He says humans are so strange,
with our self-absorbency.
But when he points his finger out,
he looks no different than me.
Things will go unknown,
Because they will not be said,
Though it is unfortunate that at first sight,
It seems as if what is known shouldn't be
and what isn't should be,
From an outsider looking in.
But
it doesn't matter
Does it?
as long as
"everybody"
is
happie
.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
fake a smile
for after a while
that simple deed
could help one in need
and may plant the seed
of a smile that's real
and then you will feel
that there is really no doubt
you have something to smile about.
Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 1:04 PM UTC
I love to drink tea.
It's just so good for me.
But if I drink too much tea,
It makes me really have to ***
But there is no place I'd rather be;
Even though I have to ***
I will sit right here and drink my tea,
As it's very good for me--
Just me and my cup of tea.
Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 9:28 AM UTC
One night I was with a friend,
Visiting and spending time.
I took a sip of water,
And set the glass on the table nearby
Without looking.
When I turned to the glass
To take another sip,
I noticed the glass was only
Halfway
On the Table.
If the table is bumped,
If I don't grasp the glass
Just right
It could fall.
I looked at it,
Almost afraid to
Touch it.
It was an accident
Waiting
To happen.
I looked closer to the water in the glass
And saw my reflection
And realized
That I was the glass,
Just waiting to spilled,
On the edge,
Just waiting
For someone to shake my table
And let me fall
To shatter on the ground
With water all around.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 7:56 AM UTC
what am i?
person
animal
body
(
organs
bones
teeth
fingernails
skin
)
soul?
.
*have i
always
been
here
?
what was i
before
i was a
blob of goo
in the womb?
.
.
.
what will i be
when the
body
is barely
dust?*
.
.
(whose brain do i live in?)
.
.
**perhaps to
someone else
i'm just the
little girl in their
imagination
that lives
in the attic
of a tall house,
sitting at her
writing desk
writing
poetry**
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 5:47 AM UTC
*who
are
you?
what is your
name?
why are you here,
living in my
brain. . . . .?*
tell me everything
everything
*where
did you come from?*
(
she's a tiny light in my heart-
the giggle you hear when i'm
happy-
)
she
is
always
here
and
was
always
there
when
no
one
else
was
.
.
(she is the one who is me when i am not)
.
.
**though
she already
knows
me
i will spend
forever
getting to
know her~~**
Apr 8, 2011
Apr 8, 2011 at 10:53 AM UTC
Life is too busy with its own simple demands,
And subtle rejections for dreamers. She's been asleep
For a day and a half, but she hasn't closed her eyes
In over twenty four hours. She watches the
Clock, begging it to move slowly. Just give her
A little longer in her blanket, her bed, her
Fortress, before the day has to begin.
She lays frozen, like a fleshy Popsicle,
Waiting for even hunger to offer a different
Feeling. Life, with its tedious footsteps into the
Office, and its lonesome visits to the shrine of the
Porcelain god, for a moment of silence from
Chatter over coffee, and the tapping of
Keyboards; life is too noisy for dreamers.
Just let her sleep a while longer,
For dreams and darkness offer more
To a mind starved for beauty,
Than sunlit strolls to crowded buildings
Ever did. She drinks her coffee with only
One sugar, five times a day. She fills her
Blood with caffeine and time. She watches the
Clock, daring it to move quickly. She screams
Inside her head until it's time to go home, and
Lay back in bed.
Apr 2, 2011
Apr 2, 2011 at 6:55 AM UTC
Good children, do not build castles in the sky.
At first they may seem lovely and magical--
Because they are--
But!
All castles have dungeons,
And the dungeons
Are where you keep your
Fears and
Worries and
Inner demons.
While you are frolicking
Inside your castle walls,
In a world constructed entirely
Out of your imagination,
The things you imagine but
Pretend to forget
Will creep out of their
Darkness in the dungeons
And turn your magical kingdom
Into a frightful prison
Of the Mind.
Instead, good children,
Build your
Palaces in
Poetry--
Dance with the rhythms,
Sing with the rhymes,
Build your imaginary world
With words and stanzas
Because these palaces
Really exist--
You don't have to pretend!
Just run away and hide in your
Palace of Poetry,
And paint the walls with
Your stories,
And trap your
Worries and
Fears
In a corner,
And fight them with your
(S)words.
Leave when
Reality commands you to,
But come back when you can.
Lock the door each time you enter,
Put the key in your pocket,
And write yourself away.
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 10:33 AM UTC
I thought of you today.
I haven't thought about you in a
Very
Long
Time.
The last thoughts I had of you were
Thoughts of
Pain--
Anger--
Fear--
Hatred--
All burning inside my chest
Scorching to dust that
Little thing
I used to call
My heart.
But today,
I am simply curious to know
How you are.
Amazing how things change
Over time.
Mar 19, 2011
Mar 19, 2011 at 12:17 PM UTC
Who the **** am I?
What the **** am I doing?
Where the **** am I going?
How the **** am I getting there?
Why the **** am I even here?
And why the ****
Do I care?
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 10:31 PM UTC