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aw-davis
aw-davis
American "I'd like to get away from earth awhile / And then come back to it and begin over." -Robert Frost / / Sometimes I put my writing to music. You can listen here: / https://alexwdavis.bandcamp.com / Norman, Oklahoma
What would I have to say to make you stay a little longer? What would I have to do? I wish I were stronger. If I said that I loved you, would you call my bluff? But if I said I wanted to, would that be enough? What would I have to say for you to finally leave me be? What would I have to do for you to finally set me free? If I said I hated you, would you call my bluff? But if I said I wanted to, would that be enough?
0
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
Enough
If I saw you today, would you think the things I'm thinking? If I saw you today, would you feel the way I'm feeling? The stars shined brighter through the lens of our love and even though we played the odds I guess it still was not enough for you. Is there some other way for me to stand my own reflection? Is there some other way, other than self destruction? Well these sleepless nights make me forget our reverie but the cigarette between my fingers brings me closer to the memories of you. Do the New England stars shine any brighter without me? Do the New England stars dance for you profoundly? From Oklahoma they get darker every day and here I am searching for temporal escaping from the pain I thought was caused by you, but really was caused by me. Should I say goodbye to you?
0
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
New England
You were my reason. You were my strength. You were my charity. Who will take the blame? You were the ocean tide on that fateful night. Full moon in the sky, I held on tight. Even my strongest grip would soon prove futile. The season was changing so we pretended for a while. Even in the deepest part of my heart, you'll find our season there, even though we're apart.
0
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
Ocean Tide
I told myself to breath in deep. The pain was just a subsidy of love. I watched the days, weeks, months go by; I’m in need of an alibi other than fleeting moments of joy. Because they come like a lighthouse for a ship that’s stuck at sea and only when I find them in the storm do I feel your love for me. And all the time they’re getting sparser and though I feel love for you, On days like this I wonder if my voyage ought to continue. The nights were long and the days brought no light. I came to you with a heart contrite, asking if you’d relieve my suffering. As the orange sun eclipsed the horizon That final night brought our love’s demise in, in the form of one last fatal kiss. Because you were the winter to my autumn jubilee. You took the weather that was already cold and you made me finally freeze. And all the brightly colored leaves are now fallen, brown, and dead just like our love. I should’ve left before the season changed, but I stayed instead. And that last night, it was like a ball and I asked for one last dance. But as the music started playing I realized my only chance to be okay was to leave you, so when Fate asked to cut in I gladly let him, and I left you praying I could start over again.
0
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
You Were Winter
On the day I first met you we were both staring in the void. The better angels in my head made their services employed. But the inner demons of my heart began to chime in too. They were louder than the better parts of me and so I fell for you. We stood there in that open field gazing at the sky above. We noticed that our stars were crossed but arrogance clouded our love. We thought that we could take on fate and so we built our walls up, made of cigarettes and broken hearts, false security installed by us. We saw the tide come rolling in, and we both knew that we weren't safe on that precipice that was our love, suspended high above the waves. And when the tide came crashing down we thought that we were strong enough to face the waves, hand in hand, but our locked hands became two empty cuffs.
0
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
False Security
I’m stuck between who I am and should be. On the outside I have it together, But on the in, it’s sin that consumes me. Will I be stuck in this state forever? I’m so quick to pass judgment on others, Giving myself superiority. But I’m the lowest of lowly brothers, The least of these I am supposed to be. And yet, the worst, myself I patronize, But no change to me does it seem to bring, And so, therefore, I’ve come to realize, It does no good to let these sorrows ring. So in the end, what matters most is this: Don’t count your own, but count the other’s bliss.
0
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
Who I Should Be
On the highway I'm a traveler stuck between the earth and the sky. Green signs to my right slowly tick the miles by. It's been a long time since I've last seen you. You were the best friend I had, A true one through and through. But then one night you reached out and cried for help, But I wasn’t there. You were completely by yourself. I should've seen the signs coming, they were everywhere. No food, no sleep, falling hair. They say it's something that must destroy to survive. One of the simplest, but most terrifying alibis. As I approach the exit, I shed a tear. I can’t think of a life without you near. I start to signal and I move to the right. I take the exit, my destination in sight. I approach the gates and they open wide for me. Time to let it go, time to finally be free. You don't know what you have until you're at the bottom of the pit, utter blackness surrounds you and your fate you must commit to the seemingly miniscule sliver of hope that life goes on. I walk through the grass-paved rows until I find your name. All these stories etched in concrete, none of them the same. I find your story on its own underneath a tree. I say some words, drop some flowers, and pray that you are free.
0
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:12 AM UTC
Concrete Story
Often times I contemplate what is holding me back from simply going off from my life and walking and walking and walking and not stopping until I find the place where I belong, a place where the weak are strong and the forgotten are remembered. If I were to drop my belongings and go about on my way not looking back then there is no way you would be able to stop me with any of the games you play when others try to do this, offering them money, fame, and fortune. I want none of that. If you were to offer me the most extravagant and luxurious palace in all of the country and world and expect me to stop my search for a place that is rightly just then understand that I would refuse your offer. If you expect me to stop even if you try to give me all the money ever made by any mortal man or being I will refuse. If you think you could bribe me with a new shiny car-toy that all the big executives are just dying to have then you must understand that you simply don't understand me for I would refuse. You could offer me the most coveted of status, being known across the land by all and the envy of any person in their right-might and I would continue my walk, my search for a better place. I can't be bought out by any item of material possession, because the things of material possession in this world don't matter to me. If you really wanted me to stop walking then only one thing would you have to do: Show me a place where the weak are finally strong, the poor are finally comfortable, the shunned finally acknowledged, the forgotten finally remembered, the oppressed finally justified, the hated finally loved, the rejected finally accepted, the hungry finally fed. Show me this place, and then I will stop walking, For I will have found a place for me.
0
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 11:52 PM UTC
A Place for Me
Often times I contemplate what is holding me back from simply going off from my life and walking and walking and walking and not stopping until I find the place where I belong, a place where the weak are strong and the forgotten are remembered. If I were to drop my belongings and go about on my way not looking back then there is no way you would be able to stop me with any of the games you play when others try to do this, offering them money, fame, and fortune. I want none of that. If you were to offer me the most extravagant and luxurious palace in all of the country and world and expect me to stop my search for a place that is rightly just then understand that I would refuse your offer. If you expect me to stop even if you try to give me all the money ever made by any mortal man or being I will refuse. If you think you could bribe me with a new shiny car-toy that all the big executives are just dying to have then you must understand that you simply don't understand me for I would refuse. You could offer me the most coveted of status, being known across the land by all and the envy of any person in their right-might and I would continue my walk, my search for a better place. I can't be bought out by any item of material possession, because the things of material possession in this world don't matter to me. If you really wanted me to stop walking then only one thing would you have to do: Show me a place where the weak are finally strong, the poor are finally comfortable, the shunned finally acknowledged, the forgotten finally remembered, the oppressed finally justified, the hated finally loved, the rejected finally accepted, the hungry finally fed. Show me this place, and then I will stop walking, For I will have found a place for me.
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24
I often take walks down a nature trail behind my house on nice autumn days and marvel at the majesty and beauty of nature surrounding me. From time to time I end up walking for hours on end, contemplating the improbable, incomprehensible, radically miniscule chance that I am indeed alive at this very moment. I like to think about my life and events that occurred to make me who I am: the people I met, the things I said, the challenges I overcame, the adversaries whom I defeated, and the ones I forgave. I also think about the events in my life filled with regret: the people I neglected, the ones I hurt, the ones I hated, and the ones I shunned. I let my mind wander to the possibilities of who I possibly could be had I let that person into my home, or volunteered more time at a shelter, or was nicer to the ones around me. I have always tried to live my life without any regrets, but I find that the more one thinks about life the more they discover regrets they never realized; the ones buried deep down in the darkest depths of the heart. Perhaps it is in my greatest interest simply to ignore the possibility that I indeed have lived a rather selfish life, only thinking of myself ,not others, and hurting those around me in the process. Perhaps if I were to go on living my life without thinking of others and simply worry about myself and my own problems then I'll be happy. There is a chance that doing so would result in more happiness for me, but that's exactly the point I have been struggling with: only happiness for me. I struggle now with the idea that it is possible I've been neglecting others in return for personal and private gains, whether that be fiscally, or emotionally, or physically. I want to know what life would be like if maybe I were to start to live more for others and worry less about myself. I ponder on these nature walks the question of whether or not living for others is the responsible thing to do, or should I only worry about myself and from that society will benefit. I want to help, I really do have a desire to do good in the world, but every time I begin to start, I falter, scared that I won't get anything out of it. So the more and more I contemplate what my problem is, the more I realize that the problem is me. There is a little boy inside me that is terrified of doing anything for the gain of only others and not himself. The little boy inside me cowers at homeless on the street and the opportunities to help them. The little boy inside of me is constantly telling me only to worry about myself and that the problems of the oppressed are problems only for the oppressed. So I ponder this question on these nature walks as well: Are the problems of the poor, the needy, the oppressed, the hungry, the hurt, and the sick only problems to be fixed by them? Should I be doing all I can to provide medicine, and food, and money to those who don't have the opportunities and blessings I do? I ask myself these questions constantly, perpetually in fear that I am indeed rather selfish. Along these walks I constantly come across puddles, whether big, small, large, skinny, deep, shallow, stagnant, or rippling. I find myself walking past ponds of many different sizes, and every time I come to one I continue past it without looking at all. I'm terrified to see my reflection and who I really am.
0
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
Meditations on Me
I often take walks down a nature trail behind my house on nice autumn days and marvel at the majesty and beauty of nature surrounding me. From time to time I end up walking for hours on end, contemplating the improbable, incomprehensible, radically miniscule chance that I am indeed alive at this very moment. I like to think about my life and events that occurred to make me who I am: the people I met, the things I said, the challenges I overcame, the adversaries whom I defeated, and the ones I forgave. I also think about the events in my life filled with regret: the people I neglected, the ones I hurt, the ones I hated, and the ones I shunned. I let my mind wander to the possibilities of who I possibly could be had I let that person into my home, or volunteered more time at a shelter, or was nicer to the ones around me. I have always tried to live my life without any regrets, but I find that the more one thinks about life the more they discover regrets they never realized; the ones buried deep down in the darkest depths of the heart. Perhaps it is in my greatest interest simply to ignore the possibility that I indeed have lived a rather selfish life, only thinking of myself ,not others, and hurting those around me in the process. Perhaps if I were to go on living my life without thinking of others and simply worry about myself and my own problems then I'll be happy. There is a chance that doing so would result in more happiness for me, but that's exactly the point I have been struggling with: only happiness for me. I struggle now with the idea that it is possible I've been neglecting others in return for personal and private gains, whether that be fiscally, or emotionally, or physically. I want to know what life would be like if maybe I were to start to live more for others and worry less about myself. I ponder on these nature walks the question of whether or not living for others is the responsible thing to do, or should I only worry about myself and from that society will benefit. I want to help, I really do have a desire to do good in the world, but every time I begin to start, I falter, scared that I won't get anything out of it. So the more and more I contemplate what my problem is, the more I realize that the problem is me. There is a little boy inside me that is terrified of doing anything for the gain of only others and not himself. The little boy inside me cowers at homeless on the street and the opportunities to help them. The little boy inside of me is constantly telling me only to worry about myself and that the problems of the oppressed are problems only for the oppressed. So I ponder this question on these nature walks as well: Are the problems of the poor, the needy, the oppressed, the hungry, the hurt, and the sick only problems to be fixed by them? Should I be doing all I can to provide medicine, and food, and money to those who don't have the opportunities and blessings I do? I ask myself these questions constantly, perpetually in fear that I am indeed rather selfish. Along these walks I constantly come across puddles, whether big, small, large, skinny, deep, shallow, stagnant, or rippling. I find myself walking past ponds of many different sizes, and every time I come to one I continue past it without looking at all. I'm terrified to see my reflection and who I really am.
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62
No time to pack, No time to think. Let's leave here now, Whether swim or sink.
0
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
Swim or Sink