adam-mathieu
American
Born during a snowstorm in New York, I understand that life is not always understanding. So I wonder how I have gone so long trying to accept that life can be unaccepting sometimes. / / Find me on Facebook: / http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100001407332460
Yesterday seems so far away,
but I don't care no more.
I just hope that when tomorrow comes around,
I feel like I did before.
I'm sitting here, staring at the door,
waiting for someone new to walk through.
*** I can't keep sittin here for you.
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 4:55 PM UTC
I met her in New Orleans.
Carrying luggage and sins,
I called out to her, a quiet hello.
She shot me an unfamiliar look,
yet I felt it was one I did know.
Maybe I saw it once or twice,
on a moonless night, long ago.
And as she did approach,
the street was overtook,
by her presence; so strong.
Though years had passed,
and memories did come and go,
since we last did meet,
we felt that love from long ago.
We spoke until the Sun did set,
everything from there felt preset,
as if Shakespeare himself,
wrote me as Romeo,
and her as my lovely Juliet.
Lovers from long ago,
with everything and nothing to know.
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 12:19 PM UTC
If the clouds are seas that drowed,
then what does that make me,
everytime you come around?
I see you, but our eyes dont meet.
Even when my heart goes to another,
I still taste defeat of you, my real lover.
Will my heart fall apart over and over again,
'till sorrow is all that's within,
or tomorrow will I be able to say,
that I forgot your lyrics today?
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 12:06 PM UTC
Celebrities are gods shrowded in myth and perception.
Students....the finger puppets of Capitalism's cornerstone.
Television, the other member of the family.
Dinnertable conversations are boring/ignorant "discussions"
of issues too watered-down.
Children aren't born into the world anymore, they're being forced this time.
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 11:52 AM UTC
Looking over there,
I remember memories so clear.
Every step is the past,
thats why I dont walk fast.
My calender is just pages with ink,
stopping me from a timeless way to think.
My watch was a reminder of the future,
and my second hand became a blur.
The childhood I had seemed like a dream,
it all went so quick and without me, it did seem.
A morning becomes the night so quick,
my day is starting and over so much, its sick.
The dates to remind ourselves are just bookmarks,
to destroy days and make room for remarks.
The love you have goes at such a speed,
because enough time with anyone will fill the need.
Babies are memories when the elders are dust,
and the faded cards are shredded and playgrounds rust.
The text books speak of dates as if so long ago,
but to those names it was yesterday, or atleast seemed so.
The long nights that felt like forever,
were longer ago then you care to endeavor.
My life is going without me,
I can open my eyes, but I dont see.
Before it can be realized I'll have this done,
and it will be time to set the Sun.
Guess thats just what happens when sand falls,
we lose ourselves and become memories, thats all.
All the time I have,
is all the time I had
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 5:16 AM UTC
If stars' light travelled so long ago,
then just what is it that we know?
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 5:01 AM UTC
Got my head to the floor,
and my sky is all brick.
If I left here now, I'd be sick.
Nothing to live for,
not a face I miss,
nor a lover to kiss.
It's not just my own confession,
it's an inmate expression.
I see bars keeping the world away,
I can feel chains keeping me safe.
It pains me to think of the day,
when I'm set free,
so I'll hit the warden and see,
if there's ten more years in it for me.
It's not just a suggestion,
it's an inmate confession.
Seems like a century ago,
I lived in a world I did know.
But now, as it appears,
the times have changed,
in all these isolated years.
I feel so estranged,
so out of the in,
thanks to my personal sin.
It's not just a digression,
it's an inmate confession.
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 1:32 PM UTC
It seems so unfair, to think.
The thoughts I misplaced in a blink.
The momentary lost. The temporary cost.
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 7:12 AM UTC
The face becomes a cloud in the sky.
The airplane, that resides so high,
Is the teardrop that learned to fly.
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
Don't you feel too much fret,
the sun of tomorrow has yet to set.
The time still lingers to fix regret.
this moment is brief in all your grief,
so grab your heart and run with it,
find a place where you and space are one,
then you can start to make your world fit as everyone.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 5:30 AM UTC