love

is more pain than pleasure


yet we treat it like treasure

I opened up so you could see
a broken piece of my humanity

I thought that my voyage had come to its end
at the last limit of my power,
that the path before me was closed,
that possibilities were exhausted
and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity,
But I find that thy will knows no end in me.
And when old words die out on the tongue,
new melodies break forth from the heart;
and where the old tracks are lost,
new country is revealed with its wonders.
So, don’t give up on love
when it seems that all is lost,
for there is always life
if we’re prepared to pay the cost.

I was falling
for you

the feeling of
being weightless

the sky and
the ocean are
blue

like your eyes

your eyes and
Einstein’s brain

are the depths
I can never reach

but I will drown trying
to reach either or both

u see the knife
you watch the glow
u see me smile
but can't hear me cry
u think i'm happy
but inside i'm breaking
u see the blood
then u realize
that i wasn't
lying
when i said
i'm depressed!
u wish u gave me the
support i needed
but now it's too late.
I'm dying inside...

Sometimes you are the vibe,
But where is the body?

Yesterday was a bruiser
Today’s real contrary
Tomorrow’s undecided
But I’m remaining wary

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)

It takes me
perhaps a few minutes,
at most,
to write a poem.

In the brief instant
between
creation and publication,
I am convinced
that this poem cannot be
improved.

But note,
it is never the claim,
that the poem is
any good.

I write
so that I may express
what I had genuinely felt
for a few moments.

I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye

All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing

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."

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.

Now read from bottom to top.

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

Snowflakes are falling
Heart locked in a block of ice
No fire in sight

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay

I feel you
within the ink
of every word I write

for once I was believing in myself
believing there could be something I
could be good at, decent at, something
I didn't have to fail at: but before
I even got to do it I became interrupted,
obstructed in this belief: for once I felt
I could be empowered, I could explore
myself through something but now that courage
and confidence I thought I could grab
seems far away from me. I feel defeated
and broken before I could bloom.
Please, water me, so that I can continue on.
I know you cannot bloom for me, but please,
water me. Please give me sun.

JUST LOOK UP

the night is dark, so dark as i
look up in the inky blackness with no beginning, or end
- like a blanket, it unfolds before me, extolling peace
making way for transition, i continue
my star gazing, looking at the stars on display, they seem
ready to tell a story, as they blink on off, like some SOS
a code in  need of breaking, off and on, it goes till it
takes me a minute more to decipher, now at once
the message becomes clear, a feeling of familiar, comforting
as relayed to me, today may be over for now, but
behind the scenes, changes are constantly taking place
another  tomorrow, is not far off,  better than today, so just wait
settle back, be content, take every moment to,  just look up

By Michael Perry

Life is the final task at hand.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

Why do you only listen when I cry?

All things forgotten
Not one thing forgotten
Everything is dear
The dearly beloved
A Precious time,
the journey of love
Make no mistake
Mistakes will be made
The end
Will never define us
A true bond
How special it is
For better or worse
Take my love anyway
For it was always yours.