I wrinkle my nose
And smell the salty air
So fresh and clear
I close my eyes
And listen to the waves kiss the shore line
I try to understand the secrets it holds
Resting my head on a pine
I glance at the waves
So strong and so sure
They know exactly what they're doing
And they don't hesitate
Where as the delicate shore is so vulnerable
And inocent and raw
The water is calm
no matter how big the waves are
It's peaceful here
It whispers to me
In a tongue I don't speak
Yet I long to understand what it is saying
Ohh the deep blue see
I wish I understood you
Knowing all you know
Seeing all you see
I close my eyes again and listen
One day maybe I will understand
Maybe we should take a little bit better
Of each other.
Of our Friends.
The people that make up our lives.
The people whom we are in the life of.
Maybe we should ask
The questions that need to be said.
The difficult task that must be done.
Ask the hardest questions.
How are you? Not today but every moment! Are you happy?
How are you feeling, will you get out of bed today.
Want to go out with me?
Maybe we should tell them
What we really think.
I love you/I like you/I can not get enough of you.
Your eyes, your beauty, Makes my insides melt.
Your hugs I don't want to let go.
Maybe we should share
Our own life stories.
Our own defeats.
Maybe we should relax for
One more second.
One more breath.
One more word.
One more glance.
Care a little bit more...
Don't piss off a writer.
Her thoughts will be validated upon paper,
her eyes will cry tears of ink that sink into the pages forming words never quite forgotten,
your past together will be an anthem to young girls who suffer in the same,
when she spits out her blood soaked poetry the guilt will drive you insane.
Don't. Piss off a poet
Because at three thirty in the morning she will write an angry piece about how perfect your eyes looked when the rain splattered your windshield, how your kind words melted the barricade, and when you were safely inside you lit a match, just to see how many things would catch
Dont break a poets heart,
it will not break her pen and when she sends the message across the web of how you hurt her,
the sound will resonate across the night clubs and everyone will know you shattered her like good china, smashed underfoot by a mad man, tension she couldn't bare, and drunk text messages unsent about how much she cares.
We, were an unfinished painting the artist got bored with, A Mona Lisa on an etch sketch,
you curled yourself around me and tucked yourself underneath my tongue,
you said when I smiled your limbs came undone, and you fell in love with me every time I sung to you,
well maybe I should have sung louder, because my message is now falling on deaf ears,
I want to hear the words, I need you, I want to see you, I miss you.
Instead I'm glued to my screen trying not to send you hate mail so obscene,
I never meant to get this attached to you, and maybe that's why you're running away.
If I asked you to stay would you bother? Or just run faster?
I promised myself I wouldn't write a poem about you, because if I did that I would have to open my mouth,
and I'm scared now that you've jumped out, and have found safety in another girls arms, how did I not realize this would cause me harm, I never wanted to fall for you.
Don't make empty promises, to poets.
We will never forget, because we produce the highest form of lies known to man, I can make words in languages you'll never understand, but with a flick of my hand and the right stance I could make you fall in love with me after the second glance. So don't try to lie to a writer, buddy I've been there. You think hearing "I hate you." hurts wait until you wake up to.
"Your eyes make mine want to bleed, your voice crackles up my spine, and shake me to the core. Every time you look at me I think of how many different ways I could feed your organs to starving children in Africa. Your pancreas I'd send to Guam, your heart to Ethiopia. Lead you into the depths of hell and keep you locked up. In case I wanted to play with you later, no. I'm not bitter, what makes you say that."
Or better yet, imagine waking up to silence. I cannot speak for my words are numb to the bubble of hatred in my centre. If I let it escape I will never stop screaming, I've been meaning to tell you that I could never regret anything we've done together.
If his eyes were stars she would wish upon them.
Perhaps then, he would look to her the same way.
If his breath were a poet she would hang upon it’s every expression.
Wishing for a day where her remarks would take his breath away.
She drinks in his breath, as if it would give life to her dull bones.
If he could tell her how she made his life light up like a Christmas candle.
She would blush at every line.
Her lips puckered with virgin request.
It was the most innocent of caresses. She held onto ignorance
with no wish of letting go.
Because when she’s with him, the voices don’t cry so loudly
she could write ten thousand poems about his gentle eyes.
Describing every part of it she would sweep with her damp burnt, licked lips.
Drawn into a line to stop the flow of words she wishes to whisper.
So she doesn’t open her dark bat filled mouth to his spring filled questions.
In the obscurity, she imagines his soft hand next to hers.
She sings a lullaby into his ears, and he wishes he could kiss her.
And she wishes he could too.
As of now, she’ll cry out to the voices to hush themselves.
And the dusk to enlighten her,
She cannot see the light at the end of tunnel; this façade is blocking the way.
All she knows is that she needs him closer.
If he could tell her a thousand times that the sun shone down from the heavens and through her expression.
She would glance down at the floor and hear.
He’s lying. ҉
She's half twisted, she's half pure.
She's one-hundred percent human and nothing more.
She's someone you could choose to love or abhor.
She is not concerned with your opinion anymore.
She has an innocent side at the best of times,
With a cloud of darkness trailing not far behind.
She can be cruel as much as she can be kind.
She can be stubborn but strives for an open mind.
She is far from perfect; she is far from pristine.
If you look close, you'll notice her hands are not clean.
Judge her not only by what she says but what she means.
She is much more than at first glance she may seem.
I’m hopeless at putting pen to paper, you know I am.
I saw you sitting at the blue window
as I passed by the chateau yesterday. You didn't look down as you sat perched on the sill like the fragile bird you are. I threw every pebble on the road onto that perched frame of yours. The window was cracked open and yet, nothing perturbed you from your position.
I couldn't wake you from your senselessness; I couldn't see your needs. I admit it, so should I apologize? I always apologize and I am sorry. So very sorry. I wallow in my regrets from time to time.
Your eyes found mine; the image of your loving glance puts me off nightly slumber. No image has disturbed my heart for the longest time.
Ah, time! Has it caught up with us all in this masquerade of waltzing seasons? The beauty of years is worn down each year by our own finite doom. Mary, dear I am afraid. So very afraid. Death is always around the corner.
Cravings for what we aren't supposed to have
Love is forbidden and nobody cares
The poor have no chance
with idle hands
making up rules with no second glance
And the people vote
Raise your hands
the verdict stands
a hundred years without hope
will there be any way to cope?
With wars running rampant and poverty
liars and thieves become the kings
The people bow to cloth, people & things
children remain suffering
This is a world of of the insane
Forgiveness is difficult when no one is sorry
Confidence and hope are replaced with worry
Faith flies out the window & prayers are hard to say
when injustice rules then no one feels safe
Shrouds of white,
And shrouds of cotton
Perform their simple
Command, lacing my
Breasts, concealing my
Flesh from thy beautiful
The eye that lifted
My lips of gold.
With a quick passing glance
And a fleeting glimpse of
Thee, diamonds shed
And mulberry delight
Make their way to
My innermost sensitivity and my
brain begins to burst
With the love trapped within
For ages passed.
My fingers let yours
String of merriment.
You promise me you love
Me like the vacancy of the sun.
Love of mine,
Guide me with thy
Heart of sublimity.
Jar me with your
Spark, with your
You know something happened
When every teacher walks into the hall
And a shared, scared glance sweeps across everyone
When your friend walks into the room and tells you
And the teacher brings you into a class of strangers
To tell you how much you mean to her.
You know something happened
When she starts crying and telling you
That she can't sugarcoat it even if she wanted to
And when you walk into your next class
And the room is silent
But the teacher didn't tell them to be.
And when there is a staff member at every corner
And when there is silence in the halls
And how you didn't even know him
But it makes you sad as well.
And how every stranger to walk in the building
Could feel the tension in the air
And how you turn the corner and see your youth pastor
And how you can't even tell your best friend how you feel
And how the silence shows you that through tragedy,
We are one.
And how the silence told me that we unite through feeling,
An unspoken feeling,
A silent tribute throughout the halls
Throughout the day.
And how you see the sadness, the tissues and hugs,
And how you wonder if that's how he felt
Before it happened
Before any of us felt this way
And you wonder if he felt this feeling
The beautiful high school quarterback
With everything seemingly perfect
And you wonder if he felt this way-
The rain makes the world gray,
gray like the way your touch felt on my thigh.
You looked so handsome today,
with your voice as melodic as angels
and I couldn't help myself to think that although I want you to be happy,
I can't bare your happiness not involving me.
I know it's selfish,
but we're all generation me.
And you frustrate me because I can't figure you out.
You're a shifting maze,
I'm trapped in you
and I couldn't be happier.
I think of you often and wonder how you could hate me
But demons aren't meant to be loved,
I constantly desire your love,
or at least a reassuring glance.
But you are white and I am black,
I wish I could say
we blend together impeccably.
But I'm just being naive.
I guess we can just blame it all on the rain.