cjackso2 - Hello Poetry

chest pain and it's getting harder to breathe tornados hyperventilating through my lungs ocean tides are rising blurring out my vision desert waves of heat burning up my skin the rage of an amazonian fire scalding my hopes and dreams vertebrae line my spine like jagged mountain peaks rips in my nail beds the parting red sea callous on my hands the way you were callous to me

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Aug 25, 2019

Aug 25, 2019 at 7:08 PM UTC

the emotions of climate change

chest pain and it's getting harder to breathe tornados hyperventilating through my lungs ocean tides are rising blurring out my vision desert waves of heat burning up my skin the rage of an amazonian fire scalding my hopes and dreams vertebrae line my spine like jagged mountain peaks rips in my nail beds the parting red sea callous on my hands the way you were callous to me

11

In this lonely cave of mine miners mine the winding way seeking glitter and gold but filling lungs with dust and coal the walls are crumbling like sugar snaps that rot your teeth for even trying to indulge I don’t deserve the toil I pray my thoughts take the day shift because I can’t afford overtime and all these **** taxes I feel like certain songs hold up walls better than beams and hearts better than strings and minds better than skulls and bodies better than spines melodies pulse and sway like flickering flames they fill the darkest space with warm poetry and alone, not lonely I sleep tonight

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Mar 10, 2019

Mar 10, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC

Music like medicine

In this lonely cave of mine miners mine the winding way seeking glitter and gold but filling lungs with dust and coal the walls are crumbling like sugar snaps that rot your teeth for even trying to indulge I don’t deserve the toil I pray my thoughts take the day shift because I can’t afford overtime and all these **** taxes I feel like certain songs hold up walls better than beams and hearts better than strings and minds better than skulls and bodies better than spines melodies pulse and sway like flickering flames they fill the darkest space with warm poetry and alone, not lonely I sleep tonight

21

Fresh after the rain I hike in the woods. The leaves are turning to yellow yams, auburn brick, pumpkin pie. The ground is wet and the wood is damp. The leaves lay vibrant on their death bed. I turn around. I see through the spaces fallen flowers, departed shrubs, vanished birds, the trees that once protected my eyes from the placid lake. The air is bright with mist. The grey sky surrounds me. The cold breeze comforts my skin, and forgives my lungs. I take it all in. But the cold air can never forgive the dying trees and life dissolved. Others will pass by. Leaves will crunch and crumble under feet that won’t realize the forest decline. The music to their ears will return each year. But the crunch will fade. Less trees, less leaves. A Decrescendo, A whisper. Silence.

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Sep 11, 2018

Sep 11, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC

autumn leaves

Fresh after the rain I hike in the woods. The leaves are turning to yellow yams, auburn brick, pumpkin pie. The ground is wet and the wood is damp. The leaves lay vibrant on their death bed. I turn around. I see through the spaces fallen flowers, departed shrubs, vanished birds, the trees that once protected my eyes from the placid lake. The air is bright with mist. The grey sky surrounds me. The cold breeze comforts my skin, and forgives my lungs. I take it all in. But the cold air can never forgive the dying trees and life dissolved. Others will pass by. Leaves will crunch and crumble under feet that won’t realize the forest decline. The music to their ears will return each year. But the crunch will fade. Less trees, less leaves. A Decrescendo, A whisper. Silence.

28

I’m the hidden book, Leather bound Threads fraying On the top shelf. You like the paperbacks And hardcovers, Pretty titles And modernity. But please know I’m collecting dust and I deserve a chance. Just this once, Brush me off And open my pages. Read my story. I promise I won’t leave you hanging.

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Aug 12, 2018

Aug 12, 2018 at 12:48 AM UTC

Bookshelf

I’m the hidden book, Leather bound Threads fraying On the top shelf. You like the paperbacks And hardcovers, Pretty titles And modernity. But please know I’m collecting dust and I deserve a chance. Just this once, Brush me off And open my pages. Read my story. I promise I won’t leave you hanging.

16

Reality is the illusion of twinkling lights flying on a jet plane leaves of trees covering and uncovering glimpses of peeking light flicker on and off from such great heights surrounded by a halo gleaming warmth through frosted glass when you descend to the earth a stagnant faint stream of light illuminates streets where working people lay forgoing their dreams

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Aug 12, 2018

Aug 12, 2018 at 12:46 AM UTC

Reality

Reality is the illusion of twinkling lights flying on a jet plane leaves of trees covering and uncovering glimpses of peeking light flicker on and off from such great heights surrounded by a halo gleaming warmth through frosted glass when you descend to the earth a stagnant faint stream of light illuminates streets where working people lay forgoing their dreams

13

leaves crunching under feet at dusk, the sky dark blue fading into a desolate, enveloping black wind howling through the rustling leaves faint owl hoots echo in the eerie silence brushing thorns with fingertips crimson red paints the soil tip-toeing on branches across forest streams like tightrope walkers with a thousand feet below them holding their breath silhouettes bleed into the night and so do I

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Jul 29, 2018

Jul 29, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC

The sounds of night

leaves crunching under feet at dusk, the sky dark blue fading into a desolate, enveloping black wind howling through the rustling leaves faint owl hoots echo in the eerie silence brushing thorns with fingertips crimson red paints the soil tip-toeing on branches across forest streams like tightrope walkers with a thousand feet below them holding their breath silhouettes bleed into the night and so do I

13

Worry is the runner on my mind; it races around the circular track without knowing the finish line My chest is heavy with the weight of stress I am stuck in a riptide tossing and turning to avoid suffocation waves of regret collapse over me I breathe in their salty disposition It spills out my tear ducts I drown in my thoughts and bathe in drowsiness I choke on feathers and the counted sheep Red eyes so fixed on the clock that creeps Oh how I loathe the evening heap.

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Jul 22, 2018

Jul 22, 2018 at 12:58 AM UTC

Insomnia

Worry is the runner on my mind; it races around the circular track without knowing the finish line My chest is heavy with the weight of stress I am stuck in a riptide tossing and turning to avoid suffocation waves of regret collapse over me I breathe in their salty disposition It spills out my tear ducts I drown in my thoughts and bathe in drowsiness I choke on feathers and the counted sheep Red eyes so fixed on the clock that creeps Oh how I loathe the evening heap.

12

I feel like water Transparent Fluid I can’t commit to your mold I can drown out your eyes Roll down and salt your tongue Drip on your chest Smear against your lips but try to contain me Tip me over and I’ll spill Tick me off and I’ll boil over Walk away and I will freeze I want a color A flavor A shape I want to be distinct But all I can do is flow Gravity pulls me where it wants And it’s out of my control

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Jul 22, 2018

Jul 22, 2018 at 12:54 AM UTC

water

I feel like water Transparent Fluid I can’t commit to your mold I can drown out your eyes Roll down and salt your tongue Drip on your chest Smear against your lips but try to contain me Tip me over and I’ll spill Tick me off and I’ll boil over Walk away and I will freeze I want a color A flavor A shape I want to be distinct But all I can do is flow Gravity pulls me where it wants And it’s out of my control

19

The day I realized among willow trees and lilac fields that I was just like the others, that the holes in your watering can weren’t made for me, that I have been starving myself of life, withering, wilting, weeping away I let go. I’ve walked through storms I’ve climbed mountains And crawled through ditches in the dirt To realize that rain provides more shelter than your words ever will that my reflection does not define my beauty that my molten eyes do not determine my strength that I can grow without you. I’ve learned to root myself in something else stem by stem leaf by leaf I pulled away from the need to feel validated by your sunlight and attention. In years to come You will find that all along you forgot to water me and the drops will spill on barren land when you learn that I have traveled to a garden of my own.

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Jul 22, 2018

Jul 22, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC

garden of my own

The day I realized among willow trees and lilac fields that I was just like the others, that the holes in your watering can weren’t made for me, that I have been starving myself of life, withering, wilting, weeping away I let go. I’ve walked through storms I’ve climbed mountains And crawled through ditches in the dirt To realize that rain provides more shelter than your words ever will that my reflection does not define my beauty that my molten eyes do not determine my strength that I can grow without you. I’ve learned to root myself in something else stem by stem leaf by leaf I pulled away from the need to feel validated by your sunlight and attention. In years to come You will find that all along you forgot to water me and the drops will spill on barren land when you learn that I have traveled to a garden of my own.

30

Chocolate bars melting through hands Sand slipping through toes Tears rolling down lips Blood burning through noses Balloon slips from grip Stretched wide with hopes and dreams Floating on to Neverland Never to be seen

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Jun 29, 2018

Jun 29, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC

Everything good and pure rotted over like sour fruit

Chocolate bars melting through hands Sand slipping through toes Tears rolling down lips Blood burning through noses Balloon slips from grip Stretched wide with hopes and dreams Floating on to Neverland Never to be seen

8