Flashback to the time
I once drove off the edge.
When sinister sulking demons cried
and opened fire within my head.
Back to when darkness hung tightly,
a cloak clutched close about all corners.
When concealment couldn't hide me
in my quest for something warmer.
Thank the ocean, sun, moon, and stars
this sullen season slowly faded.
For remnants of filled ash trays and bars
rendered me positively jaded.
I'm still bereft of breathing,
these lungs wouldn't take another sip.
Might the darkness flee if I were leaning
over this candle dimly lit?
Flash forward to hereafter
when such episodes are but a tale,
in which an old demon's subtle laughter
no longer thwarts my efforts to prevail.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
My insecurities often scream louder
than the little voice inside of me.
Broadcasting and blasting out of stylish speakers
for all the boys and girls to see.
I've been held down,
by demons with travelling cloaks,
woven with invisible tapestry
clutched about their throats.
So to remove the words
I have so carefully purged
out my enigmatic system,
the ones caught and stuck inside my chest
with unusual strength and mysticism.
I took my hand,
jammed it deep down through my mouth
gagged on my fore fingers a second longer
in order to drag them out.
The vile words,
drowning in biled verse,
I drug them out through dreary space
and hung them with my shirts
I aired out days before.
The score of the fight
lies not in the aired out and forgotten,
but in the formations of tones
and phonetic clones
tangled in my web of rotten
sceptical insinuations.
Indelible infractions,
and taking back my sinful actions
are recanting hate, dispelling fate
burning holes within my reactions.
They've altered my vision,
long blurring scenes of scattered days
glass nails shattered in iron blenders
banishing frantic forays.
I've found it easier, less chaotic
to accept instances where I've felt at home.
I've come to enjoy devilish voices when I've lost it
because at least then, I'm not alone.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
It were as if the stars perched consistently atop rafters on Mars
Yet they knew nothing of the silken night’s scars,
luminescent and mirrored in moon rays, such sparse
planetary alignments fine tuned with universal regard.
Elegance snuck a glance at the immediacy of my gut’s stance,
suggesting celestial semblance in your dance be cancelled,
lest bile be spilled, silence, by chance, killed
all for the sake of the trampled
Clock tocked out of stock leaving ticks in her spot
as the alarm beat us back into orbit,
we forgot the words of the day said to do what we ought
as sneaky fate intertwined herself behind my forehead
Often, my sighs are laden with listlessness
in such stillness, eyelids flit with a bliss-less shift
ill-fit shadows cast off dimly lit lanterns kissed
the dimming mechanism behind my lids
fused itself to the plaster
ladders wrought with rusted rungs
lead on to open doors as laughter
bubbled while stairwells warped by weather’s withdrawals,
slunk slowly across the floor
in the stillness
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
Waves,
they wash
they wash away the tide I'm in
perturbing past abandonment
cleansing out the forgotten winds.
My sins,
cradled deep,
are nestled safe in restless sleep.
Eyelids peeled wide,
white flags torn down,
in hopes
of a sudden
effort to drown out hazy sound.
They've crawled on under
the bridges
bridges you've torn asunder.
Glancing from left to right
might lose the sight,
of offerings gifted within mid-flight
to escape the reign,
of cold misguided precipitants
the forays of hazed and dazed miscreants
with glossy eyes,
ever assuming gazes
of awful, mixed reused phrases
calling my name.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
The construction of new truths
requires tracing back to the roots
in which our foundational youth
has been grounded.
Pursuants of knowledge, belief, and perception
falter at the objection
that their reality is not subject to
interpretive conception.
Impermanence
taught me to learn and to shift
with tides of my blind eye's misconceptions.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Just because it's cloudy out
does not mean we have room for doubt
that once upon a sky so blue
a girl, across the sky she flew.
Aloft her winged lacy kite,
her being took off,
amongst birds, mid-flight.
On that very fateful day
she learned a lesson hard to convey,
that while one is suspended in mid air,
it's nice to sit and ponder there.
While one is off and out on their own,
their inner self will flourish and grow.
In that split second of
being neither below, neither above
comfort hung close,
held on like a glove.
That soft, sweet comfort
of sunshine love.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
Definitely not having it,
be it "jokes", taunts, or sarcastic ******** wit.
The fine line those walk,
'tween acceptable or not.
Littered, shattered glass on the floor,
diminishing where you can step anymore,
increasing where you ought not
to tread.
Fed up to the brim,
wise cracks, spreading me thin.
Passively pushing past prior pitfalls and pleas
compassion over compensated, as I rise from my knees.
Definitely not your dime piece,
your side piece,
your "when I got the time" piece.
You're misconstrued when you abused
your sly guy remarks to allude me.
This isn't a game you see, but it's not my case to blame,
it's just the years of a broken system
ingrained in your brain.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
My heart aches for you,
for your pain, suffering,
heart, black and blue.
It is you
who has mended and tended
my own heart afflicted with wounds.
Strong, still, I see you
amongst your lengthy strife.
Yet your stakes are far higher than
those within my life.
Simple nature of the boundless,
time waits for none, the less
attachment to this mass
taken out of context.
Vexed as I am,
in the sea of uncertain,
words churn in and out of display.
I portray your words, as a series of sounds
calmly collected, as they swirl to the ground.
Stamping out the fire,
which kept vicious shadows at bay,
successfully engulf me, mired
snugly tucked in my grave.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
Living life on the wild side,
free, unbound, and open
Lookin' to my right and left,
reality has spoken.
Friends having children,
getting married, buying homes,
but how have I gotten to this place,
to be sitting all alone?
Beaches, movies, long car rides,
tokes, bongies, lifted highs,
all these past times, fast times, future sighs
no longer conceal the realness
of my desire to be blessed
with one who longs to be by my wild side
I shouldn't need another
another lover to cover my insecurities,
but, alas, I long to share my fruitful hopes and dreams
dreams of becoming a greater me,
of climbing tippy tops of trees,
of soaring, crafting, conjuring
what I have only seen
in my third eye,
chasing dreams.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
I'm tired of being told how "strong" I am,
how "brave" I am,
how "inspiring" I am,
how "independent" I am,
how "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" I am.
Stop telling me what I am.
I know you're trying to help, but sorry,
if you're telling me that your adjectives are clear interpretations of my personal reality,
you've got it wrong.
I am weak,
I am vulnerable,
I am impressionable,
I am sofuckingtiredofbeingtired.
Maybe I like being this way,
maybe it's why I haven't crawled on my belly,
out of this hole I've dug, deep under my heart.
Maybe I'll build a nest in this hole,
maybe I'll call it home for a while,
while my heart strings string together pieces and shards and broken,
empty jars that once held ambition and positive disposition and collective recognition of hope.
Or maybe I'll just poke
around the haystack,
the needles' got to show itself soon,
lest it ***** my finger and bleed me till I swoon,
at least then I'll have time to sleep,
time to rest,
time to keep,
time to lay,
time to weep,
time to play,
time to
sleep.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 2:41 AM UTC