Astonishment,
Admonishment,

Quivering lies through the eyes of arrogance doubt.

Fancy hearing the turbid tones of truth as the skies fall upon….you.

Yet you blame.

Shame for shame, playing your endless games.

Ill-guided moresence proves the downfall of all,
Your ill-fated squalor talks more than you know.

Yet your speech is mute to yourn.

Baited falter,
Caught in your own web.

I will listen to yours no longer.

Today,
I stay and reflect.
Like the mirrors floating on a pond, wandering in focus.

At times I am hopeless, distraught, and dazed, pondering.

I'll stop you there, you sad, beaten man.
Do you feel the seas trod upon you, drown you and let you swim further, and further just to regret, forget why you even began?

The shining at the deepest depths is merely a mirror to self-reflect,
to pay respects to what you wish you were.

Did you forget why you're here? Because, in truth, I never forget what I never knew,
why the sky feels the need to fall in disrespect, all upon your war-torn shoulders,
buckling under that very sigh you set free when you realized you're the traitor here, as you just get colder.

varied sighs sing you lies of peace,
poor Icarus, he tried to fly, to plead the sun, to chase infinity.

Do you truly seek peace? You try to run yet create your own inevitabilities, seized by your own dreams. With these ****** knees you've built yourself. Scorned by warnings of your self fulfilling prophecies.

You said so yourself.

First,
find what you need,
then perhaps your ever elusive peace may come,
and bring you to your knees,
to drown in seas of relief.
The war is not over,
Just another day.

Write the word
   No need to rhyme.

This is my home,
Please take a seat and have a cup of tea.

Sometimes the words flow like honey,
So sweet and lovely.

The ink is my solace from this mind,
   However mostly healed,

   However...

Spill the peace upon the pages.
  My pen is my heart,
With black ink blood..

Please sit with me a while longer.
Speak a toast to the everlasting sonders of this beautiful life we live,
This sacred space of ours.

My mind is restless.

Invested in which what wherever I breathe,
   Philosophy.

Once I awaken,
I will truly enjoy this place and times therein,
Until then,

Please come again.

Stay the waves of doubt,
  Away from the endless days,
   Of famine and drought.

The helpless mind may wander,
   To short-lived slumber,
No longer to squirm and squander,
Among the days and sonders of yesterday,

But will yet stray and ponder,
   His ways to gaze in wonder,

His safe and sound,
   His pain asunder.

I've built my wall so tall such even the most relentless assault could not topple it it all.

I've planted forests on either side so long ago they have grown and now I know,

Not even where I built my wall,

Or how tall.

Distraught,
Destroyed,
Dis,
embodied.

My halls,
The walls,
my wicked falls turn'd from stone,
dissolved to nary a diffid tone thrown by ******* bones.

An amorphous form born from the aimless mourning that now has no space to face and call my own.

Telltale swarms of which I myself did warn would come,
Once and again I crumble from what once which I would succumb.

Myself. Dear. Gone.

I am,
afloat in limbo forever struck with what,
I Left only to silence my mind until once again,
I would find the cut.

...
Page 2

My totality revised,
Scratched through like the words unworthy.
Smoothed over the rough draft,
Autobiography progressive,
Nary writing another day's pages.

Stumbling across the periphery,
Escapist tendancies surface henceforth and again.
Deafened heartbeating thunderously infectious.
Caution to the wind.

Caution, in the brittle spirit of intermittent heartache.
Slanting sideways in the wind.
Battered yet standing have,

Caution. The winds of change blow away.
Strung along the periphery.
Tighter than pianostrings.
Pluck, pluck away,
And listen to my songs for,
My crescendo has yet to come

Drudging,
Struggling,
Muddling through the days nary yet to be realized.
The dreams of ensnaring rose-water skies.
That faint red,
So beautiful...

I,
Want to be alone.
I,
Want to be at home, I,
Know I can't go now no matter how much it grows,
The pain...

It shows it's face time and time again to make me pace back and forth to forget what was said and cut the cord or where and who I am!

...

who am I?
and why.


-

I'd,
Rather go hungry than speak to someone right now,

i'm starved.
I'm starved...
I'M ******* STARVING for a piece of this peace that it seems that everybody but me can just pick up and breathe....

But I can't see me...
So how could I possibly know...

The best of us comes out when the rest of us is gone.

At least,
I hope that's the case as I just want to save face and get away when my days face me with the longest ways around.

The depression sets as I attempt to find my faded song's wasted namesake.
Looking for a better view of the days whereupon my incessant sighs are drawn.

Drawn like a depressive sketch,
With the pencil marks parked along the secrets to peace's faded spark.

My fallacy, you see,
I'd rather breathe within the seas than have to see these things the way they've gone,
Strung me along the heartstrings stretched so thin as to nigh be my patience with this broken masterpiece.

And so,

The best of us are broken when the rest of us are gone.

But, the best in us comes out,
When the rest of us is wrong.

My forgetfulness is a more successful entity than even I at times.
My trust in regretfulness often gets the better of me.

But yea,
I hunker down,
surrounded by unforgetfulness of the lack of silence.

I,
Defy the paradigm,
The escapist void,
Lines of code I refuse to obey.

I defy,
Defy,
All emotionalogic.
I make no sense,
Or a dollar that pays my way to ignorant bliss.

'Tis the streets upon which I so selfishly make my way and,
My gears turn with no source or destination.

I am the,
Status quo of the chronically out of place.
So,
Take that next step,
Show me.

With every stone you throw,
and my blood as mortar,

I will build my tower to the heavens.

Transcribe my sine wave,
     Rays like the sun.

Describe the unending normalcy.
   waves crashing: one too many.

Laser-focused against the (g)rain.
        Tsunami enraged.


Defiance is my resonant frequency,
      sorry to disappoint.

I am the way.

Explore my labyrinthian corridors,
From the walls to the hallways, to the unkempt floors.

'Tis in my mind I finally realize,
I have not the time to explore each and every door,

Precious, singular thoughts,
Expectedly drowning,
but in due course,
We are lost at sea in an ocean devoid,

emptied by the mindless wars.

When I get drunk,
I become one of you,
I become but a human.
I become one of you,
Just a normal one to be.

Say long to the anxiety,
I become one of you...
Normal...
Normalcy soon feels like a disease far away from what normal really seems.
I'm not really me.

Be one of me, Heathens.
Then you might see me be the creten that seems so far out of the current scene.

So, ha,
When you drink,
Who are you?
Because when I do,
I may not be me,
But I sure am the best version of whom I see,

I both hate the feeling,
And love who I see,
I am this distorted scream in the mirror to which I owe my very being.
To whom do I address this to? Certainly not you.
Just the future me,
The sobre boy who cannot really be,
A sane human being.

Returned to worsened thoughts,
Caught in the spiderwebs of restlessness.
Inchworm caught in the trap.
Presuming its imminent demise.

Toothless dogs of emotional wars fought on the daily,
Screaming in my broken ears,
about how little this all means.

Heat-soaked heart drowning in my anxiety's waste products,
just looking for some direction,
someone to mention my name,
in just a positive way.
perhaps I'm deaf,
so please speak up.

I can't even hear,
my own cries of fear,
so please speak up.
I want to see,
that is what I mean,
is more than nothing.
Please?

I do suppose,
That little pill,
Has done its deal,
in sealing me away,

or at least,
the part of me I wish I'd never see.

The lack of write,
represents my lack of fight,

bittersweet.

i love nothing more but to speak,
these little lines.
these broken skies, however,
never suited me well.
This isn't goodbye,
just,
see you later,

when there's something,
something to fight.

Silent fireplace,
    cold stone hearth alludes to its purpose,
sitting eerily still.
       Teasing its fleeting warmth.

     The silent rumble of nothingness penetrates the peaceful silence,
Silence to itself,
   With this little lamp to my side,
providing just the right kind of light,
        to see me through this write.

Shutting my mind's eyes and breathing the endless ink blots of my thoughts.
     Thoughtless sighs squeeze,
  past my anxieties,
    and carry to me,
a tantalizing hors d'oeuvre of peace.

~Robert van Lingen

I am fragile:

Tissue-Paper skin,
Silken heartstrings.
Yet I still can breathe.
This tenuous breeze.

Glass bones,
in my glass home.
One stone,
is all it takes to breach,
My glass throne.

I am Fragile:
Please, shout at me,
while I can barely see,
what "me," really means.

Please, tell me I'm wrong,
So I can guess why,
I'm going to cry,
A broken song.

I am the fragile song who beats in amorphous tune,
to no one else's beat.
Who's piano strings are plucked by someone else's keys.
And who's instructions are in the other room.
Locked with someone else's key.

I am Fragile:
Easily broken or damaged.
Flimsy or Insubstantial.
Delicate and vulnerable.

I am the frail,
Who lives on the sheer strength of will.

Retrospect.
The dangerous game,
I play for pinks,
With sanity in the stakes.

Royal Flush,
My house is full of jokers.

Brokered a deal with the thoughts who spoke whisper'd cutthroat scenes.

Intraspect:
Everyone is perfect.
Except for me.

Flower breach the cement,
Arrest my lament,
My beautiful heart, rescend into dark intense.

My heart is the home of squandered potential,
Depression sets in,
Cement the state and fall away into my usual state of mind.

The mirror I trod upon is the unfalling foe,
Introspection's regressions feed the deathless ranks of anxieties,
With but nothing left to say,
Nary a hopeless smile althewhile.

Pop another pill to drown tomorrow's sorrows,
With today's having a long way yet to go.

Stopgap.
emotional stocks wrapped with paper wings,
which burst'd into inferno at the first broken sight of spring.

Baseless transition into faceless thoughts,
Caught in webs of speechless dreams,
laced with poison's tasteless lessons taught.

Stop that.
Think back,
at the wasted scenes graced with cold embrace.
Winter's faces breathe,

Lies stand by your faithless eyes.
instead.
dream,
of flame-less skies.

Stop the gap in nature's lap,
and sit upon her shoulders.
See the skies that breathe your sighs of reprieve,
nigh your dreams seized with whisper'd echos breeze.
Set them free...

p.s.,
you may already be.
but beware.
hopeless eyes are doomed to live with lies, disguised by strife's hypnosis,
ensnared by defeatist blight.

Witness the slivers of light that whisper through a darkened mind.

Effortless hypocrisy feeds broken philosophies.

Hold your mind close.
For you may just slip away,
Into this place,
And meet me.

H...hello

Confusion's forsaken my thoughts to the long-lost brothers of insecurity.
Forcibly taken and tossed aside to hide within the lies of insincerity.

Kindred servant's lullabies:
Forgotten songs of yesterday,
Soothe me into waking nightmare.

Lead-shoed memories float upon seas made of stone,
Buried shallower than a grass-fed grave.

Anxious tensor userp my synapse's happiness...
Clutching my eversweet peace like a spoil'd child.
Hidden from view,
but most certainly there.

Dare me to escape the frozen steel I call home.
Wrought Irony,
Dragging my prison beneath my feat...

Misspelling's intentional because my feat?
Dragging my feet.

Asleep at the wheel,
my heart is steel.

Awoken stone cries gravel tears,
bruising my feet as I walk,
Talking as if the sensation is anything less than profoundly real.

Tangency is my thought process,
Clever distractions from the harbor'd fears:
just look the other way.

Case in point:
Confusion's forsaken my tears,
as my fears fade away,
if only to return another page.

Silence,
The mystery,
Sight unfollowed.

The absence of noise may be just as loud as not,
Due to the voices we use to fill the void,
Anxiety.

It is easy to remember the noise,
But impossible to forget the silence

Come,
Wintre's blaze.
Burn my inferno dear,

Sweet, Sweet release,
From Summer's peace.

Firestorm follow my tendency,
To recluse, unwholly,
And leave myself behind.

Wither, wintre's faces beckon,
My heartfelt sorrow's near.

Tis' the season,
To hold my sanity,
Dear.

The world doesn't owe you a **** thing. Hard work doesn't entitle you to a better life, neither does lineage, money or otherwise.

You aren't entitled to ANYthing.
Some people get more than they "deserve".
Other people get less.

"Deserving" is a manufactured concept to allow us to pity ourselves when we acquire less of a good thing or more of a bad thing than we expected.

When something bad happens to you, you didn't deserve it.
When something amazing happens to you, you didn't deserve it.

Our very existence is a gift, and saying we deserve anything more than to be alive is purely arrogant. Be thankful for every drop of water, every grain of sand, and every speck of dust you have because one day, you may not have those anymore. So cherish the ones who you love, because one day, they may no longer be there either.

these writings,
these ramblings,
these, incoherent thoughts,

are many things to me.
i write for several reasons,
and I post my work for several more.

this, is my therapy...
this allows me to go back in time and, re-live moments, to re-think thoughts, and most importantly, re-evaluate my internal response and outlook of the situation, feeling, or occurrence.

my writing focuses upon my internalisms, my thoughts.
very few of my pieces are outwardly inspired. Very rarely is my writing based within my physical perception of what is happening around me.

I post and share, for several more reasons; some purer than others.
I share because I don't want others to suffer as I do at times, and perhaps, something in my writing will inspire a change in thought or feeling, or at the very least, allow someone to relate, and realize they're not alone.

I share so that someone, someday will recognize the true weight and reflection of my writing and be able to identify how, and why I am how I am, and help me better understand myself and the world around me, and minimize, or even eliminate this endless battle, and help me find the only thing in life that I truly yearn for:
peace.

i share also because i feel that my experiences and thoughts are common property. my creations, once made, are no longer mine to keep to myself. these words, these thoughts, these feelings are yours to do with what you please. love them, hate them, learn from them, or ignore them completely. Just as speech is common domain, so is my inner speech.

lastly, i share Because of my struggle... this is my selfish motive. I am addicted to the validation of seeing you all read my inner thoughts and react to it. It tells me I am not dreaming. It shows me that what I feel is, in fact, real and that I am not just a figment of my own imagination.

Why am I writing this?
to show you i am not merely a writer behind a mask, or truly a writer at all.
I am just a human, a person sharing my existence in the form of written words.

Thank you,
And may you all find a true, everlasting peace, and love within yourselves, and each other.

subside the restless, crashing waves.

free my mind from this prison.

i am tired.
i am lost.
i've lost all meaning of the word, hope.

now, i just survive,
but only just...

egged on by the pluck and strike of the dancing tunes i force myself to listen to,
just to distract myself from all the raging stimuli.

emotion-sensory overload

perhaps, it's time i tried something new.
to stare into fear, and run it through...

maybe the little white pills aren't the boogyman,
the monster under my bed.

the monster is in my head,
and perhaps,
this little white pill...
just may put him away for a little while,
one day at a time.

subside the restless,
thoughts in my head.


~~~~~~~

this is my therapy.
so that i can breathe.

this one's not for you,
it's for me to read.
but if you really want to,
so can you.

Point light source.
Glimpse upon your reality.

Soft-spoken liars,
Emptying their forsaken breath upon battle-scarred ears.

Anticipation of the days to come,
Eases the empty mind;
Drain'd by warfare unseen.

The fight ongoing,
Rough-cracked skin boils in the sun,
Heat-stroked by the anxiety.

Retreat into the shadows,
You poor, blossoming flower.
All you need,
Is partial shade.

Your pastel blossoms will bloom,
With colors that will amaze and astound.

Feed upon the streams that drift by,
And at last you will shine as your heartsongs always knew you could.

Define your own beauty,
And become your very own,
Point light source.

~Robert van Lingen

Foreign places,
Foreign faces,
With nothing,
   And no one to lose...

And not a second's grief gain'd but with my own anxieties.

Just a moment's notice is all it takes to turn a moment's motives from having a good time to just getting away.

Spare me the sickness of my socialities,
Stare into my petrified eyes and fill them with tears,

If nothing else,
But just to displace my fears.

~Robert van Lingen

Conjunctory synapsations dominate this space of mine.
Illogictorious messengers flutter across the grey matter.

Ellaborations swim down my being.
Painfulnesses take wing through the nervousness I call anxiety.

It is reading words that can be said, but that you cannot understand.
This is me,
My time,
My ramblings in thought,
I am,
Stranded in my mind.

I am not myself, for without those near, N'er I resolve to nothing.

I am you, I am Him, and her. I am all who I see, For without all, I am nothing.

~Robert van Lingen

Words,
Are the believed truth.
The selfless intentions we've lost ourselves within.
Abhorred by those who don't understand.

Words,
Are the language of our endless thoughts,
Torturously imprisoned if left with no other choice.

So,
Speak to me your sins,
Your loves,
Your pains,
Your means,
And your end.

Spout your soliloquy my direction,
And I would revel in the limitless interpretations of your thought.

Words are LOVE

~Robert van Lingen

Tap the keys to ease my restless smile,
Shut the mind's eyes and let the strifes melt away.

Peace, my old friend,
Come visit me again,
Your keys hidden in Song.
Opened,
Hoping to hear you every now and again.

~Robert van Lingen

Mental heart at rest,
At rest...

At best,
I must arrest my restless mind to slog through the rest of today.

At Rest.
At rest,
Birds nest of anxieties...
Come to rest.

SILENCE!

insolent mind.

Be, at rest.

Bound to a destiny encased in brass,
I await the fateful day,
Standing by,
Feigning my existence all the while,
Holding the beast at bay.

My heartless time rivers flow'd.
My restless adversary.

My thoughtless mind had show'd,
My inundated tributary.

Flood'd,
By the sleepless anxiety.
Constant reminders of my perfectionist's folly;
My immortal immorality.

My logic's subsided.
Sanity's mistaken.
Slow'd to a dull roar,
Blowing in the wind.

My Intuition's annulment,
Blind'd by the songless hymns.
That heartbeat melody,
What set me on the brim.

My Mindless heart.
My heartless mind.
This is life,
In this peaceless soul of mine.

Time is my commodity,
Ever so rare,
What has me blind,
To this peace of time.

Perhaps, somewhere in this mind,
Ever so scared,
I may yet find,
This peace of mine.

~Robert van Lingen

Blanket eyes,
Close, to see the light.

Drift,
Further from the shining bright.

Open wide,
To see the blight.

That which,
Leaves with dreams of flight.

Goodbye, fateful might,
For once again,
I will sleep tonight.

I need the path,
That I do not have.

Kicked while I'm down,
Lost in surveyance of my barren mindscape.
Littered with hopes and dreams,
That were just too far from reach.
Not even worth trying for anymore.
Kicked aside like tin cans on an empty highway.

I dare not even muster the strength to take a harmless peek,
Because emptiness isn't worth the effort.

Standing in the center of an endless road,
Going in no particular direction.
I don't know where to go.


~Robert van Lingen

Ideas cast in thoughtless gold,
Will rend no fortune's tale.

Though dreams forged with dauntless hold,
Will breathe truth preveiled.


~Robert van Lingen