And the philosopher asked what is time?
It’s what we spend our lives trying to fight
Yet it’s what we will never escape.
It’s a drive to do better, bigger, more
To create and procreate
So that your mark might be left on time
After death it’s the only way we can continue to live
Within memory.
But time diminishes all
Because all is ephemeral
Memories
Mountains
Memories of mountains.
Time is creations vice.
On the cosmic calendar
Humanity has only lived in the last second
Of the last day of the year scale.
Is it likely we’ll live any longer?
Is this what we ignore?
To get ourselves out of bed every morning
Because we realize that actions make no difference in the scheme of things
That our exsitance doesn’t matter to time.
But then why do we live in regret?
Why do we live limited?
Is this how the stars feel?
Like their existence is so small in such a infinitely expanding universe.
Is time real for them?
Or is it just an illusion of our own demise?
Time is the great equalizer
Whether we are what’s good or bad in the world
Time will find a counter for us.
But what happens at the end?
Is there an end to time?
Or does it expand with the universe?
What if out of the infinite number of universes
One singular universe achieves equilibrium in it’s end
Yes the end of its infinity.
Does this mean creation triumphs over time?
Does this signify the end of time? Do we return back to nothing?
To a black hole?
Is time then reborn from this lack of existence?
Does this process infinitely repeat?
Time is a ****
She screws everyone
She is confusing and beautiful
Time for us is us, our lives
Then the philosopher said” I only wanted the time you could have just said 2:40”
Moral of this story is proper grammar saves time
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Blank pages and blank walls
follow me
begging to be written on
"Give us art!"
But I have nothing to say to them
so I walk away .
But they call anyway .
Pressured
I pick up the pen and begin to write.
Unsatisfied still when I'm done
I step back...
as they read
they realize what I wrote isn't poetry,
its insanity.
So they shout, they scream
and still they follow me
until I paint lies with words
and print them deep in the cracks of the forgotten yesterday
to fill the blank space.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
I slammed poetry like a door
to hard...
and with it came regrets.
My mother yelled at me
given I had broken the glass
that he stepped in
that made him cry
that torn a bit from my heart
that made me guilty.....
and I am forever guilty
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
***** this false illusion of hope
**** the promise I made
cause you may not realize it... but I'm back
in the middle of the street laying down
drowning the conspires out with the loudest music I own
but even that won't do....
my mind buzzing with lies
my chest literally hurting from the stress and adrenalin
gasping for air that seems to have dispersed away with you
I'm losing grip
losing focus
cause tears that should be fuzzing my vision are once again aren't.
I can't keep our promise..
You kiss my scares in the aftermath and assume like
it's still not going on.....
but even you now don't notice...
you can't look past my kiss...
the falsehood I wear with my smile.
The fact I can't ******* read or write anything properly with out a check
The fact that this poetry is ****
The fact that this place is no longer a sanctuary for me.
I took six-teen pebbles out
I'm purging
the chest pain stops
the buzzing subsides
the music I stop....
but then the car horn wakes me from the daze
and I realize....tonight was a bad idea
it exposed my small light world of fire'
and her blissful one of blood
I took you to my second safe zone
but I don't trust you now....
what to do, what to say
is this a price I wanna pay ?
questioning every word you say
...even the things of beauty...that made me fall at first anyway
NO
yes?
This is my goodbye to this account.....
see you in another life ?
or maybe on a especially good day if I see one again.
winter is here.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
How do you tell someone how you feel
If you don't know the contents of your own heart..
if you've lost track of the tattered soul
you've been dragging for years.
If they're so much better at it then you...
you feel like what you say will never own up
to the art
coming from their heart
that rolls of their tongue.
The beauty they put to words
makes your breath stop
and your eyes flutter...
then your heart begins to melt like butter.
You stutter and stammer
and feel like an idiot after
but at least you can say your a happy one.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
You don't notice
when I sit in the dark
and ponder
or when I use the light you gave me to engrave a mark.
Your just out there again...mind but a wander
and you didn't notice
that I came home at dawn
but how could you...your where 'out'
and I cleaned up after you, like a obedient pawn.
The voices in my head have started to shout.
and you don't notice
I dig through my skin
in search of a soul.
But no one can ever look through my fictitious grin
cause then they'd see this massive hole.
You don't notice
that I do dare
wonder
if you even care
that I'm inches from a sunder.
You don't notice
your own hypocrisy
you spit in my face.
Your finite ideas hold a twisted policy
that stings like mace.
You don't notice
that when you cry to me, I only feel pity
that you still can't keep it together.
It's not your fault but, lets face it, childhood was ******
I feel obligated to love you because of a biological tether.
But I do notice
you love me.
Though the theory many have shared
is that you could be
emotionally impaired.
And I worry
that I'll do something rash
because of the lack of borders.
Soon I'll crash
cause like you I'm a emotional hoarder.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
I can't think of a title......
it's not like I'm typing the bible
maybe I'll just tell my troubles to the moon
what I say will probably be long forgotten soon.
Lost in a sea of more meaningless overly misused words
that are repeated by little noisy birds.
The words themselves aren't meaningless ,but the people normally behind them
don't use them with the intent
they actually represent.
They use them lightly like the little speck of dust we are floating on in space.
The misuse leads to the miscommunication
that results in a lot of frustration.
Cause the worlds dots have stopped
being connected
because we've grown to let are youth be infected....
Apparently I've just gone on a ramble.... hope it made sense at least
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC