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...
As I look upon your face,
pale in the midst of bleak pain,
I think of the love in you for
this lady who walks the lane.
My heart asks, “What do you see
when your eyes this lass do follow?
What feelings flow through your body,
to make your breathing so shallow?
This hurt she inflicts on you
allows her to invade and reign,
the love you’ve stored away
for this lady who walks the lane.
A touch of her hand on yours,
the sight of tears upon her cheeks.
When another’s love she yearns,
and for his touch she does seek.
Cherishing the feel of her, fingers
running through her silk mane.
Wanting only to nourish your love
for this lady who walks the lane.
Funny the things we recall.
Images that flash through our brain.
Some most vivid for me were of an old man.
Skin like creased parchment paper,
Lined and yellowed with age.
The veins visible just below the surface,
of a thin near transparent covering.
Liver spotted flecks of red,
Charted paths of years of toil,
Palms callused forever from a life time of labor.
Big fingers knotted and misshapen,
The two inch tip of one gone missing,
Saw taken, at age sixteen.
Looking at those old hands, one could hardly guess
That still there remained gentleness in their caress.
For an old dog, or a little grandson in need of some
Companionable affection or parental love.
Those aged hands could also make things,
Toy sailboats, and wooden trains,
complete with caboose.
A cool flute whistle that actually worked,
He said it was like the Indian’s used out Oklahoma way.
And he would know, he'd cowboyed there.
His hands could become birds, rabbits,
butterfly's, all sorts of things.
When projected up on the wall,
Silhouetted by a naked strong light.
He knew magic too,
Could pick silver coins right out of my ear.
His tired face matched his hands, visual weathered
Creased and wrinkled road maps,
Of 89 years of rugged life traveled.
Yet, his lively pale green eyes remained forever
Fraudulently youthful prisms,
Eyes and spirit of a much younger man living.
But it is his hands most of all I shall remember,
Their imposing look and their reassuring touchs of tenderness.
I shall never forget my Grandfather’s hands.
I still remember my first time, bring a smile to my face
Ruby red lips begging for a kiss, the eyes knowing, glowing, rolling
Breath of whiskey and beer, something about it drawing me near
The sounds muffle as the moment becomes perfection
Dancing in the lime light, make sure everyone knows who owns this night
Her hand finding mine and taking me away, to that play we'd often play
Running circles in the park, the faint sound of a dog bark
Shared a joint in the moon light, just a little to let us fly right
High and away, to that distant other plain
Fall back to earth love, fall back to earth doll
My hands around your throat, I continue to choke
The eyes seem so real, so unclear in their fear
The gasping breaths that you made, slowly started to fade
By the time we got to home base, slowly cutting off your face
It’s my curiosity again
She is catching up to me
And my mind has run away again
Because it’s snagged,caught up on you.
In a way you only some times think of
And every so often ask about.
I’m so torn about saying it
Because I am scared you don’t share this same curiosity I run from.
I’m beginning to understand what He meant by “perfect”.
You see we already are and have been by being just friends
But I want to know the answer to what my mind has thought of
It is this question…
Would you kiss me?
Knowing that this “perfection” could stay the same.
Because if so
What would it feel like?
Would it thrill me?
How would you kiss me?
Would you make it soft and slow
Like in those movies
Or would you kiss me
Like the world is about to fall;
Thoughtless and with all the passion in this world…
Or do you not want to know
Because maybe you wanted things to change
So that kiss would have to come with a title.
Or just maybe we are both lucky and want things to stay the same.
But I had to ask…
Would you kiss me anyway?
I couldn't let this moment pass and never know
If you would or wouldn't
And if so
What it would be like to know your lips a little better.
With my hand on the pack of your neck
To say I know you and mean it in a way
That is more than I would say
So I’m sorry
My curiosity has me out here hoping you will say yes
Or say nothing at all and kiss me anyway.
It’s just a question
I’m so afraid it is too much to ask
Or that these painful butterflies in my stomach that I wrestle with
Will get in my way
Because we aren't changing
We are meant to stay the same
But I hope you will kiss me anyway.
For me life is about moments
It's not about what will happen
It's not about what has happened
It's about what is happening
Because nothing else in the world could possibly matter more than that moment when you're with that person and you feel that way and you're just hoping nothing can ruin this because perfect things and moments can't be ruined because you're so happy that it's you and no one else and that you didn't know that you could ever be this happy
All good things must come to an end and no matter what you do, say, or feel, your moments will become feathers of nostalgia just floating around in your mind and your memory but it's okay because moments end in order for you to make more moments and make more feathers so your head will be as filled as a pillow
A pillow of memories and happiness
Hips sway and lips lie
Yeah. you've got me
No, I won't call you baby
I got your account
And you like me just the way I'm not
I fought it for a long time now
said she needs to run away -- Lost
My ship went down
3 pm on my feet and staggering
Manage me (I'm a mess)
lost in empty cushions
my mistake so predictable (I’ve danced - )
From the get-go I knew this was (solid to hold)
Baby, don't yell
Say goodbye to the halls and the classes
Make a wish on our apology
Just watching your rib cage rise and fall
And your lips part slightly
I think you're only here
With me. . .
No one else
But me. . .
I caress your arm and send a shiver up your spine
And give you goose bumps
And you graze your bottom lip with your teeth
As if you're giving me a sign
A sign to keep going
To keep teasing
To keep caressing your nerves & mind
To keep making your hairs on the back of your neck raise
To make you feel surrounded with nothing but warmth
Which is the heat from within me
You whispered something
But it was too faint
And all I could hear was "....please"
I let my lips melt onto your neck
While your hands melted into my thighs
And we just stirred each other
Until we couldn't tell who was who anymore
That's what love did to us. . .
No one could identify us. . .
We couldn't tell love from lust
And didn't care about trust
We just wanted to be a heap of entangled limbs. . .
This is not a poem. This is not a letter. This is not really much of anything, for that matter. I hope you'll continue reading because it kind of helps knowing that someone somewhere out there is reading what I'm going to say next. I just hope you, my dear reader can benefit from my story.
It's merely 3.41AM and I am feeling empty. It's not the kind of emptiness that overwhelms you in tsunamis of water, neither is it splashes of water. It just didn't seem to have a place, it wasn't really anywhere, it was kinda just there. Haunting me.
I had just finished my O level examinations, and where I come from, it's one of the most major exams in my life. It determined my future. So like any other schooling teenager in this country, I studied for it. Not just the kind of studying where you listen in class or read the textbook and do your homework. The kind of study where I could go on without sleep for days or taking shot after shot of expresso just to keep myself going or regurgitating word for word an entire essay. All because I knew how important this was to me and my family and my future. Every day of the week was dedicated towards memorizing, every minute of the day was devoted towards practicing, and every second of the minute was committed towards reading. Basically, every millisecond was crucial. And this was something I abided by religiously. But despite my efforts, I was still struggling. I simply couldn't do well. And when you put your heart and soul into something and it just doesn't go how it's supposed to, you get really broken, destroyed. You never know what went wrong and you question many things about yourself and you start running in circles, thinking and digging. The failure I was faced with consumed me with defeatism and self hate. I broke down more often than I should as the days to my exam drew closer, and I grew more anxious and scared. So god damn scared of the future.
Bear with me, please.
Anyway, the week of my exams came quickly. Despite my efforts to slow down time, time had done just the opposite. It was the most painful and suffocating weeks of my life. And although I am one to say that lightly, this easily took the crown. I have never, ever in my life felt this close off the ledge. And there were many times were I have came very close off the ledge. My exams lasted for around 3 weeks, and each morning I had to have at least a triple shot expresso and each night I before I went to sleep, there would be these images and thoughts telling me that I didn't deserved to sleep and I shouldn't even think about it. But when I did catch some sleep, the constant fears in my day had took over my nights. I would always dream about failing the exam, or being late for the exam, or forgetting to bring something to the exam, or killing myself before the exam. It was impossibly horrible and I could actually feel my soul getting depleted by the minute. Like the 'me' in my body was slipping away and there would soon be nothing harboring my body. I often find myself crying to sleep, and waking up in tears. I couldn't stand being so weak and vulnerable, but I felt absolutely defenseless against everything around me. Even the ones that loved me couldn't make me feel human, I felt like I was already dead and my body was still alive. I felt like I was constantly suffocating and nobody could see it. Each day felt so purposeless, ironically. (It being my exams week) Waking up each and every day was draining and having to face my eminent fate was painful. A physical kind of pain where you felt lightheaded and spinning but yet caged and choked. It's hard to describe.
So, it isn't hard to tell that I wasn't in the right state of mind to take my exams. I just dragged myself through those past couple of weeks, doing what I could. Each breath felt labored and each thought in my head wore me down greatly. I broke down frequently before my papers, and there would always be this couple of schoolmates who say things like "You'll do fine, stop worrying." Or "Just do your best. Whatever will be, will be." My parents would even try to tell me to take it easy and "We'll be proud as long as you've tried your best." I know that they mean well. But no, you don't understand. I have worked too fucking long and too fucking hard to watch it all slip away from me just like that. It isn't just some national exam I have to study for, it was my godforsaken passport for the future. All that I have done for this exam, all that I have forsaken, all that I have gone through was for myself. It was the dedication of every ounce of strength that I had so that I could let myself believe that hope existed. And I had just watched it being snatched away from me, right before my own sunken in, swollen eyes. And it hurt like hell knowing that I've tried my best for it, and it is a reflection of what I've worked for. Nobody's going to look at C's and D's and see the reflection of an "overnight mugger", they'll see what comes to mind first: a lazy, complacent teen. And as the saying goes, "The lie, if repeated a hundred times, becomes the truth." All my hard work will be forgotten. And it will be like it never existed before.
Maybe some might think that all this is stupid. All this I go through for one exam, I know many of my schoolmates think that way. But the complex feelings that I experience for this exam isn't just because of my future. My life depends more than it should on this exam because it will prove to me that I am not a failure and I am not as stupid as I think I am. I want to know where my best truly is and where I stand. Because I have never worked for anything in my life but this exam has been the great exception. It was the key driving force of my life, it was what wore me down and spurred me on at the same time. I don't want people to tell me that I am capable and that I am smart, because I will never believe you. I need this exam to show me that I am capable and I am smart. I want to believe it too.
So I lie in bed at 4.17AM now feeling so afraid of the future. And I used to be the kid that depended on the prospect of a better day. I have yet to meet my impending doom, and if you are wondering, I collect my results next year in January. So now, I am lost and alone. And empty.
Thank you if you've read this far, I just hope that you, my dear reader, if you've ever felt useless, or not good enough or you're just hurting, know that you are not alone and there is someone that knows how you feel. I would tell you to be strong, but only you can do that for yourself. Just hang in there.
My father took the name Connors
'cause he didn't want people to know how crazy it was
being Looneys; sons of the armed Irish, that's us.
I'ma prove myself worthy of that name some day.
Already I be on my way:
Stealing shields from the police
'cause that's how we play.
I'll make us famous one day,
Or infamous, either way.
I could be anything
but I'd rather be heard.
It's not who I am but what I've become (that I believe in).
A name does not define personal identity,
It is merely testimony.
As of yet, I remain
unnamed, unmade and unknown.
Got an ethnic identity crisis in the growing.
I can't chose who I want to be,
It's far too easy.