There are a few types of music
Music when you're happy
Music when you're sad
Music that makes you think of someone
And music that doesn't mean anything to you
Until certain things happen In your life
And it just moves you, speaks to you.
Pushes you through the through
Glides you through the smooth
Music that I listen to when I'm only thinking of you.
But I never tried poetry
And now I realize
Poetry can be used
To explain love in great detail
An image in a readers mind
But love can mean many things
To the writer.
So the reader has to relate to it in someway
Dig deep within the lines
It's like finding a diamond in the rubble
But when they do their eyes come alive.
See a poem has to flow
Tell a story in someway
Poems that only make sense to me
My mind is thinking of new
Lines every, single, day
See I never wrote poetry before I came here.
I see it as a land of peoples
Story's and Dreams
A land of people who
Get heat-broken and Shattered
And write about the things they've seen
People that write about the dark valleys in their mind
People who write poems about their lovers,
as you see their words come alive.
People who write about their struggles and addiction
A place where everything in their mind is in one place
and most of it is non-fiction.
But poetry for me
Are my Demons scrawled
Across these pages
And my story's to tell
This place is where I drown them
They lay there in that thing
The thing I used to call the Wishing Well.
If they're here, they're not in my mind
Emotion in my lines
But the reader has to Look, Imagine and Relate
But when they do, their eyes come alive.
Now I know this
Poem may not be the best
And It's not meant to be
Because this is a poem that will only make sense to me
Just another Demon
I have thousands and this is just one less.
But now I come here everyday
In the hope I can feel something and relate to somebody else in some sort of way
People who I don't know but I can read and read
Pages upon pages and for a moment my mind becomes less tense and I start to believe.
I didn't mention the Angels
Because they're quiet
They only come when I rest
I think a lot
But I know they're always silent
During the Test.
You shop in Hollister,
a store targeted to popular teens,
but I stop by Hot Topic
made for fangirls, nerds, and scenes.
Inside of Hollister it is dark,
and you can't see what you're buying,
an overwhelming aroma of cologne and perfume
will make my eyes start crying.
The store is built to look like
it belongs in California-
and every piece of clothing
(and here is logic for ya)-
every piece is decorated
with surf boards and gulls and bikinis
cos everyone apparently forgot
where we live it's only 60 degrees.
The bags you take out with you
are covered with pictures of teens
with sagging bottoms and rippling muscles
and fake tans and bikinis obscene.
They play bad music
at a super fast pace,
and the girls inside
act like they own the place.
Now Hot Topic is a different story,
I feel that I must mention,
almost like an escape for losers,
a We Love Nerds convention.
Here you can get a size
that is bigger than zero,
and instead of cool surfboards
are screened with bacon and superheroes.
T-Shirts and suspenders
ties, belts, and wristbands,
with smart-aleck sayings
and merchandise for fans
of just about every
like Hetalia, Doctor Who,
or even just random
things like bacon or
My Little Pony,
(I'm getting a wristband that says
"I'm a Brony")
Funny little quotes
on buttons and pins,
on little odds'n'ends.
They people inside
are hipsters through and through
with hanging-off-the-frame Beatles shirts
MissMayI, Doctor Who.
This is where I feel safest,
among a million people like me,
instead of that stupid Hollister store
filled up with people I have no desire to be.
a cold night in warm summer.
i feel sad
is all i can remember.
he raped you,
with every touch he whispered
'love' into my ear
her hair was dark as the stars.
I'LL KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH
no. he didnt mean it.
her lip quivered
he loved me
i couldnt understand the defense.
he is in a bad place
her eyes wouldnt meet mine
drugs. alcohol. his dad was a bad man.
tears fell off her soft skin.
why dont you run?
my mind wouldnt stop
stay here with me
i reached for her hand.
with a twist
i will write.
you know that
she began her leave.
i love you.
i yearned for those swaying hips.
i longed for a simple touch.
i prayed for her nimble thoughts.
Did you know that;
that in Hello Poetry,
Which is the world we inhabit;
There is so much jealousy
that people and their poetry
Are sidelined and scorned
Cos they don’t toe the line of the gentry
The poets then are conned
Into believing they are worthless
While the gentry who think they own this place
Do not realize that they are the useless
For such poets will always find their space
For Dawn had disappeared
Due to their insufferable suffering
And the squares have reappeared
Cause of their own believing
To face the politics of Hello poetry
And its own unique gentry
The heat left a haze of illusion
As she walked the line between breakdown and motion
The ocean yielded it's breeze
She staggered through hell or so it seemed
Yet around her there was peace
Eyes cast down due to blinding light
That takes so much from her
Yet she's still game to fight
For she knows soon there will be night
Oh distant sun
I ode to thee
While sweating out my impurities
Where once I'd flee
I now welcome rays
Please carry me off to another place
The morning breaks through the clouds
and the sun hits the green in the hills
like a scene from a foreign movie.
The main character embarking into unknown,
captivating rocks cradling them
as they ride the train to new lands.
Steam from the heat of day
rising and mixing with the wind and the breath.
So full but so silent,
only nature's stories.
But it's not far away
or a place I've never known.
And I can't believe it's mine.
Let me tell you about a place
where adults can come to play
It's an adult Disneyland
and there's no end to the day.
The fields are lined with vendors
meditation spots for free
I even found tied died Jesus
twice in one day, he saved me.
I slid down rainbow water slides
rode a multicolored ferris wheel
I surveyed miles of wonder
upon a pink seat of steel.
There's a strong sense of community
that serves one communal mean
to convey one's self expression
though art and sustaining green.
Sandalwood swirled through the air
and joined music's pleasing taste
Then fueled the hungry thousands
to dance in an ecstasy filled haze.
Campers flew their country's flag
and spoke one universal truth
That art and music hold the key
Sad road trip home........
See you in '14
My brother and I were invited to
Polynova, "The Grande City of The World".
Polynova is the largest city
To exist in our world,
It is home to every race in the world
It is has the largest trade market
It has the most beautiful architecture
You could imagine.
It can best be described as a giant pyramid
Where the governor sits atop
And the city becomes larger and larger
'Til the base.
I couldn't tell you a specific color of the place
Because the people have tampered
And structured it over time.
Gold, Magenta, Bright Green,
Cerulean, Silver, Mud Brown,
The list goes on and on.
It is constantly crowded and bustling,
You would be surprised how good it smells.
The cuisine is magnificent,
All the best foods from the world
Gather here and share their secrets
With the masses.
This city could be best described as,
"A city of togtherness".
It is a city of hope
Hope that the world will settle its differences
And hope that one day the fighting will stop.
Polynova stands as a symbol to us,
Some reject it,
But I embrace it.
I am but a boy
Too young to have seen the world
As a cynical and terrible place.
I regard everyone with the utmost respect
My brother and I were invited to Polynova
To participate in the first ever
Grande Fireworks Festival.
We come from a long line of firework makers,
My grandfather was one of the first firework artists
To grace this world.
So off we go to Polynova
To share our secrets and craft
With other firework artists.
Off I go to,
"The Grande City of the World"
Meister Fluff sat on his throne
Meister Fluff had a gruff tone
Meister Fluff had great guile
Meister Fluff had no smile
Duchess Grace heir to the throne
Duchess Grace had a nice tone
Duchess Grace loved by her peeps
Duchess Grace had rights for keeps
They hated each other Fluff and Grace
And wanted Grand Candy Place
To rule over the candy peeps
And carry them out of the dire deeps
Meister Fluff and Duchess Grace
Decided to throw pies in the face
Both felt that they could be king
But they did such a silly thing
Pies and pies and pies and pies
Attracted so many little flies
The flies then bit at the candy peeps
Now Fluff and Grace had no rights for keeps
Most times I find myself lost
Lost in times, places,
Held captive in my thoughts
It's ok it's ok it's ok
The grass helps me forget
As I lay absorbed in its warmth.
There is smoke in the distance,
Or is it right next to me?
I don't know anymore
Nor do I care
I just let myself go off most times
I love to go off most times,
As much as I loved my family
Who stood by my side 'til their end.
My dear sister was quite the artist
Quite the artist indeed
She had this distinct flight in her work,
Or was it flow?
I'm getting lost again.
These colors they did cling to each other
As if they've known each other since long ago.
I would get lost in these paintings
And would remember the times I saw these colors,
Like the blue in the bay
Protected by the army,
Like the brown windmill
That I climbed with my best friend,
Damn I forgot he was there with me,
Like the yellow in my dog's eyes
When she and I saw a man burn to death.
It's too bad Auntie hid those paintings
Beyond the basement.
My father died in the Korean War,
Oh captain, my captain
You failed to return
But don't fret
I raised my flag for you this morning
And every morning,
Waiting for your safe return.
You had dark eyes, right?
Yes, you had to have dark eyes
Only dark men have dark eyes, but
You did it for a good cause dear father
And for your country you swam on that iron boat
And died just like your sweet daughter:
Hanging yourself because you could not find success with your art.
Wait, that's not right.
Your art was success, Sun Tzu would be proud
Of your noble smooth sacrifice,
All the while taking on the pitter-patter of rain.
My mother died just now,
Yeah just now in front of my eyes.
It's weird to see her like this
All old, cold, and stiff.
Maybe she's nervous, don't know why
She's going to a good place.
Might just be the rigor mortis kicking in,
My mother was always a speedy one
Never skipping a beat
Funny for her to be sitting
Directing phone calls
Which would end up being lost anyway
Because no one knew how to talk back then,
Not after the Korean War.
There was one song my mom would sing,
Not sing actually just hum
I don't know what song it was
I believed she made it up,
Which was so brilliant.
Sometimes I would close my eyes
(Like I'm doing right now)
And insert words into my mother's song.
I would sing things like:
How long are you gonna let it rain
Shifting through the tides of pain
You lost yourself for good this time
Dear boy you got yourself a rhyme.
That's what music sounded like to me back then,
Hell it still does.
Guess that means I'm still lost then, huh?