jordan-fischer - Hello Poetry

It was a sunny day that I saw you Sun glistened off the tears that pooled in the corners of my eyes. Your beauty brought this on. A being of such want Challenges the sun itself And I know those amber eyes with the gold flecks are holding the real sun at bay. A mind as bright as the beauty that wraps around. Entwine our minds with the feel of skin. Your appearance terrifies me with an overworked heart And your mind challenges me in a way that I am not smart enough to say. Maybe one day.

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Feb 1, 2018

Feb 1, 2018 at 5:22 PM UTC

Maybe one day

It was a sunny day that I saw you Sun glistened off the tears that pooled in the corners of my eyes. Your beauty brought this on. A being of such want Challenges the sun itself And I know those amber eyes with the gold flecks are holding the real sun at bay. A mind as bright as the beauty that wraps around. Entwine our minds with the feel of skin. Your appearance terrifies me with an overworked heart And your mind challenges me in a way that I am not smart enough to say. Maybe one day.

11

A man who has wronged another This same man, loses his brother This wrong came before the loss Was this the cause? A regretted breach of privacy Robbed the pride from me Robbed the friends from me Since then, no happiness. I apologize for what I have done But even if it wasn't the cause I just want my friend back. My brother back.

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Oct 6, 2017

Oct 6, 2017 at 9:17 PM UTC

Happiness.

A man who has wronged another This same man, loses his brother This wrong came before the loss Was this the cause? A regretted breach of privacy Robbed the pride from me Robbed the friends from me Since then, no happiness. I apologize for what I have done But even if it wasn't the cause I just want my friend back. My brother back.

12

I have this constant dream in which I am asking everyone in my life to punch me in the face I know I can take the pain But it’s the idea of being hurt that always brings supporters Punching myself in the face does not achieve the same thing. If you feel that I did you wrong, punch me in the face. I know I can take a beating more than I can take myself. My body is repairable, at least to a certain extent. But the hits of those i have wronged are not repairable, that is why they are hitting me I don’t want to **** myself, I just want pain Just to feel what, I have made others feel. Understanding is everything. But physical pain also blocks the emotion Punch me in the face So I don't have to deal with what I did Hurt me, the way I feel I hurt you. Please, Someone do it, or I will do it myself.

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Oct 19, 2016

Oct 19, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC

Physical blocks emotional

I have this constant dream in which I am asking everyone in my life to punch me in the face I know I can take the pain But it’s the idea of being hurt that always brings supporters Punching myself in the face does not achieve the same thing. If you feel that I did you wrong, punch me in the face. I know I can take a beating more than I can take myself. My body is repairable, at least to a certain extent. But the hits of those i have wronged are not repairable, that is why they are hitting me I don’t want to **** myself, I just want pain Just to feel what, I have made others feel. Understanding is everything. But physical pain also blocks the emotion Punch me in the face So I don't have to deal with what I did Hurt me, the way I feel I hurt you. Please, Someone do it, or I will do it myself.

17

There becomes a time when you realize that your poetry is better than your fiction The deaths in your life, sap your creativity. With all dead friends, what can blossom? Bad decisions and body parts Like the flesh from a tree, positivity follows suit But the arms of which carry you are wrecked Because they are the arms of the grieved The beautiful, belligerent, alcohol tolerant lives that you have left behind There are your friends, that die like a hard rain. But they are just as refreshing and reflect just as much sunlight. But they die just the same Suns die, stars burn out Just as you realize that the hoped for importance of your writing was never as important as your friend

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Sep 22, 2016

Sep 22, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC

Suns die, Stars burn out.

There becomes a time when you realize that your poetry is better than your fiction The deaths in your life, sap your creativity. With all dead friends, what can blossom? Bad decisions and body parts Like the flesh from a tree, positivity follows suit But the arms of which carry you are wrecked Because they are the arms of the grieved The beautiful, belligerent, alcohol tolerant lives that you have left behind There are your friends, that die like a hard rain. But they are just as refreshing and reflect just as much sunlight. But they die just the same Suns die, stars burn out Just as you realize that the hoped for importance of your writing was never as important as your friend

13

Blue and black Mixed with red and tin The pen always rips through tear soaked paper Tears always bring tin Tin always brings tears For every time that you died I've killed my liver ten fold I know and hope I was your best friend But anxiety and depression have nothing but questions But I know I was almost your last call That last call is entirely burden and curse Any positivity is pushed down by desired silence I'm sorry I did not answer But am I sorry to you or your family? I am sorry to myself Ghosts are not real, I haunt myself The phone I did not answer, haunts me The grief of the world, or maybe Just the coppery taste of blood in my beer, haunts me. I write, drink, and act in your memory because you are forever my friend.

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Sep 18, 2016

Sep 18, 2016 at 7:35 AM UTC

I haunt myself

Blue and black Mixed with red and tin The pen always rips through tear soaked paper Tears always bring tin Tin always brings tears For every time that you died I've killed my liver ten fold I know and hope I was your best friend But anxiety and depression have nothing but questions But I know I was almost your last call That last call is entirely burden and curse Any positivity is pushed down by desired silence I'm sorry I did not answer But am I sorry to you or your family? I am sorry to myself Ghosts are not real, I haunt myself The phone I did not answer, haunts me The grief of the world, or maybe Just the coppery taste of blood in my beer, haunts me. I write, drink, and act in your memory because you are forever my friend.

20

I wrote previously about the electronic implications on the written word But the smoothness of this pen upon paper has made me neutral on the subject It's insanely intoxicating when your words flow onto the paper just as they do from your mind Uninterrupted But, death has a way of bringing you back to reality A birthday, In which the birth boy has passed Twenty four red balloons, caressed gently by the wind as they are carried beautifully skyward. Red of passion Red of love Because twenty four is infinite Also is the love and the friends you left behind But we love you, I love you And we will forever follow you Upon these rising currents Like those twenty four red balloons.

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Sep 18, 2016

Sep 18, 2016 at 6:32 AM UTC

Twenty four

I wrote previously about the electronic implications on the written word But the smoothness of this pen upon paper has made me neutral on the subject It's insanely intoxicating when your words flow onto the paper just as they do from your mind Uninterrupted But, death has a way of bringing you back to reality A birthday, In which the birth boy has passed Twenty four red balloons, caressed gently by the wind as they are carried beautifully skyward. Red of passion Red of love Because twenty four is infinite Also is the love and the friends you left behind But we love you, I love you And we will forever follow you Upon these rising currents Like those twenty four red balloons.

16

Avoiding positivity, You feel like dirt, So you decide to sweep yourself under the rug. Hiding and cowering described as Self enlightenment Trying to get relief from the immense pain that suffocates daily, You act out with a bandaid The short relief, blessed relief. However great it might feel, Only distorts the reality of effectiveness. Sudden relief mimics an intense high It's time to understand that all Bandaids, are fleeting. Some cause more than they cover Countless marks of addiction and desperation, cover your skin Come out from under the rug It's time to heal

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Jul 14, 2016

Jul 14, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC

Time to heal

Avoiding positivity, You feel like dirt, So you decide to sweep yourself under the rug. Hiding and cowering described as Self enlightenment Trying to get relief from the immense pain that suffocates daily, You act out with a bandaid The short relief, blessed relief. However great it might feel, Only distorts the reality of effectiveness. Sudden relief mimics an intense high It's time to understand that all Bandaids, are fleeting. Some cause more than they cover Countless marks of addiction and desperation, cover your skin Come out from under the rug It's time to heal

21

Towards the end of a mans life A moment flickers into his mind A reflection of happiness A feeling of happiness floods his brain Fuelled by his memories This is the help he receives for his unfortunate journey It makes it palpable This is what happens when he is not in control But if he is in control Then the moment becomes his life The flicker becomes a weight The weight blocks the happiness All thats left is the depressing weight Of the memories he isn't receiving Now his unfortunate journey feels needed Because his happy memories Are not being remembered Control or not, it's what you leave behind You will live on Through everyone you made smile

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Jul 8, 2016

Jul 8, 2016 at 7:44 AM UTC

Fuelled by memories.

Towards the end of a mans life A moment flickers into his mind A reflection of happiness A feeling of happiness floods his brain Fuelled by his memories This is the help he receives for his unfortunate journey It makes it palpable This is what happens when he is not in control But if he is in control Then the moment becomes his life The flicker becomes a weight The weight blocks the happiness All thats left is the depressing weight Of the memories he isn't receiving Now his unfortunate journey feels needed Because his happy memories Are not being remembered Control or not, it's what you leave behind You will live on Through everyone you made smile

20

To win my heart you simply have to make it race Physically or chemically. A cheap thrill with a lack of grace Temporary emotions, as my heart runs in place Fatal exercise for both body and mind But to me, the risk is worth the rub Hoping but never finding, a lifelong thrill Full of grace. A grace so beautiful, that my heart required no winning. It is there to take. She simply has to decide to do so But its that decision that terrifies me more than any chemical.

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Jul 8, 2016

Jul 8, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC

Cheap Thrill

To win my heart you simply have to make it race Physically or chemically. A cheap thrill with a lack of grace Temporary emotions, as my heart runs in place Fatal exercise for both body and mind But to me, the risk is worth the rub Hoping but never finding, a lifelong thrill Full of grace. A grace so beautiful, that my heart required no winning. It is there to take. She simply has to decide to do so But its that decision that terrifies me more than any chemical.

12

It's amazing how much living you can miss out on with a simple polite refusal. In an instant you must jump off the carousel Landing among the infinite paths that intersect into oblivion That instant you jump can feel like a lifetime, but do not weigh it as such To dwell on a single leap is to miss the opportunity still ahead. Just jump with confidence Confidence instilled by knowing that wherever you may land, happiness or not, you are always one chance, one jump away from that happiness. The carousel is spinning to fast to jump back on. So never regret the jump you made, for it is gone. Spinning into oblivion with the jumps not taken. And there is no way of getting it back, But why would you want it. Next jump, Happiness.

0

Jul 8, 2016

Jul 8, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC

Next jump, Happiness.

It's amazing how much living you can miss out on with a simple polite refusal. In an instant you must jump off the carousel Landing among the infinite paths that intersect into oblivion That instant you jump can feel like a lifetime, but do not weigh it as such To dwell on a single leap is to miss the opportunity still ahead. Just jump with confidence Confidence instilled by knowing that wherever you may land, happiness or not, you are always one chance, one jump away from that happiness. The carousel is spinning to fast to jump back on. So never regret the jump you made, for it is gone. Spinning into oblivion with the jumps not taken. And there is no way of getting it back, But why would you want it. Next jump, Happiness.

14