Life is more than just time
It's more of poem with less of a rhyme.
Sky blue, trees brown, grass green....
You know what I mean?
Maybe it's not coming out right...trying to explain the meaning of life
But like.....who's knows what it is?
And the answer is:
This space is just for experience.
30 to 90 years of just feeling it.
Doing the things that you need to do,
and giving things back instead of just stealing shit.
You walk through the world just learning.
I sit in class just yearning,
"I need to be out there and I want to see."
My thought wheels keep turning.
And I try to be more than just one...
Because we weren't put on this world just for fun.
We are here for a reason.
But even that's hard to believe because we're suffering treason.
Like the kids these days.
Playing with fire
"You snaze, you laze."
But I digress.
Now, what was I talking about? Oh yeah,
Printing these stories about celebrities who quite frankly,
Just don't mean shit to me.
I mean, shouldn't we be focusing on something else for a change?
How about how the earth's climate has changed?
There are animals who are dying,
Their kind is shrinking.
Oh, and the water level is rising...
And we are still sinking.
Looks like no one is gonna build us a boat
So we all might have to hold onto our breath
And float on...like that band said.
"To be or not to be." Like that man said.
Right? Because our generation is so "stupid"
We have nothing to show because we don't do shit?
Well you just wait and see.
And for that you'll need patience and tenacity.
How about another subject? cause we have plenty of time.
A few years i'd say, but no...that won't fit in the rhyme.
So how about the mind?
It's a brilliant thing.
It controls us all like an ancient king.
Like for example, King Tut.
And i'd go on but you know what?
I just remembered I was talking about life, am I right?
It's already dark out, and as it turns out, I don't have all night.
So i'm going to leave you with this little piece.
And out of everything this is what i'd like you to take with you, please,
People don't get through it easy
But we are strong.
I mean, we're on top...right where we belong.
So really just...do what you gotta do.
I know the advice may be disappointing
But it's all that you'll need, dude.
As long as you do the things that you need
You have nothing to worry about and you will succeed.
So i guess life really ain't much
We talk and maybe think of it as such
You know what, forget all the rhymes.
Maybe life really is just...nothing but time.
We sell two albums on itunes if you search loud with love
with music on your mind
everything is fine
the looks which are deceiving
dont detour the fact your breathing
and the fun you have, it's principle
face the fact, what you look at is just some random occurance
i get thru my days with coffee
couple packets of sugar, half and half, sometimes tea
i convince myself I'm nothing
but with music on my mind I'm something
I lalalalala through my job
fake it thru the day, surprised I been there this long
words will get me out, I'm positive
it'll just take some hard work, time, luck, and overcoming obstacles
but I can do it
you can do
just use song to get you through
So, I wanna try something. I know this is a poetry website, but I have been writing this story. I stopped for many reasons such as being too busy, not inspired, not sure if it was good enough or not, etc.
So I wanna post just a part of it, just to see if anyone will like it. Just to see if it's worth it to continue it.
It's called The Sweet Pea, Honey Bee Kiss.
I tried not to regret the decisions I had made thus far, so the decision to pack my things and leave San Francisco was my own. I said not a word to anyone—not that anyone cared—and left on a rather depressing Wednesday morning. Leaving was not as hard as I thought it would be, rather, it was easier than well...me. There was an empty feeling in my stomach as I left, a sense of worry and depression lingering, but I refused to let the tears fall. So he didn’t turn out the way I wanted him to. That was fine, I suppose....
But who was I kidding? I thought he was the guy...the perfect guy. I didn’t know he could be so cruel, so detached and so...so much like every other jock there was at high school. Not all guys were bad, I knew that I wouldn’t succumb to blaming every breathing human being with a penis, I just knew now that Tristan Booker was an evil son-of-a-bitch and I was a complete idiot for thinking that he could ever like someone like me. Watching him turn his back away from me—away from the possibilities that could eventually be us—it crushed me. I had never felt so alone in a world filled with people—people who may have experienced the same thing I was going through or at least experienced heartache and heartbreak. I felt so emotionless. I couldn't find it in myself to cry, a cry that I so desperately needed, so desperately wanted. I could go my whole life blaming every guy that was a “Tristan”, I could go on with my life and succumb to the whispers and disappointment that pressed itself against me until one day it wouldn’t matter so much anymore. I could fight back; defend the dignity that was left behind and on life-support. But I did what any rational and distressed human being would do: I ran away. I hid in a tower much like how a Disney princess would, but then I remembered Cinderella was never called a whore.
I know it's long. Please bear with me and like/comment it honestly. Thank you so much!!
We sell two albums on itunes if you search loud with love
a doctors nothing more than a man in a coat
he makes promises to fix you to keep his life afloat
it isnt hard to see
they think lifes a game, and they'll sell you drugs if you let them happily
taking bribes from corporations, they do it so simply
then they push you out the door niftly
truley leaving you empty handed
placebo takes effect
take the drugs til theres nothing left
while the doctor has the check
you should save that money for your rent
cant no man cure you, you're cured
cant no man undo damage done, thats what i heard
its what i know, and what I live to be true
so the next time a doctor tells you what to do
take it light heartedly , he's in it for the bribe see
I put myself in terrible situations.
Into a net of naiveté.
I let you pull me far beyond the trees
And let you listen to me talk.
And I asked questions that went unanswered
Because your mind was somewhere else.
Earlier that week
I did something that lead to this very event.
A love potion...
Since when was that love?
I let you touch me
If only for a second.
But I guess I didn't push away hard enough.
I said no,
Over and over.
I turned my head,
But I guess you still didn't get it.
I should know better then to put myself
In self-esteem crippling situations.
But It happened anyway,
And I wonder if it's my fault.
You were my friend.
You've ruined me.
And I hate you for it.
Something happened to me a few months ago, and I've been trying to figure out how to write this.
It's bad but I can't think about it anymore.
i. I’d tell them of the moment you spoke about your favorite cartoon characters, and the way your face flashed when you described them to me. How innocent that brilliance was and how guileless your mannerisms were. And I’d wish they understand why I fell in love with the feeling of your innocent enthusiasm about some nonsense cartoons no one else cared about.
ii. I’d show them all your worries and troubles stacked on top of one another in a carelessly balanced house made of playing cards. And while they were appraising these I’d point out how selfless you are. How your troubles were never centered around your own joy. And I’d wish they see that the house of cards I showed them is a reflection of the person you are. The kind of person who’d knock those cards down if they had your name on them instead.
iii. I’d paint them a picture of your mind as I see it. Full of intricate ambitions, contradictory emotions, unreasonable doubts and absent-minded memories. I’d use black and blue pen to dot your journey here. And bright red to show them the great places you are destined to go. And I’d wish they stand back and appreciate the amalgam of colors instead of questioning why. There isn’t a single spot on the canvas I seem to fully understand despite being the artist.
iv. I’d take them on a walk to the place we first met. I’d make sure it was a sunny day first, just like that one. I’d tell them I didn’t think much of you at all when I first met you. I’d make them sit in that same spot, and feel the same way we felt as indifferent strangers. And I’d wish they understand that despite the seeming insignificance of that moment, I look back and am convinced I see a halo of light above that place and the beguiling simplicity of that day.
v. I’d tell them how tightly you hugged me when I was sad. How softly you touched my arm when you assured me that nothing was wrong. How quietly you showed me an overflowing friendship that’s waiting to combust And I’d wish they understand that it’s not just how wonderful it was breathing in the smell of your old jacket. It’s how wonderful it felt, feeling the weighty presence of a thousand words unspoken.
vi. I’d warn them before they meet you, this is what I’d say: “It’s easy to make that boy laugh, but it’s hard to win him over. His love is not on display, his mind has been sent to the dry cleaners. His laugh has been blocked with by caution and logic. But don’t ever say you don’t understand that he’s a wonderful human being”, I’d hope they understand your appearance is all pretense.
vii. And if someone asked me why I love you, this is what I’d say: It is hard for me to imagine going through the rest of this life and meeting another singular human being like you.
My Ideal Man:
1. Watch nerdy movies with me, you'll get my heart quicker if you love Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, or superhero movies along with me.
2. Be a Bruins fan please. Or at least a hockey fan, but Bruins is preferable.
3. Be kind. Don't do things just for yourself. If you see someone struggling help them.
4. Be patient. My family and I are nuts, and I'm so sorry about that, but we love with our whole hearts, and you'll never find people who care for you more, or will do anything for you.
5. Tolerate my musical preferences. I listen to quite a wide range of music, so bear with me.
6. When I'm sick, just let me watch a Disney movie, give me space (because when I'm sick I feel far from pretty, and have a tendency to not want to be around people) and I will love you forever.
7. Have faith. You don't have to be ridiculously religious, but believe in heaven and God.
8. Please have a functioning moral compass.
9. Don't question the TV shows I watch. (Ex. Game of Thrones, Project Runway, Friends)
10. Have a good relationship with your parents and siblings.
11. Be a dog lover, I'm going to want dogs when I live with someone (and I'm so sorry we can only get hypoallergenic ones)
12. Accept the fact that I tell my mum almost everything. If I know, likely she will know unless you make it very apparent that you don't want anyone to know.
13. Don't lie. Just don't.
14. Don't cheat. That should be obvious, but I've been through it before and I don't think I could handle it again.
15. Yes I'm a child when it comes to the little things in life. I love ice cream sundaes, coloring, Spongebob, and most adolescent things. Let it be.
16. If you have something bothering you, talk to me. Communication is key and I can't read minds, no matter how hard I try.
17. Be able to laugh at yourself, I do all the time at myself because most of the time I know I'm foolish.
18. Never underestimate snuggling. Unless it's really hot out.
19. Be spontaneous. Lord knows sometimes I do some strange things for no reason, but as long as they bring joy to someone or yourself, then do it.
20. Love with your whole heart.
Tommy’s little, sure, but he’s
getting to that age
when he understands a little more
picking up things as his parents
take him shopping;
and hearing and seeing things
at home, in the backyard
and in the streets
but today poor Tommy
is caught in class
he’s about to explode
and he’s controlled it the last hour
“Please, miss,” he has the balls
to say it after all
“I need go piss!”
“You’re not going,”
says the pedantic Miss,
“until you use in a complete sentence
the proper English word
for your urge:
Poor Tommy –
he’s got the balls, but does
he have the brains?
Tommy thinks hard for a while -
one hand on his head
one hand on his pants
and then he blurts out:
“YOU ARE AN EIGHT
and Mrs Smith next door
who sunbathes naked in her courtyard
LOOKS LIKE A TEN. Now, can I go?”
*listen-watch this poem read by me on youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XX-ZhOSQIsE ...
i just want some sort of sign from you
that you want me to still love you
in two years.
i will sit here and wait for you to come home to me,
i will wait two long fucking years.
if you wanted me to.
i swear i would;
if you could only swear that you would forgive me
for the hearts that i will have broken while you were away
and i would kiss you
mind and your
for being so understanding
my hair has stopped falling out
and it feels thicker
i want to shave it all off in the bathroom
(with the same razor i used to drag across this wrist)
and put it in a wooden box, and send it to you.
it would just be yours to keep
(sometimes, when i am feeling insane
i take a box cutter at work
and cut my fingertips, just a little bit.
or i take the blood that naturally flows from between my legs
and smear it on the walls of the shower
and on my legs and arms
i lay down under the stream of water
in the same shower where you once made love to me
i let it cover me
and i cry
i cry out for you)
and then maybe months later, i would buy a plane ticket to see you
and it would make you so angry
(because you told me to leave you alone.
you told me to leave you alone
and then you kissed me
and you told me you loved me.
you just don't want to talk to me anymore.
i'm trying so hard to figure out where your words and your actions match up.)
you would of course just send me home
and the plane might crash down
and in death i would be happy
that you might finally care about me
i wish i could explain to you,
how much i love you.
and how fucked up i am without you here.
and how strong i am without you.
but how weak i feel
and how i want to scream until you hear my voice, miles and miles away
and i cough up blood
and lose my voice
you hear it
and you get in your car,
and you drive into the sunset
and you see the city skyline
just a few minutes from my house
but don't even bother to call
you sit on the side of the road
staring at the cars driving by
concentrating on this decision
then, turn around and drive the two hours back home
didn't even bother to tell me you were here
and i can't even think about our home
the bed we slept in together
because in that little town
in that little room
you were the only thing that made any fucking sense,
and i am a mess now
and so is this p
Bloodied and broken on the cruel, hard ground,
Life slowly slipping away.
In awful, violent, glory he’s crowned,
A martyr of the fray.
His story draws life,
On muralled walls,
With those who fell before him.
Adorned in green, white, and gold,
His community come to mourn him.