I keep dreaming of falling.
Sinking through clouds and bleeding skies,
The winds don't hold me and oxygen chokes me.
I wish you'd taught me how to fly.
Is a home still a home when your hat rack is gone?
Does the sun still rise without the dawn?
I'd paint the sunset, but I've lost my muse,
I'd claw at my heart, but you took that too.
I'd forget about you, but memories haunt me,
They creep into my bed, whispering softly,
Remember when we broke your mom's TV?
Or our anniversary, on April Seventeenth?
I'd pay for your piano lessons so you could sing to stars,
Okay so maybe not stars, but surely fast moving cars?
How about a trip to Eiffel Tower far off in Rome,
Fine, I guess we could always see that from home.
Your books don't make me smile, come back to bed,
You'll be just a minute, hold on, you said,
I held on to your silk quilt and fell asleep,
You said you'd follow me, before I was in too deep.
You should have told me you'd fall asleep differently,
That I would wake, and that you would stay,
I mean sure, I would have protested adamantly,
But then I'd have no choice but to let you stay.
I guess now we'll never get to see the Eiffel Tower,
It's fine anyway; I hear the air up there is sour.
And we'll never get to sing to fast moving cars,
It's okay; at least this way no potential scars.
I fixed your mom's broken TV screen,
And I got a new apartment down in Queens,
Your phone keeps on uninstalling,
And I keep dreaming of falling.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
The words I create, I rarely do comprehend,
The meanings behind them, the messages they do send,
I am not the poet or the god, I am just the messenger,
A marionette in the masterpiece theatre,
Am I the created or am I the creator?
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC
I have travelled long and far,
My feet are sore, and my bones weary,
My eyes may see, but I am blind,
My heart may beat, but my soul is dreary,
My back aches from the weight on my shoulders,
My gun isn't as light as it used to be,
My flag isn't as pure as it should be,
I am not as I should be.
I crawl through the darkness of midday,
Plagued by the voices and what they used to say:
Strong man, young man, be the soldier of fortune,
Strong man, young man, sing the songs of your nation's tune,
Strong man, young man, come back with stories to tell,
Strong man, young man, go my boy, and show them hell,
Strong man, young man, hold up your shoulders,
Strong man, young man, go now, and be a soldier.
I have lost my mind in the madness,
I have lost my heart in the sadness,
Ghosts and family haunt my every waking moment,
The pleasure of life is now no more than blood filled torment,
I have seen the face of the Devil in the bowels of hell,
I have kissed Death, and I have lived to tell,
So listen to my stories, oh yea plagued and unfulfilled,
Bath with me in the blood of the men I have killed,
Blow your trumpets and your drums to the music of war,
I held up my shoulders, and now they are no more,
But I survived.
So sing your songs and chant your praises, but I don't need them,
You sold my soul.
Mother, I'm coming home.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
I saw the way you looked at me,
In your eyes there was no love, or none I could see,
I felt your warm hands slowly turn to cold,
As the memory of us withered and grew old,
I saw the light of your love flee your eyes,
And saw your passion slowly encrusted in ice,
I watched you leave, to never return,
As you watched my heart, slowly crash and burn.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
The eyes of God regard man, waiting, watching,
And the eyes of man search for God, praying,
Our souls are lost, they cry.
Torrents of lies pour from the mouths of children yet unborn,
And whips of racism render the skin of our souls blistered and torn,
This world is broken and lies in shambles, war drums litter the streets,
This world is rabid, and with it come the rabid men, dancing to the beat
Of mad men and demons. The paupers pawn the poor,
And the poor pawn the paupers.
In this world I danced for tepid water, and sang for stale bread,
I crawled through streets with cobblestones littered with lead,
I saw the dying children, their eyes pleading with a God, any God,
They begged for redemption, and they pleaded for rest,
In this world I saw the hearts of priests and nobles impaled on rods,
And I watched the virtuous have their robes stripped off their *******
In this world of mine, men and demons are now one and the same,
And together they shall all rot and burn in unyielding flame,
Nothing remains constant, except the eyes of God, watching, waiting,
Nothing remains constant, except the hands of God, waiting, unmoving.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 9:10 AM UTC
I loved you when the summer began,
Their shimmering rains couldn't compare to your grace,
I loved you during the setting of the autumn sun,
When the winter moon held no candle to your face,
I loved you through the four seasons of winter,
And not even the cold could keep you at bay,
You watched me fall and saw my heart splinter,
You worked on me and put me back together,
And when the summer rolled by again,
You walked away, and left me insane.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
She crept in through my window sill,
As fair as autumn moonlight, and as sleek as silver silk,
Her eyes they shone like summer rain,
And void they did, of all my pain,
The ruby of her lips, rivaled the roses of the morn,
And the beauty of her face, rivaled the coming of the dawn,
She crept in through my window sill, nothing she did take,
She crept in through my window sill, and my heart she did break.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Reality is treacherous.
Its conformity is maddening, and the rules insanely sane,
The walls of uniformity are clouded with illusions that seem delusional,
And freedom and constrictions seem one and the same,
I am a dreamer, yet I fancy myself a creator,
I build worlds from the shards of a life that lacks flavor,
I prefer the freedom of love, hope and death,
And I crave the obsession of life and birth,
I am a dreamer, and so a world of facts and truths I shun,
I am a dreamer, a dying race, under the setting sun.
But the optimism of a dreamer is maddening,
Filled with hopes and dreams that are inherently saddening,
I am a wordsmith, a romantic and some might say a visionary,
Creating universes and queens from the extraordinary,
I am a romantic, and I desire the audience of the stars,
I am a romantic, and carved on the walls of my heart are a million scars.
I am a wordsmith, building walls from worlds torn at the seams,
I am a dreamer, fleeing from the banality of life through my dreams.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
From the melodies of music, a dreamer creates Utopia,
And from the banality of life, a wordsmith forges a heart,
In the heart of every man, is a child with a phobia,
And in the stories of every poet, is a troubled past,
In the words of every romantic, is the girl that shattered a heart,
And in the creation of every artist, is the one who stole a soul,
From the pit of singularity, a loner creates a home,
In the passion of love, my heart was turned to coal.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
Kiss Me,
Oh won't you kiss me one last time,
Before the night time fades away,
And all the stars, turn to grey,
Before the clock hand hits midnight,
Before the first rays of sunlight,
Wash away, the magic of moonlight,
So kiss me, before your pumpkin carriage turns to dust,
And buries our memories in golden rust.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC