Not so much.
Let me grieve.
Last night I dreamed a poem
I've never read before.
I guess you could say I wrote it,
Yet it left me wanting more.
Something about American Dreams...
About how nothing is as it seems...
Something about the city lights...
Something about our human rights...
I had scrawled it on the pavement
With a giant pencil in hand.
So all the world could know my intent
When first stepping into this land.
This morning I woke inspired,
I was ready, so ready to share!
I looked out the window and saw what transpired,
And now I do not dare.
They've stomped all over the pavement.
The roads are awash with blood.
There's screaming and crying.
My people are dying.
Their tears make a violent flood.
I don't care WHO you are!
On the left, the right,
You can't justify this ****** night
With words that defend without being contrite.
Have you no shame?
You cast your blame
Around you, as if we're not the same!
We are all Brothers and Sisters in Life.
By God on High, you ALL caused this strife.
And your wicked words are a double-edged knife!
In damning others you **** yourselves,
You're shouting so loud you can't hear the bell
It's tolling, extolling the end of our days!
But you're too steeped in hatred to hear what it says.
My poem is still as shapeless
As it was in the dream last night.
In my sorrow-blurred vision I see just one line:
"Please don't fight".
I craft my love
From words and dreams,
Forgotten, bygone memories.
And of this life, Real Love knows not.
I am to him a Time Forgot.
He left me picking pieces, changed
He lives in my mind, I lie deranged
Sobbing and writing all over the floor
You left too soon, Love. I need more.
I resurrect you from the dead
And spill my heart to the you in my head.
So I wrote you
For you, in your brilliance,
people see smoldering flames
crawling up her veins
and think of empires collapsing into ash,
people watch her eyes spark
and feel her calloused electricity
and they convince themselves of her power
she broods and she intimidates
and they think she is strong
and they think she is dangerous
and they are afraid of her fire
even though the only thing she tries to destroy
Why do I only dream of summer
When snow covers the ground?
Why do I only long for spring buds
When the first fallen leaf is found?
Why, while I lie in the sweltering heat
Do my thoughts turn to crisp candy canes, oh so sweet?
I can only enjoy the season
That is opposite to mine own;
If I am in warmth I am boiling,
If cold, I am chilled to the bone.
I need to learn to be a bit more grateful I think.
Gracefully the cat
Circled around its'
To be held
Gently down her spine
Having been satisfied
A sip of milk
Upon sandpaper lips
A spot in the
Would do nicely
And a dream
Of catching a mouse
Listen to my words.
Listen to my cry,
Of a broken child.
But don't forget,
That I can listen too.
I see your lonely words,
And I'm here
So many poems are cries for help disguised as art. I know what it's like. Don't give up. <3