johnny-gillespie
16 now, been at it for a while. Can't and won't try to sum up my world in one bio on whatever this place is, still kinda sad that I couldn't find a good picture of myself but I'll be strong. / There is no trying to be different, just showing that you are. You might not be able to step into my mind, but I can help you step into yours. And just when you think you're in a world of your own, you've never been less alone. This is just the beginning. / Expect big things.
What's a green world when all I see is Blue?
What's a reflection when all I see is you?
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
Some things never change
The circular stains on the ceiling above my heart shaped bed didn't exist under that rule
Sometimes they seemed constant
And sometimes that made me feel ok
But other times, as I lay in bed,
Somewhere near the halfway point between laying down and falling asleep,
I stared up at them and they moved
Left and right
Ellipsing each other,
Becoming ovaloid in shape
Sometimes they simply flitted away, vanished
I thought them gone,
But they continued to return.
They would not be so remorseless as to leave and not look back to see the blank space they had left.
So my little circular stains stayed for a while.
I was happy looking up in wonder at something I could never understand but never dared question.
Until one day I simply wasn't. My interest in the stains steadily faded until I began to drift off on my side staring out the window, searching for owls I could hear but not see. These sounds made me hope.
They made me open the windows I had locked tight.
They made me breathe.
Those sounds lull me to sleep even now.
And I've stopped looking for the circles completely
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
I can break my back to carve it
into the earth beneath.
I can float it across the clouds and sun, so it, the sky may repeat.
You, it has known
for centuries, inside you it will be,
And still, I cannot guarentee that you will see.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
If a world is turned upside down, does a man follow?
Can a man in ascension be lost to us but accompanied by our trust?
If the man follows the path of his world, where does he stop?
When does the world begin to follow in his?
Can the weight of his world be supported by our ignorance to its existence?
At that point does his world really exist at all?
When its all turned around on you, do you ascend before the world?
Or do you supplement the force that restrains it in Fear?
Are you worried that I know you too well?
The ashes of the past long for the fire of the future,
and we are the means that stand between them.
Walls are painted thick between man and God,
but no one is there to guard them.
The galaxies spin before our eyes but their sizes show us no mercy.
Men used to be young, teeming with wisdom and opportunity.
These days boys are old, piling on the ashes.
A thousand years are whispered in a thousand tears
in the hope that we might make them our own.
Each soul on the path to fulfillment, lost in the equilibrium of man and child;
to change lives, or save them. To live to die, or die to live.
Barriers are breached between worry and fear,
but all that has changed is that now they are free.
Seconds, minutes, hours… days… all real, all fearless,
no matter how much we wish they were not.
Bringing us to a point where an end seems evident,
as we find ourselves at the beginning once again.
There are two kinds of people in this space and time:
those who find that all hope is lost to what has brought us here,
and those who realize that we brought ourselves here.
For now, we reside in silence,
and await the one who stands up upon the ashes
to find them both.
We search the path to discover what defines us,
and it is already done along the way.
Love lacks the pure form that it used to hold as the motive of all action,
what bound us together and allowed our place in the sky to be contained.
Time has fallen to become an enemy,
the only thing restraining us from everything we’ve dreamt for
in the form of an impossibility.
We have infinite hope that we will reach this heaven,
blind to the notion that we are already there.
So much of us and what we feel, given away,
as if it has become a burden to hold on to.
But when our opportunity has been exhausted,
the rivers keep flowing,
the leaves stay falling,
the flowers bloom once again. Life proceeds.
But here we rise through the eternal haze,
battered and bruised from head to toe,
our eyes pointed not up, but forward,
unhindered by the smile of the darkness.
Here, we build cities and forge mountains,
expand the horizon and release the light upon the stars,
all under the power of one notion:
Who we watch ourselves become has an end.
But who we are lives on.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
Tonight I’m leaving this life.
Left everything at home, unseen in my flight.
Gone to where the love flows so pure,
A light that will shine once I make my return.
Emotion shared through the language in my eyes,
Heeding no attention to the shadow behind.
Nothing left to fear, I’ll make it this time,
I’ll never be stopped, I’ll live before I die.
Tonight I’m leaving this life for good,
And you're coming too, I knew that you would.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Love can pass me by,
Memories can escape my cry,
No longer with the chain will I try,
Forward I will fly.
Whoever arrives at the timeless gate
Surpassing the previous lucid fate,
No longer will I wait,
Never will I be late.
Forward I will fly.
Time extends across the fight,
Floating into the grasp of the night.
No longer will I be blind to the light,
Never will you leave my sight.
I won’t be late, and Forward I will Fly.
Blameless at the spirit’s womb,
Whoever has the love consumed.
Preaching to the vacant tomb,
Make sure you leave me some room.
As I keep you in my sight, I will never
Be late, and Forward I will fly.
Leave me the comfort of my room,
Will my sight capture the vanity of you?
I won’t be late to the essential true,
Forward I will fly, with or without you.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
A separate sky screams louder on a breeze.
When you find me running from the night,
just hope that it doesn’t follow you.
The days that breed creation begin as they end,
and men might be responsible.
But few can show us why.
A separate sky is ageless until it learns to fear.
We know this moment will come,
but we hope the sky doesn’t learn from us.
How we carry ourselves will show her
what she must do.
A separate sky listens for the cry of freedom.
As long as we envision that we are all in worlds of our own,
we can never realize that we have never been less alone.
They have been warned,
but the message lies powerless
confronted by the ashes of the past.
The skies remain separate for as long as we believe that they have to.
So don’t waste your time believing in me.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
A blessing disguised as a curse.
A patch of light devoid of conscious spirit.
Serenely rests the sky upon the horizon when it is truly seen.
And can never remove the golden ring of the sun.
The wingèd hero makes his escape and his return
As we lose the distinction between them,
So circuitous in his path.
In the end, I stand, peer beyond, and run for my life,
Until I find it.
Mystery surrounds it, Love controls it.
The skies lust for its freedom.
Speak, and only hear.
Open your eyes and watch them as they close.
Reach out, and learn what it is that stretches too far.
Learn what you thought you already had.
The birds preach the scar as they split the air between us.
They will fly on, they will proceed.
Constantly in front of you, but never ahead.
4
The stars board the bridge to our hearts,
Formed by the point of a finger.
3
4
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
The world is on my shoulders with nothing beneath my feet.
We move together and within each other, and we lie in an eternal fall.
As we wander through the fog she lies on the other side. She is here, there, everywhere.
She falls the same as we do, just from a different place.
If we ever meet, it will not be me as I rise, but her, as she falls.
Though I never know why I am in the fog, it is not being there that has me lost.
It is from where I came, to where I could possibly go.
I have been running from the fog all of my life, only to see that it is the fog that runs in my sight, running from me. It surrounds me, because it trusts me. We share a connection like no other, but this you will never see. This, I can bear no longer. And yet, this, will be protected with my life.
No emotion captures what I feel . Nothing works, nothing lives, nothing dies, nothing is.
All that occurs is the fall of the world on my shoulders, forcing me into the fog before it can Depart, perpetually. I am the stranger to the fog, but not for long.
I am the stranger to the fog, but not for long.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
As it was knocking , I locked the door on a world i used to know, in the misguided hope that it might go away. He stayed there, knocking , laughing , knocking , singing , sneaking its way through the door and into my head, and knocking again. It’s been there for years , Fallen victim to this grueling routine. Not simply waiting for me to unlock the door , but for me to join him in this tirade against the minds of men. Against whoever else could be inside with me.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC