sometimes this overwhelming joy brings earth in sight of paradise, the anxious mind that would destroy such ecstasy with ill advice stilled in its ancient chattering of good & evil understood, imposed as bitter reckoning beneath the stone where moses stood. at other times the mourner's song has wormed its way inside my head, an occupation loud & long, as if it pushed itself instead of beauty, love and holiness, insistent with its emptiness.
Even after forecasting, I'm always underdressed. The radar was broadcast and the urgency was stressed. Yet, here I am lacking a defense. Hit me hard. Wash me away. Lock me up in a frozen prison. Maybe that will extinguish this burning hatred that finds a home in me.
I used to read your poems but lately you don't write you're silent and aloof you know that isn't right. You can't close a door once opened you can't abolish all your dreams you're a poet of the heart mustn't fall apart at the seams. Say what you can in words they speak the message true spoken from the heart the poems will see you through. A hermit's not your style a recluse, you are not never give up writing of things that you've been taught. I used to read your poems I'd read them once again if you would send them out (this one's from a poet friend)
Not much else to it Just have to undo it The former conception Of what defines good Reservation’s reluctance Prevents what it could In some ultimate form Really mean to another Or better still Even you Yet to uncover
relationship wise in this world where varied type of female seem possessed and ye devil painstakingly task me through this, that or the other it's truly via grace of steadfast i remain emotionally unavailable or unoccupied
I love him I tell myself I know that We will be together forever I don’t believe that We could be separated My thoughts tell me that He’s the love of my life Sometimes my heart lies and says I could live an eternity Without him Like my friends say “We’re perfect for each other” And you can’t tell me He’s not the one.
I tear my fierce claws into you without apology. I need to eat. Put us in zoos and take pictures feeding us like pets. We burn bright in the night as Blake set us in print. God cast us in hell fires furnace.
They said, "The most beautiful art is looking into someone's eyes when they talk about the things they love." And I said, "Or looking at someone you love. Or maybe, just maybe, by looking at the mirror is the most beautiful art anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
There is a war raging inside of me Feels as though I'm being eaten from the inside An anxiety that will not relent An ache no poison could feasibly palliate Founded beliefs of a love, one so true Begging God for an answer For what reason do I deserve such torment Of being away from the One That takes away all of my blue