If I should never return
Let your mind turn from grief
And your eyes be dry of tears.
Although it may be hard to understand
Why I am no longer part of your life
I hope you never think.........................
https://aspirationwriting.wordpress.com/2017/03/05/leaving/
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 4:57 PM UTC
Check out this dopeness
https://aspirationwriting.wordpress.com/2017/02/09/thehatefulclock/
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
Here, this is for you I want you to have it.
It’s my heart, see how strong it beats in your hand?
What’s that, you can’t take it, you want to give it back?
Well, okay I guess that’s up to you.
Oh no! You’ve dropped it.
Look at my heart lying in the dirt.
It’s alright, I can fix this, I’ll pick it up and put it back.
Look, it’s broken, how many pieces it’s become.
No worries, I’ll save it, watch me put it back together.
It may be ***** and bruised but I’m sure it will still work.
This part fits with this one, soon it will be whole.
Hmmm, something’s missing, it seems we lost a piece.
It doesn’t look good, it’s not beating anymore.
Do something, don’t just stand there, I have to make it right.
Maybe if I press upon it and shove it back into my chest.
Then it will work, yes I’m sure that’s all it needs.
Brush the dirt off, I’ll put it back now.
There, that’s better, I think it’s back to normal.
Thanks for helping, I can take it from here.
Don’t feel bad it’s not your fault, these things happen.
I’ll be fine, you can go now.
Keep your chin up, it doesn’t matter.
Don’t you worry about me.
Goodbye.
It’s still not beating, but I can’t show it.
I have to be strong.
But without a beating heart, how can I?
My aching heart, why did I put you through this?
I’m sorry, please stay with me.
I can’t do this on my own.
I need you heart, to beat for me.
So I can live.
No answer, my heart is silent.
My chest hurts, it’s getting hard to breathe.
My poor heart has died inside me.
If it is dead, am I dead too?
That’s it, I can’t be alive when my heart has died.
I’m fading.
Goodbye.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
Looking ever forward towards what?
The hope of a peaceful death?
An end to the madness that defies
your journey towards knowledge, towards self?
Needing more, you reach for it
groping in the dark, a blind man in the sun.
You put the universe in ordered terms
yet it remains beyond your ability to understand.
An illusion of order, of control.
The universe you create through discovery,
nonexistent before you reveal and destroy it.
Envelope yourself in it, feel it, eat it, drink it,
until you realize you are being smothered by reality.
Devoured by something the scope of which you cannot comprehend.
You choke on it, and it on you.
Then you are vomited back into the stars
to resume your quest for a something by which to measure your being.
Something that will let you say: "I am here, and I always will be."
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
Something is out there,
Waiting in a whisper,
Dreaming within the silence,
A voice drowned,
By the dull roar of the crowd,
Listen closely,
Crying out in the void,
Quietly, but with such force,
An ocean’s tide cannot erode
Hell’s flames cannot devour,
The emptiness of space cannot stifle,
A frenzied vibration of indiscernible lines,
Drawing together,
All things separated by time & place,
Unbreachable barriers,
Crumble before the power,
Of that which now lies ahead,
The entire future in this moment,
Open the ears within and hear it,
The fury of the storm
is the splash of a single dewdrop.
All things as one.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
Many a weary mile I've come along this road from yonder.
The longer I walk the older I get the more I sit and ponder.
These toils and traps and memories that collected upon my lap,
and all the things that fell between my sifting fingers clasp.
Still reside inside I feel them within the atmosphere.
be it sweet and clear like breathing in the freshest mountain air,
or polluted by the cars sloshing slush upon my kicks.
I march to my own beat, the footsteps time the script.
My heart's pulse booms through never-ending bloodlines,
from me to eons passed and millennia undefined.
Stomping through this life on a muddy ball of rock,
where the bones of our grandfathers have not had time to rot.
Someday I will be a memory in someone's else's hand,
to fall right through their fingers, like finely drifting sand.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
If we could consume the world,
we would all gorge ourselves in an instant.
To sacrifice eternity, humanity, all we know,
for a brief moment of pleasure.
This is our nature, one of greed,
of self-serving at any cost.
It is our driving force, our only motivation.
To take all we can, and keep others from having.
We would rather stuff our faces
until we become sick,
than share the smallest morsel
with those who have less.
Any goodness, any charity,
must be motivated by hidden interests.
By the desire to take a greater share
of the love and respect rationed to each person.
To trade the lives of all in exchange for our own
is not even a thought.
No matter the name you give it
selfishness is who we are.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
A soldier cowered in a muddy hole,
The crack of weapon-fire tore the dark sky above,
and he felt hopeless because of the fight raging around him.
He cried to himself, feeling all was lost.
The barrel of his rifle, he put into his mouth,
ready to end the terror of this life.
Then an angel appeared and slapped the gun away,
"What are you doing my child?
Don't you know this battle is not lost?
And after, there are still more battles to fight.
The war will not go away because you do.
Do not let fear consume you,
for there are many depending on you,
and you must fight not only for them,
but for yourself as well."
The soldier turned to face the angel,
through his tear drenched eyes,
but the angel was gone.
Yet the battle was not,
so he picked up his rifle, brushed off the mud,
and stood on shaky legs.
The fear was still inside, and it was all around,
but undeterred he clambered from his hole,
and rose to fight again.
Because the fear was strong,
but he was stronger still.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Born of blood
and raised on violence,
the life of a rider
it was all that he knew.
He was an outlaw of course.
The rabid son
of Harley Davidson,
living life faster than the law allowed.
Death had begot him
and he begets ****** in turn.
A temper hot as the sun,
a mind cool as the breeze.
Forearms like timbers.
Crisscrossed with train tracks
in and out of tunnels
drilled through tattooed flesh.
Cigarette smoke mingles
with the fumes of exhaust.
He drinks this aroma,
exhaling gun-smoke.
The law comes for him,
but he shakes them from his jacket like dust.
He is a wisp of vapor
escaping their clutch.
His days are unfocused.
And endless and brutal cycle.
Shots of tequila blur the faces
of the women of the night.
When he looks at his life,
the beginning is unclear.
When he looks at the future,
it is as certain as the tide.
Born of blood
and raised on violence.
To ride into the sunset,
was not in his stars.
His life was to be
no more than a pothole,
A nameless bump in the road.
Barely felt, then forgotten in time.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
These stones were once a castle
Now a jumbled mass of rock,
All that is left to remind the world,
Of what it was that once stood here,
As the sun crests the horizon,
Its rays are broken by this waste,
Creating a shady spot amongst the debris,
In which a man sleeps.
This man was once a builder,
With his hands a fortress wrought,
Every day he added on and raised it towards the sky.
Until one day a sickness came,
And struck him down from where he stood on his ramparts.
It laid him low and made him weak.
But weaker still did he become, when he saw the first cracks form,
On the face of that which he had crafted with such tender care.
The mighty castle crumbled, over many days and nights
The wind and rain and fire and pain, brought it down brick by brick
And the man sat at the bottom of the courtyard, and watched it fall around him
And said, “Why should I build when it must fall in the end?”
This ******* was once a man, who was blinded by his fears,
unable to raise a hand to protect what he once loved.
His back he kept turned against the light of the sun.
But then one day he fell asleep, and in his sleep he dreamed,
And in his dream he saw himself, but he was not broken,
In fact he saw a king.
When he awoke, the suns first light, it graced the lashes of his eyes,
And though he pained and feared the future, inside he finally smiled,
He picked himself up, and brushed off the dust that he had been wallowing in,
And he picked up a stone, and placed it atop another.
This castle was once a stone,
a jumbled mass of rock,
but what was once a pile of rubble
now stands impregnable in the glow of the setting sun.
This king was once a *******
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC