love poems?
they ****.
**** love songs,
and love notes

you pulled my heart
strings and it's all
that it took to make
me; that
"old soul"
somethin brand new

but did you know
I never wrote love
poems about you
I never wrote **** for
you because it pained
and the hurt was so raw and real

it made me feel like I wanted to
crawl out of my own flesh
I regret even kissing you
tracing my fingers upon
the surface of your skin

it sickens me
the hours the clock
spent ticking for you
**** it. I hate you
and I'm glad I never wrote for you.

but now I'm love sick
cause I'm sick of love
and the tears don't just run
they don't stop
I can't turn myself off like a faucet

**** this. I wish I'd forgotten all of it
because I'm a poet
and I wrote for me.
maybe out of selflessness no- just selfishly.
****. and if I could
I would.

the things I'd do
now.
just to
write for you.

I have to say in truth
this only happens when
loneliness and lost hope intertwines
trying to see through the tears in those eyes

can feel it inside
blooming in the mind
recreated replicated and reopened wounds such an evil intricate design

sliding into the abyss
emptiness darkness
won't find solace
at the bottom of the bottle
but give me another

every memory slips through
the cracks and escapes
like the lakes that pour from
a painful face

trace expressionless emotions
the tears in those eyes turn to hate
loneliness becomes bitterness
hope grows thorns to spread universal hate

this only happens when life
doesn't always turn out how it's planned
to be and one day at a time in
this intricate tangled web of a place

embrace the will to untie
try to make the knot final when
the strings of this puppetry
won't undo
that's all I can say when this happens
in truth.

poetry-

you take the anguish
and pain away
you stay as a constant
reminder on that piece
of paper

poetry-

you are a constant reminder
of what power the pen
can hold
of what stories through written
language can be told

poetry-

you hold me sound
like a crying child when
no one is around speaking to
me to stand my ground

poetry-

you are a safety net
an emotional outlet
I plug in my thoughts
and you electrify the world
lighting it up like
one thousand circuits

poetry-

you are my foundation
my solace and hope

you saved me.
you gave my
life a purpose.

a message:

I hope that you fall in love

I swear, I hope you spend your days and they all add up
no subtracting the pain blood flowing in your veins

I hope you raise your cup sober or not
and hope this ******* and war we fought will be over

I hope you find whatever it is you want to do and you fly with it
you take that **** and grow wings out of this
flying solo over the world, catching the breaks in the wind out of it

I swear.
I hope you find yourself
in this message.
and that you can finally clean up
this mess we led ourselves into.

I keep reminding myself, that mental illness goes along with greatness. Hemingway. Sylvia Plath. Billie Holiday. Dickens. Melville. These are just a few of the great minds that suffered from a fine madness. Should they have been medicated into mediocrity? Or lived in mediocrity because they were not properly medicated or in proper treatment?
All of these individuals: exceptional human beings.
Note: Do you want to be exceptional? Or exceptionally dead.

a word of advice

carry on
keep on keepin on.
you don't belong
in the hole or stuck
in that rut or sinking
in quicksand.

years of advice
some advice from
over a decade plus
you must carry on

you must continue
from believing you
can't live long
that you don't belong.

a word of advice
the will to live is stronger
than the will to die
and this advice was
the best piece of mind

I could have ever been
given.
to keep on keepin on.
live long positive affirmations
live long positive advice

it's just a slice of life
a little taste
of some better
advice.

poets
be spoken
collaborate and piece
together the broken

poets
be spoken
let the rhymes
write their own lines

expansion for words
in these infiltrated minds
maybe poets if
you be out spoken

we won't be left
hoping for a literary
revolution

poets; be spoken.

I am color blind-
to reds greens and blues
curious of what colors
appear in your dreams or visions too

I question the
spectrums of
your perceptions

in the midst of the
differentiations in
our walks of life,
thoughts and insights

there are many shades
of black and white

so how can you
possibly see with
those eyes
shut tight

as if lids were pressed,
superimposed
with eyes blurred
or closed

when you say my blue
is not your blue,
I ask why they
cannot be both.

just pop
another Xanax

right behind
his back

he doesn't
like the
way

they make
me act,

he doesn't understand
the anxiety
attacks
flashbacks,

or
lack of
the feeling
of security

it seems to
me theres
no safety

doesn't matter
how you
hold it
turn it sideways
or mold it

there's no way
to control
it

I finally
saved up
enough trust

but told
me they
were completely
sold out of it

and every time
I try to build
repair
and believe

somehow the
foundation just
rots like wood
and crumbles like
stone

I'm so alone
I need relief

reflect on
myself
just help...

underneath my
sleeves
I hide
my scars

- I wear them
and some have
faded

some remain
like I'll never be
able to erase them

a daily
reminder
of the loathing
and perpetual self hatred

and they say
I'll make it.
but I see how
it's wearing them down
so I'm just going to fake it

till my smile breaks it
just wishing they would
understand all of this...

she dreads conversation
because her tongue is tied
the judgement is so harsh
and she is caught up in cries

she dreads the truth yet begs for
honesty
but honestly...
what a mess
she's depressed

tangled up in her own
reality
so easily drifting
throughout life aimlessly

as if she brushes off every
apology
since they never meant it
anyways

she dreads coming home
to an empty house
she speaks out loud
the walls echo in response

a frayed representation
for the people
who come
and those who go

the people who she
once held onto

she dreads the strands
that she must pull apart
they tear and they shred
threads which had made up
her heart

she dreads the
future tendrils
regrets past curls
till her waves are tied

she dreads
because she's knotted up
inside

these people.
these ******* people.
the ones on the subway
the ones revin'  their engines in their "sweet rides"

they stare
you're so ****** aware
that their eyes
burn a hole in the back of your
neck

it all about self respect
and you spit in the dust
with disgust
theres no hope for a better future
because theres no ****** respect left

it all got lost
in the melting ***
and we've got the whole world at
our finger tips
we've got a voice to spill out like *****

but this voice is beautiful and it comes from the
lips

and im talkin musically
the jives and the riffs
where you let the vibes sound right
and when the beats feelin tight
you sway your hips and you throw your arms in the air

you don't give a ****. you don't care.

these people.
these ****** people.
they stare.

you say some silent prayer to yourself
some **** like
keep those eyes away

see theres a whole lota **** you keep
silent
but you really want to say

i don't know
somethin like: how you use pain to mask pain
and everyday is the same
when the drugs in your veins

so cut it wide open
and let all run red
run run
run red

but wait.

you cant let this **** go straight to your
head

instead silence the thoughts
since they'll label you
crazy

maybe
maybe you're crazy
maybe you're insane
to the point where meds don't do jack
**** to contain-

they just unleashed
the beast

and that little voice in your mind
the one that tell you simple matters
as in "turn left here"
or don't forget to shut the light

is now stabbing at your brain with a
mother ****** knife

they say its alright
they said luvox and prozac, and kolonipin and vyvanse
will fix you
fix you.
get you through

it could.
it would possibly give you a chance.

to be normal

but what the hell is normal?
is normal conforming to society?
is normal facing everyday with a life of
sobriety

it cant be
theres no such thing as normalcy

theres no such thing as peace
or self expression
or that release
when you know that you've got it all at your fingertips

and then it splits-
it tears and rips
this world is cut wide open man
because of the people.
the ****** people.

as they try to decide
who you are,

and you laugh
because the fronts, the facades,
to cover up lies

the makeup or drugs
or those clothes
are just a disguise

and when you're weakened and worn
and no one will realize
how badly you've been tattered and torn
they don't give a ****. they don't even care.

because these people,
these ******* people.
will stare

stare into space
stare right through you
stare into an abyss
stare straight into nothing
into nowhere.

you know its not right
you know its not fair
but what do you know?

you're just one of them too.
you cant deny it
or hide it

we haven't evolved
were still monkeys and apes
running wild...

see were still running wild...
just on a monotonous and mild
frontier

its the people.
the ******* people who stare.
trying to figure you out.

size you up

but they always happen to
catch you
when you're stuck in the rut

when you look like ****
when you're in a manic state
throwin a rant or a fit
and hey thats great..

but they always scope you out-
i didn't brush my teeth today
just stuck a piece of gum
in my ******* mouth

its those days
those people.

when you want to scream and shout
those ******* people who size you up in a
  minute.

but if they'd just lived it.
man if they'd just been in it.
and experienced the *******.

the people
those ******* people

who have used and abused
this world and this land

we stand and demand
peace and freedom
an some say
**** it

we don't need em'

but some recite it like the bible or the koran
raise their palms to some higher power
and some fight it

because these people need to
wake the **** up
stop starring
and get a grip.

these ****** people
need to understand this:

the whole worlds at their fingertips.

I was sitting on the ledge
that borders the outside of drumlin hall
and what if I just leaned back
what if I just leaned far enough
to
f a l l

would someone catch me
and I always think about this stuff

like today when I was driving to class
I thought why not just swerve the wheel left and gun it into the iced over lake
instead I kept 55
still alive in the right lane
still have a chest heavy full of pain

because I have a time frame
and stupid obligations like class and a degree
and the pursuit of making a life for me

head towards taconic hall
with grateful deads "ripple"
blasting through my headphones
droning out the noise and bustle
of all these people

in psych203
my ink pen runs out during the exam
so I shake it hoping it will write more
about the paradigm shift
and collaborative efforts.

I rack my brain for answers but
all I can think about is getting a different writing instrument

so my essay is half black and half white impression on the page
the product:
an interracial answer

head to Hudson hall for coffee
might save the life of me,
but instead I see that group of guys
who spew cat calls and looks of googly eyes sizing me up and down

veer left instead of right
to avoid shameful clowns

outside my breath makes
mist
outside my skin makes
for an unworthy protection against
the cold

so I hold ground
what would be up without coming down

say bottoms up
say stay ****** up
say upside down
say what comes around goes around

because as I tread on, some other girl
in knee high suede
is swamped by those kids.

I cross my heart// and hope for// life// strive to stick new perspectives// before// a fresh set of// eyes.

I wear your shoes
just to see what these soles
have tread upon

I put myself in your
worn leather just to see
from your perspective

Truth is- I'm not so
sure I like it...

The forward motions
going nowhere- is like stepping
in quicksand

I try and stand tall, but I'm
drowning and feeling small in
your shoes.

And I could have chosen
to have never laced up
these boots

But then again,
I would have never gained such
perspective of the neglected

So I unlace them.
place them on your shoe rack
and wear my own dusted boots
for the lack of love or light or
just coming home to us

to me at night.

I have my own shoes to fill now
and you can choose to wear mine
and see what I see

Or continue on in your shoes-
perspective distorted
to stumble on blindly.

he's got himself
trapped inside a box
and locked away
with thoughts

can't concentrate
on trying to
escape that box

chained with shackles and
locks he don't really
walk the talk
with his mouth sewn up
and his mind inside that box

he's boxed away
and taped
it shut

but please just don't
box away
everything you got...

cause some boxes were placed
inside other boxes
to hide those
real internal conflicts

he wrapped it up and cut
ribbons
to make em
pretty

except the boxes
inside boxes
were concealed already

the box is packed
his hands are steady
his head is ready

but the box is so dark
he stares off blindly

the box was sealed
since sealing the box
it manifested itself
into its own paradox

he's enclosed
in a life that will
not pass
time that
won't turn clocks

like gears broken
years in fear left
unsaid and unspoken

so now he's lost with
an untamed
soul inside
that locked box.

he said he ain't one
for talkin back
that means no
back talk

words traveled up her throat
so as to choke
on any latter thoughts

"hush," he spoke
in a deep calm demeanor
he said, "don't tell nobody either."
in turn this gave her
verbal blunt force trauma

cozy sweater with the threads hangin loose
like she try n' talk about it
except sometimes the hangin noose
sounds much better

back to heaven, hell, or whatever
have no planned attacks
which means there will be no
talk back

she listens closely
repressing them memories
internally compressing the pain, all day
a damaged brain; a broken psyche

it's likely she will never be the same
it's sittin in the pit of her stomach
it drops since she lost her nothingness forever
all bets are off

which means there won't be no back talk

if it was what it wasn't 
I would be making millions
try and build myself a kingdom
every dollar bill I'll spend to make it
so overly extravagant

but it is what it is
and up to my neck in bills
quickly dodging overdrafts and bad credit
want to invest in more than assets but
in common sense cause
I'm over exhausted and overspent

if it was what it wasn't
I'd never shed a tear in my life
let me make it clear I spent too much time
drying eyes
and the pain will subside makin me feel alive

but it is what it is
and I'm finding myself drowning
eyes blurred like vision impossible
no one to quiet the cries
and I'm prayin for peace
while salt water broken dreams and saline
roll down my cheeks

if it was what it wasn't
I would let things be
maybe accept what happened to me
how things can be unfair
except all we've got is reality

now that's a scary
statement...
not because of reality
but because of the word, "we"
the weight of this responsibility
is placed upon everyone

since it is what it is
immediately erasing poverty
political war fair, corruption, homes that are forclosin, destruction, deforestation, genocide, ****, famine, inequality, racism, the loss of the definition associated with that of being a human...

the inability to accept this is all
happening and that weight is too great
we wait and wait
we toil in turmoil and hate
that displaced our anger
released clenched fists

it is what it is
because if was what it wasn't
I would be a higher power
like I don't know; God, the dahli lama, Buddha or Allah

I wouldn't need to solve problems,
would already have all the answers