Time


Time is precious as I’ve been told it can escape us if we stand still and pose.

Procrastination and taking our time can lead to problems that hinder our movement, goals and attainments.

Time is essential, limited and long the more you do now works out better in the long run.

Time when rushed is a dangerous occurrence our actions have weight that once completed are fixed.

Time is different in everyone’s eyes to me it’s a hurry, goes slow or is there to appease.


Time

I look in the mirror and see
Wrinkles impressed upon me
Some from good and some for bad
I've earned each one, I'm not sad

Each wrinkle tells a story
Some glad some gory
So many ups and downs
Caused the smiles and frowns

I gaze the mirror and ask
Is this really me I take to task?
How did time fly by so fast?
My life is set in wrinkles cast

Upon my face, I wear my life
My sons and dearest wife
Some happened in the fire
Some took form because it was dire

I prefer the ones that came from smiles
A raised brow to see for miles
A ripple around my face pointed up
I wouldn’t remove a wrinkle, it's been my cup

I can tear myself to pieces,
it is a natural place for me.
I can and I will and I'm better
than I was but I'm worse still.
I can splinter myself and let every
doubt burrow itself into my open skin,
let the insecurities bloom into
harsh and wicked flowers,
let the bile rain into my poisoned mind.
I am precise with my agony,
following the loose ends to their end
and mine and fraying the
cord in between.
I do not mean to, but the issue
presents in its encroaching way
and I see no path but the
truth.

Stand alone, dear one
and look at the dreams astray
the many colorful dreams.

I stand alone
don't we all
and they are vivid, these dreams.

You stand alone
and you find hues of possible
laugh or cry, wretch or come.

We stand alone
in crowded day rooms
wish for more, dream love

then stand alone

again.

They say you can’t remember pain
But brother I feel it bleeding
Even now
Even now
Even now

Reality can be such an unforgiving *****
When you realize fairytale endings don’t exist

Waiting:
is a sign of true love and patience. Anyone can say I love you, but not everyone can wait and prove it's true.

See the world through Van Gogh
Soften your focus and
look out your window

I am here, waiting patiently for her,
though long time no see
like in ever, like in never,
my absentia, dementia,
both critiques of self-censure,
here, then, my cadenza,
dedicated solely soulfully for you:

as the sabbath sun rises over the East River,
saying, mocking, laughing upon me,
“still here, though long time no see,”
for though I cannot never look upon her as well,
my sun, my sun,
yet she, too is everywhere-inside of me,
woman-sun, both warmly illuminating my muddled mind

You tried fixing him,
far from what it should be.
But every bits of your love,
filled the void of his scars.
And once he was completely healed,
leaving you with nothing but bitter goodbye.

You don't have anyone to rely on,
and the sadness you took away from him,
became your lingering regret and it broke you instead.

A moment with you
Is a lifetime
And a lifetime
Is gone in a moment.

I am supposed to be bothered?

Disappear.

Can't stop a Star.

Because it's true in her such things
As love and grace and beauty, too;
A rose, the sky's stars, and pearl rings
To go with her divine kind heart.

Because she has sincere appeal,
To her the sea, the moon, my verse.
A child cries deep; he has no meal.
She comes with tears and lends a hand.

Because it's true in her much love,
Above God knows, I know, above.

I cried
I felt bad
Some people left me
I became fine when I realized the truth
They gone away from my life
To make my life shine like the sun.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m ****** –”
I know it sounds ******,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I think I've always had a fascination with the moon
and the sun.
It wasn't one of those things that was all of a sudden or joining the crowd.
It was simply not being shy with my admiration for the moon anymore.

i want to ask how you are.

Her eyes
reflect my moon.
In her eyes
it's always full.

Both can ****
        The only difference is
                      Cigarettes shatter lungs
         She shatters everything

            I remembered the first moment
my lips pressed the filter
     as I lit it up breathed it all
                savored every smoke
       as if we covered up painful lies
        in a container of painkillers

The same way  
we used to pressed our lips
     sparked something between us
           savored every moment we had
    as if our love was a rose
               in a valley of tulips

(A WARNING TO THE CURIOUS)

Distance yourself
from this world
before you
into its troubled atmosphere
are hurled

Politicians appear grim faced and contrite offering another sound bite. As angels ascend with lost souls wrapped softly in sorrowful wings

Flashing blade piercing deep another family made to weep. Black on black or white on white crimson flows apon the street

i wanna die. i wanna die.
i wanna die. i wanna die.
i wanna die. i wanna die.
but i can't seem to pull the trigger.

I’m sorry I didn’t know you better.

I’ll do my best to listen to every story they tell of you now.

But for what it’s worth, I admired you.

I’m sorry I never managed to tell you that.

Hate is a paper cut
It comes from nowhere
You never know its there
Til you see it

Hate is a paper cut
You can try to  heal it
But the pain doesn't go
Though it does heal

Hate is a paper cut
It can slice through you
But it can heal
Hate is a paper cut

i see the flyer at starbucks

"are you caucasian?
without mental health
and drug problems?"

wow
i don’t know the answer to any of these questions
is a jew a caucasian?
is the occasional *****, ****-slamming drunken rampage
a drug problem?
as for mental health
i’m a deadbeat poet and unpopular pop musician
i’ve got a job fighting death and boredom
and i just changed my facebook password to "eat ****"
my frustrations have driven weaker souls to homicide
but are these PROBLEMS?

A pool of blood is all it takes
For someone to realize they made a mistake

so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.