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A Dead Poet Feb 2021
I can spend thousands of dollars and hours,
  only to look in the mirror,
    & notice everything I am not.
        - ɪ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ
A Dead Poet Oct 2021
When you lost your hair; you got angry.
   When you lost time; you rushed.
       When your strength left; you shut down.
           When I pushed; you pulled.
              When I talked; you yelled.
                 When I asked; you said " you don't understand"
I was a child,
       young, dumb, but honest.
           I loved you,
                I love you,
                   even if it breaks me.
                       I will love you.
A Dead Poet Oct 2021
The sky cried today
basked in dreary gray hughes
why did they take you?
A Dead Poet Nov 2021
You explored each crevice,
   pulled apart each door,
      burned your image across the waves,
traversed every mark & every ridge
like the roots in dry desert heat,
you drank your fill and moved on,
naked & embarrassed
     I now lay alone,
          I wish it was not so.
A Dead Poet Aug 2021
Every moment was a falsehood,
    "I love you" is "I hate you" masked with wanting ; its cheap makeup.
         With his life ending, his last thought was remorse.
             Remorse for time wasted, cheap words, and you.
                Oh! sad little clown! "I love you" on the marquee,
                      what a performance, cheap, comical, old.

                         -A clown named 𝓐 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽
A Dead Poet Nov 2020
Begged on the knees with no lack of humiliation,
   cried and yells of indignity
        looking up I saw your face
                 - mortification.

please don't leave.
     please fix me.
           find the faults,
                 fix the cracks,
                   patch the crumbling walls,

I said "please fix me"
  only to hear  "you need to fix yourself"

-ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪᴛꜱ ᴍᴇ
A Dead Poet Mar 12
I don't have much to give,
no tears left,
no money,
no confidence
I can give you me
simple, normal, human
kind. . .
A Dead Poet Oct 2021
I saw a strange character in the mirror tonight,
  he smiled at me, rays of sunshine that illuminated his song.
       Like a yellow cannery, impure, happy, small but strong.
          I saw a strange character in the mirror tonight,
                 I wish I could say it was . . . 𝗺𝗲
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
You were the most beautiful thing,
  behind a icy can of coke on a warm aired summer day.
      Love at first sight,
        until you spoke.

-ᴄᴀɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴋᴇ
A Dead Poet Oct 2020
Silent glances,
  lead to moments of exultation,
     for you're the one I dream of. . .

When our eyes meet,
  my heart skips a beat,
    take me to a land of imagination. . .

Oh the thrills,
   for a second you're the only one I think about
         bells snap me back into reality. . .

- ʜɪɢʜ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ
A Dead Poet Feb 2021
“words don’t hurt.”
    They only build bridges to the most hidden isles of our being,
Bridges which illuminate our most hidden, self-hate, doubt and pain.
               & as our very being walks the hidden bridge,
                    They enrapture, take us down, into the dark abyss.
                         Pleading, begging, hurtful, angry words,
                              Pull us down, down, down, until we are submerged.
                                      Pointless words that entangle and drown you.
                                                   So, no they do not hurt,
                                                            They slowly ᴋɪʟʟ
A Dead Poet Sep 2021
You write about heartbreak, then comedy.
Opening up, only to close yourself in fear.
You write about happiness, then about losing and longing.
As you lie and try to convince yourself, erasing your desire.

In those early morning hours, I create my own galaxy.
A place free of fear, free of losing, free of loving.
For every moment of longing becomes a star,
tainting my perfect cosmos with memories.

You create imaginations, mechanisms of coping.
You build your walls high, they make me want to climb it.
You build your galaxy, full of gloom and curiosity,
   a mysterious code I want to decipher.

Two kids lay in the stars, dreaming.
As if dreams could erase hunger.
Two adults lay in the stars, loving.
As if love could stop time.
Two souls become one,
Until two becomes one . . forever alone.
All that is left is broken, ugly and spiteful what is there to decipher ?

I want to see . . .
   Each window past, present and now.
I want to see. . .
   The happiness that oozes from your lips.
I want to see. . .
   The dark and unrelenting sea of your depression.
I want to smell. . .
   perfumes, coffee on your breath, and your 1 am scent.
I want to feel. . .
   the pain in your heart and the pulse of its song.

I want you.

- NAN & A Dead Poet ✌
Very thankful to have worked on this very nice piece with an amazing writer. Thank you!
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
Little Brown Bird,
   in the clutches of your design,
      free your cage
           & ƒ𝐋𝐲
A Dead Poet Oct 2020


Leaving you to wonder and wander
  dread, anger, anguish overtake you
     for the thrill of it all
in the solitude of the moment. . .

I hope "you" was not "me"
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
Your song enamors,
   every essence
Such a rarity,
   beauty that does not fade at any hour.

But, every dark circle beneath such ardent eyes,
fail to hide the black abyss of pain, wanting and belonging,
   for left as shells, I lost the fight,
      I am just another beautiful fool
                       in the intricate web of lies,
                           so beautifully spun,
                             to think I am the only ❁𝓃𝑒
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
He was a giver,
   he gave and he gave,
      warm bodies were comfort,
          even if they cost a good cent.
They were takers,
     they took and took,
         until nothing was left,
             even if they knew it was wrong.
Both sides played the same song,
   until, he became ill,
     he begged and begged,  
        for salvation,  
           only to meet damnation,
              stormy sky's formed,
                "lift me up"
                    "𝒹❁𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒"
                        the sky laughed mockingly,
                             he was alone.
                                 sky's cleared,
                                      he lay,
They wore black,
    They cried out their souls,
        Warm bodies called out his name,
            that's all he wanted,
               but it falls on deaths ears.
A Dead Poet Jul 2021
Little Boy,
  you care too much. . .
     you love too much. . .
        you give too much. . .

Put your dreams first!
   𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽
It's not your responsibility!
   𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒
Go, run, be free!
  𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉

You loved them so much, they became your burden.
   You cared so much, they became your illness.
      You gave them all, they became your death sentence.
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
Take me back to a time,
      when La Divina blessed the stage,
          when the horrors of war did not exist,
                when man only knew love and not hate,
                     when imaginary lines did not divide us,
  when religion and race did not exist.
        take me back before the creation of constructs,

Please take me.

-ⓣⓐⓚⓔ ⓜⓔ
A Dead Poet Jul 2021
𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜?
𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜'𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝑒. . .
𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮
         𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮
A Dead Poet Nov 2020
Brown eyes
broken hearted
Poor daydreaming fool

in those sweet
honey brown eyes
the reflection
shows me

-sǝı˥ ɟo llnℲ sǝʎƎ uʍoɹᙠ
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
I love you body and soul,
graced by the heavens to find you,
to have us together is my nirvana.
I am too proud to admit,
you are
my breath. .
my brain. . .
the tenderness. . .
my heart . . .
please, oh please.
by gods grace keep us united,
for I yearn for your love and respect.
Hear my plea, for its not a child's plea.,
but filled with sentiment from our youth.
promise to be tender
to love, and give affection.
I am yours to do as you will,
I am yours to break at your will
so please love me.

Your soul,
𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
Dear Love,

The day of sweet encounter is coming,
  my heart beats in excitement,
     I hear the noise of their tears like rain on midsummer eve,
         and yet sadness does not overtake me,
               I yearn for the love under a desert breeze,
                   a love that blossomed,
                        a love that shattered,
                           death took you from me,
and yet all I can ask is do you still want me?
My love, I am yours,
they cry for me, beg me to stay,
   but I welcome death,
       and his cold embrace
            for until we meet again.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎
A Dead Poet Feb 2021
I used to hate the color brown,
   a constant reminder of marginalization
        of feeling innate. . .
But in brown. .
  you have red . . .
       yellow. . .
          &  blue. . .
             & every hue in-between

a gentle reminder,
     that brown is the dirt,
         that holds a field of flowers,
              so radiant, bright and colorful
                   which could not exist
                             without their foundation
                                    and with that
                                          I smile
                                                with ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ
A Dead Poet Nov 2020
I used to find shame,
   in the great staple food of the tamale,
      drinking poor atole,
          and presenting a plate of mole to our guest,

I used to find shame,
   being the son of two "aliens"
        how it plagued me. . .

but like Jarabe Tapatío dancers,
  I found pride,
        in our dances,
            in our culture,
               in my family.
                   for it is me,
                       I am me.
                         I am proud. . .

A Dead Poet Oct 2020
Infinite ****** passion exchanged by eyes,
         unexplainable emotions at first touch,
                 Eager tender breaths muffled by lips,
                           Emotions become finite, sacred to tainted.
                                                    - The Chase Ends
A Dead Poet Nov 2020
Pachamama our mother
whose river from day one
flowed unrelenting and unyielding
impeded by her children

so forgive me if I cry
may my tears
feed her life

- ᴘᴀᴄʜᴀᴍᴀᴍᴀ
A Dead Poet Oct 2020
Making love with the lights off,
  voices surround me once more. . .
      . . . fat. . .
           . . . round. . .
               . . . small. . .
I am yours,
  but hide me from me
     keep the lights off
       let me feel beautiful
         before these voices tear me down once more. . .

-ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴏꜰꜰ
A Dead Poet Sep 2020
𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓭
        his phone rings
           " on my way home"
                   what a joke , a man in my bed . . . left

Alone Goodbye's. . .  
    The irony. . .
A Dead Poet Nov 2020
I traveled the world,
       got three degrees,
         with a fancy title to not skip the beat,
yet I long for yesterday. . .
   not a dollar to our name,
       a 99 cent burger and a coke was our tiramisu,
        full of sweaty palms that gripped reassurance.

what a cruel game life plays. . .
  I'd give up everything to my name,
     only to be laughed, scoffed, and told
           to give up the stars. . .
                in this never ending cruel fate.

I'd give up my life to see those ardent eyes,
  only to be reminded of the coward I am
     not able to let go
         & be with you once more. . .

Forgive me lover,
as I pen this regret. . .

A Dead Poet Oct 2021
Love is nostalgic,
it is an invisible voice with gentle sadness,
it does not hurt, but it burns. . .
This ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ consumes,
   every corner of your soul,
       every tear streamed,
           every word uttered,
leaving ardent ash, wanting time to come to an end.
Forever to last longer, as it paints his picture
always burning, always hearing,
the same old tune.
A Dead Poet Nov 2020
the irony of life,
we come from dust and bone,
     only to die from bone to dust.
in a shared cycle.

A Dead Poet Feb 2021
I used to envy others,
    and constantly ask why?
          but each time I asked why,
             a cut opened in my soul,
                  in endless cycle that would not heal.
It became unrecognizable,
      from my own Ⓐⓑⓤⓢⓔ
A Dead Poet Oct 2020
Save me,
   from my world,
      longing for the drugs to "fix me"

Another day of emptiness,
  in the shadow of my own abyss,
       voices. .
              voices. .
                    voices. .

Pacing erratically,
   waiting for a hand,
        to pull me from the sea of my mental anguish.

I want to run,
    save me,

A Dead Poet Jul 2021
Clung to you and cried,
  I begged you not to die,
      for the moon forgiving blessed us with another sun.
         I held your hand,
           I broke down,

How selfish, all the time it was me, me, me.
    Not your pain,
        not your peace,
            nor your sleep,

I am a selfish and a weak fool.
   who fears to be alone
A Dead Poet Oct 2021
Is it love?
  No; just imagination.
magical creations; of a longing heart
and ardent passion, burning of desire; wanting.
Only to find disappointment;
Heaven on earth ceased to exist,
    for death tore the veil which shrouded my heart.
which shrouded my eyes; that made me blind.
Now that the spell is lifted, I fall to the ground,
and curse this ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.
A Dead Poet Nov 2021
I'm sorry I am broken,
But I am not your modern day simile,
I don't choose to compete,
I don't choose to check off the boxes
I am broken, different, and strong.

Does that scare you?
I am not your definition of beautiful,
  I am mine, and that is okay I choose to embrace my flaws.
A Dead Poet Sep 2021
Take me to the stars away from my endless state of misery,
Take me away from narcotic induced happiness,
       Hold my hand pull me out of the sea of demons,
              that pulls me back in, take me away.
Pick me up in your beat up old chevy, as we ride the cosmos.
   Tell me its okay, make the voices go away.
      Hold me tight, until the shaking stops.
Take me away, from this endless song of ꜱᴏʀʀᴏᴡ.
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆。˚ ✩
┊ ┊ ┊ ✫
┊ ┊ ︎✧
┊ ┊ ✯
┊ . ˚ ˚✩
A Dead Poet Mar 12
I look at the clock,
     waiting for you to get home.
I speak,
      only to be cut off.
You look at me and sigh. . .
     You are always right. . .
So please get your things and go. . .
     my heart pleads no, but my mind knows
there is no love, no warmth
     and that's okay,
        I'll be okay. . .
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
December 24th, 2020

Sweet love, sweet friend.
  I promised to never love again until the end,
   for I was unsure I could trust. . .
    smell of burnt pine, and ice cold December air,
      a reminder of your ever warm embrace.

Sweet love, sweet friend,
I failed to love you to the end.
for I am starting to love again,
my heart and I are in a constant fight.
for I yearn for your love,
But I found a man whose breaking my walls.

Sweet Love, Sweet Friend
  I am terrified to love again,
    I am forever yours,
      and soul which weeps for you.
  his love which has bound me in chains.

Sweet Love, Sweet Friend,
   I feel guilty,
     I want to stop my breath,
        to feel your touch,
           your embrace,
             to hear your voice,
               & smell your skin.
                 I am terrified to love again,
                      scared I was your greatest mistake.

Sweet Love, Sweet Friend
   until we meet again. . .
      but I will try and take the - 🆁🅸🆂🅺
A Dead Poet Feb 2021
Give me your hand, give me your love.
Give me your hand, while we dance in purgatory.
An insignificant event, a moment in time.
Maybe five minutes, that is all we will be.

Qualm my steady heart in this dance together,
a simple reminder of each second that passes muffled by heartbeat,
While “our” song plays, “our” insignificant song.
Maybe three minutes long, that is all we are.

You gaze into my eyes, and I peer in your soul.
Our names become lost; they no longer matter.
For our love, song and dance are lost in time,
For that is all we were, two lovers, insignificant, lost to 🆃🅸🅼🅴
A Dead Poet Sep 2021
Life has made me write poems,
for others they have created poems,
I live vicariously through their moments,
each kiss, each love, each heartache.

Life has made me write secrets,
of others nightly silhouettes,
full of passion, full of grace, full of desire,
each touch, each stroke, each breath.

Life has mocked me with the moon,
with all its grace that illuminates you at night,
as you take flight oh sweet moth towards its light.

Life has scorned me,
  taken from me, broke me,
        now I write poems,
          and live 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮 through others.
             for I fear to 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓸𝔀𝓷.
A Dead Poet Feb 2021
Interweave my dreams in the wind,
       blind stars in my eyes,
             endless sensations on my soul,
                  enamored and enraptured in your sea
                      which beats upon my door
                           your sea which leaps into my frigid heart,
                                waves of unwanted passion,
                                     fear and pain play in the air,
                                         Emotions long lost,
                                               awakened once more,
                                                      you whisper "let me in"
                                                           my silence speaks volumes
                                                                    "free me"
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
The pain begins tonight,
unimaginable torture of my own mental design,
   left under an imaginary starry sky,
    warm desert breeze, smell of rotten pine.
       my melancholy turns in your hand,
          lift me up, raise me up,
             help me become stronger.
                Let the sun, drip and fill the honey in my eye.
                   & take me out of this darkness.
                           𝓈𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒, 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒
A Dead Poet Sep 2021
Have you ever felt the pain?
Not of dying, not of love.
Not of pain, but of a word with no escape.
It's silence is deadly, like an ardent comet full of expression,
devouring your mind, body and soul, never blooming into existence.
Have you ever felt this pain?
A Dead Poet Sep 2021
115 degree days of misery,
  under larger than life palm trees.
    Sipping a cold crying can of coke.
       oversized sunglasses by the community pool,
          I hope they hide my gaze.
              lust at first sight, ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ at a glance.
A Dead Poet Jul 2021
Sacred body, yes; that which I have fully explored and mapped.

Scattered tattered walls,
  cracked and broken from each strike.

Pillars structurally not sound, against all condemnation,
  you beat, longing, wanting, leading us to a calamity.

Body, yes ; my sweet beloved.
  we know each other you and I.
     Stop, hear my plea; please stop.
         Don't beat, don't long, don't want,
               He will be our 【End】
A Dead Poet Jul 2021
Where is the color?
    Red , blues & orange hues.
Where is the sound?
    Singing Birds, overplayed love songs on repeat.
Where is the smell?
    Cheap coffee blends on your breath.
Where is the touch?
    Rough, gentle, callused hands.

Drifting in an endless tide of nothingness,
    Dark, silent, odorless nights.
         "I love you" loses its luster,
            "Forever" loses it shine
                 Bliss becomes sorrow,
                     Tears become strength,
                        Ashes becomes flame,
                            Red knees of prayer become sore feet,
                               I look in the mirror and find peace. . .
I learned to love again,
      not for you,
            but for me,
                 I learned to say "I love you" to the man in the mirror,
                    Accept, learn and stand once more.
                        Its easy being with you, but hard being alone.
                            Thank you my old beloved.
A Dead Poet Dec 2020
Sweet love,
old aesthete flame
  under a frozen autumn breeze
     I learned how to trust

  Warm inure flickering flame,
      I grow terrified,
         I opened up,
            and now there is an "us"

Sweet flame,
squeeze me tight,
   hold me tonight,
      bind me to your warmth.

Frozen Autumn breeze,
    listless flame extinguished,
          my heart is buried in dust,
             two heartbeats diverge into one.

Terrified once more,
      & bound to you. . .

A Dead Poet Sep 2020
Minutes turn to hours,
  time is listless,
     the meeting is dreary,
        she wags her finger as if scolding a child,
           scorned, humiliated, ashamed. . . .
            " you are not qualified to challenge the system"

Ivory towers,
   fools in regalia,
         they think themselves kings,
              deciding what is good academic art.

For years I cried,
     For years I tried,
                shadow. . I became. . .

I saw the best minds of my generation,
  and I was not one, creativity had come and gone,  
       the flame of thought extinguished for I was told "You can't"
            so many times. . . my heart started to beat to its metronomic rhythm!

I can!
"You Can't"
I want to write
"You are not good enough"
Why cant we create creative pieces?
"Academic research is all that matters"
"Who would you be?"
. . .

I am me,
I like to write,
  About flowers, indigenous ****, and a love that can never be.
       & that makes me 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽.
          So let my peers reach the accolades,
             let my peers be published,
                    let my peers fit your definition of "great"

But I am me,
I am happy,
isn't that what matters?
A Dead Poet Oct 2020
Tremors felt for miles,
    Destructive earthquake breakdown my walls,
                                           stimulating endless profane thoughts,
                                                                    I long , for just your 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱.
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