Can’t be told told how to see
By those who have never saw
Or how to them I should be
When their sight is flawed
Can’t be told what to do
By those who have never done
No advice on how to think
By the ones who’ve never thought
Or how to fight
When they’ve never even fought
How are they so certain that they’re right?

I wish I could cut out my heart
So I would never have to taste disappointment
again
How could something that causes so much
Needless bitterness and despair be such a vital *****?

When you try to fit in
But feel out of place
When you work a 9 to 5
But are tired of the race
Wanna hide away
But you leave a trace
Everything’s a game
With which you can’t keep pace
You look into a mirror
And see a hollowed face

You have everything to gain,
I can testify,
When you cast away disdain
And let the ego die

I wish I were like iron,
Malleable and flexible,
But I think I am more a diamond,
Pretty but not very practical.

When everything looks the same
Stay home and play a video game,
When you lose track of the things life took
Sit down and read a book ,
When justifying yourself becomes a chore
And you can’t take it anymore,
Question your choices and your existence
Give yourself a little distance,
Some time to figure some things out,
Like where to go and what life’s all about.
Think about how far you’ve got
What you’ve found and what you’ve sought,
Do a little introspection,
We feel a little better upon reflection.

I don’t want to put off living
And I don’t want to put off experience
I want to have everything life can give me
Be everything I can be
And I’m real sorry you don’t know the difference
Between being alive and simply existing
Hide these thoughts behind worthless rhymes
They say a coward dies many times
So you keep your eyes straight ahead
I want to die only when I’m dead

Someday I’ll have a desk, with a scenic view
In nature, where modernity I can eschew.
I’ll write stories, some might even be true;
And I’ll be free, do always what I choose to:
Escape this wretched trap that benefits the few,
Finally be content, not always so blue.
If this sounds appealing, I hope you find it too.

The road to heaven
Is paved with bad intentions.

A resurgent nihilistic philosophy
A second lost generation
Disillusioned with the being of nations
Lost in their own antipathy
Confused by new sensations

A political theorist I am not
I like to wander in hills and clouds
And pick out kindred spirits in crowds
A thousand wasted battles fought
A thousand raggedy burial shrouds

The bohemians revel in their nonsense
Shall I my conceits and imaginations forsake?
Maybe a decent Lawyer I would make?
What is real and what is performance?
Which side of me shall I deem fake?

To which should I my attentions give
My unceasing love for liberty,
or a discontented bourgeoisie?
Material things I need to live
Yet still I am most lifted by poetry

The weeds live side by side,
With the roses in a meadow,
Fallen branches of a dead tree,
Help its neighbor grow,
Nothing ever ends,
Death is not an impasse,
When you’re gone,
We’ll look for you in a blade of grass.

Emerson and Fuller,
Thoreau and Whitman,
Again and again, it has been written:
Nothing ever ends, death is no
Impasse;
So when you’re gone we’ll look for you,
In our Leaves Of Grass.

Like the muscles in our fists, and in our legs,
The heart too needs to be torn apart
Again and again
So that it may rebuild itself
Stronger than the day it was before,
And like how we can lift more with our arms,
And run more with our legs,
What hurt us the day before,
Suddenly has no effect
In our heart

If you raised those downcast eyes
And opened up your mind
You would quickly realize
You were one of a kind

A newborn spirit cries in my cradle
An uncorked spirit falls from my table
Innocent Spirit claws at their cable
Renew my Spirit I am unable