I'm tired of writing the cheesy words I used to write..
I'm tired of listening to all of their crap..
I'm tired of not reading my own mind..
I feel like a balloon flying up high screaming to fall..
I just don't want to think anymore..
I believe that every truth comes from a lie..
I believe that I'm a lost soul in a pointless life..
Im nothing but careless bones smiling with no whys..
No questions to add just a soul sailing between clouds..
Today is not the same
For you’re not here
I feel so lame
And there is a longing which I hear
You are a part of me
And now you’re gone
I feel that my life is done
And our distance is a great sea
You’re just absent
But I feel that my life is spent
A day without you,
Is what I can’t last
I don’t know what to do
And no one is annoying me
Though I really miss it
For no one’s sittting on the corner chair
I feel that I’m lost in a great fair
You’re the only one,
The greatest reason I wake up
And attend class merrily
Now, I do not know, what will I do?
I’m feeling sadness and pain for you’re far away
With you not in class
With you not on the corner chair
With you not here
With you gone
With you absent
I am not complete
I hope that we see each other the next day
I hope when you see me, you’ll feel better
I hope I can glance at you beauty the next day
I hope that I can feel your presence tomorrow
I hope that when we reunite
I may hug you and say
That I love you!
As a child I knew nothing
and needed even less,
content with being happy
but 'growing up' required me to digress.
I took life as a challenge
chose myself an aim,
let the goals laid out for me
become the rules of the game.
Years of living like this
distraction and reward,
suddenly I realised
I was cold, alone and bored.
My knuckles white and fingers raw
from trying to hold on,
to the rules I made as a child
but the basis was long gone.
But whose choice is it
what I see I want and need,
the thought that these are 'my' desires
could be called the root of greed.
So I spent years digging
back into my head,
to find the child I left behind
hoping he wasn't dead.
In a dream one night I found him
he laughed when he saw I forgot,
that logic was an emotion
and that love was not.
So these days I give back
what my fear took away,
now I let that child come out and sing
rather than hiding how he plays.
This is not a poem that you would enjoy, for it's structure, it's possibly pleasant, creative, invoking use of diction, or subject matter. Also, this is truly not me employing reverse-psychology in an attempt to draw you in. And that is not reverse-reverse-psychology or layered reverse-psychology, seriously.
It is simply an expression, a result, of myself experiencing a byronic attack, a selfish emotional embellishment, that may be constructive and help me recover from, and hopefully learn from, my particular human condition.
I do not expect or necessarily desire anyone to read this, but here I am, publishing it.
I am a passionate young individual, but this time I cannot be bothered to express myself metrically, or in a fashion usually regarded as poetic, as artful.
Nonetheless, I confess that I believe since it is different, then it is p'raps artful in it's own way, but it is still far from ideal to me,
And if I was not seized by such urgency to ride this byronic wave before it crashes, I would maybe take the time to write it in a fashion which aligns with the purposes of this website,
To share poetry, not literal messages, however heartfelt and true.
I am a passionate young individual, and I love to write, to sing, to play, to draw, to dance and experience all the arts and crafts of life, though I clearly prefer and am naturally talented at a few over all the rest
I wish to read so many books,
listen to so much music,
play so many games,
produce so much art,
spend time with so many friends,
learn so many skills and climb so many branches of knowledge,
to be healthy, fit, intelligent, informed and whole in this poisonous and yet wonderful modern world of possibility,
but I am finding it so difficult to juggle it all, to give it all the energy it deserves, to make such worthy things part of my experience and/or character. So difficult.
I care too much about too many facets of my experiences, I cannot encompass then all satisfactorily with my time.
This is entirely my fault.
Because I am a peerless procrastinator, a scatter-brained and hopeless dreamer, always living in dreams which swallow my desire and motivation to make them manifest.
The magnitude of my desires are unreasonable, but stubbornly I do not let them go.
Most of all, I cannot let go of my friends, the beautiful, brilliant, infuriating and so special people I find I have the privilege to know, I cannot let it become 'have known', despite the inevitable and healthy eventuality that they will traverse the earth. I must live the beauty of each one of them, and reciprocate, to develop something worth reciprocating, I must, I must.
I must do it all, or I must de-frag, re-organise, wise-up, simmer down, and just be kool with what is.
My philosophy includes many esoteric spiritual fancies, which if I practiced would make this quite possible, this childish problem vanish, null, void, I would stride towards mastery of this life, but I am so good at falling back on anguish, instead of beating the path I have discovered towards anything and everything I desire, noble or otherwise.
Bit of a cli'che, but this is so First World, so selfish, personal and esoteric. Bother this nonsense.
It is too late, I have not progressed far enough in my internal fancying quest to befriend and gain the favour of time, the wave is crashing, the passion running thin and foamy to be absorbed by so many grains of thought and feeling in the fleeting and seemingly linear stream of conscious experience, it is dissolved, no doubt only to build up, well up from beneath, again in the future. What crap.
This is not silly at all, but it is also very silly. The moment has passed, I am deflating back t'wards normalcy, societal tolerancy, acceptabe behaviourability, towards facetiouty it seems.
I so yearn to share this thing called passion with those dear friends of mine, completely, and I would do all that I must do,
I sometimes don't think it's so unreasonable, so unattainable, though p'raps it would just be too good to be true....would it?
Wish me luck.
you who are the sons,
this is addressed to you.
you who are comets,
you who are not,
cannot believe, you are
but are nonetheless.
You who awake and say,
be whom you must,
pretend not to be
the son of...
no matter how many
millions of miles must be
traveled till you are visible,
no matter how brief your life,
you are more than Ison,
your are yourself, part son,
but all man, unique.
set your own course,
if to the sun you must fly,
set the course you choose,
and we will call you by your
Like Icarus, Comet Ison flew too close to the sun and perished. After passing near the solar surface on Thanksgiving Day, Ison vanished in a ghostly puff. Ice and dust proved no match for infernal heat. Next up is Comet Lovejoy, whose close encounter with the sun will take place on Christmas Day.
Here on the island of Nantucket, we know well the heartbreak of comets. In 1847, Maria Mitchell became world famous for discovering a comet from the rooftop of her family's home on this fleck of land 30 miles out to sea, the first comet ever found using a telescope. Mitchell's calculation of the comet's orbit showed that its trajectory would carry it away from the solar system, never to return. Within three months of its discovery, the comet had faded from view, beyond the light-gathering capabilities of even the most powerful telescopes. All that remains today is a memory.
According to Greek legend, when Icarus and his father, Daedalus, were imprisoned by King Minos on the island of Crete, Daedalus built wings of feathers and wax for their escape, cautioning Icarus not to fly too high because the sun would melt the wax. But Icarus was so overjoyed by his ability to soar and swoop like a bird that he forgot his father's warning. As he flew higher and higher, the feathers came loose and he fell to his death in the sea below.
Ison was once a prisoner too, held for billions of years in our solar system's dark netherworld, the Oort cloud, a place so remote it takes a beam of sunlight a year to arrive there. Freed by a sudden gust of gravity from a passing star, the comet began its exhilarating but ill-fated flight to the sun a few million years ago.
It's wonderful and sickening
that I can almost sense you here
in this black hole that couldn't lead to
anything but the disaster that I've learned to
expect every time I give in to the idea
of running my fingers through your hair
and pretending your stomach is pressed against mine
with your arms locking me in place
your lips on my neck
and our legs intertwined.
But when I spread my hands in this
darkness that I can't seem to escape,
I swear your fingertips are outlined
against my own,
veins caressing veins,
skin electrifying skin,
and if I want to survive
your life support can't let me go.
You're within reach
And I'm terrified.
to live by hallucinations.
But you're already in my bloodstream
And as with any time blood is spilled,
this is going to get ugly.
Match the frequency
of the reality you want
and you will get that reality
today because yesterday
is history and tomorrow
is a mystery but know
that today is a gift.
Forget what hurt you
in the past and never forget
what it taught you as you
find balance over your years,
as you live for today
and answer to nobody
Start the next chapter
of your life and if you
find someone who
makes you smile
and someone who
checks up on you often
to see if your okay
and someone who watches
out for you and wants
the very best for you,
don't let them go.
Keep them close
and never take them
for granted because
people like that
are just too hard
Get out of your own way
and you will be surprised
what will come to you
and realize that choice,
not chance determines
your destiny, so make
the right choice. Jon York 2013
the air is thick with madness
blown in the wind like smoke
in time we all begin to choke
stagnation static clinging
wringing me of passion
rob me of compassion
like a black hole, devour
my heart and soul
now, in our darkest hour
I cry out, "save me!"
the silence is deafening
so loud my ears are ringing
I wander lost, alone and confused
a stranger in a strange, cold world
seeking peace and solace
finding nothing, I recoil
violently, like the raging storm
and the sizzling crackle
of lightning splits the sky
hear the sound of my fury
in the booming of thunder
the rage against complacency
the roar of my inner fire
I know there is more to life than this
it started off slow and subtle
in time the hunger began to spread
it began to divide and consume
the light and all that lies before it
at first no one noticed
now we turn a blind eye
overlooking our true nature
we are agents of destruction
devouring all in our path
discarding that which serves us no longer
and moving on to the next thing
it doesn't have to be this way...
we look to the sky for our salvation
but no one is coming to save us
from the nightmare we created ourselves
and continue to maintain each day
with the folly of our egotism
nothing but an illusion,
a ghost of the truth, that is
we are ugly deep down under
the polished masks we wear
and for what? What does it matter?!
cast off the persona weighing you down
become the light you were meant to be
let me tell you a little secret...
we can be our own saviors
of, pertaining to, or characterized by a manner of writing in which a character's thoughts or perceptions are presented as occurring in random form, without regard for logical sequences, syntactic structure, distinctions between various levels of reality, or the like
I’m here to tell you all about my good friend
Ever since we have met, I haven’t ever looked back
It is such a beautiful friendship and I thank you
You take the time to chat…. and say hi each day
Our many games of ‘Words with Friends’ we get play
A gentleman you are…. so kind and so sweet
Being friends with you makes each day a special treat
What a wonderful world we live in
You bring to it the gift of kindness, people most often lack
So thank you, thank you for being my good friend
Who knows if we will ever…. be able to meet
My life without your friendship would be incomplete
So long may it continue…. so deep and so true
So all that’s left to say is, “I thank you”
What a beautiful world you make it
Ever since I got to know you, I haven’t ever looked back
It is such a special friendship and I thank you
Written to the tune of Master Jack by 4 Jacks and a Jill
Fallen from my life,
this surreal specter
who tempered my heart
in words of love,
undressed my soul
with the eyes of an artist,
who beheld me in my totality.
The kisses before dawn,
in between dreams,
I'll miss those spots in the dark
where soft lips used
sonar for closed eyes,
and nude warm skin
which once begged us
to bed till noon
no longer clings.
How cold to sleep alone.
A solo light in a dark room
with her shadow still on the wall,
and an indentation in the bed
where I had pressed her down
to bite her neck,
our passion lingers.
Our love loiters in
the walls of my atria,
with every beat reminding
me of how our love
turned my blood into hot wine,
but now I drink our love alone
My blood toasting to the
shadow on the wall.