Murkey thoughts

of potential poems

                            lurk around

my heavy void                         of emptiness

the struggle to translate them into words

                     fires up frustration

an insinuation                       of a dulling passion......

once existed a mind of clarity-

               unbothered by the taunting past & present

& the future of uncertainty
                                        
Once when I wrote of       frogs   &    jellybeans

with much simpler rhyming schemes

once when confusing questions didn't   f l o a t  around

certainly not ones that were this
                                                         profound.

now insanity replaces curiosity

dysfunctional thoughts &
                                             distruaght rhymes

try to summarize

my ConfusiOn

Next time you walk past a being unknown....

don't hold a judgemental gaze
or whisper a spiteful phrase,

Let go of your apathetic ways
for humanity & its 'brighter days'

for your words could...
bring another's world crashing down

a warm smile, a nod of acknowledgement
could remind someone, that they're seen

a malicious frown, a belittling glance
Or a patronizing stance
Could cause ones fragile self-esteem to collapse

Your kind eyes, a random compliment
has power to restore wonderment in the eyes
- Of the stranger who was on his way to that
forlorn bridge.

If I be silenced, let my clothes speak.
If I be stripped of my clothes, let my tattoos speak.
If my tattoos be erased, let my hair speak.
Let them speak of what I've been through. What the generations before me have been through.
Let them speak of how we were once oppressed. Of how we have risen over our oppressors and taken some of the rightful places in society.
Let them speak of the struggles we've been through, and the revolutions that are yet to come.
For I? I will not be silenced.

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."

Count backwards it doesn't work with madness.
Beg the mental meds to work in the dark of night.
Holding out a pocket knife when everyone is sleeping to debate whether to **** yourself or not.
Writing emotional letters to your best friend to make sure they won't break your heart.
Crying at youth group where people are watching you meltdown like butter on a frying pan.
Never knowing how deep the sorrow is in the hole in your chest because religion won't fill it up or get rid of the grief.