In a basement
There are nine people
-hands in pockets
-eyes on skies
-on the backs of eyelids reminding them their tries at ordinary, are lies nonetheless.
And I am the tenth.
I do not know where to put my hands,
so I cut them off.
And everyone else out.
And pay mind just to breath, teeth at a reality that is not ordinary.
And college kids getting fucked up
Is not a rebellion.
And college kids getting fucked
Is not substantial enough for a love poem.
But I'm still waiting on rebellions and love poems,
hoping I can be a part of either.
My fists are on the ground
beating on the corning
--every damn thing I say mumbled or ignored
--"that's me in the spotlight"
Puppets and puppies, both
strings and kicking at things
I've staggered off in my thoughts again
drunk rumbles through the trash
And you've staggered off in your mind again
I'm trailing far enough behind that
you don't think I'm following.
But the smears
Thankful that the story doesn't end here.
In this game of love and loss, we're all players.
Some taken out early and sitting on the bench until the coach is ready to put us back in.
I've spent considerable amounts of bench time myself
because I haven't met you yet.
I've been sitting down and learning all the strategies of love which I failed at once before,
I'm thankful I get another chance.
Maybe next time I'll say things like you keep the blood pumping in my icy heart,
you keep the thoughts in my mind from running astray,
you hold me in a crash-course between fear and adventure.
I'd like to take your hand,
but then again, I haven't met you yet.
Don't give up, please, I swear,
for I'm near you and you're near me, and we need each other to stay.
Perhaps all those lonely nights when I was contemplating ending it all,
I was really calling out your name,
a sense of desperation that was not done in vain.
You can count on me to be the one that holds you in high regard,
and maybe I'll finally pen the right words that will make you appear.
This is probably the millionth and a half or so poem I've written about you,
I'll let you be my millionaire in the sense that you can read all of them
and pick out the best ones like apples from a basket,
after all, you're the apple of my eye.
We'd be good for each other, yes, I can see
you'd be a player in my game and I'd say you were on the right team.
It's a Sunday,
but the sun wasn't out,
maybe you could be the only ray of sunshine I'd ever need.
Maybe you could be the warmth in my veins,
the stitching in my skin that holds me all together
and I could be yours, my dear, if you'll only allow me to be.
I'll write about you until I meet you, and then I'll write even more.
Independence has always been a fashionable thing in my mind.
I always felt weak if needed to depend on someone to make me happy... And yet I'm seeing things a tad different now.
I'm ready for security and ever lasting love of some sort.
Not the fairytales type of love with the perfect ending; no I know that will never happen.
I'm ready for someone to treat me respectively and for I to show the same to them.
I want beauty and laughter... I want peace and lightness.
When that person will come along I'm not quite sure.
I'm not longer searching for the love I thought I needed I'm now just patiently waiting for someone to come along while I repair the walls I broke down for the wrong guy...
Sometimes freedom isn't always the best remedy for loneliness.
yes I'm a little crazy, hell even a little insane. but no one could love you as much as I do
I'm not the prettiest, skinniest and I'm far from the smartest, but no one could love you as much as I do
I always say the wrong things, I can't even count the times I've almost ruined us, but no one could love you as much as I do.
My body is stained with scars, that trail from my thigh to my hips and end on my arms. but no one could love you as much as I do.
I don't have the slightest clue why I love you, but there's nothing that could change the fact that I do.
The flowers are dead.
The leaves aren't crunchy anymore
They no longer make familiar sounds
When I step on them
Making my way through a crowd of people who never really knew me
The leaves are too wet from the snow to be any help to me.
And the frost will come and go
Leaving nothing but water in it's place.
The grass will grow back in some places
But others will stay dirt
not being able to find the strength to go through the cycle again.
And the birds will return to sing a joyful song
To those who will listen
But I will not
Because I know they will be gone in a matter of months
And why find happiness in things that leave you?
And soon after they leave everything else will follow
And the flowers will be dead.
The hands that stretch, the feet that glide. The ability to see, the strength to withhold vision. I was stuck in shades of dark and filth. I was burning in the passion of the sun. I heard a truth that spoke life. I heard an angel say dive. I took a chance hoping I would fly. I jumped thinking I would bounce. The fall was humanity and life announced. I fell into an ocean of truce. I found creatures bad and good. It was a war, a fight for power. They were corrupt lifelings looking to be kings. They felt like gods eluded by the ring. The ring that controls all things. The orchestrators of lies that kill. Kill the freedom of the mind. The orchestrators of a world that enriches so-called kings. Blasphemy is the order of this world. Pain this world brings. A world of treacherous kings but all nothing without the power. What was the power? A spoken idea a woman a lump of gold? It was the fear! The fear instilled in souls so to inhibit freewill and limit conduct. The power that tarnishes the human soul. The power that bars the mind and hides the truth that one must face. The truth is his identity, the success of his identity is serving his purpose. The realisation of his purpose is dependant upon his surroundings. Surroundings are walls that limit his will and remind him that all he can be is nothing. The fallacy that man is the illusion and the kings are the truth. Scaling walls, browsing I saw that they were fighting. Protecting an order. Fighting for a world of lust, confusion and weakness. Where the kings are gods and the weak slaves. I spoke once and said that I am the vision and the truth I speak to the weak that need healing. I have body armour but no weapons. I have a reason to fight but no weapons. I have weapons but no army. I have an army but the soldiers have tainted minds, no feet and only one arm. An arm that remains stationary, erect and held together. It was the fist that represented the power to stand. The fist that represents immortality. I found hope, I found belief in the little weaponry that lay in my hands. The invisible truth I protect is the heart of my soul. Embracing I know I am what is real, Embracing I acknowledge the dangers of reel, Embracing the truth I know that I am the power and the power is me. I opened my eyes and saw the world as the waking of the day when the sun rises. I found relief in knowing that I am no longer hiding for this power is for fighting. Fighting for the will, fighting for man to be free. I leave the place that was confining, I leave the dust where souls burnt hide in, I scale these walls and glide, I use this power of liberation to display the truth that so many saints have protected. I allow the showers of the night to heal these wounds that leave me infected. I stand in refuge, I am a ghost, I am a soul, I am man, I am the power.
All I have are the choices I make
Every wrong take is a mistake
a lesson learned as enthusiasm breaks
A learning that uplifts me to wake
Every sound is an element of muse fused thus music
Every day is a chance to failure refuse
All things substantial are ideas not to be confused
Every opportunity is an opening waiting to be used
As an individual whole in holistic thinking I rise above politics
As a soul with burning spirit I yearn for divinity's merit
Destiny is mine for chasing, I have to be olympic
Time is passing by, I have to catch the hand before 'o clock blinks
The world is for discovering
The wild and the beautiful for admiring
Success for acquiring and not demanding
I have to crawl doubt away and walk valor in place, run to the hill and fly as truth to self reigns.
you tasted like cigarettes and pot,
you were bitter, like the smoke i breathed in to feel less
you were sweet, like the only things i could feel
you were beautiful, like sadness
you were ugly, like happiness
you were sad, like loss, happy, like greed.
you are gone
Sometimes, I am very impulsive
And sometimes, even compulsive
Can you imagine, that I am imperfect?
It all must be shocking to you all, for sometimes, I am who I am
Sometimes, I am very dark and somewhat confusing
And sometimes, I just don’t know when to stop refusing
But, does that make me so much different than you ?
Oh man , it must be shocking that sometimes, someone like me is someone like you
Sometimes, I can be aggressive
Or even sometimes, I can be incredibly passive
But, imagine that sometimes, me being me, is someone like you
And at the end of the day, sometimes, and I mean sometimes, is someone like you
Sometimes, I wonder if you are listening.
Sometimes, these deep dark entrenching vines crush me
I could only wish that sometime you will listen to me
It is all so plain to see; and sometimes, I blow things our of proportion but, now, you aren't glistening
Sometimes you understand me; Have the tides finally turned?
Changing into something hoping you realize that sometimes we are both deranged
I feel sometimes, that my life, and your life, need to be rearranged
And some time, maybe one day, you will finally accept me
So much stress just fell off my shoulders
Now I can go and explore, some positive things
I am starting to get older
and I don't want to hold on to no good things
Our time is up
I'm so torn apart
I can't do this now
I'll regret it later
but I know in my heart
that we are done