiding from the dark
now I rule my world
I saw my first sunrise
My parents tucked me in at night
my dad smiled at me, kissing me goodnight
my mom sat at the edge of my bed
reading me a bedtime story
departing as I drifted off into a dreaming faze
thats what they would always do
My parents tucked me in at night
my dad hugged me
turned and left to bed
my mom sat at the edge of my bed
telling me to get better grades
because I was failing math
My parents tucked me in at night
my dad went to bed before me
patting my shoulder as he passed
shutting that wooden door behind him
my mom cracking the door open "night"
I smiled as I worked through my homework
My parents tucked me in at night
my mom sitting behind the bright computer screen
telling me to go to bed because she was to busy
my dad huddled under the covers snoring softly
behind that white wooden door
I sat alone in my cold room
I tucked myself into bed
tears streaming from my hallow eyes
sorrowing tremors shaking my fragile bones
knees drawn to my chest, attempt to hold myself together
a trail of dark scarlett snaking down my arm to my finger tips
my head a hazy storm, I lean back unconcious, asleep
My parents never tucked me in
We all try to keep away something from prying eyes,
Something we always hide, pretending to be nice,
We make other's opinions our priority, ours go for a sacrifice,
And no one can exist freely here , there is always a price.
We think we are civilized, in every way, we are better behaved,
And we assume that we are the best, the reason humanity is saved,
We don't realize, that due to our doings, the path of evil is already getting paved,
The truth is, we are indeed humane monsters, and destruction is what , by us, is craved.
We might have been angels, guiding others, helping them to grow ,
But, we choose the darker side, the seeds of evilness is what we sow,
We might have avoided the wars, the battles, the endless bitter rows,
Yet, we ignored the consequences, and the devil inside us, now keeps us on our toes.
Even though we serve the devils inside us with limitless devotion,
The angels stay on our side, support us, as they are a Divine creation,
They slowly whisper to our conscience,"Let there be, inside you , no friction!"
The real you, is the loving spiritual being, that humane monster is all but a delusion.
Let us not hide the loving, caring and affectionate being , behind the masks,
And always remember, creating , not destroying the path of love, is our task,
The stream of affection and divinity is right beneath us, let yourself, in it bask,
Get rid of that humane monster, and let us live without fear or pretension, and survive till the very last.
What I did not know, was
what would come next in our
conversation. We usually do
not talk about deep things, but
I started running out of questions.
I know your favorite color and I
know how you met your first
husband. So, what was there left
to ask of you? Well, certainly I
would of course find a way to
ask you something.
The question I asked was simple:
What is the worst thing that has
ever happened to you?
Now, ladies and gentleman I did not
expect what came out of her mouth next
due to the fact that I asked the question
nonchalantly. But, instead she looked at me and
said, "I was raped." She then gulped and
looked me straight in the eyes and began her
story, one in which that I had to hurry and text my mother for
to tell her I'd be a few minutes late because I knew I'd
end up telling her mine. She told me about how it was in
high school and how scared she was.
About how terrible it was and that
was why she started self harm.
I shivered at the thought:
we are so alike.
Mostly in good ways, but I hate that she has been through
so much that I have. That we share that same pain.
I told her about how sorry I was and about what
happened to me. That one of my other teachers was
that only reason I was even standing here to be able to
tell this story today.
I then wished her goodnight and told her we could
talk again if she would like, because it felt nice to
talk to someone who understood and
did not look at me like I was a
This was on the 2nd of December, and I wish I
would have been able to stay longer to say
all the things that I really wanted to say.
Maybe sometime in the future we will
talk things over, because they really do
settle my mind.
We fell in love over a game of war.
With others the game could have lasted for hours,
but with you I scored because I won in only a few moves.
What I didn't know
was at the same time I was winning your affection.
You saw me at my worst
and yet I faced no rejection
of me being tired, crazy, and probably cranky
but you still liked me like the best you could see.
I wish I had known then that I would fall for you.
I wish I had known all about you.
But I'm getting there.
And people who don't know you say I could do better.
And I laugh, smile, and play along,
Maybe I could, but I wouldn't want to.
Better is not always best,
but you are the best you can be
and you may not be perfect
but you're perfect for me.
And that's love.
You’re the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep
and you are my first thought when I wake
and I'm longing to keep
these memories of you close,
because quite frankly long distance sucks
and you and I both agree
but when our four year stretch is finally up
you and I will be free
to have and to hold to love and to cherish
until we are old and when we finally perish
people will know us,
but both of us together
and I know the real truth
that love can sneak up like in a game of cards
when the two people playing accidentally play only with hearts.
I cry without tears
I smile without joy
The person you see is no more than a lie
I am not happy
nor am I content
the only thing I am is a lie
Sadness and loneliness
but no where near happiness
Striving to change
but all I am is a lie
I fake a smile
I fake a laugh
I fake so much
but I can not fake that I'm a lie
In the mornings
in the nights
No escape in my sights
I am not happy
I am sad
I am good but I have been bad
I cry without tears
I smile without joy
The person you see is no more than a lie
My favorite moments
are spent in darkness.
Seconds spent sightless
wrapped in a woman's embrace
Eyes closed, breath held and lips pressed
against an opposing pair.
The hair of my mustache
brushed past and tickled
the top half of her thought's brim.
She giggled and bit a little
letting me nibble the bottom
as her tongue dribbled to the middle.
She became my phantom limb,
rolling and waving on my whim
and I, hers. As if I were sutures,
she quivered like this moment closed
wounds left by others. But I'm no doctor
and she's no lover. We couldn't even see
what we were doing to each other.
© December 2nd, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.
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.
If you come as softly
As the wind within the trees
You may hear what I hear
See what sorrow sees.
If you come as lightly
As threading dew
I will take you gladly
Nor ask more of you.
You may sit beside me
Silent as a breath
Only those who stay dead
Shall remember death.
And if you come I will be silent
Nor speak harsh words to you.
I will not ask you why now.
Or how, or what you do.
We shall sit here, softly
Beneath two different years
And the rich between us
Shall drink our tears.
This miraculous journey we call life,
has many strands braided together,
never forget what is expected from
the travelling monk, walking in front,
who'll break his walk to play with
stray street pups, eat, drink and sup
with men and women, of many temperaments,
who'd invite him to sit with them, even not knowing
who he is, or what mission moves him
through these dusty roads. There is something
that makes everyone not take eyes off him,
they'd say that, when he goes back on his way.
On the waves of emotions, he partake, he moves
like a paper boat navigated, by the speed
it all create, yet unaffected, except the empathy he keeps in his heart.
Hearing stories of this pilgrim in rapt attention
creating worlds fantastic inside,
learning things one never imagined before,
he travels with the wandering monk in sight.
What is more wondrous, once he thought
than seeing one's starry eyed lover's excitement,
showing a jewel she picked
from the riverbed of her short life
in a blessed moment.
She put it adoringly in to his mind,
a gleaming ornament that 'd adorn him
though time would change that too.
Every thing experienced in this journey
makes one, the words of the monk prompt to act
and see the aftermath, take in the taste,
be it sweet or bitter or both,
odors and smells, the feel of things
a complex web, the map of inner life.
Never should one fail, to lend ears
to the tales of wandering monk
he is wisdom's child, patience solidified,
every tale has its color, smell and texture,
nature spoke, he experienced,
ages in muted tones speak
to him in the voice of the wandering monk
Welcome, to the intro of forever.
Where you’re fantasies may roam and hover.
All those insecurities and doubts may cease.
Come forth with me; tell me everything you ever dreamed.
For this time being I am no longer me, I am anything you wanted to see.
Undress and change into the bared skin that God gave you for me to see.
Lie down, turn over and repeat.
Over and over again, we hear the melody and the beat.
Sweat dripping off the warm shoulders of you and me.
As we lock eyes, you see no doubt.
Everything becomes so wrong, but as the same time so right.
You're lips gripping never are letting go as you begin to shout.
Legs shaking, knees trembling.
And as you wake from you’re slumber you have this grimace on your face that will show from miles away.
For “the fantasies got the best of me” you say.
Remember, every night and every day you wish to dream of me.
Because I am anything and everything you ever wanted to see.
Said the king to the colonel,
'The complaints are eternal,
That you Irish give more trouble
Than any other corps.'
Said the colonel to the king,
'This complaint is no new thing,
For your foemen, sire,
have made it A hundred times before.'
She loves me, She loves me not
She wants me
A second thought
As she twirls the flower
between her fingertips
her finger rips
Watch it fall
watch it settle
Watch it settle to the ground
Where it never
never ever will be found
Can you see it?
the pile on the floor?
her wilted lovers
her lovers from before
She holds the empty flower in her hand
she simply doesn't understand
Why the spark is there no more
Why she is oh so suddenly bored
He's no longer lovely to her eyes
She doesn't fully realize
Why things just aren't quite the same
Why she's the one
The one to blame
The constant fear of stomach aches,
colds and flu,
weird sensations that you don't even understand.
The constant fear of wrongly multiplying cells,
of hair loss,
of cardiac arrest,
of organ failure,
of words like lymph nodes,
The constant fear of dying.
The constant deaths,
in a thousand different ways,
in a thousand different hospital beds,
that consume you every day,
make you sick in the head,
The constant Grim Reaper's hand of health anxiety,
forever on your shoulder.
I wrote you words full of hate
With the intention to hurt you
But I couldn't give them to you
I didn't want to leave like that
But I must go
I can't follow you anymore
And watch her twist my words
To burn your soul with
You can't be the cause
Of my tears anymore
My biggest regret is holding on so long
When you clearly didn't want me anymore
I won't be seeing you around