Muse of a new day, how is it that you are the way you are? -- feeling so much,
so that you may wish not ever to feel, as if you were not the one chosen,
still dressed in a cloak of a million lights.
But I claim that is what makes you brilliant, though feeling does not save.
You can travel all the way to Mars,
digging up the waters of your sub-consciousness to serve as your thoughts.
Please, don't plead to the skies and lead your life astray,
looking at constellations too long might make you want to stay among the grey.
You and I, we’re not so different.
Too long have I lingered in studies of the stars
and missed the comrade human hours.
Sad as the monotone of the sea, I tossed away the stone of my powers.
And now, as I weightlessly wing amongst the churches of my nameless city, I see it all so clearly:
The monotony voices the unspoken plea,
of a life better lived than pondered,
better felt than conquered.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
So it's us against ourselves.
The mind is the adversary.
And what is that?
A mere dream within a dream.
What does forever mean?
Some hazy lines...
A blur of self,
A little talk,
Between you and me?
A heart lost in translation is in me, while forever is to be free of wonder.
Humans hungry for home and hopeful for hunger.
Life is one long plunder
For the lost ones of
Silent thunder.
Are these lost ones so lost?
Or will these sons of thunder
Flash like lightning?
How far do you have to go
Before no one understands at all?
As far as the fog found clouding the light that sits quiet in the souls of the stormborn.
The light that breaks the beaten barriers of sound and gives life to the lifeless.
That distant light called Hope by some;
A hope that may only protract disharmony.
A skillful prolongation
To the battered.
It is said that hurt is proof of love,
But what's left to prove
When the uncalmed storm
Engulfs us?
By light I live, but by love I die.
Pray to every god that we are left in the eye.
The only proof we need is meaning, something bold to live by.
But we crave happiness, and there can only be one,
So what could anyone do but try and cry?
First of many, I'll have Joseph title it since I don't feel like I have a place in doing so...
My words are italicized
#love #life #question #storm #existence #meaning #paris #collaboration #joseph
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
Every one is the superstar of his own reality, the hero of his own story.
Many men emerge as kings in some realm and declare according to their own understanding.
Women have been called Queens for ages.
The problem is that the Kingdoms most men can give them are not worth ruling.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Some place where fame
holds no sway
Some world where violets
never fade
Somewhere someday...
Lies a dream reborn within a dream
Dreams overturn reality
When your thoughts flare with the stars
It's impossible to be an artist
With your feet on solid earth
In all the antiquity of art
we live in a time that barely notices
that while our ideas may levitate
the course world keeps our feet pinned down
We can try and float above the expectations
But the tyrant label will tie us to the earth
Shamed with the name of “struggling artist”
Which you don’t rise above
Instead you sit
With a copper coin cup at your feet
Selling your soul daily
In the torments of time
When I look into the deep eyes of art
I see this lack and struggle and longing
and I am thrown back into despair,
into the starved storms of any fading morning
The best we can do
Is turn the despair
Into something worth admiring
Take the past
And display it
On our present-day canvases
The world is stacked against the very idea
of taking creativity seriously,
except as a hobby,
yet we try anyway
although we know this from the start,
because the alternative,
Conformity,
does not satisfy our restless minds
I clench my fists in the corner of the room
As the eyes stay fixed to silicon screens
Everything turns a hazy shade of blue
As social media fills the air
All I want to do is write a poem
One filled with imagery that contains no character limit
About how the eyes of the lonely
Stay glued to phones
Dominating our reality
But is the scene truly filled?
Or is it a vast emptiness?
How real is real?
That tells me that we, the sensitive different types, need one another
Or they will surely clone us
In their own image
So I encourage you
Breathe poetry
Cry paint
Do not let the world turn you monotonous
for the second we lose
Those colorful tears
And those darkly beautiful words
We lose something more than a hobby
We lose a life worth living
Or else it's a black and white reality at best
Although some see style in the monochromatic
I prefer colors and light
Enough to see
It's a black and white world without you,
It's a black and white world without you
Sarah Kersey
Joseph Paris
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
I want to dedicate myself
to coming up with a phrase
that will be repeated and remembered
for all time
Something like
still water runs deep
or
look before you leap
or even
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
Four or five simple words
How hard can that be, right? Ha
Right
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
There is no hope in small no-name towns.
I've lost my loves in small no-claim towns.
'Round the church bend, the lambs on the hill,
I am reminded that I love her still.
Dead in every warm shade of brown,
First by your side in the deadly small town.
'Round the church bend, the lambs on the hill,
I left my heart by the old steel mill.
Nothing can last in the small no-name town,
I built a past in our small no-claim town.
'Round the church bend, the lambs on the hill,
I can't forget that I love her still.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
The secrets of the universe can wait --
The moon in the window is material.
There can be no persuading the Muses to explain …
To an oyster -- its pearl is a masterpiece.
A butterfly may alight on you --
Whispering secrets of forbidden knowledge
As strange to you as the deserts of the moon --
Forget this -- it is enough to save a child's blink.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
-- we get woven into each other's life sometimes without realizing it
I felt it when the sun came up this morning
I knew that I could not wait another day
There is something I must tell you
A voice is calling to me
Until we find the bridge across forever
Until this grand illusion brings us home
You and I will always be together
From this day on you'll never walk alone
You're a part of me, I'm a part of you
Wherever we may travel
Whatever we may go through
Whatever time and space may take away
It cannot change the way I feel today
So hold me close and say you feel it too
You're a part of me and I'm a part of you
You're a part of me, I'm a part of you
Lyrics by Glenn Frey, English Dan
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
I put a sardine in a mud puddle,
My Grandma must not be told.
I would have fed it to my dog,
But it was too salty and so cold.
I would have ate it with my eyes closed
If it wasn’t so slimy and gray.
Grandma doesn’t know it’s been floating
In a mud puddle half the day.
The sardine may come to life and swim,
Or some boys will use it for bait --
If Grandma ever finds it,
Her white hairs will stand straight.
The secret of the sardine is safe so far --
Where I left it I’ll never admit.
It can stay forever in its muddy home,
With a butterfly attending to it.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
The moon is missing
Old stories oppress the scorned clock's hand
What is this interminable waiting?
Lost are the World's metaphors
Lost and fled to a dark place
Once beehives born in new orchards
They now dissolve in time's dead way
And die in the viciousness of niceness
Densely social and devoid of empty
Do I dare ask these forbidden questions
She is missing, missing to me
I know where she is but I can't find her
but now I see the harvest corn
and a bursting city of goldenrod
(this can only mean good)
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC