It's weird,
how people feel the need
to spew out
big,
lustrous,
complicated words
just to give life
to their poetry.
This is not a contest to see
who can cram in the most
lavishly sounding
words,
in the least amount of
hardly
grammatically correct
stanzas,
to sound half as intelligent
as we try to portray ourselves to be.
Funny
how we try so hard
to look so different,
then we really seem.
When we could just write
from our hearts,
instead of our thesaurus.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
Its easy
to write up
a bunch of pretty words
on some piece of paper.
Declare an everlasting love-
To a girl,
And not even know her.
Funny,
how we can just say the right words,
And all of a sudden,
hold a piece of a heart.
Flash a smile,
Hold their hand,
See love is an art.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
Pitter patter,
pitter patter.
The rain echoed in your head,
as you tried to remember what the drizzle sang
On that cloudy noon in November.
With its rhythmic tune
And endless repetition,
It danced its way to your sun roof
installation.
Staining the back of your mind with images of tear drops,
shed by the clouds.
For the skies missed your company.
The rain drops,
Quietly tapped on the,
Glass panes of your apartment; reminding you to use your umbrella.
Their warning useless,
Because you never wanted one.
Never needed one.
Even as the cool shower
came rolling through town.
You were there: Umbrellaless.
See,
The dreary weather here seemed so...
Relaxing.
Well,
not to anyone but you..
But it was as if the rain that day,
brought a hint of restlessness.
The aroma of coffee shops
became tempting,
like little boy's feet
drawn to sidewalks full of puddles.
They teased and tickled your exposed skin,
Those parts unsheltered by your favorite grey cotton sweater
The rain left the scent of wet pavements and fallen leaves,
lingering on the tip of your nose and top.
It seemed like one of those days:
Reading your book;
Your body tangled up in the couch;
A blanket to warm you;
Freshly brewed tea on hand,
as the endless chime of drizzling kept you company.
To you,
it was the most sensible thing.
The bustle of the city went mute as you walked along the avenues and streets.
(Especially without an umbrella.)
For where you went, you felt the rain.
While others got wet.
And for that brief stroll around the city,
slightly damp.
You were lost in the rain.
Calm and free.
For the rain was your friend,
And you were his..
Pitter patter,
pitter patter,
pitter patter.
I hope it rains today.
Sent from my iPad
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
I think I've caught something,
worse than the flu.
Its comes to me slowly,
clogging my mind,
Hindering me from
breathing fresh life into my poems.
Then I start to sneeze
excuses, cough up reasons.
Now I'm hoping that I could be sick enough that I wouldn't feel the guilt,
Guilt of putting aside my passion.
The guilt,
dripping on my forehead
-Cold sweat, drenching me up to my sleeves from
over thinking.
Sweat and guilt,
Enough to fill two cups. And now I'm left with my hands too full,
to write anything.
But even if my hands were free,
They'd be useless.
Still tangled up in themselves
Choked by the pressure to write better than him, or making a better rhyme than her.
But that was never the reason why we write.
Never the reason for us to pick up the pen and let our feelings leak out into the paper, leaving the streaks of ink to spell out whats been written all over our hearts.
Why have we made poetry some kind of cut throat competition?
Like we're trying to please some sort of king we've conjured in our imagination.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
Why do I dream of places I've never been, and people I've never met? Or have I just not lived that part of my life yet?
I dream of seas uncharted
Forests untouched, creatures that speak different tongues.
I've flown faster then I could see, soared higher then I could dream. Lived and died through lives till I reached insanity.
Science says its all just sub conscious. what I see is all pre determined, like a program expected to keep things together. Yet why are my dreams leaking into my daily life. These
Places ive been
faces I've seen
I can't find them in real life.
Or Were they hiding in the sea of heads when I walk the streets,
Or where they sitting right beside me on air plane seats.
So why do I see these places? Beaches on top of caverns, jungles inside of mountains, cities under water, and you holding my hand as we stroll through the park on a windy day. With you wearing your favorite scarlet scarf. You smiling back at me as we pass a man playing the piano. Your favorite instrument. you tell me how one day you'll learn to play as well, and I'll be seeing you perform on stage one day. And I kiss you on the cheek because I love how you dream so big yet never fail to include me in it.
Ah yes.
Why do I dream of impossible places with faces I've never met.
Or maybe I just haven't lived that part of my life just yet.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
I know that you're beautiful,
though I don't know HOW beautiful
you are.
And I know the Marianas Trench is deep
but I don't know HOW deep
it is.
And like those explorers of the oceans.
Which took them years to even fathom just a portion of its great magnitude.
And I bet it'd take me even more to find out HOW beautiful you are, and to be honest I wouldn't mind taking my time.
Just hoping I'd be doing it by your side.
I want to see the funniest crap with you. Experience the happiest moments with you, play pranks on people with you, stay indoors and listen to music while reading books on a rainy day with you.
Make catastrophic mistakes by your side,
you're the person I want to bring with
to food trips around the countryside.
Make a fool of myself while you're around, find places to go on dates in town.
Take pictures with you beside some generic sunset,
paint watercolor pictures to hang on your bed.
I want to share my life with you.
The person I'd leave the last potato chip for, leave just a bit of toothpaste for.
The person I'd keep the last swig of starbucks or dap of peanut butter for.
I want to watch movie credits beside you so I have a stupid reason for us to sit together longer.
Let you pick your favorite movie when theres a sale,
I'd even pay for bail.
But most of all I want to see you smile, see you happy and just joyful. I don't even have to be the reason for it.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
Roses
were the flowers that grew and budded
into great numbers
in the garden of my heart.
Left there,
by the mere thought and memory
of you:
• Your sweet smile
• Your eyes that shine
• And your beautiful mind
But like delicate flowers,
at the mercy of season's change.
Yours was no exception.
Withering
at the cold reality of your absence.
The garden shriveled up, as the warm embrace of your voice
suddenly vanished.
And I was left here,
in a bed
of rotting leaves.
My nose cringing at the stench,
dead dreams leave.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 7:41 AM UTC
Heard what happen
They say it couldve been
Anyone
But it had to be you
Dont worry
I'm not mad
Not even dissapointed anymore
I've learned to accept the enevitable
Its much easier that way
Science has helped me with this
They call it
The law of inertia
Its an objects resistance
To change its state of motion
Unless
An external force is acted upon it
No wonder than that you kept leaving bruises on me
The older we got
Except sometimes they werent always
Physical
And sometimes
They didnt always heal right
I used to think
That whatever happened in the past
Were just accidents
Something that wasnt ment to happen
But it did
Right there was an accident
That maybe
Maybe our world ran out of external forces
To stop me
From losing my security
And my freedom
A lot like that night
When the knock on your
Car window wasnt for spare change
On hand
Instead
They asked for your hands
Behind your back
For a minute
And a half
But that half never came
Guess you couldnt do that math
With all that smoke stuck in your
Single minded brain
Your friends
Werent gonna bail you out
This time
No smooth talking
Clever lying
Was gonna get you out
Of the cold steel grip of these metal bars
Holding you down to where you
Seemed to belong
But you called
Called the next afternoon
Another wave of Im sorrys
And I forgives yous
But this time was different
it wasnt the sound of grown
Men crying
But somehow
I knew you were broken
My brother
You lived your life feeling like the sibling
That was always the failure
But Im here to tell you
The appel doesnt fall far from the tree
Because there were so many times
I couldve helped you
So many times i couldve hugged you
So many times i couldve heard
All your problems
And maybe even thanked you
Because its not just called a mistake
When youre doing something thats wrong
Sometimes
Its not doing whats right
So if any here should say sorry
Dont think youre the only one
Because inertia
In latin
Means lack of art
Or the act of
Unskillful hands staying idle far too long
To be called
Artists block
And
Im sorry brother
But i think Ive
Lost the art of
Loving the broken
Can see the beauty in
Human flaws anymore
I wish i could just see things
From a different angle
Like some holy mosaic
Only God could see from a far
But Im too near sighted
To see all the little broken pieces come
Together
Ive got to be up close
To see anything clearer
and I promise you
Theres no beauty from where im standing
Especially when its infront
Of a mirror
Some might say
Im wallowing in seld pity
But all ive done
Is just show all of me
Even the parts that arent so pretty
My brother
Used to call me a trophy case
With all my achievments
Out on display
Hed say i was showing off
But brother you are right
I am just a trophy case
See past all the glittering
Statues
And fancy certificates
And youll see something thats empty.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 10:53 AM UTC