cristian-valencia - Hello Poetry

Breezy heights lift the underground scoundrel with notes of jazz and volcanic caffeine fiends everywhere below, anywhere above, addiction as a means to a beginning liquid cigar on lips propels the express into sobriety of the mind maybe not the man that is looking back at the poor lonely boy over the hudson so vulnerable yet absorbent so defeated yet resilient there are voids that will never be filled how can the parentless parent themselves? by avoiding parasites and loving oneself tuning your own strings writing your own music telling your own tale I see his reflection waving from blvd east that little fiend of a boy who became addicted to the right things o how you’ve reached over the river…

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Jun 17, 2024

Jun 17, 2024 at 9:41 AM UTC

Morning rooftop coffee

Breezy heights lift the underground scoundrel with notes of jazz and volcanic caffeine fiends everywhere below, anywhere above, addiction as a means to a beginning liquid cigar on lips propels the express into sobriety of the mind maybe not the man that is looking back at the poor lonely boy over the hudson so vulnerable yet absorbent so defeated yet resilient there are voids that will never be filled how can the parentless parent themselves? by avoiding parasites and loving oneself tuning your own strings writing your own music telling your own tale I see his reflection waving from blvd east that little fiend of a boy who became addicted to the right things o how you’ve reached over the river…

16

drawing inspiration from across the street, nature's light is missing though it reflects most gloom-full days, and i am my happiest I miss friendship touching on my shoulder tapping for my attention Reminding me of my foolishness We can't breathe the same air anymore without worry Even though we use to share it Strangers and what would be foes a breath now drawn is a breath untold I saw blood stain concrete today On the day of the last Trebek I was triggered and now i'm here drunkenly writing this garbage The capitol was stormed this week By a hurricane of fools Can we blame them? Only a symptom The disease is you I miss my friends so much mostly in my twenties aimlessly waiting walking talking and then laughing about it what a time we had now i'm bounded by four walls and a paycheck lest not forget the rolling chair I'm still young and dumb just a different type of fool Back to Trebek Hey George - I'm sorry i didn't make it to your funeral Your son tried to kiss me in my sleep and it broke our friendship Thank you for the knowledge I miss the days where i watched you smoke over that ledge so carelessly and free telling stories of what your life use to be flipping your scratch off coin Little did i know you were clawing for survival hoping to win yourself a marvel a surprise everyday before seven pm

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Jan 8, 2021

Jan 8, 2021 at 7:31 PM UTC

Trebek

drawing inspiration from across the street, nature's light is missing though it reflects most gloom-full days, and i am my happiest I miss friendship touching on my shoulder tapping for my attention Reminding me of my foolishness We can't breathe the same air anymore without worry Even though we use to share it Strangers and what would be foes a breath now drawn is a breath untold I saw blood stain concrete today On the day of the last Trebek I was triggered and now i'm here drunkenly writing this garbage The capitol was stormed this week By a hurricane of fools Can we blame them? Only a symptom The disease is you I miss my friends so much mostly in my twenties aimlessly waiting walking talking and then laughing about it what a time we had now i'm bounded by four walls and a paycheck lest not forget the rolling chair I'm still young and dumb just a different type of fool Back to Trebek Hey George - I'm sorry i didn't make it to your funeral Your son tried to kiss me in my sleep and it broke our friendship Thank you for the knowledge I miss the days where i watched you smoke over that ledge so carelessly and free telling stories of what your life use to be flipping your scratch off coin Little did i know you were clawing for survival hoping to win yourself a marvel a surprise everyday before seven pm

41

i like standing on rainy city corners they are as busy as my thoughts drops from the above spill like falling neurons connecting all five senses to the brain that is my sky i miss taking the bus and my affinity for public spaces even though i am shy and--I miss walking without commitments it is a truth in which a lie

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Jul 13, 2019

Jul 13, 2019 at 1:31 PM UTC

Teach me how to dream

i like standing on rainy city corners they are as busy as my thoughts drops from the above spill like falling neurons connecting all five senses to the brain that is my sky i miss taking the bus and my affinity for public spaces even though i am shy and--I miss walking without commitments it is a truth in which a lie

11

Dreams shrink with age and our aging bodies follow Disappointment underlines the expectation of self Deprivation withholds participation from true form Death in shallow waters and the stream of always Downfall isn’t anything without the rise of hope Dawn sprouts life on days we don’t believe Detestation dwindles when our first choice is love See?

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Apr 7, 2019

Apr 7, 2019 at 12:28 PM UTC

Follow-self-form

Dreams shrink with age and our aging bodies follow Disappointment underlines the expectation of self Deprivation withholds participation from true form Death in shallow waters and the stream of always Downfall isn’t anything without the rise of hope Dawn sprouts life on days we don’t believe Detestation dwindles when our first choice is love See?

15

Lucky penny on the floor Thinks he’ll never be much more Sound bytes and coffee Tourist Fridays have him conscious So many to shine for Lucky penny on the floor Thinks he’ll never be much more With the face of Abe And the might of bronze Remembering his worth in dollars No other coins deemed lucky Or lived with such a worthy president Still, the past is just a precedent

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Feb 27, 2019

Feb 27, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC

Lucky Penny

Lucky penny on the floor Thinks he’ll never be much more Sound bytes and coffee Tourist Fridays have him conscious So many to shine for Lucky penny on the floor Thinks he’ll never be much more With the face of Abe And the might of bronze Remembering his worth in dollars No other coins deemed lucky Or lived with such a worthy president Still, the past is just a precedent

13

Looking to tell a story in which you’re already in Spinning with clouds foreshadowing downpour All in the while the sky is fire red Resting on steps of paved metaphors Searching for magic or the ghost of, As words drift in the breeze, The crowd unimportant, secondary sounds too “But we recycle our lines and dig through the plot.” “—Swallow someone else’s lies.” My own thoughts interrupted “I stand here unnoticed appearing dull and lifeless...blush when I’m green, brittle without leaves—but I am more than what I appear to be.” “A resting place for wings and twigs ...I’m rooted, but every prime of spring, I fly.” “Wind and rain are friends, although seasonal deaths, snow says hello, and through the freeze it pleases.” “I represent life and death, just as you do.” —so what’s the point? “That’s your story.” City tree

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Sep 17, 2018

Sep 17, 2018 at 9:06 AM UTC

City tree

Looking to tell a story in which you’re already in Spinning with clouds foreshadowing downpour All in the while the sky is fire red Resting on steps of paved metaphors Searching for magic or the ghost of, As words drift in the breeze, The crowd unimportant, secondary sounds too “But we recycle our lines and dig through the plot.” “—Swallow someone else’s lies.” My own thoughts interrupted “I stand here unnoticed appearing dull and lifeless...blush when I’m green, brittle without leaves—but I am more than what I appear to be.” “A resting place for wings and twigs ...I’m rooted, but every prime of spring, I fly.” “Wind and rain are friends, although seasonal deaths, snow says hello, and through the freeze it pleases.” “I represent life and death, just as you do.” —so what’s the point? “That’s your story.” City tree

17

Haven’t touched words in a while because I’ll never see you again You who once agreed with god really just being everywhere and everything Still, you prayed and prayed for me The natural sufferer True to the prophecy Love is the reason religion still exists Faith from the old world With the good of the new You who taught me to listen Simply because the earth speaks I cherish every memory No one’s ever worked harder to receive less All-knowing you laughed at your own fate Sometimes luck skips a generation You saved it all for me Cry for someone while they’re breathing While they can feel the sadness from the void they’d leave in you And be joyful once they rest For they are everywhere and everything

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Jun 28, 2018

Jun 28, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC

Everywhere and everything

Haven’t touched words in a while because I’ll never see you again You who once agreed with god really just being everywhere and everything Still, you prayed and prayed for me The natural sufferer True to the prophecy Love is the reason religion still exists Faith from the old world With the good of the new You who taught me to listen Simply because the earth speaks I cherish every memory No one’s ever worked harder to receive less All-knowing you laughed at your own fate Sometimes luck skips a generation You saved it all for me Cry for someone while they’re breathing While they can feel the sadness from the void they’d leave in you And be joyful once they rest For they are everywhere and everything

19

The yearn for self-fulfillment is really just a void that death fills I don’t believe in god but I drink spirits There’s a pulling feeling in the air It tells a story beyond our own despair True existence projected in the sun Reflected on the moon Spilled upon the mountains Caressed by fog and morning dew I float and hover Beneath me is no one Above me is everything I am the ghost of gloom and doom Yet to me, this is beautiful.

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May 1, 2018

May 1, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC

Gloom and doom

The yearn for self-fulfillment is really just a void that death fills I don’t believe in god but I drink spirits There’s a pulling feeling in the air It tells a story beyond our own despair True existence projected in the sun Reflected on the moon Spilled upon the mountains Caressed by fog and morning dew I float and hover Beneath me is no one Above me is everything I am the ghost of gloom and doom Yet to me, this is beautiful.

13

Shrinking as I wait for my shrink Minuscule in appearance Skyscrapers overshadow Obsolete rock with tiny feet Plants feed off the heat from nearby concrete Each brick cemented by century Droplet from the sky is opposite Magnifies true irrelevance Cross legged at the cross walk Visitor at the cross road Flickering light bulb thrives in day At night it diminishes At night it's just a fade

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Mar 29, 2018

Mar 29, 2018 at 5:18 PM UTC

Shrinking

Shrinking as I wait for my shrink Minuscule in appearance Skyscrapers overshadow Obsolete rock with tiny feet Plants feed off the heat from nearby concrete Each brick cemented by century Droplet from the sky is opposite Magnifies true irrelevance Cross legged at the cross walk Visitor at the cross road Flickering light bulb thrives in day At night it diminishes At night it's just a fade

13

You don’t want the deck Only a need for one Somehow the shuffle still gets you Warranting the luck of the draw When the wild card is once in a life time Yet you still bet blindly Hoping for the forever hand Full again but comes up empty Find another way If she smiled then she meant it Ash has no density Free from the party I can’t get this song out of my head The one you sang to me a Saturday ago I’d kiss you next year And thereafter Probably not

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Mar 16, 2018

Mar 16, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC

Wildcard

You don’t want the deck Only a need for one Somehow the shuffle still gets you Warranting the luck of the draw When the wild card is once in a life time Yet you still bet blindly Hoping for the forever hand Full again but comes up empty Find another way If she smiled then she meant it Ash has no density Free from the party I can’t get this song out of my head The one you sang to me a Saturday ago I’d kiss you next year And thereafter Probably not

17