I burdened you, did I not?
Told you things I thought you'd hear,
In the wind, in whispers from the woods
Nobody told you, but I did.
Vaguely I burdened you.
And you were lonely, I tell you so much,
In ways I don't fathom, shallow diving me.
Weird fishes nibble bones, weird stories take your love for me,
Rumours, rumours, grow like weeds,
Weeds, weeds grow as bushes between us.
So we sit on lawns of cut relationships,
Each blade a sharp reminder,
Of friends we never made,
We grew, didn't we? Like stalks of flowers that never dreamt of being trees,
I see the yellow of your kiss across the garden hedge.
We never bore such fruit apart.
So sitting, so kneeling,
So waiting till time makes us desperate enough to try again,
I move pragmatic pieces, and play games that think of you
I spell your name, in footsteps I take in the wrong direction,
But it's only wrong to you,
We're only wrong for each other,
Why should that mean we can't love?
Why does that mean we don't talk?
Not through rumours.
The desperate scramble to
rationalise; the burning need
to make sense of the
all-too-earnest search for
answers, for some guidestone
that will help us decipher
the craziness scrawled on the walls,
a key that might unlock that door
which currently bars the path to
sanity and reason.
We put polls in the field,
conduct surveys, devise
better, more probing questionnaires,
psychologists, sociologists, economists,
go blind on data
tabulated into every conceivable form,
cite studies, historical precedent,
strive for any, any answers
that will explain to us
how we came to
And maybe the reason is
we got what we
When I look back at the things I had
The things that now are gone
I was planting seeds of division
But the trees grew tall and strong
I used to see for miles around
But now the forest grows
Beneath the shade of branches
Are secrets no one knows
At first it was a place to hide
An oasis on barren lands
But holding on to a past that's gone
Was just leaving time on my hands
For years I must have wandered
Abandoning all that was good
I thought I knew my way out
But now I'm lost in the woods
This is probably one of my favorite poems I have written. I came to this site as a musician on hiatus looking for a creative outlet in life. This was the first poem where I felt as I wasn't a musician writing poems, but a poet. Thank you so much for your support and here's to many future works from myself and from all of you as well! :)
- The Mysidian Bard
You get your laughs and kicks dividing all you can.
There's no question that you're sick
but can the doctor prescribe anything
to put out this fire in the sand?
I swore there was a line there before,
but somebody brought gasoline to a firefight.
Now we're all pissed off and we've got a fire to put out.
Do you even care enough
to accept some human relation
or are you just along for the ride,
not caring where we crash?
What have you done? What have you done?
More importantly, why don't you care?
Well I've got news for ya, you know I resent ya.
I know you're not feeling it, but just know this
message is brought to you by bitter disgust.
When we start building Walls
Amidst neighbourhood woes
neighbours we encouraged to construct
their homestead close to our doors in assurance
of a strong shoulder on which to lean in times of adversity,
you definitely know the wines we call Wars
are brewing somewhere, walls are just a wine cellar
Divisions are the bottle to the wine seller
We once built bridges to unite the world
that peacefully lived as a divided entity
That's what happens in times of crisis
Some build walls to quarantine the endemic
while others choose to build more bridges
even if it means risking an entire generation
for we were once a world without boundaries
neighbourhood miseries were our miseries
their laugh was our laugh and their cry was our cry
We sung a single anthem in unison without a sigh...
always wait for drums of war to judge who is true
wait until then to know who honestly loves you
but Britain spearheaded globalisation as a country
Now that we are here, ready to leap into her lap
she's closed doors,
Britain is for Brits, the rest of the world is for us All...
I sit here, and I am disappointed in America.
We are raised like young bald eagles,
Screeching our greatness,
Shouting our name.
"One nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all"
For 12 years we say it every day.
Liberty and justice for all.
Where is the liberty of feeling safe in one's sexuality?
Where is the justice for Brock Turner's victim?
We are indivisible?
Tell that to members of the Left and Right this election cycle.
"Indivisible--meaning without the ability to be divided."
We cannot be divided?
Tell that to Muslims, Christians everywhere.
Tell it to those who are gay and those who are homophobic.
Scream it from the mountain tops,
"INDIVISIBLE, WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL!"
Listen to the words--
Do they sound ironic yet?
Do they drip with subtle notes of subterfuge and deception?
Do you think it might all be a lie we are told from birth?
Meant to propagate nationalism and patriotism?
Are we still the greatest country?
I'm not so sure anymore.
If we are indivisible, why do we tear one another apart with such ease?
Why is there so much resentment, so much brokenness?
Is that what it means to be indivisible?
I like to believe it's not,
But I'm not so sure anymore.
America, the brave?
What is so brave about raping an unconscious woman behind a dumpster?
What is so beautiful about wounding or killing 103 people in a nightclub?
Justice for all?
Where is the justice in 6 months of prison for 3 felony counts of sexual assault?
Are we as great as we say we are?
Wake up, America.
You looked at me in that way
That a dog stares helplessly
At the unrelenting traffic passing by.
You looked at me, and the gusts
Of winds blowing this/that way,
Seemed a bit more sure than you.
You stare at me, trying not to
Linger on my eyes, and open
and close your mouth, almost saying.
You, again, and forever,
Walk away, and before you leave
You turn and make time shatter between us.
And you mumble something,
Under your breath, I can only understand
"What do I know
What do I know"
America is bleeding,
her streets are running red.
They're running out of places
to pile up all the dead.
Uncle Sam is smoking,
pockets fat with oil and gas;
when will Lady Liberty
hold that flame under his ass?
America is bleeding,
a badge stuck in her chest,
can't defend a head wound
behind a kevlar vest.
And Justice wears a blindfold,
but it works kinda funny.
She can see right through it
if you have the money.
America is bleeding,
and now her children see
right on through the smokescreens
into her hypocrisy.
While high atop the flagpole
Old Glory's Stars stained red.
If we don't stop the bleeding,
We're gonna end up dead.
Derive the joy, magic and warmth of addition by connecting your soul to another's, yet remain independent as singular souls.
Meet the interference of envious, bitter and resentful subtraction which gives the process of separation from the souls you have connected to.
Both opposing forces with obstinate motivations coordinate unconsciously for the creation of an entrance-exit cycle in human interaction.
The pinnacle of human interaction is interceded by multiplication who compounds the congregation of the independent souls into a cohesive unit called groups and eventually society and nation.
Nevertheless met by the malevolent, destructive energy of division which ruthlessly breaks apart the products nurtured by multiplication, smashing them with propaganda, discrimination, and segregation.
O' how I exclaim that division is the truly nefarious power.