marilyn-2 - Hello Poetry

I'm scared of silence Lately, I distrust my thoughts Because I don't like the voices in my head that find the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights. I always hear them whisper misery An uninvited company that lacks the courtesy to find its way out. On nights like these it hits me. The only reason I keep replaying John Mayer Is because when he sings he sings about a common trouble. And opens up for me to escape. He descants in a melody that makes me bemuse the ugliness of myself. Leaving me with an atlas mapped out with a road trip planned to a destination far from my current state. Mayer leaves me numbed with talks of the ocean waves and train rides in Georgia All escaping in his soft tenor that beautify my afflictions. When in reality nothing painful is beautiful Nothing beautiful should ensue from agony Purple and black fingerprints left on a woman's face should never be mistaken for finger paintings. I'm not one to speak For I lack the ability to handle my own complications. Problems arising from all corners of my life have me centered in a hallow room compiled with letters addressed to myself. Who are you becoming? Why should I love you? What makes you important? Questions I still stutter upon when answering They should be memorized by now but the inauthenticity of it has me living life a hollow. A vacant in my own true skin. But seems to find a home in everyone else's business. I tell myself it's just a distraction. We all need distractions from ourselves. Leaving questions unanswered and feelings bare. But soon to be left masked once again by the Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer caress on lonely nights. While pouring out ballads of long loves and solitude he tells me that I'm perfect lonely. And I believe him. Though something is missing. I believe him. And I take it. Besides the greatest flaw about being a human Is the ability for one to feel [for everything].

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May 14, 2014

May 14, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC

marilyn-2

Perfectly Lonely (Part 2)

I'm scared of silence Lately, I distrust my thoughts Because I don't like the voices in my head that find the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights. I always hear them whisper misery An uninvited company that lacks the courtesy to find its way out. On nights like these it hits me. The only reason I keep replaying John Mayer Is because when he sings he sings about a common trouble. And opens up for me to escape. He descants in a melody that makes me bemuse the ugliness of myself. Leaving me with an atlas mapped out with a road trip planned to a destination far from my current state. Mayer leaves me numbed with talks of the ocean waves and train rides in Georgia All escaping in his soft tenor that beautify my afflictions. When in reality nothing painful is beautiful Nothing beautiful should ensue from agony Purple and black fingerprints left on a woman's face should never be mistaken for finger paintings. I'm not one to speak For I lack the ability to handle my own complications. Problems arising from all corners of my life have me centered in a hallow room compiled with letters addressed to myself. Who are you becoming? Why should I love you? What makes you important? Questions I still stutter upon when answering They should be memorized by now but the inauthenticity of it has me living life a hollow. A vacant in my own true skin. But seems to find a home in everyone else's business. I tell myself it's just a distraction. We all need distractions from ourselves. Leaving questions unanswered and feelings bare. But soon to be left masked once again by the Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer caress on lonely nights. While pouring out ballads of long loves and solitude he tells me that I'm perfect lonely. And I believe him. Though something is missing. I believe him. And I take it. Besides the greatest flaw about being a human Is the ability for one to feel [for everything].

40

I'm scared of the silence Lately I distrust my thoughts I don't like the voices in my head That finds the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights I think the only reason I keep listening to John Mayer Is because when he sings about the troubles I am facing He sings in a melody that makes me confuse the ugliness of myself For ocean waves and spring birds His soft tenor creates an illusion of a truthful beauty When in reality no truths are beautiful All those who are honest are usually lonely No one wants to be told the truth because They can't handle it No one wants to acknowledge something they can't handle And no one Should be forced to listen to their thoughts when it speaks of truths That have yet been masked by the Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer cradles as he Pours out ballads of lonely nights and broken loves The biggest flaw about being human Is the ability to feel for everything It weakens the soul

0

Nov 23, 2013

Nov 23, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC

marilyn-2

Something's Missing

I'm scared of the silence Lately I distrust my thoughts I don't like the voices in my head That finds the confidence to speak up during the lateness of nights I think the only reason I keep listening to John Mayer Is because when he sings about the troubles I am facing He sings in a melody that makes me confuse the ugliness of myself For ocean waves and spring birds His soft tenor creates an illusion of a truthful beauty When in reality no truths are beautiful All those who are honest are usually lonely No one wants to be told the truth because They can't handle it No one wants to acknowledge something they can't handle And no one Should be forced to listen to their thoughts when it speaks of truths That have yet been masked by the Soft strings of the fender stratocaster Mayer cradles as he Pours out ballads of lonely nights and broken loves The biggest flaw about being human Is the ability to feel for everything It weakens the soul

22

I am not a poet. My words mean nothing to the world. The world cares not of what I have to say. Poetry does not speak to me. It might be whispering but I cannot hear. I am not a poet. I do not know how to make words sing. My phrases do not dance. My words express no emotions. My letters only sit on a page and stare at you. No exchange. You simply read on and then move on. There simply isn’t a flow. And all I know is, My metaphors and similes simply make up memories and used to bes. Even the rhymes don’t make sense. I possess the passion but lack the talent. Therefore, it’s only time wasted. The fact of the matter is, I am not a poet.

0

Oct 14, 2013

Oct 14, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC

marilyn-2

I am not a poet. ( Pt 2)

I am not a poet. My words mean nothing to the world. The world cares not of what I have to say. Poetry does not speak to me. It might be whispering but I cannot hear. I am not a poet. I do not know how to make words sing. My phrases do not dance. My words express no emotions. My letters only sit on a page and stare at you. No exchange. You simply read on and then move on. There simply isn’t a flow. And all I know is, My metaphors and similes simply make up memories and used to bes. Even the rhymes don’t make sense. I possess the passion but lack the talent. Therefore, it’s only time wasted. The fact of the matter is, I am not a poet.

20

Let's celebrate to something new Something real Something different Something painful To declare joys, or reminisce the past Whatever this something is, or ends up being. Let's celebrate because it's something, and it's better than nothing.

0

Apr 27, 2013

Apr 27, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC

marilyn-2

Let's start from here (Pt 2)

Let's celebrate to something new Something real Something different Something painful To declare joys, or reminisce the past Whatever this something is, or ends up being. Let's celebrate because it's something, and it's better than nothing.

7