I think I'm trying too hard.
I sit here and think
Of what rhymes with "tell"
Fell, sell, bell, gel...
But life doesn't consist
Of meaningless poetry.
Our days aren't built up of
Rhymes and iambic pentameter.
We don't need a pen and paper
To express our emotions.
We don't need a rhyme dictionary
To tell someone how we feel.
I think I'm trying to make up
For the fact that I'm not good at speaking
So I try and tell people
I'm good at poetry
And writing.
Yet this is all I can do.
My words pour out of my mouth
In a drunken mess
And I haven't even had an ounce
Of liquor.
My fingers scramble over the keyboard
To try and find the right keys to press
But it still fills the screen in a shambled mess.
So I turn to this.
This poem here
And hope to God
...and hope to God...
What can I rhyme with here?
I guess what I'm trying to say,
Or write,
Is that polished poetry
Isn't real.
It's nice to have a completed piece
You are proud of
But after working on it
And perfecting it,
You begin to lose the emotions
You started with.
You lose the whole reason
Of why you started the poem
In the first place.
Life is not a polished piece of writing.
It is a mess of poetry
With line breaks that make no sense,
Words that just don't quite fit,
And accidental rhymes.
It cannot be forced
But I suppose it can be practiced.
I just haven't in a while.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
i still get butterflies
sometimes
and i’m reminded
of the days
where i could curl into your arms
where i could dissect
Your brain
and You could dissect
mine.
i struggled
but You were there.
i panicked
but You stayed.
i wanted
to die
but You wouldn't let me.
You held my hand.
but I was manipulated
and I was your toy
to play with.
but I am stronger
than a mere doll.
I am a fighter,
a warrior,
a human.
and despite my confused emotions
and mislead feelings
I will stand true to my course.
I will ignore My
idiotic heart
and I will continue forth
on My life
without you.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
Fingers dance eagerly
Over their choices.
Eyes scrutinize
The decadence
And danger
That has been displayed.
Fingers select
The smallest orb.
They graze over
Their decision
And dissect it
To reveal the dark, dripping heart.
A single cherry
Sits in the warmth
Of a chocolate sphere.
Teeth devour
And divide
And tear the delicate pit apart.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Please allow for me to say
What I believe needs to be said.
Step aside for one minute
And let me through.
I have words flying through my mind
And dreams aching out of my soul.
I have something to give to this world
If only someone will listen.
Do not let your prejudice
Decide for you,
Rethink your unimagined views
And allow me to come through.
For I am here
And I am now.
I am your future
And I am your present
And I am your only option.
So raise me right
And guide me on
But do not try to influence me
With aged rituals
And tired ideas.
Allow me to speak
Allow me to tell you my ideas
Allow me to take your place
Because your time
Is up.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
i was blind
for quite some time
as the veil of
deception
and lies
covered my eyes.
i was blind
for quite a while
during my time
of mistaken lust
and misplaced trust.
i am sorry
for the time we lost
while i was blind
and i am sorry
for not being there
while i was lost in my mind.
i am sorry
for what i have done
for what i have said
for what i have left
i am sorry
You wasted Your time
i am sorry
i made You waste it
i am sorry
You trusted me
i am sorry
i destroyed it
i am sorry
for paying You no mind
i am sorry
for being blind.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
It has become my salvation,
My savior,
My only home.
When I have nowhere to go
Or no one to see,
I find solace
In the blank white canvas
Placed in front of me.
While one’s sins
Disconnect from me,
I forget what they have done,
I forget the shambles
I forget the mistakes
And create a new life
For a little while.
I escape from the decisions
And actions
Of my past
To paint a beautiful picture
Of sunshine
And creation
To blind others
Of my distant self.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
The words flew out of my pen
The ink tattooing the page
As black stains the once beautiful Earth.
The trees have sacrificed themselves
For the sake of art
Like the way a person may
Sacrifice their secrets for the sake
Of relating
And knowing
They are not alone.
With my spilled ink,
My line
breaks,
My sophisticated syntax,
I create art
Out of nothing
And everything.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
She took a sip from the fountain.
And drank from the crystal.
A single droplet of water,
As powerful as a pistol.
She claimed the sip for youth,
She claimed the sip for second chance,
She claimed the sip for better life,
She claimed the sip for circumstance.
As the sins revealed themselves,
One by one,
She took one last drink
And washed down the gun.
But the words she had said,
The choices she had made,
They could never be forgotten,
Her words could never fade.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
The music plays,
The melody reverberates,
And the melancholy tune
Fills my mind.
The artist sings of
Lust, laughter, and loyalty
And I have trouble relating.
I have always said
And always believed
That I would never see
Or find
Or feel
The love in this world.
But as I sit here,
Notebook in hand,
Music in my ears,
And You in my mind,
I am no longer concerned,
And everything seems
Alright.
I have never been
An emotional person.
I have never been
Filled with a burning desire
To achieve a true passion
Or dreamed
Of something sensational.
I have never fallen
From such a great height
Only to be caught
By surprise.
Yet I can’t help
To think
Of what might be,
Of what could have been.
I can’t help
But think
Of You.
As my vessel lays still,
As my eyes shiver into
Peaceful relaxation,
My mind escapes
To a brighter time
Behind us
When we used to talk
And laugh
And create our own melody.
My mind,
It runs away from me
And plays its own song
Of regret and remorse
For my stupidity,
My hesitation
And misplaced lust.
I have never been
An emotional person
Yet here I am,
Writing out my words,
My torments,
My troubles,
In the most romanticized
Form of art.
I have never been
An emotional person
But I have never been
More
Emotional.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
She whispered to her friend,
The moon.
She told him of her life
And adventures.
He sat and listened so patiently
And quietly
That soon the girl feared he had
Fallen asleep.
Moon, she said to her friend
In the sky.
Why do you ignore me as if in
Quiet sorrow?
My dear, he spoke at last.
Why would I be sad?
Well, you never speak,
She answered.
Just because I am quiet does not mean
I am upset.
I enjoy your tales of life
And adventure.
I enjoy hearing your voice
And laughter.
I enjoy being here
For you
When no one else is.
Because you are at your happiest
When you are
Alone.
I am not alone, she said.
I have you.
But you do not need me here.
Like you said,
I never even speak.
I don’t think you understand, Moon.
I do not speak because
I want to hear myself.
I speak because
I want you to hear me.
Why, asked the Moon.
Because you almost never hear.
You may see someone
Peek out their window.
But they are praying to something
Above you.
You may see someone
Point towards you.
But in truth,
They are pointing to the stars beyond.
You are the closest to us all
Yet you remain so distant.
I suppose you do like the quiet.
But no one likes to be alone.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC