I spend days in a room
The impression of a tomb
No one ever talks
No one ever calls
I keep staring at these walls
and in the moment I just pause
I’ve got to crawl before I walk
but in my mind I start to
shelter all my thoughts into an 8ball
Wish that I could make it but if I don’t
I don’t hate y’all
Somethings gonna break soon
Talking to myself inside a break room where music is my outlet
Plugin all these holes inside my chest like it’s an outlet
Wont let my flame die
or be out lit
Everyone’s different
I still wear the same outfits
Too lazy to be out fit
At least if I don’t make it
I’ll be out lived
Cherish what I have until the storm bears an outage
Out-aged with no fear to climb up a mountain
So high but I still remain grounded
Collect rocks till I feel like I’ve amounted
Can’t see what I’m heading towards
To ward the light from my darkness
I need a sword
Never had a lot of money
I was always poor
I know there’s people in this crowd
with the tears that I poured
Like one day I’ll go on tour
with broken promise that I couldn’t afford
in a broken down car that resembles a ford
I go to battle with myself but I’m still
Losing the war
On what planet do I meet my accord
Tie the noose around my neck
All it needs is a cord
I’m sorry I can’t make you happy
I’m still sad when I’m laughing
Jan 23, 2023
Jan 23, 2023 at 11:27 PM UTC
Poems are written in words.
Pieced together with sentences.
And sustained with periods.
Black coffee kept me awake,
I was discovering myself in thought.
I felt my pulse.
"For once in my life, I felt it."
The cursive in my mind was confusing,
Usually it came with a vision, but this was different.
There was no meaning.
E
X
T
R
A
C
T
I
O
N
Opening myself to vulnerability,
Understanding knowledge was not a gift,
but an acquired taste.
We as humans have no true understanding of personalities.
I have spent years watching people,
Understanding people,
And learning nothing.
C
O
N
C
L
U
S
I
O
N
Happiness can be found.
Listen to the world.
When hope has eaten life,
You're left with one thing,
Truth
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
When I wait for her, I wait patiently. I sit close to her eyes so my sight can be seen visibly. I don't beg for her attention but I try to engage in it.
It's her actions and movements that scare me the most when I'm caught on the unknown side of a river bank. I know her well enough to anticipate her every move but for some reason I'm nervous. I've kept my eye on her before but never like this.
Where she walks I follow, I gaze into the desert as if I've known this place all my life but this is our first acquaintance.
There's a time bomb strapped to her and I'm worried that she will take my heart to. I just need to see her justify herself, so that when I tell her we can no longer be together, she understands why.
Its a bolt action M16 pressed against my cheek. My sights are fixated upon a young afghan woman. She is thought to be a local terrorist.
We broke up.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 12:32 PM UTC
When I look into the moon I see the only dependent part of me that still exists. Its as if the silence in her vocal cords spoke words of solitude. I gave her the only bio mechanical part of me that mattered.
The gears in my chest keep turning like clock work.
I count seconds into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into days. I keep thinking time is standing still while im still standing still.
I'm waiting, waiting on patience and as unjustified as it sounds I'm impatient. Dreams are just your natural thoughts heavily sedated, a sub-conscious reality based off the feelings we cant display them.
I don't consider myself a writer, I see the constant flow of words and as a kid it left me inspired. I'm more of the sub concious reality type. I drink coffee and outside of that I really don't have a life.
For me writing is self exspression without being judged by others.
I opinionate my feelings and organize them in ink. The papper is my empty canvas, my thoughts are my judgment, and the pen is the deliverer.
Sometimes writing is the only thing that can stitch my wounds, like the words curved inside my brain penetrating like the needlesof a tattoo. I wonder what will become me, in what paradox will I redeem the sum of me?
I just hope this bio mechanical heart ticks away. I hope people continue to be people with different mindsets and open steeples. I want love to be found and dreams to be created.
Kalvin Moon
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC