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aar505n Dec 2014
I find comfort in reading myths
For even the great gods
with all their strengths and wits
Are prone to anger, sadness and
Are known to love too strongly
And thus are just like us.
They are finite.
Their lofty stories ignite our interest
for they reflect us and connect us.

Have you ever felt like Zeus?
Cause I'm sure he has felt like us.
He is a god but not God
for he is flawed.
I applaud this
for it does remind us
of the similarity between
gods and mortals

Both rather like the other
to the extent that
they falter at the same torment
although we think they do not.

gods can lose their immortality
just as mortals can become gods
It must be said I do enjoy mythologies, especially Greek mythology.
aar505n May 2017
This travel refreshes the eyes
Even if it is the same view
Day in and night out
Doesn't take away its beauty

A journey marked by swans
That runs seaside
then turns riverside
and adjourns right side
See, it's a journey burned behind my eyes

It is between the swans that I can think
And not think
This is my safe house and I'm a habitual criminal
Stowing away in this liminal place
Taking a rest from being arrested
for too much stress

I will never tire of these travels
Each sunrise and full moon
Falling that little bit more in love
Pupils dilating as the eyes refresh
aar505n May 2018
The first kiss was nice.
I was suddenly reminded of all the fun we had.
I felt my heart swell with old memories
Of dancing in your room at night
Or laying in the afternoon sun.
The time I melted into you
And you said you loved me.

That first kiss was nice.

Then you kissed me again.
I recalled how it ended.
The hurt and pain of the separation.
The feeling of not being want,
Of not being good enough.
My heart shriveled up as it remembered the heartache.

The second kiss was not nice.
Do I focus on the good or the bad?
aar505n Jul 2014
The same old, same old
A story retold
with different settings each time
but ultimately identical
each story indistinguishable
so I'm skeptical
when you say this time will be different
because each time it's the same crime
anger and bitterness entwined
making a swine of you
and I'm pass the point of wanting to rewind
this story does not have a linear start to finish
But rather a never never ending circle
a pattern stuck on repeat
recycling itself on to its circular life
the external of the circle may change but the internal is still the same infernal circle.
immortal in its own way.
yesterday's sad melody,
with new ornamentation
but same motif throughout.
Ergo,
the same sorrow that swallows me up so I may wallow in this hollow feeling,
feasting like a beast on the self pity
that's festering away in the ruins of my broken mind like an unnatural disaster.
and I don't want a plaster to fix it
cause as soon as I put it on it'd only be ripped off again.
Useless and pointless against the repetition of unending pain
the same old, same old
Part one of two. A little personal. Interrupt what you will.
aar505n Jul 2014
Trapped in this story.
Repeated history,
that's more misery than mystery.
Perhaps I'll leave this crap one day
Refuse to stay and go away,
but it wouldn't be long
before I'd collapse and relapses back into it all.
Enthralled in the fresh mesh,
across my rotten flesh.
Unable to even crawl,
as it sprawls around me
and develops me into something grotesque.
Against my best protest,
ignoring my distress,
until I become something I detest.
And all though this picturesque depiction of my depression
may seem extreme, like a bad dream
In reality it stems from a belief
that nothing ever gleams in darkness.
Regardless of what they say, darkness is artless.
Nothing more than a rotting carcass.
Harmless and heartless but not homeless,
because it's the same carcass in every ******* story in this never ending circle.
The only real consistency in the ever changing story.
Me,
internally rotting away for an eternity.
Trapped in this story.
Part two of two. A little personal. Interrupt what you will.
aar505n Oct 2014
Mourn the Moon in the morning
for he had lost his night shift.
Let it be a warning
for the Sun shall rise at night.
Bright blinding darkness descend
on us, threatening to swallowing us
And every single star there is.

They'll be no wars,
just a simple surrender as
sunshine soldiers surround our souls
telling us our new roles.

What we thought we were,
we are not.
What we thought we weren't,
we are.
And if they say it,
it must be true

We act the polar opposite of ourselves
because of some solar energy,
some hot headed, gassed filled entity
has made us question our identities.

Is it our thoughts,
or actions,
that define us?
Our we confine to one,
or is the two combine?

I'm inclined to say:
I don't know.
I'm only learning how operate
in this world.

So many questions with no answers.
Just an obsession to understands
the oppression against us.

Doing so will hep us understand ourselves, right?

So send in the Sun,
mourn the Moon ,
and figure out the chaos born.
For soon it will be done with us.
Feel free give feedback! Thoughts welcomed!
aar505n Dec 2014
i see the stiffness
in you smile
this christmas
tears from crocodile
was all you got
was all you need
but on afterthought
why does this impede
me so much more
than it should
if i was to ignore
would it do any good

i do doubt it
for it does
clot and knot
every neuron
spawnss great
hexagons
pentagons
and other shameful shapes
aar505n Oct 2014
Up early in the morning
Last night's sleep had no mourning
Mutely gathering his thoughts
Mind astutely wrought

A spot of fishing by the river
Shall calm this mental shiver
Quick was he to the bait
For he saw no reason to wait
But slow was he in leaving
Leaving breadcrumbs for perceiving
Something they'll be able to clutch
The toast was a nice touch

So he went high on his rock
Where nothing stops but the clock
The sunlight strippled the trees
The water rippled at ease
Creating a tranquil ambiance
And he was happy, despite the atmosphere of transcience

And while he enjoyed his solitude
It did coaxed the rise of lassitude
That had an unfortunate longevity
Highlighting elation's brevity

So he jumped - fast - past the rock without violence
Plunging into the cold water in silence
The river washing his body and morality away.
Bring an ephemeral end to this mortality play.
But leaving on that rock, his toast
like footprints of a ghost

Some people know when it's time to breathe their final breath
Thoughts loose and you loathe losing
So shew no end, but Death -
And die the shortest choosing
Comments welcomed as always !
aar505n May 2014
slow tiredness infiltrates my body
dulling the senses.
and dragging my limb downs
into the abyss

darkness surrounding me like a blanket
taking away my thoughts
numbing the feeling

it's a complete shutdown
the crown has fallen long ago
so this is no longer my town

just a ruined place
that lost the race
it couldn't keep up the pace

a place I dare not show my face
aar505n Sep 2017
Self-hatred is self-generated
Can't keep this toxin on the shelf
It seeps and spreads
Into all that have tried to love you
Slowly separating you from everyone
That you have ever known
Leaving you forever alone
With only yourself to love

But what happens if you ***** up self-love?

What is there left to love if you can't even love yourself?
And who can ever love someone who doesn't love them self?
Love thyself, aye?
aar505n Sep 2015
It begins to slip
The power I once yeild
Slips away, slips away
Soon I will lose the crown
And go down with it
With the specious belief
That I held any power in the first place
aar505n Feb 2015
So close -
I am
Knowing
Soon
It must end
As expected
Life turns to death
And
Hate turns to love
This un-ending cycle
Wishing otherwise
That one cannot have it all
Even though I thought
Immortality was for me
Knowing
I am
So far -
Can be read from either top to bottom or vice versa. Just experimenting a bit
aar505n Mar 2019
I haven't figured out how to be alone and not lonely
Only wishing I could go back to how it was before
But there are more things on my mind
There are more things to do
I haven't figured out how to do it on my own

Just me and a homegrown sadness
That keeps me company with
Those late night cigarettes and cold coffee
Staring out at windows starry-eyed at nothing
Solitude is the most profound fact of the human condition. When you become aware of yourself, you become aware of our lack of another, that is, our solitude.
aar505n Dec 2014
You wore a Rolex watch
which was fake
and didn't even tell the time.

I know that isn't a crime.
Nor is buying complex coffees
but it did perplex me.

I ignore this, naturally.
But before the finale,
before you forsaked me
into the Vally of the Dead
where few did tread.
I saw the cracks.

I saw you slack and caught a glimpse
behind that facade, behind the blinks
to see that you were flawed, just like me

Still, I ignored this.
I didn't take you serious,
blind to your spurious nature.
Nothing more than specious appearance.

It wasns't till the Persecco
that I felt your echo.
And it all came pouring out,
All the more doubt than before.

Adore turns to abhor too soon for my liking.
I can't stop you if you're a quitter.
Just like I can't stop the bitter memories,
flitter by my mind.
aar505n Dec 2014
Stalked the streets of the fair city.
Walked among strangers, talking of change.
Gritty pavement beneath my feet.

Watched around me
at my supposed kith and kin
Saw them with sin
and observed them
as they curved around the streets.

At a shop window,
A little boy stares at the chocolate
In a state of elated joy
But in a limbo, unsure how to profit.

A woman strolls pass a fruit stall.
She sees oranges and clenches her fists
Drenched in the awful memory
Of a fruity misery

An activist tries to preaches
But no one is listening to her speech
An analyst who worries about everything
Scared of being nothing

Sitting at the steps of the church
A boy hides from the dull march of people
Feels a surge inside but words caught at Adam’s apple
So he lets the ink bleed onto a page instead

Outside a run down theatre the actor stood.
His detractors made their presence felt
making him uncertain in his ways,
pushing his very essence into the dark of ether.

Coffee shop was full
but the man stood out
Coffee dripping from his mouth
The blinding glint form his watch,
a lofty story to tell no doubt.

Two souls turned a corner and became one
neither were mourners of their old lives
Two heads on one dead body
Intricacy of the mind and soul
a flase sense of intimacy

And the ghosts joined us on streets
They did not boast of their deaths
At most, they were simple engrossed
with everything from pillar to post

Dragon was there too, wanting a battle
talons rip through rag and bones.
His fire arched upwards
and then down and scorched stones

Chaos raised its heineous face
and embraced the madness
strong winds ravaged the city
blasted every building down

Among the damge I saw them.
Them and more.
A robin flying by,
Mel with her dark eyes,
the river dried up and
four moons impossibly raised.

And everything rained down and destroyed me.


I awoke
but choose to keep my eyes closed.
Wanting to drift in the darkness,
a temporary bliss.
But then the memory surfaced
and I opened my eyes.

I stood on a bridge,
the city to either side of me
and the river running underneath.
No fires, no ghosts.

All seemed restored, I sighed a sigh of releif.
A smidge of hope flowed into me.
From where I stood,
I began to understand it all.

Out, out in the distance
I scarcely saw a man standing on the river
like it was land and not water
My eyes squinted to make him out
but all I could see was an outstreched hand.

He had been observing me
and now he was calling me.
and I would leave this pretty, gritty city
and all its comittees for him.

I would.

But I still had unresolved business.
Story to be told and demons to be slayed
Then I would be a free man.
But untill then I won't be a runaway.
Cause I'll stay as long as it takes.

And with that I adjourned
this session and did returned.
Taking my chances with the city.
a rather loneger poem than i normaly do, but i have this one one my mind for some time now.
Title is a reference to the quote
“What strange phenomena we find in a great city, all we need do is stroll about with our eyes open. Life swarms with innocent monsters.”
― Charles Baudelaire
Hope you enjoy and feel free to comment!
aar505n Apr 2015
memory comes knocking on wood
mocking my childhood wild neighbourhood
withstood flinching nostalgia after all this time
lynching at the alpha crime in my mind
for not wanting
to clinch, to cling,to cringe on the past, old cast.
Watch as it passed with a blast at last.
I wonder if it was some test but I detest test they stress me out.
No doubt I rather go questing for my destiny be the best me I can.
But I can't cause I am discontent, all spent no cents,
feels like I'm bent and dent without my consent
I'm sorry to vent, but does represents me in the best light?
Slight blight on society ignore my anxiety Mr Bigotry
tried to be bigger tree towering over me,
think you're some oak but it's hoax
soon you'll choke on your smoke as you take that last croak
while I leave you burning with my words
afterwards nothing but ashes and burnt branches.

Then what? I lashed out with an aged rage
But methinks this does not change anything.
and that's the sting.
aar505n May 2020
I felt awkward accepting your love at first.
I didn’t quite know how to handle it nor what to do with it.
It was more than the little kernels I normally got.

So, I let you love me.
Like letting in rays of sunshine
Warm my insides.

How could I ignore a love so pure?
Who am I to be picky when I shall die in a car crash any day now?
I’ve shied away from loving long enough.

If I can’t stop the sun shining, then I won’t stop you loving me.
aar505n Jun 2015
You give out engery you don't receive
They forget suns need love too
Take your presence as a certainty
While your essence, your sanity
Shrinks, blinks become longer
Till lids close and you sleep
Tiring keeping us warm.
Didn't realize the harm it was causing
Don't need happiness to give it
Brighten my dark solstice more than once
I wish my gratitude was enough
I wish I could give you all the love you deserve for serving us all these years
I hate seeing the tears that simple thank yous could prevent
There's a slight dim to your light these days.
Faded rays is all that is left of your legacy.
And I see now, this is more than me.
You just want to be free.
Who am I to say you're wrong?
So sleep, thankless Sun.
I'll miss you around
And the world will just have to adjust
aar505n Jul 2018
It's a thousand tiny cuts that you receive
From the moment you're born
Waiting for someone to tell you that you are beautiful.
You yearn to stay youthful
You've learned the indisputable fact.
Your inherent value as a person
Reduced to your physical appearance
And given a numerical value online
For what is a selfie without it likes?

This is enough to make anyone cynical
Because everyone is the enemy
Like buskers on a busy street
All are competing for the attention
Of the passing indifferent crowds
All singing to be seen, to be known
Even just for one fleeting moment

It is a strange but primary emotion of the human condition
Decreed at birth to need validation
And this foundation is firmly instilled in us.
We never learn to fuss about it, as society reminds us
That there is nothing to discuss.
Sign up and accept the terms and conditions.
Show yourself to the world.
Nothing beats the sensation of adoration.
Even now, right now, I am showing myself to you.

So tell me I'm pretty, world.
Tell me I matter.
Tell me I exist.
I want to be known. I want to know you.
aar505n Sep 2014
These days,
I find myself searching
for gentle streams
that once flowed in my dreams
but have since dried up.
The reservoir empty of freshness.

Doesn't stop me walking
along the dead riverbeds
and listing to the water.
Can't be much farther
til I find a new source.
I don't want
to force anything
but merely seek the return of life

Maybe Robin will return
to me
and we can continue our chats
by the banks of the river.
I was never a diver
but a giver,
which I suppose
is the same.
Plunging myself into something
and giving it all I got.

Never truly
an altruistic act
as I secretly and selfishly
wanted to be noticed.
Even the acoustic comments
would suffice.
Is that wrong?
Or
Are we all rolling the same dice?
it's nice to receive praise
but if you're raised
to only want that
then maybe that's not healthy
I suppose
we should be wealthy
in the acknowledgment
of the ones that truly care
than to the
faint praise of strangers

That's where the danger lies
picking the lather.
Better to climb the ladder
one step at a time
in company
than great leaps alone.

But I digest.
I've stumbled off the path
with this talk of ladders.
Lost in myself
once again.
That's the cost of being a wanderer
Hard to navigate
through a sea of trees,
all ivy covered.
Who knows what
lively monsters have hovered
where I stood.
How many times have I been
hoodwinked in thinking
I'm alone?
Each blink of an eye
and I'm sure they run by me
lurking away
hidden from sight

They can stay there
for all I care.
Tonight isn't about
looking for a fight
but a river.

Impossible
to think straight without it.
It was my anchor
held me down
and           stopped            me
flowing away in a stream
of consciousness
lost forever
in
meaninglessness

Oh River, why have you dried up?
Why have you died?
I need you now
but
you are not here
to wash my tears away,
to clean me of doubt
or take away my fears.
I miss your fresh
cleansing waters
often felt on flesh.

Water was the elixir
to heal.
And to peal skin,
reveal my real sin,
so I may feel.
But
This elicited elixir
is no more.
A closed door
so we remain poor

Oh River, why have you left me?
Comments / criticism welcomed!
aar505n Jul 2014
The descent beckons,
as I stood on the edge
making a pledge to the eternal night
by singing of chaos.
Igniting a desire to fall,
so I listened to the call.
Didn't try to prevent it.
I gave my consent to the torment
and ventured down the dark descent,
plummeting into the abyss,
searching for bliss.
Knowing the dangers but not caring.
And I remembered them saying,
that the descent into Hell is easy.
And they were right.
For there was no fight,
only a downwards flight.
And as I fell,
I was glad that the descent did beckoned.
Interrupt as you will. Comments/criticism welcomed.
aar505n Aug 2014
Don't rely on tunnel vision,
the ephemeral illusion.
Take of the blinkers
and see with peripheral vision.

There is more to the definitive space we occupy,
the small world we simply exist in.
I insist we be hurled from this world,
But we resist.

Unprepared to be thrown
into the cyclone.
Scared of the unknown.
Yet,
we yearn for it
for the obscure and foreign.
Yearning for more than this.
Questioning why be secure with what we know?

We think we know everything now,
Everything within the space
of this limited place.
Yet,
we reckon there has to be more than this,
waiting beyond the door.
Wanting to be explored
and not ignored.

You'll never know unless you try
to pry into the unknown.
You could find your identify
by looking at life in it's entirety.

If you focus straight, you might miss something.
Our planet is round, not flat.
So take the blinkers off
and blink in everything at once.
“I thought we knew everything there was to know, It feels like we may be less of what we were in a place we don’t wholly know.”

comments and criticism welcomed
aar505n Jan 2015
It's quieter now.
Rioters are long gone.
For reasons  beyond me.
Their anarchic war
Was replace with arctic winds
From far north.
Iciness blows through me
Unthawing the rawness.
Forlorn frozen feelings.
Slowly spreading, soon
I am a hollow iceberg
The world still moves on
Through the bright fire
And I watch from my frigid state.
Sometimes, flames will flicker towards me,
Sometimes, they lick my ice.
Temporary mealting occur.
The memory of water proves too
Tempting for ice to ignore.
But this chilled bliss is fleeting.
Memory turned sour and only to freeze up again
And forget about fire so ice retires from contact.
All I can do is watch on.
Coldness remains in the heart and brain.
As the warmth of health carries on around me.
It is time like this,
That I wait for this age to pass.
For climate change to do what it does best
However weather has always been unpredictable,
And even lava couldn't thaw me free.
Instead I will wait for the return of the rioters.
and prepare to greet them all
and All the choas they bring.
a wee diddy, hope you enjoy!
aar505n Sep 2016
Where am I going?
What's there that's not here?

Here is now.
And now is gone.

But I'm still here
And not there.
aar505n Apr 2014
Not a face, but an eye,
a single glowing eye.
Watching you and I.

We think it cares, but it doesn't.
It just floats by, disinterested.
A glowing eye in the sky.
An illusion of something that cares,
blind to love and heartache.
Unaware of suffering,
ignorant to it all.

The light it shines, is not real.
Shallow, hollow and devoid of devotion.
Empty of emotions.

Every night, it watches you and I.
Watching but not seeing,
a single, glowing, blind eye.
Title referees to the left eye of the Egyptian God Horus
aar505n Dec 2017
it was all good until in the morning when the last of the illusions was broken

he had let the past coloured his vision
while also putting his hopes of the future on to his present

but now he sees, now he leaves

we didn't fit like before but maybe we never did.

rationality crashes down on me
he does not have that bit of me I seek

so what's the point of prolonged  disappointment?
Never give myself fully, always pretending
searching for that lost part of me in others and alwasy leaving
aar505n Jan 2015
I don't need to turn around to know you're there, Mel.
I can hear your darkness creeping.
No longer sleeping.
Wide awake and wanting to play.
Nothing to do to delay it.
I need to realise that you can't be denied.
Especially, when you look to me,
with those dark, dark eyes.
Mel with her dark eyes of hers
aar505n Jun 2014
Everyday I go the same way
I don't sway far from the footpath
Cause I'm afraid to be led astray
I don't need to do the maths
to know I'm not a psychopath in this thinking
but I do have an inkling
that maybe I am sociopath
because I go the same way everyday
just to stay sane.
It's hard to explain
this disdain for anything different
to the stinking mundane that is my life.
I desperately try to sustain it by going out of my way to contain and control everything to obtain order.
So there is nothing new
Everything here the same.
like some sort of lame game
that's to blame because
I'm ashamed to say
that I'm addicted to it.
A convict in my own brain
Beginning ****** battles
Bish! Bash! Bosh!
Trying to be evicted
cause I'm conflicted
I resent being restricted
but I'm twisted
and wouldn't know
what to do if I got out
it's not just mere
bout with self doubt
about being scared
from swaying from the footpaths
No it's not being scared
it's about disappointment
I'm too acquainted
with my own containment
Of the same
that if I was to compare
my way to another
I'd be full of despair
I'm not prepared
to juxtapose anything
But I suppose that's normal
it's not insane thinking.
This inkling I've had is humane,
human nature.
so I proposed that
the only way to change
and end my affliction
is to expose myself to the abnormal
without being so formal.
The simple act stepping outside out of my comfort zone
away from the dull drone
is the start
with a little effort
I can look at life
through my rose-tinted glasses
La vie en rose!
engross with all things new
everything that is composed
of this Earth,
is now worth so much to me
I'm no longer afraid to compare
I loudly and proudly proclaim
that I do not take the same way
everyday
sometimes I sway from the mundane
cause I've ordained my self as a free man.
brand new me, who's not scared to see or be or even peruse the new.
This pure philosophy is the cure and is now imbued in my soul.
So on that overdue cue,
I bid you adieu
Spoken Word piece
aar505n Aug 2015
The sea is painted by the clouds above.
As they gently drift across the sky.
Changing shades - allowing just the right amount of light
To reach the water's surface like it's a canvas.
Creating something beautiful for just a moment.
Then something even more beautiful in the next.

A painting that is still being painted
Shows no signs in ending.
As it paints a story.
From dark and stormy blues - to calm orange sunsets.
Unbiased in it's shading - reveals love at its purest.

And that is something I can admire.
For it is something I require - desire.
But I am mired by the past.
Can not pass it.
I guess my luck's expired.

I like to forget this for awhile.
So I look out and smile.
At the sea being painted by the clouds above.
Knowing I will never know this love.
aar505n Feb 2015
In my nightmare, I was standing in the dark.
The wind bellowing around me, like somone screaming.
I was told to lift the mountain with my bare hands and not leave until I did so.
My insides lit up like a little sun was there, threatening to burn me up.
Sour claws of nausea rip my innards, as if they were teeth gnawing on my raw flesh, being burnt by the sun within.
Ignore it.
It will pass if I focus on the task.
That was my first mistake.
Still, dug my fingers in the ground and began to lift.
Hands began to burn and scream, sweat turned to smoke and muscle strained.
Teeth gritted, I pushed passed the pain, focused on the mountain and I.
Smoke mixed with the wind and the darkness and the screaming, bellowing through the nightmare.
The Sun burns hotter.
Mustered up every ounce of strength I could.
And I lifted.
Heaved the heavy mountain up to the Heavens.
The pain shook through my body until.
Finally the mountain and earth separated and the void between is quickly filled with air.
The weight pass from my hands to my shoulder.
I had done it.
At last almost Atlas-like.
Standing there, mountain remaining on shoulder.
But now what?
The sun still burned, hotter than ever, that blasted furnace.
And in the moment, my attention did lapsed and my body slacked, prelude to the collapse.
What was I thinking?
The wind screamed around me and I began to shake in the dark.
A fake Atlas, with the weight on his shoulder unbearable.
The pressure was too much, too heavy, and too late to do anything.
And the sun burns on.
I want to run to the nearest pier and jump, to disappear beneath the waves.
Stop the burning, end the atrophy of my muscles.
I’ve done unhappy deeds and now I want the most human of needs.
The end to my pain.  
That’s the truth.
I yearn for it.
The sun burns still
I let go of the weight and allow gravity to do its job.
Flattened as the mountain was reunited with the earth.
Thought I could carry the world on my shoulder, but I am no Atlas.
I can't even carry a mountain.
I tried and look where I am now.
I am shattered.
Brittle bones becomes broken and turn to dust.
I have given all I got, thrown in the lot.
Soon my skin will rust and rot away.
Soon there will be nothing left to sustain such a fire but the sole desire for rest.
The sun within continues to burn me.
Until I am nothing but smoke, bellowing in the wind.
This is the combination of three poems that I had that i notice were dealing with the same theme and i thought they went well together.
aar505n Jun 2015
And then the Spark -
did ignite in me terribly so -
dose of doubtful Diction - unleashed.
And the soul needs comforts too -
Soothing for its Aches - Oh! - but the Aches!
It Aches terribly so.
Humanity toxically hurts - causes the pain.
Yet, Company can cure this curse -
Paradoxically entwined with Mankind.
If only all men were kind.
This Spark would surely not burn - bleed -
so terribly so.
- No -
This Spark would blaze up Celestially - Angel's push towards the ethereal beauty - and then -
aar505n Jul 2015
All I see are these eyes.
These dark, dark eyes,
floating on a sea of darkness - not connect to a body.

Just there - up close to me.
Pressing against my eyes.
I felt like the eyes had pushed into my own eyes.
Peaked in to my very soul
Breaking my weak spine and mind.

I want to scream
Pray for this to be a dream
But fear has a funny way
Of stopping you doing what you want.

So I do nothing.
And life goes on.

*Oh, but those eyes.
They're in my brain.

They're here to stay.
Hasn't posted in awhile. Something a bit darker. Mel is at it again.
aar505n Apr 2014
Green walls and a monotone ticking inside my heart.
The ticking keeping everything from falling apart,
Continuous monotonous ticking.
A reminder of time passing,
of life moving on, but not me.
I am frozen in this green room,
aware of it all but stuck here.
Wanting you near,
Wanting but never getting.
All I get is a sad sigh as I listen to the ticking in my heart.
aar505n Nov 2014
I was suprised to see Robin
appear at the onset of dawn.
Looked on at my withdrawn self,
tucked on my shelf,
whereupon I return his look.

With his wings, he made a gesture
pointing out, out and beyond to
fields in a vesture of green.
Never I had I seen such pastal pastures,
nor known them to be so near.

Robin started to sing
of spontaneous adventure,
away from my miscellaneous thoughts.
Extraneous in nature for they did discouraged
this possible venture.

In an act of defiance,
I went to move, and felt a strain
tightening around my brain.
Denying the laws of science,
the frightening shackels restraining me
and my plumed heart from taking flight.

I struggled against the chain, I wiggled until bruised
and blood and sweat covered my skin.
The sticky heat of desperation consumes me,
wishing someone smuggled the key in
and remove these chaotic chains.

"I can't move," I cried to Robin,
expecting him to disapprove.
"I'm not like you. I can't just go and do what I want,
it doesn't work like that."

Even though I wanted to go.
My soul longs for it, to be like  the Robin
where its only goal is to go
faraway like a bird of prey, flying high
complying to no one, just like Maslow wanted.
The reclamation of self-realization.

Robin did not reply.
Robin did not leave.
Nor did he grieve for me.
He simply waited.

This wasn't a rue.
He was glued to me and thus
Proving the legends true; of how
he got the mark of Christ's blood upon himself.

For he waited in hope
'til the day when I can cleave the chains
and he'll supply the rope
and reeve the opening of my escape.

But that day is not today.

Today's untimely end neared
with the threat of an upset sunset,
warning Robin that he must retreat
to avoid being a prisioner of the dark.

Yet, before he left, he nodded,
as if tell me not to fret.
For he will be back at sunrise
His wise eyes conformed
him to be sans falseness.

And I prayed to empty skies that I was right.

From my spot, I watch Robin's flight,
as night fell with gravity, pushing the sun down
and for a split second it turned to a green jewel.
I smiled like fool at Joule's "last glimpse"
feeling the chains, ever so slightly, loosen.
Something I've been working on. Comments welcome!
aar505n May 2015
When the moment arrived
And two possibilities were presented
I took a step back and my look alike
Grasp the reigns and pretended to be me
Through greyscale vision
I saw him deign to stay and walked away
Leaving you behind. Unashamed.
He stood around the corner, watching.
Before leaving for good.

If he had any decency, he would’ve stayed
But he is a victim of empathy deficiency
And I fear he may have even relished
Seeing you so low.
The hellish truth is that maybe something evil
Is embellished in me.
I've got to face it.
I’ve got two faces,
And I don’t know which one is mine anymore.
aar505n May 2015
Tomorrow is far
And so are the stars
Sorrow is here, a host
Closer than a ghost

A ghost of my sins
Breathe beneath my skin
Whispers in ears
More than I can bear.

My hands are black black
Those dark thoughts are back
My face is white white
Holding back a nasty bite

If it wasn't for society
Maybe I wouldn't have anxiety
I could be free
Be me

Too easy to blame others
But when doubt smothers
It's survive or die
So I try

I'm no saint
But it's time to wash the paint
Most have forgot
This ghost i am not

Tomorrow is still far
No end to this war.

But I'm wise
'Cause i know the sun will rise

It has to
aar505n Sep 2014
From the dock,
I saw the wheel turn.
I wonder,
when is it my turn?
My turn at turning.
Being stationary
isn't satisfactory

I want to go,
even if the turning is slow.
Makes no difference to me.
What I love to be
is to turn above the sea.
Soaring high and free.
written while at Albert Dock in Liverpool.
comment/criticism welcomed
aar505n Aug 2016
I seized the heaviness of the Earth upon myself while you floated to the moon on your on accord.
I guess we were never to share the same fate or be mates.
Before we could even be acquaintance
You cut that umbilical cord at the earliest convenience.
Leaving me to handle the discord.

I was taught that twins are supposed to share everything not just a handful of DNA.
I thought we were raised the same but I guess you were absent that day.
I know I shouldn't impose on to your qualities you don't possess however I never really asked much from you - just a little help to ease this heavy load on my shoulders.

As we got older, you grew colder
Detaching yourself more and more
I attached myself more more
To fill in the vacuum
A job that should've been shared
Became my full time job

Not that it would matter as at the end of the day we both share the title "Loving Sons"

We are not twins.
We are not brothers.
We are not siblings.
We are, as you told me on Christmas Day,
Simply two people who grew up together in a single house for a long period of time and that's it.
I know that I do not know you.
I should accept this and not expect anything from you.

Soon - I will collapse under the weight of the earth and you'll find a new home on the moon.
Family aye?
aar505n Jun 2014
A brilliant blaze high in the sky
banishing the shy clouds away
revealing the purest of hues, a bright blue.

A single magpie flies nearby
I wish it didn't stay
as one for sorrow is very true

I suspected the sky to suddenly cry
for nature to obey, ruining my day
receiving the misery due

Instead the sun refused to comply
the single magpie it did disobey
And a second magpie came, as if on cue

With two magpie it did imply
what a joy will be today
Two are rarely a rue

To quick was I to jump to the negative
presuming the worst, my fatal imperative

Because when they go to fly
My happiness won't die

I don't need to anchor my well being on what I see
Cause all I need to enjoy life is me

I watch the two magpies now with amusement
soaking in this wondrous moment
aar505n Dec 2014
Il y a trop de pièges dans l'esprit.
Sans trêve, mes rêves tombent souvent
et crient comme ils brisent
comme anges lorsqu'ils tombent

La langue me démange
ce que bruit me dérange.
Mais personne ne me écoute
just a little poem, beening working on this for a bit.
aar505n Jan 2015
Unprovide my mind, please.
Lest I care about matters of the flesh.
Listen to my expostulation,
as I am prostrate bowed.
I do not want exoneration,
for lust stains will remain
but I can no longer stand
the tenacity of it.
For it no longer can command
in guaranteeing its veracity.
So I long for someone to fetch
this excellent wretch from me.
The inner dome of Heaven has fallen
and with it, this wicked thing's ethereal appearence.
Revealing the venereal act planned from the begining.
I run far and hide from Daystar.
No longer enamored with its lustful glamour.
I wish for its allure to be nullified
and so it may unprovide my mind.
aar505n May 2014
Thought I must be in a dream.
when you sang me the sweetest music.
It was was then that i fell in love.
When you took me to your home,
Signing about hope.
For once, I wasn't occupied by sorrow.

Lets listen to more of your music.
While we rest in your home.
Together fighting of sorrow.  
Only focusing on our hopes.
Thinking of our summer love.
And talking about our dreams.

See I've been working on a high hope.
That maybe we have a shot for more than love.
So Lets write some music.
That will stop us dwelling on sorrow.
We'll sing a song about our wildest dreams.
And maybe this will be our home.

We can do what we like in our home.
Wasn't that our biggest hope?
Wasn't that our brightest dream?
Can't you see it, my love?
A place without sorrow.
Where we can play our music.

There is nothing stronger than our love.
And we won't give into sorrow.
For as long as we are together, we dream.
Waiting for the baby to join this happy home.
We write new joyous music.
And it is a reality, our biggest hope

But sometimes you lose the fight against sorrow.
And nothing is like what was in your dream.
It did nothing having hope.
Disappointment moved into our home.
I never thought it would end like this, my love.

So now sorrow takes your place in this home.
There is no more hope, i have no more dreams.
Because you see my love is gone, and now I write only the saddest of music.
This is a sestina I wrote, 6 stanzas of six lines with alternating fixed endings and then the last stanza is only three lines. My words were dream, home, hope, love, music and sorrow
aar505n Dec 2021
I saw you
As you stared at me
Two deers caught in each other headlights
As brief as a flash, blinked, and you’d miss it

I am only reminded of my heaviness when you are there
Standing – Floating – Watching
As ghostly as any ghost, then
Gone – Vanished – Nothing
I am alone, again, cursed to remain here

I tried to follow in your footsteps
Untangling, unknotting, unravelling
Myself from a generation of debt and duty
These twisted roots of familiar obligations
How did you escape such a similar situation?

I wasn’t born light, like you.
I was born heavy, brother.
I will have to earn my lightness.

Sometimes on rainy days
when the weighty pain becomes unmanageable
I find myself slipping into the tangible delusion
Of ascribing meaning to everything

That maybe you think of me as much as I think of you
That you see my pain and want to help
But it’s just too much for you right now
When you’re ready, you’ll come back to me
You’ll come back.

Sometimes the little lies we tell ourselves
Can be enough to get us through this life

But not tonight.
'He ain't heavy, he's my brother'?
More like he *is* heavy and he ain't my brother
aar505n Jun 2014
The waiting room was quiet
beside the faint click of the blinds
against an open window

A single dead fly on the table
on his back
with his legs pointing up

This death did not bother the models in the posters
As they smiled with bright white teeth from the wall
like they knew some great secret
that pale in comparison to the dead fly

I looked away from the poster and to the fly.
I began to wonder how the fly left this mortal coil.
peacefully or violently?

I theorized, cause I was in the mood,
that it was peaceful cause he had no obvious trauma to the body
But what do I know of a fly's anatomy?

Maybe his little heart just gave up
maybe he lost his way and then lost hope too

He tried to stay busy
buzzing away
but it was an act
trying to distract himself from the pain

He couldn't keep it up forever
his heart was too tired
and he deserved a rest
he had been through enough

So he stopped flying one day
and with one last sad beat
his heart just stopped

That what I theorized
My theory on the matter
I'll never know how the fly died
But that's what happens when the heart just stop
and it's not violent
it's peaceful
aar505n Nov 2015
It's hard to know which way the wind is going to blow
And whether I will blow with or against it
Weather is temperamental
It has its own mentality - its own sovereignty.
And in a sense, innately sentimental.
How spring brings life - winter takes it.
Season change with little reason
Not strange in the grand scheme of things. Does it really matter how green the ground is?
How blue the skyline?
Does it harm us if it's not warm enough? What's enough?

I don't know which way the wind is going to blow.
But blow it will and maybe this time I'll  blow with it.
aar505n Dec 2014
Sunrise at Newgrange
and
Sunset at Stonehenge.

Value those precious
hours of light
before it is devoured
by the devious night.

The dense darkness
can sense your fears
and hear your tears

Soon to devour
your sour flesh
Leaving a fresh
carcass in the darkness

And where is my
Great Dark Hope?
Gone to get the rope
Or
hiding in the shadows
waiting
baiting her time
Until we are at our weakest

The last thing we will see
are the Darkest Eyes
then hope no more
As our door is closed
and locked

This is the Winter Solstice
This bitter hiss
Death's long and last kiss
aar505n Aug 2014
We walked in a daze, driven
for a better answer than the one given.
We, chasers of the elixir to heal wounds
But we, chancers, and ended up in a field.
Wounded Healers, laying on hay.

The filed was empty and foreign
It's beauty stolen and was now barren,
expect for the hay we lay on.
There a great sense of clarity aroused.
But before that rose could nourish and fully flourish, it rained.

Youth knows no pain, but that's a flawed statement.
Truth is, if you saw us in the rain
You'd see what we felt was raw and fresh.
We felt the cleansing waters on our flesh,
But even if we stood in this shower for hours, we'd still feel so *****

'We, Two Boys Together Clinging'
Clinging to the idea that we could fix each other.
With a mix of empathy and sympathy.
You said the arts would help, so we acted out our damaged parts.
Listening to the symphony of our bandaged hearts.
Interpret as you will!
comment/criticism welcomed
aar505n Jul 2014
A yellow ladybird waiting for the light to turn red.
Patiently awaiting what's to come.

She knows better than to make rude gestures at the light.
It won't make it change any quicker.

She knows she can spend her time better than being an angst-ridden insect cynically hating phonies.

It's true patience is a virtue
and she sticks by this principle.
No matter what they say,
a principle's a principle.

The yellow ladybird knows a lot of things.
A delightful delinquent who enjoys reading eloquent literature
and can tell you who painted that pretty picture.

But she is still just a yellow ladybird.
Still only learning how to operate in this world.

But when the light turns red, then she will know.
Know more than she does now.

Soon the yellow ladybird will see the light, be it the light she would've liked or not, I can not say.

Only she can decide if the waiting was worth it.
And for her poor soul, I hope it was.
Experimenting a bit. I know it doesn't rhyme much but still a poem.
Interrupt what you will.
aar505n Apr 2015
Begin the ****** battle
Bouncing bullets between brain and vein
Trenches dugged in heart
Barbed wire surrounds damaged parts
Roaring war rages on
Pouring bloodshed in every artery
Aorta keeps pumping
New oxygenated soldiers
But they are soon dead
And their bodies flow back to the heart.
All in name of the superpowers
They do not care of the hours spent
the shower of bullets used
They simple oppose one another
Desires to dispose the other.
Left vs Right
with no end in sight
Each write their demands
Compromising is not an option
So the war continues on
and the body suffers.
You begin to forget about hope
presume the cadet is missing in action
No body to exhume though
you must resume the war
and worry about hope later
If there is one.
As you begin to feel the ware and tear.
Noone is aware of the internal bruising
Missiles cruises, capillaries blown to bits
Military chivalry shivers in this civil war
The cavalries only misery delivery
is that of the dead peasantry.
History's favourite victim.
Without hope, the rope tempts
Only preempts what's to come.
It would take an uprising
for peace to return.
But there is no need for revolutionary force
to win this war.
As the organs are still functionary
A beat, no matter how faint, is still a beat.
and in the pulmonary vein,
that train to the heart,
the optimists are rewarded with an armistrice
and peace breaks out like lil' flamin' poppies
swaying in the breeze lining the battleground
After all the damage done
something pretty survived
and bloomed in spring as a reminder
That even in the lowest part of your history
When war consumes you
inhaling the fumes of
desperation, humiliation
and pain poisons your core
leaving your thoughts sore
and the rope serpent tempts
All is not lost.
Hope can still be seen
can still break the surface and grow.
It has always retained the same purpose.
Just like when Pandora opened her box
and let out all the misery in the world.
One thing remained.
Hope.
There is always hope.
Wars will end.
Time passes
Poppies grow.
You gotta keep believing
Stop deceiving yourself that leaving is best.
You gotta have hope.
aar505n Feb 2015
I'm still here, like a cancer
Won't go, till you give me an answer
While you still have your youth
Don't tell me the truth, tell me your truth.

That's all I need
All I did decreed
Was to know
Not to row.

The truth? You are weary of this bad tooth
Afraid to look uncouth
Or even for it to be said
Fearing it would evoke the dead

But I'm still here.
I still care
And we'll never forget you
This is our truth, please know it to be true

So, what is your truth?
just a quick ditty before the night is out
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