Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
14h · 30
The Little Things
For those who have no gift to see,
There is naught but cruel reality.
But for those with mind and heart in stock,
The hidden doors of life unlock,
And pour out treasures beyond compare-
Simple treats, like cold, clean air-
Or a sunset ripe with firey soul,
The stillness of water inside a plain bowl;
A flower sweet on Spring's hillside,
The thump in our veins that keeps us alive;
A roll of thunder, and mornings song-
These are the virtues to be claimed all along.
What can't be seen by hurried man
Are things more precious than they understand;
For man may rush and push and live by the hour,
But time is wasted when you dont smell the flowers.
Sep 27 · 92
Quicksilver
Call it Quicksilver-
something I hold to,
leave and return to,
lose in dark leaves;
never quite keeping,
thoughts flit, and are fleeting,
covered with sheaves.
Sleep, and its missing,
ne'er to return;
Hold! Feel its kissing,
overtake with its burn-
late to my tongue,
but one part of the sum,
sifted like rays in the afternoon sun.
Call it Quicksilver-
that thing dreamt at mid-day;
call for it, longing-
but its gone;
slipped away.
Sep 25 · 240
These Eyes That Lie
Grey and slate;
Stone-cold and steel;
My eyes tell you lies
When my smile's not real.
You pause, and you wonder
At the now empty hold
where once my joy  was;
But too late,
It's been sold-
To paupers and princes
Less able than I
To smother their fears
And stifle their cries;
To those more unable
To suffer the pain
Of lying to make people
Feel better again.
I smile and take care
Not to show you the truth
Because all it will bear
Is ripe, rotten fruit;
You muse, then forget-
Because what can you do?
Im sad today-
But I'm lying for you.
Sep 24 · 395
Take a Page Out
The wild side of living life
Is that nothing can be tamed;
Everything is changing,
Nothing stays the same.

But with new wind
comes inspiration,
And even though
There's consternation,

You can always count
On life to sway-
And throw each line
Of the rule book away.
Sep 24 · 68
3 AM Worries
Needles stick and ***** my skin,
A sharp reminder of the world I'm in;
Where daggers point at trusting throats
and hope is sinking like a fisher's boat-
Where unkind eyes look aghast
To see that 'normal' is in the past,
And hatred speeds this world's demise-
All this seen by my tired eyes.
In the morn, I'd hoped to wake
To find a little joy to take,
But darkness, pain are all thats found
In this new world,
Born from poisoned ground.
Sep 22 · 99
Bad Day Love Note
Chin up darling
Though the day feels so bland
I know that it's hard
Like youre stuck in quicksand
But soon the quagmire
Will ease and release
Soon I'll be home
For you to cuddle and tease
Until then, just know this:
I'll be missing you too-
So please dont be down
Or give in to the blues.
Sep 16 · 125
Everything is Fine
Horrid actions
Taken;
Lives lived for lives
Forsaken;
Hapless people living
Broken;
Caved in throats
With words unspoken.
Hurting era of
Lost desire;
Hateful speakers,
Smoldering fires;
Storms that threaten,
Not just the weather;
People that won't work together.
Hate and anger
Running free-
Sickening,
and twisting me.
In this world
That speaks of doom,
Living, trapped, inside our rooms;
Every day, the news gone bad-
Needling us,
To make us mad;
A thousand things,
Innundating;
The disaster
In which we are participating.
I cant unsee
Or deny
These things, events
That make me cry-
But I wont give in,
And thusly lie;
That its all ok,
Everything is fine.
Sep 16 · 71
Venting
Sometimes
You make me want to scream
(You make me late for everything)
Out loud
(Too proud)
Like a beast howling with rage and uncultivated fear
(Just the same **** arguments year after year)
You make me ashamed to want attention
(You argue with anything I mention)
That isnt fought for or coerced
(Plans made with you are cursed)
And I just want to make you see
(All the things that you do to me)
That things could be different
(You never take things as they're meant)
Better or worse
(You cut me down first)
And I could still be here in a couple of years
(You dont understand the depth of my tears)
Or maybe not
(You forget what you forgot?)
And I love you
(There's nothing more true)
But loving you hurts
(And sometimes you're just a ****)
Jul 14 · 316
Sleepy Love Note
In the morning, alarm clocks ring,
Covers rustle, small birds sing;
But when I wake, I've slept too long-
And wake to find you already gone.
I pat the pillows sadly, wishing you were here,
Then arise more steadily with mounting fervent cheer;
For tonight you shall return to me-
Tonight, you will be near;
And I await your presence
My love, my precious dear.
Jun 25 · 340
A Kiss from Kay
Caught in daydreams
That smolder and burn;
Your lips, they haunt me
And make me yearn
For your sultry eyes,
That tempt and tease,
Sending shivers down my spine-
Pulling me closer,
As nerves push away-
Like the ocean,
I find you divine.
Kay, you said to call you-
O mysterious muse
that captures my eye
To know you and hold you-
The real and the bold you-
My wishes exhaled
On a sigh.
Jun 15 · 176
Twenty-Twenty Hindsight
Hatred burns our cities down,
As ash and dust roll o'er the ground,
And in the distance, war horns sound
The call to stand and fight.

But hatred met with hate makes fear-
It's already been a frightful year
Why cant we just listen, ear to ear
And stop the cycle now?

But, they say, its too far gone-
What's wrong is right, what's right is wrong;
But how far is too far to drag along
Without corruption on all sides?

And in the wake of desperate cries,
Did we make sights worth our eyes?
Or did we leave things to be despised
When we paved the way for tears?

Are we proud to hold the line
When the devastation we left behind
Disturbs and hardens every mind
Casting shadows long and deep?

I cannot say that I agree
With this depraved humanity-
But acting without responsibility
Makes us all ashamed.

Yes, anger, hate, and bigotry
Make us all hurt and angry;
But none of these make us free-
For we are all the same.
Jun 13 · 404
Sanctuary
Art is my escape
The place I dare to dream,
Depositing frustrations
That make me want to scream;
Tying up the loose ends
Of mental threads about to snap
Seeking peaceful solitude
From a world that's full of crap.
Sometimes, pen and paper
Are the only things I trust,
When all around me shatters,
And turns to empty dust.
Here among the soft lights
Of lamp, and desk, and ink
I give into emotion
So I do not have to think.
May 19 · 107
Hotbox Haiku
Wither, weary eyes
  Come seek me here at high noon
    Blind, in the sunlight.
------------------------------------------
   Silver light sings now
  Shadowing the night so deep;
Called, I answer.
-----------------------------------------
Down where mischief keeps
  Its uncertain ***** laughter
    I build my garden.
-----------------------------------------
     ***** and stick, the thorns
  Growing lovely now, the leaves
Rarer still, the rose.
-----------------------------------------
Icy crystals of frost
  Lacing the window like lattice
    Fading in the sun.
-----------------------------------------
   Whisper, quiet touch;
  Your skin, soft and supple;
My world, beside me.
-----------------------------------------
Wheezing, hacking hurt
  That torments me like the plague
    Springs sweet gift to me.
May 19 · 206
Rush
Twitterpated,
never sated,
forever fated-
It's all true.
Starry eyes,
tearful goodbyes,
loving sighs-
All for you.
And in the middle,
Pleasant dreams
Passion's screams
Strange and silly things-
A love as deep as the ocean blues.
So till tomorrow,
And thru the days
Your lips I'll crave,
Your name I'll praise-
Never a single day I'll rue-
For true love's pairing
Is no red herring,
And deeply caring-
I live for you.
May 19 · 113
Journey Home
The universe called him-
To be clothed in constellations,
Guarded in galaxies;
To where soft clouds of gilded light
Made their home-
The stars welcomed him,
And wrapped him in night.
May 19 · 253
Crisis of Failure
Of all the wicked forms of man
We're in the worst, uncaring hands;
For I've never seen so many fools
Fail together as they lose their cool.
The universe itself is blowing smoke
As the whole world stumbles, chokes
On the gas we're huffing
The lies, the bluffing
The wind bags breathing hot air-
The misery, day in day out-
All enough to make me shout-
So what?? Like I even care!
Can we just pick a mode that works,
Or let the end come nigh?
I'm tired, I'm done,
This is really not fun
And it makes me want to cry.
So when you ******* are done pretending
That this messed up world is ending
If you could turn the light switch on
And then, very helpfully,
Get the **** gone.
May 19 · 155
The World is Broken
The world is broken.
Not just cracked,
Like a chip out of a shot glass,
Like a scratch on a bathroom mirror-
It's shattered-
tearing itself apart,
Succumbing to chaos and greed
Like they were the only things we had to choose between.
The violence and anger that's erupting-
It's in schools
On the streets
In our churches
In our homes-
Consuming and replacing
The hope we might have had for peace
And a future;
For anything more than we ever wished we could be.
Who stole our dreams,
And made us think this is what we're destined to be?
Who forced these lies down our throats
Until we gave up and allowed our hearts to be stolen,
Our eyes to be blinded?
Or did we sell our souls as commodity,
Bargaining away what made us yearn to live;
Piecing out parcels of ourselves and our
World
For just one more minute of time
That we think we are owed?
Not to seem crazy,
But what if the answer lay in the depths of our souls,
Where we never look,
For fear that weve been wrong all along?
What if the answer was compassion,
and solidarity-
An irrational belief that the world can be healed,
Instead of brought to its knees?
And what if our anger could be used to progress,
By living for happiness,
By practicing kindness and love?
I know, I know-
It sounds-
  Outdated-
      Old news-
         Last year's hippie tripe;
But what if your refusal
Is because you already dont care?
What if not trying is what broke things in the first place,
And your apathy is the poison you feed yourself daily?
The world is sad,
and broken;
But then...
maybe we are too.
Apr 2019 · 378
Working Postal
You wanted words?
Well here you go!
So watch what you're spreading,
Take care what you sow-
Because some of us aren't willing
To take a knee in your crap;
Some of us have worked hard
To be where we're at.
And I hope you get behind that-
Change your ways, make it right;
Because I won't be here the next time
To listen to your tripe.
After all,
I don't know you,
But you tried slander on for size;
Buried my morning
Under a mountain of lies.
I've had enough!
And I think it's high time
To make a decision,
to make up your mind-
About what kind of person
You d rather be-
The kind who grows up?
Or the ******* I see?
I wish you the worst,
There was no reason for this!
Unless, by a miracle,
There's something I missed-
Like a problem you had,
That you've said nothing about-
Some stupid concerns
That you can't even spit out?
Really,
It's not my problem.
I really don't care,
What you do with that black soul
And head full of air.
All I know is I'm ANGRY!
All I feel is DESPAIR.
And if you're going to hell,
Well,
I won't see you there.
Apr 2019 · 288
Sorrow's Song
Sorrow sits on rotted peaks
Her tune is so familiar;
Breaking out the ground beneath
Leaving me so bewildered.

Chasms gape, and pull me in,
This pain will eat me whole-
Sorrow laughs so quietly
As she picks apart my soul.

Til all I know is pulled away
Stripped of joy, asunder;
Sorrow sings a happy song
As all I love is plundered.

I cry in desperation,
A slave unto her whims,
Sorrow tugs a little more
To keep me trapped within.

But like the seasons change,
Sorrow's icy grip retreats
Howling as the new winds blow,
Admitting her defeat.

And as the cloud is lifted,
Like a fire choked,
Sorrow breaths her very last;
Bested by sweet hopes.

A bitter foe, now vanquished-
But not for eternity;
Someday soon, Sorrow will stand
Again to challenge me.

And I shall stand here, ready,
My sword of light, ablaze;
Singing at the darkness
For now, a new tune plays.
In the depths of despair, light can shine.
Apr 2019 · 195
Pain
Mortal wounds that rack the mind,
Focused thru the lense of time,
And sit, aching, upon the soul
To leave a ripped and gaping hole,
Filled by weary, worn requests
To end these gruesome lifelong tests
For peace to reign
And pain to stop;
To open the cage
And break the lock.
But bartered visions bring no respite,
Birthing instead a desire for flight
A longing to run, far and fast;
A desperate escape from a darker past.
And into the future, swoon and fall
Carelessly, awaiting it all,
Finding only more pain yet;
Bringing more things up to forget-
Until the world is swallowed up;
By the memories that hurt and cut.
By pain that sinks and dulls the mind,
Until that pain can fade with time
And follow, then, a different design
Until the soul can say it's fine,
And look up with truest hope again-
Only then will pain find an end.

And as I stare about me now,
I realize I have stared too long
Into the jaws of hell, and how
Pain has made me ever strong
For suffer the weather, suffer the storm
And you're sure to find bright days
Pockets still, but light and warm,
Filled with dazzling, sunny rays.
Now pain is not my jailer,
And I, no more its slave;
Risen from my thorny failures
To put pain into its grave.
...
Nov 2018 · 263
White Lies
It gets better;
That's what liars say;
So I guess that's what I am today.
Because I don't know what else to do
Than sit and hope right next to you
And watch the nightmares take their toll,
On the fragile, loving, gentle soul
That now before me loses sleep,
And cannot bring himself to weep.
I wonder at the things inside-
A broken heart, a damaged pride;
Swirling like a sea in storm,
Waiting in a shapeless form
Of misery; of rage, and hate,
Unable to communicate
These things that write themselves upon
The soul that's quickly almost gone.
In your grief, you don't deny
That grass is green,
And blue the sky
But you cannot seem to tell me why
Your heart still thinks it's all a lie,
That good can't still exist here now
That all is done, let's take a bow-
But yet, I still can't tell you how
Time heals all, if allowed.
I've been there in your shoes before,
Locked in shadows, behind closed doors;
I know this path you're walking down,
The one that changes joy to frowns-
This waiting pool where sorrows spin-
To catch you in their clutch again;
But I can't convince you that I'm sincere-
Uttering words, that you won't hear;
And I feel like I'm lost,
Like there's nothing to say-
So I tell you it's fine,
It will all be okay.
For Jesse
Apr 2018 · 254
Daily Fascinations
Lingerie rustles
As hangers squeak and strain,
Sliding across the sturdy bars
That hold retail up,
Cradling profits,
Like a fistful of bills,
Illspent.
I yawn;
Exhausted by such a drearily normal moment;
A weary reminder
Of the long hours ahead of me,
And the demands of my
Ever-watchful overlords.
Still,
my mind wanders,
Thinking that perhaps sleep will come easily tonight,
Despite the wakeful rest I've found here
leaning on this
cool,
white
counter.
Perhaps it will be time to leave soon,
And reach
for the sunny skies I can see
taunting me from beyond the glass;
To leave behind this dusty,
dreaming
perspective,
And leap into adventures,
as of yet,
unknown.
I sigh,
Returned
to be merely an observer to my working hell,
An unwilling participant
To the necessary waste
of a perfect Spring day.
Mar 2018 · 198
No One Likes Dick Pics
To the tune of Camp Grenada, in the key of Sarcasm.

Hello darling!
Youre amazing!
You'll make Vegans
Give up grazing!
It's like I asked for
Another volley,
Not like I'm hoping you get hit by the trolley!

Innundated,
With your ego,
Who am I to
say oh God please no?!
For when they sees it,
They all wants it;
Thanks again for your **** pic and how you flaunt it!
Mar 2018 · 315
Solid Footing
Balance is a thing most found
In those who've walked on solid ground;
Balance, yet, is often craved
By those who often misbehave.
So then a question,
Long in prose;
Is balance sought,
Or predisposed?
For every day, the average man,
Slaves and works,
All he can,
Just enough to earn to eat,
And derives no joy from
From his borrowed seats.
He carries on,
Through different days,
Capable and strong;
He endures the harshest words,
But doesn't think on it for long.
He does not have his limits set
No cause to think it's not over yet.
He lives in self assurity,
The master of his own,
Balanced on a mountain top
Lands rich with seeds he's sown.
And yet those of a different mind,
Are sorted out and left behind
Thought to be a pitied waste,
The bringer of a bitter taste
Their minds so fraught with error,
Just dealing with an added terror;
A confusing hand, dealt at birth,
A disadvantage on this blasted earth,
That those on solid mountain peaks
Do not know, and fear to speak.
And those below don't know what to do,
Wanting balance with naught a clue
Of what it is, or how to find
A stable corner of their mind.
Some have homes, in such messy states;
A place more burden than a home to share;
Some have jobs,
And some have none,
Struggling equals in disrepair.
For what is normal to the man on high,
Is but a dream to those that sigh
And look upwards, to briefly cry
"I'm not broken, I really try!"
But each, in their own worlds, apart
Though born into a different start,
Crave the power that balance brings-
No matter of insanities.
So why treat those who suffer with more
Burdens and troubles built up on thier shores
As if they are foolish to reach up for these things?
Should we not aid them,
Show them their wings?
Or are we afraid that they'll fly higher than we?
Ascend to a separate, sparkling peak?
Shame on our fears,
Shame on us all-
Using predisposed notions
To make other souls fall.
For balance is a thing that's sought,
Elusive, strange, and barely caught
And all are equal in this single thought:
Balance is hard won, not taught.
Mar 2017 · 668
Anger
Anger take me somewhere new,
Somewhere I've never been;
It could be to apologize
Or to lose another friend.
'Cause you sure as hell ain't one to me,
You're nothing but a pain;
Anger, hit the road, you ***-
May we never meet again.
For Anger makes a fool of me,
Makes me see red in a whole new hue;
Robs me of my logic-mind,
Makes me say what isnt true.
I can't always lock you up,
And stuff you out of sight;
But I can choose
When it's time for you
To be released into the fight.
For you are not my master,
And you are not my friend;
You may burst into flames one day,
But I'll just put you out again.
Mar 2017 · 615
Perfectly Wet
The moody greys;
The rain that stings;
A thousand random,
Happy things,
That makes me want
To leap and play;
To take in the splendor
Of this cold, wet day,
And revel in it's quiet gloom-
To watch it weave
On it's dampened loom-
For daylight does not at all compare
With this misty, freshened,
Dripping air.
Though all and sundry
Are brought down low
By the gift the heavens
So kindly bestow,
I feel instead Nature's kiss
In this, the weather
I always miss.
So while others may think to complain,
And shake their fists at the falling rain,
The soothing wind doth caress my cheek;
And so, inspired,
I thought to speak-
Of the drought of sun,
And it's absent rays;
And this,
The perfect, rainy day.
But an exaltation,
a prayer to none:
I do not wish this day be done;
Rather I would plead,
Sincere,
To leave this solemn weather here.
Mar 2017 · 413
Valentine
I have no need to watch the time,
Or placate you for my Valentine,
Or yell out '****, that *** is fine!'
Because darling, you're already mine.
A better man I could never find
With manners, wit, and charm divine
A mischievous imp who laughs at time;
A man with the most wondrous mind.
My darling dear, I'll flatter you yet!
Until those ears hear and dont forget
That you're a shining gem, inset
In mem'ry- from the day we met.
For a thousand times, and a thousand more
You've rescued me from worries sore,
Held me gently as I scraped the floor-
Gave me love I couldn't ask you for;
Drained my sorrows and changed my hue,
Told me firmly there was more to do,
Til all the years ahead looked new
Because I get to spend them with you.
So my handsome gent
I hope you don't resent
This flattery, though true;
Because honey,
I know-
There's no one better than you.
Dedicated to the love of my life, my partner, my muse.
Feb 2017 · 356
Crescendo to Victory
Oppressive silence
Brings me to my knees;
Embracing the hopeless despair
That accompanies the same quiet
That comes before calamity strikes-
Before the storm touches down over land;
Before all hell breaks loose.
This forbidden orchestra
Of bodiless volume,
Plucks invisible strings
of the Fates, intertwined
To tug at my faithless heart
As I survey the scorched earth below.
How hollow it all seems now;
These trumpets of victory
Sounding choked and strained
Cracking under the weight of their lies,
Bursting the brass
as they bugle out a call to rebel-
For who could call this bitter resolution a victory?
Who could name it clean,
Justified,
When all but the truly frightened
succumb to this heinous masterpiece
Why think to make a new tune,
It asks us;
Why make a new composition,
When the old one will suffice?
Rolling over and over again,
Into new hands with the same minds,
The cycle begins again;
Exchanging one facade for another,
As the musicians warm up,
Ready to play the music that we've always danced to;
Mere puppets to the Maestros
That conduct and direct
Our shattered hopes and dreams.
Shall we not contradict
The balance of power,
Or else leave it to sit in the hands of fools and tyrants?
Once composed,
It can still be unwritten,
Unlearned;
A performance piece we won't allow any longer,
A dying art that deserves the dust that we've crawled from.
We are not pawns in a chord that will not harmonize with us;
We are not weak, shallow things that crawl
beneath the feet of these giants;
We are music itself,
A ballad of shared ideals,
A melody of minds,
unsullied by the temptation of power,
Our discordant notes falling away as we remember our worth in this world.
Like a crescendo,
We can join,
We can rise to change the music,
Rippling and reverberating across this vast auditorium-
For the whole world is our stage,
Our audience;
And they are looking to us,
To be better than what we've known before.
I can hear the beginning notes,
Wavering at first,
Whistled on lips in back alleys
Whispered on the streets,
In our hearts-
Calling to us,
Pleading with us to change the outcome this time,
Asking us the only question that matters :
Will you stand to ovation?
Or will you fall to devotion?
Twisted corpses
Of loves long gone
Call from across the room
As I stare
And stare
Until my heart breaks in two
Unable to glance away;
Unable to meet your gaze.
You're such a shapeless shell
Of days since past,
Having lost your substance to time
And belittled feelings
As I stand
Motionless,
Petrified.
I am but a pair of eyes now,
a shattered soul-
Still hoping,
Still wondering
If all I ever loved was a lie,
A cruel farce you'd never admit.
I cannot bear your cutting words,
Your effervescent laughter,
As you live a life renewed;
As I linger,
Wistful,
In your wake.
I'm bleeding inside,
These wounds too fresh to cauterize,
Your vision too much to bear
In the aftermath of our destruction,
The clanging bells of calamity
Still ringing in my shellshocked ears-
I struggle to find meaning
In the caustic remnants
you left me to puzzle over;
The scattered pieces of reasoning
That will never add up to a whole picture,
A sane answer.
Scorched and hollowed,
I can't bear this sight any longer,
As my heart smolders with hatred
And thoughts of revenge,
Consuming me
As though I were tied to the stake
That you deserve to burn on instead.
Come now,
Let's end this-
This dance of charades,
This play of puppets and toys-
I'm not your plaything anymore,
And I deserve the happiness
That you sought to steal for yourself.
Come now,
Let's accept it,
These sad monuments that you've erected
From upon your mighty throne,
The confusion you bestowed
When you left me all alone.
After all,
Fate had no say in this,
No approval to grant,
To this end-
You and I both know
You only have yourself to blame.
Jan 2017 · 2.3k
Circus of Love
Twisted
and broken
Dancing
And limping
Your perfect puppet on strings,
Bowing
And
Bending
In time to your madness;
A tiny porcelain ballerina
Spinning on a pedestal,
As you orchestrate our final symphony.
My sweet,
Scary
Maestro of monsters,
My Conductor of Chaos
And pain,
I adore you-
My darlin,
My puddin.
Bleeding
and hopeful
Here I am,
Still,
By your side;
Your fondest hit
Your favorite toy to squeeze
(the life out of)
Your prisoner in love;
(Your good girl)
Begging for just a little more.
Heave me over the side
Again
Drown me in your molten insanity,
Push me under-
Just.
One.
More.
Time.
To feel the thrills,
The chills,
The danger;
The happiness
Of liberating manic laughter-
To feel the helpless despair
As I perform in your circus.
Here I am,
To beg a bullet
For these lips,
That praise your deeds,
And pray for release,
For a mutual destruction,
A final comedy written in blood.
I guess...
the joke is on me after all...
Right, Mr. J?
Inspiration was Harley Quinn and the Jokers relationship in the new Suicide Squad film.
Sep 2016 · 364
Through Heaven to Hell
Twas a time
When once I knew
The scale and shape of things.
I knew what lay before me;
I knew my goals and dreams.
But now all is laid to ruin,
A change I could not predict;
So I'll make my bed tonight,
In standards derelict,
But think not on its squalor,
And instead be glad to be;
For I am but a story,
And there is more to see.
So
Shall I write a woeful ballad,
And mourn my frightful luck?
Shall I be so morose,
And into sorrow tuck
Myself and all my wishful thinking,
A hollow husk, once whole;
Shall I give in and linger on,
As time doth take its toll?
A more miserable thing
I could not express,
A fate most easily averted;
For happiness follows misery
And misery can be converted
Into iron will, and understanding,
Into change, where I emerge anew-
We are the only things we can command;
So why bottle up and stay blue?
Is it not better,
That once fallen down
To pick ourselves up
And stand on solid ground?
I will not be a burden,
But neither let my burdens bog me down;
Why should I give less power to a smile than a frown?
Nay, my story shall be one
Of determined resurrection -
Like the Phoenix I shall be soar-
Just in a different direction.
And thus learn in the process
Of being laid low
That I can fly,
That I can grow,
That limits are something that must be tested,
Not to be shelved, sheltered, and rested.
And in the end,
This tale is mine to tell-
Of making a heaven,
Having gone through hell.
Sep 2016 · 730
bubbles
Bubble, bubble
Floating by
Passing through
On the breath of a sigh
Bubble, bubble
I wonder why
You are so fragile
Yet climb so high
As if you are
Not an ounce afraid
Of the terrible price
That must be paid
Like Icarus
Too close to the sun
You know youll fall
As you come undone
But still you float,
Enchanting and free
Colorful and dainty,
Inspiring me
To soar to greater heights,
Come what may
To seek out new journeys
New trails and pathways
With no fear of the fall
That must inevitably come
Like you, darling bubbles,
I shall reach for the sun.
So please dearest dancers,
Show me the way,
I am ready to fly,
Today is my day.
Sep 2016 · 350
The Stars I Have Loved
I have loved the stars too fondly
To be fearful of the night
So with the sun I rise,
Awakened to the light
And though I sleep at sundown,
My precious strength to keep,
The stars are winking overhead
And tempting me from sleep.
They call me, laughing;
A quiet game of silver beams
Creeping oer my pillow
And suffusing all my dreams
With galaxies and novas,
And every thing between-
A milky way of inspiration
Flowing like a stream.
Unto these orbs of softened light
I call and whisper back,
A hopeful conversation
To pierce the midnight black
To sway the stars,
And keep them here-
These eternal companions
That change throughout the year-
Each day they fall with sunset,
Careful to return,
To vanquish the cruel sunrise
That pries and sneaks and burns;
To bring again a dreamland,
Such wondrous things to see-
Please stars, don't leave!
Stay here with me!
We'll dance
We'll play
We'll run through hill and Dale!
We'll laugh
We'll sing
We'll chase the comets tail!
Please don't leave, sweet stars
I'm not ready to wake up-
I have so much more to learn
And this taste is not enough.
But the sun is rising outside these silver halls,
And sometimes I forget
That dreams are never permanent -
At night, that's all we get-
A brief respite of sondrous wonder
While reaching for the stars
Before we wake,
And remember who we are.
But I am not afraid,
Night will come when the day does end-
For I have loved the stars too long
To be fearful of such friends.
Aug 2016 · 251
Wise Weather
It takes us to wither,
to weather,
To finally rest.
Wonders appear,
as we worsen,
to better,
Our scores on this test.
And to wit,
It is always played out of turn,
A game of cards turned to chance;
As we wend our willed way
Through life and romance.
When weary, we wander
And yet ask nothing new-
Wiping our worried wrinkles with care-
Hoping,
for just a few
Quiet minutes,
for us to stem and stew
As we hug our trappings,
And wipe our wrappings away-
To unwind,
decompressing-
At the end of our day.
Weird,
That the turmoil and tremors that threaten on the hour;
The problems compounding
The alarum bells sounding
The lessons resounding -
The things that turn our world sour;
That without these wild warfronts,
These savage frontiers,
We'd never be better,
And reap nothing from these years.
A quick, quiet musing
I present then,
in humble contemplation;
If we do not learn from change,
How then,
do we improve our station?
Aug 2016 · 472
Beginning of the End
These things escape me,
The woes and ways of happiness;
I am lost to their charms,
To the agonies of bliss.
Through the years
I learned not to take
The hand of one
Whose heart would break
Before my own
And, in the process, lost
A gainful measure of the total cost.
For what is made better by a fight unresolved?
What is discovered by a puzzle not solved?
These thing and more
I have paid dearly to know;
Perhaps it is time for my knowledge to grow
And expand, not external
But deep down below
To find myself -
Am I the person I know?
What kind of flower can bloom just in the shade?
Is this love dead,
Or am I digging it's grave?
And do I feel shame,
For the time I have spared?
Does it feel wasted,
All these years that I shared?
Too many quandary's,
Too much I dont understand -
Too many tears,
As I let go of your hand.
Time breaks all things to dust,
Bogs things down with layers of rust;
This love was ours,
But now the veil is thinning;
This is the end,
And the beginning.
Jun 2016 · 589
Take Upon Thee Love
Wear on thine self
The mantle of Lover;
The guardian of Grace and good humour;
The protector of Peace and Prosperity.
Gird yourself with the armour of Amor,
Your helmet of Harmony shining proudly in the dawning light of morn;
And with gentle spirit,
Lift Compassion, your shield
And together wisely wield that sure sword called Understanding
To defend these shared dreams undivided,
And to promise in their pursuits,
To remember and revel in their shared
sacrifices,
To express their elated elocution of their expected eternity,
To selflessly strive to see the comfortable creation of their world free of worry
To count precious beyond compare
The pairing of two private hearts
Under the blessings of Chance and Choice.
Harken to these words,
That they might guide these two the same:
Fight with fearless ferocity
And protect thy good name.
Dance with undaunted delight,
Sleep with softened sighs;
Laugh with sunny smile,
See with open eyes.
For all the titles here
Shall ne'er compare
To keeping good company
With love to spare.
For Jesse
Apr 2016 · 1.3k
Changes
The season is changing
And so am I;
The soft touch of Spring
Has left the sky
And the harsh light of Summer
Streams in reply
While the clouds drift away
With an audible sigh.
The vines are a'creeping
Up and around
While green grass is growing
To cover the ground,
And the leaves are so breathy-
just whispering sound,
As the wind floats on through them,
Casting shadows around
Over hill, cross the field,
I can hear the call
Of the cold giving way
As the plants grow tall
And as I age too
I look and feel small
Like a walkway of mem'ries
Photos on the wall,
Telling my story
Wending it's way round
I feel rooted,
Attached to the ground.
What was is not what is,
And life is no game;
Life goes on,
But am I the same?
Or just like the seasons,
Do I flex and I flux?
Will I answer my questions,
Or do I question too much?
Existing outside of this existentialist ruse,
I sit and I ponder,
I think and I muse.
The wind answers nothing,
Nature's secrets to keep,
As I sit and I struggle
With a feeling lodged deep
Of confusion and progress
And confliction eternal
Between Summer and winter
Autumnal and vernal.
The flowers that bloom
Near my feet seem to nod,
No heaven to answer to,
No devil, no God;
No one to tell them
What they must be,
No decision to make,
Thus, blissfully free.
Bobbing and swaying
They bend in the breeze
A humble display of might
Born through ease,
A pillar of strength
Upon bended knees.
So too shall I be
For my confusion is gone;
I shall bend with my troubles
yet be as strong
As the mountain I climb,
As the rock I sit on.
I shall fly in the sky,
Yet remember to land;
I will open my mind
And keep my plans.
I am not just one person
My whole life through,
I will be many more
So:
I'm Me!
Nice to meet you!
Apr 2016 · 404
Change Our World
When those with power seek to rule,
The world becomes unruly.
When those with voices don't speak up,
Then the battle's lost, quite truly.
When fervent passions inside our hearts
Are treated with contempt,
The world is cast in darkness,
And no one is exempt.
We listen to the nightly news,
All misery and despair;
We ignore the looming shadows,
Unaware we're already there.
And we tell ourselves
These are not our problems-
These are not our fears-
That none of this will haunt us
In the coming turbulent years.
How can we turn such a blind eye?
Does it matter if it's our burdens we shoulder?
Or is it true what they say-
That misery lies in the eyes of the beholder?
Why are we so timid?
Why are we so meek?
Why must we hide our hands behind our backs
And turn the other cheek?
I fear that now
A call to arms
Would simply be lackluster;
For most will keep on hiding,
And will not stir to muster.
Stuck in our phones,
Our heads in the clouds,
Hearing so much nothing
And talking too loud.
So, to all a challenge;
A new mobile game to beat;
Open your mouths,
Turn around,
Talk to someone next to you on their seat
Ask them how their day is,
And watch their eyes go wide;
Sure, suspicion will follow,
But somewhere deep inside
That person isn't just alone again,
You've made their dark world bright,
If by doing nothing more
Than reminding them of the light.
For if we do nothing,
If we sit here all day long,
Texting and stressing,
Wondering why everything's wrong,
Then we'll miss out on the world around us,
We'll become weak, not strong;
For when we finally look up,
Our very world might be gone.
There is no winner,
No trophy,
No champions ring;
Just the chance to make a difference
To another human being.
Dec 2015 · 294
Tithe
clean smells
like freshly laundered clothes
and crisp rose buds
assault my nose on days like this,
pungently reminding me
of the days when I knew you
and
our pure happiness,
the smiling secrets;
the tarnished reflection of our deceptions.
I felt something deep for you,
as cavernouse as an oceanic crevass,
a wide pit of affection
that breached both time and distance
and caused a wild throbbing in my heart
when I saw you;
now brushed away like cobwebs
in an empty room-
stuffed in a box to sit there until
the hatred fades,
the flames burn out-
until the sobs in my throat are silenced.
Days like this remind me of -
the way you smiled so crookedly
the dark brown of your eyes warmly comtemplating mine
     the lips I could draw from memory-
the things you were hiding from me,
                   the dark betrayal that waited in your head
        the wilting rose that grew in our garden-
the heart that I never should have placed in your hands.
I yearned for you,
I lived for you,
I hurt for you-
all for empty promises
and lies.
I paid penance for sins I never committed,
for falsehoods I never believed,
all in the name of our love.
Days like this hurt more than my eyes,
the grey rain falling down
over and over into my pitted and ***-holed memories
determined to make my healing chest
ache again,
as life exacts what I don't want to pay-
A tithe of lost love.
Steeped in frigid air,
The winter breeze thrills me.
This sweeping force of change
Has left the landscape unrecognizable,
And barren,
Devoid of people
And as still as the breath of dawn.
This dreamland of snow and ice,
As far as the eye can see,
Tempts me;
I long to abandon dignity,
Control,
And launch myself into a giant snow drift,
Or create heaven on a wind-blown sidewalk
Staring breathless at the starry sky above-
Or possibly assault some poor passerby
With a snowball to the parka.
I just want to soak in the glory of the quiet streets,
The glimmering clouds,
Hanging,
So still in the night sky,
To skip down the streets as though I wasn't freezing my **** off.
I want to pretend I'm a dragon,
Glowering at the pathetic humans
With their bundled ignorance,
And their pitiful resistance to cold.
I want to dance,
And leap,
And play forever,
Ignoring the idea that I'm supposed to be doing something important right now.
It is a wondrous feeling,
To live in the moment,
To revel in the small magic of recaptured youth-
But tearfully,
I turn away from the window;
The vibrancy of youth is wasted on me
In these bleak and stress-filled hours,
Slaving away like the pitied adult that I am.
I can no more abandon my learned responsibility
Than I can turn back time to my long forgotten childhood;
Like the winter outside,
I am frozen-
Stuck like a tongue on a flagpole
To this monotonous drudgery;
Day in,
Day out.
But today,
I think ill share a secret with myself;
I still have that awestruck child within me,
And I don't need permission to let it out
To scamper across the blank hills of snow,
Laughing and shrieking in chilly delight.
I won't be an adult today;
I will let the snow take me,
And like the snowman I used to build when I was small,
Mold me into a new shape,
From a forgotten age.
Dec 2015 · 417
The Fate I Chose Myself
Quiet tears are shed
noiselessly
for a pain that no one knows-
that no one can know-
that few will understand.
Who among them could bear my burden with sincerity,
with true compassion,
with sisterhood in suffering?
I tell no one,
else my resolve be tested;
I stuff it down,
lest my fears erupt into a river's coursing madness;
I keep it hidden,
else my heart would break
and never repair itself.
I know what I PROMISED,
I know what I DECIDED;
I made my choice,
and I accepted the consequences.
I knew my fate,
what I'd given up-
but did I really know what I would lose?
what I would long and ache for?
what companionship I would never achieve?
The envy I would feel for others fates,
for the things they possessed that money can't buy?
I have lost so much on my way through life,
I've shared burdens,
made mistakes,
experienced love of astounding beauty;
So, why now is my heart breaking over a fate I believed in long ago?
Why do the stirrings of gentle matriarchy bring a new meaning to time?
And why NOW does time seem to click,
and tick,
and count the seconds away?
Though I struggle to make sense of these phantom pains,
I will not destroy the world I created,
nor the happiness of others;
I am a spectator to my own debacle,
the appearing betrayal of my own mortality,
A willing slave to my uncompromising morality and compassion,
bound by my pledge of service to my blood.
'I am your Guardian Angel', I had said-
They are the new Gods of your life,
sworn to nuture and groom you for the heoric fate that awaits;
I will not be a Harbinger of Doom
set on wreaking destruction where none is needed;
I made my decision-
and I shall not permit it to be unmade,
even by my selfish hands.
To the winds I cast my troubles;
to the skies I throw my voice,
heedless of what god would dare answer;
to my heart,
I beg silence-
Be still.
I have made our choice.
Dec 2015 · 507
Suffer the Fools
Made strong,
and sturdy,
I am built for suffering;
Created to bear the burderns
of those who cannot lift the weight from thier own shoulders.
I cannot abandon a fellow man to the cold
hard
ground,
one that would swallow him up
and eat him for lunch;
Even though I have tried to forget,
to turn my head away
from the misery of the world I see around me
and selfishly focus on myself,
I remember their faces-
pale and pink
awash with tears
and pleading eyes
and broken dreams;
those faces that hide sorrow
like an empty dinner plate
in a cob-webbed kitchen.
I give up
and let go
forgive slights
and keep secrets;
I am no ones puppet,
and no ones master,
not a saint,
but not a healer,
not a sinner,
but not a believer.
I exist
to take the hit
feel the pain
work through pressure
and walk through fire-
to steal away frowns from sorry faces
that never deserved them.
I give pep talks
and poems,
I greet strangers
on grey days,
in new ways
on buses going nowhere fast.
I'm not perfect by any means,
and I won't laud accomplishments
that aren't achieveable by anyone ordinary
because I find it too terrible that
My opinion is not shared these days;
because
we are all so busy watching tvs and idiots,
quoting gods and people we don't emulate
or care about,
serving cold dishes of slander
while not tipping the waitress who just brought you your beer.
Courtesy and kindliness are things of the past;
like shaking hands,
opening doors,
saying nice things,
or pausing to help someone cross the **** street.
SO,
here I am
a product of an era I never lived in,
a mirage existing in a world I can't abandon,
but that would easily decide to abandon me,
trying to inspire callous people to open their eyes,
their ears,
and their hearts
to see that sonderous ephiphanies still await.
I'm still trying,
and I always will;
Because I was made to suffer for fools.
Dec 2015 · 905
The Holiday Everyone Forgot
Melancholy,
I stay behind these guarded windows
Staring out at all the commercials
And noisy car horns
And people
That covet and pervert
with their greedy, grasping eyes-
That revel in their desire and need
to possess everything new
And exciting.
They slowly peel away their humanity
Like expired bananas,
Left on the table too long,
Exposing the rotten fruits of their labors
That haunts them in their dreams.
I have no need of phones,
Or appliances,
Or whatever they're selling
At sales where everyone is
Shopping
   Pushing
     Stepping
        Shoving
           Grasping
              Stealing-
Where everyone is lying to themselves.
I'm not a crazed housewife,
Or a greedy collector,
Or a corporate sales exec;
I'm just a quiet observer,
Hiding from the spiraled descent of mankind.
I'm just thankful that these events,
That these sad, depraved people
are can't touch me in my quiet corner of heaven.
They are unimportant,
And in their chaotic rush
for power and possession,
They've forgotten the reason we draw close around the fire,
Why we share food and drink and memories;
Why we celebrate the sacred bonds of friendship
And family.
They've forgotten the smell of cider,
Boiling on the stove,
The taste of roast turkey,
watched and checked with patience absolute,
The comfy armchairs next to the window
That looks out on the freshly fallen snow.
They can't remember the warmth of a house
On a  bitter cold night,
filled with laughter and love,
Where stories and tales spring from lips to ear,
Recounting the years long past.
They can't stand still to cherish the beauty in the simple moments,
The richness of the holidays,
when the only thing you want to possess
Is a wide smile,
And a special hand to hold.
Yes indeed,
I look out my window at this day,
a day so dark it deserves is nickname,
And I pity then-
The sad souls that have forgotten
why this holiday is called
Thanksgiving.
Bit late on this, I know. But the holidays are quite busy after all. *sigh*
Dec 2015 · 825
To Learn...Or Burn
Would that I,
a lowly grunt
could make more than
the average runt
just out of school,
degree in hand;
While I survive
on meager plans.
Equality is a grand concept
full of flaws
and many steps
that most among us
will never see-
for man is not known
for his humanity.
We strive to be better,
but what do we gain?
A fistful of debt,
and a mountain of pain?
And what do we learn,
except that life isn't fair?
Playing cards with a bad hand
and a dare?
That bleeding hearts and open minds
will make us quite impaired
and are considered bad qualities
that make us unprepared
for the lambast that life is,
for the spears of betrayal-
for the knowledge that everyone
as some point is a failure?
We enter these halls
as creatures of learning,
yet exit these doors
suspicious, discerning-
our youthful optimism
shattered and dashed
by ancient old teachers
with an impressive moustache.
So, what is the point
of institutional leeching?
Is this how we want
our teachers teaching?
Do we condone the lack of equippable smarts,
instead replaced with limited starts?
Or perhaps yet, there is another solution-
Quit hampering learning with political pollution?
Maybe thats an option-
maybe it's not;
but I'm a student;
that's all I've got.
Watching out my window,
a thought flies through my head-
about the little hummingbird
flapping overhead.
As it zips,
and it zaps,
and its little wings flap
so hard to keep going,
to suckle on sap,
it seems to me
that this little thing,
so tiny and frail
doesn't mind the sting
of tough days and tough nights
as it valianty fights,
as it works and it toils
just to get by;
working for hours
to have enough to still fly.
I think and I think
on the merits of this notion;
So deeply moved,
I am stirred to emotion.
I shake myself, rising
as I abandon my rest-
Move over world;
I have limits to test.
Jun 2015 · 285
The World Can't Stop Me
Once,
I thought I knew everything there was to know.
Once,
I hoped and dreamt without fear
of the unknown,
and the dangerous.
Once,
I was naive,
and gullible.
But we all grow up too fast,
don't we?
Years and painful moments
passed me by,
crippling
and maiming my good intentions,
my trust in humanity,
like a large mountain looming
over the graves of  the innocent.
Now you can see me
for what I truly am-
a child;
still clinging to the last thread of hope,
the last crumb of decency and promise-
a child,
too damaged to believe that any god exists,
or that anyone is coming to help.
People say that strength comes from surviving a fall-
that somehow,
the things that other people do,
with cruel and viscious intent,
are okay because they build character,
because they make you stronger.
I would have preferred that my wings were never clipped;
that I could have soared unimpeded
towards the greatness I was once sure I could achieve.
Oh, how I fell though-
crushed beneath the feet of people
who tread over me as if I did not matter-
as if I were to blame for daring to make a mistake.
Over and over,
I fall;
downtrodden,
belittled,
ashamed;
so many times with out fail,
so many times without mercy,
or hope.
I've seen my share of this earth
and all its inhabitants-
I have suffered at its hands,
and have lingered on its skin longer than I ever thought I might.
Yet,
I cannot stop myself from raising out of the dirt,
I cannot stay there and wallow in the mud.
A moment to cry,
and I am still not well enough to travel-
but there I am,
still trying,
still reaching for the stars,
crossing the universe
just to reach my potential.
This momentum is compulsion;
I cannot deny the world's cruelty
but I refuse to add to it,
to succumb to this named horror that plagues the weak and sorrowful.
I will not be a part in the machine;
I will be the wrench that sticks in its gears,
the anomaly in the calculation-
the virus in the code.
I will race to the distant fires of fortune-
hurting,
broken,
bleeding;
I may not be whole,
but I am worthy of a better future.
When all the world's a stage,
theres hardly any glory left
for those with no tales to tell-
but for stories with warp and weft,
that, woven like fabric,
secretly entrance
as it circles us up
in its loquacious dance.
We delight in these stories,
these words that settle like sand,
changing our idea
of what it is to be human.
These ones with vision,
those that stand apart-
these ones that drive the tears from our eyes,
and take pieces of our hearts;
Those ones with simple sadness,
these ones that help us cope;
Those stories that inspire,
and give us new hope.
We are fueled by these fires;
Our own ideas and reckless wonder
of adventures, and epics,
and lands torn asunder;
by wizards and goblins,
and fantasy;
by presidents and poor men,
and history.
By teachers and wise men,
and the people who died
to make this world better;
to keep these stories alive.
We indulge in these things,
these marvelous, twisting verbs,
because, sometimes stories are more than just words-
they are the wind under our wings,
the pain of pride,
they are the secrets we keep
locked deep inside;
they are the catch in our throats
when we say goodbye;
they are the moments we fail,
and wonder why.
They are our companions,
a constant pounding in our chest;
aching to burst out
to join all the rest
of time and emotion-
breaking through-
because,
in the end-
we are all stories,
a fable-
born from truth.
This morning is bleak and dreary,
The lake is frozen and cold;
The prince is making me weary
Of all of the stories he's told.
I've seen all his quests for vengeance,
I've counted his spoils of war,
I've relayed all of his messages,
And now I'm quite terribly bored.
He's crude, he's foul,
He never says thank you or please;
He never stays quiet, he always yells,
And his britches smell of old cheese.
I cannot bear to be near
A man so lacking in refinement;
He's got not an ounce of respect,
And should be in solitary confinement.
He's repulsive, repugnent,
A blight on the land;
Why, the very birds won't eat
From his murderous hands.
Oh! If only I could escape
This horrid, ***** man!
If only I could save myself...
Oh wait! I can!
So, I think I'll go find a dragon,
And strike up a bargain for gold;
Because princes are tasty with ketchup-
Or, at least, so I'm told.
;)
A rewrite of a poem I made for my second grade teacher when I lived in Utah. To Miss Bird, the original hero of my education- you tough old bird you. :p
Mar 2015 · 1.9k
Waves of Bliss
Wave
after wave
Of chilly fresh air
Washes over me,
Slathering me
Smothering me
In your intoxicating natural perfume,
Wafting in from the door you just waltzed through.
Confident,
Assured,
You silently entice me;
Quietly luring me into the spider's web
To devour me mercilessly ,
A wiling sacrifice to the hedonist gods.
Wrapped in your firm embrace,
I melt,
Overcome with the sensations of ecstasy and elation,
As your warm fingers wind through my hair,
Pulling -
tugging-
Bending me to the passions of the moment,
Where I exhale my simple reality,
And sink deeper into the fantasy that you lend me;
A dark and sumptuous world
Full
Of bare skin glistening in moonlight-
Writhing,
And shining
In our our titanic efforts to go to new places,
To attain new highs.
Melding-
We drink in the sultry air
As if it were the wine of the heavens,
Each breath,
a prayer to a distant god
Each sigh,
an escaping gasp of praise to the distant stars,
Bestowing their blessing upon our arching forms.
A place of exquisite torture
Where we waver in wanton abandon,
Unaware of
And without care for
the fleeting worlds around us.
We exist,
In bliss,
In utter ecstatic pleasure,
Making monuments meant to be remembered
And worshipped;
And as our sweet comedown lays us prone,
Gasping
Struggling to make sense of the sensual chaos
That just ensued
With blank minds that threaten to shut down all together
My fingers hold yours,
Locked in
And intertwined with a strong link-
Like a life raft
To carry me over
these waves of bliss.
Jan 2015 · 1.0k
I Sing Because I Can
Bursting out of me,
like waves,
crahing against a distant shore,
my voice cascades wildly;
trilling and thrilling,
as it enraptures
and captures
the emotion of the tale yet to come.
Warbling,
and wavering,
the story unfolds-
a love concrete,
a life complete,
while time doth fleet,
and flitter away.
My passionate notes startle
the birds nearby,
silencing thier meager attempts
at music.
I am no virtuoso,
no child prodigy;
but the raw power
of my heart unrestrained
will put feathered tails
to the north
at the sound of my soul unleashed.
I sing;
not a question
or doubt
in my mind-
there is no audience to impress,
no friends to shame me into awkward silence.
I sing,
because I must release the fluttering creation
caged inside my soul;
unaltered,
it must emerge to outshine the stars,
to chase away the shadows that linger
in a waking mind.
I might offend with my noise,
my off notes,
and slaughtered choruses,
my silly screeching
that grates upon the ears;
but I am merely a vessel
containing these words and emotions,
unfortunately unequipped to perform justice
to these thoughts trapped within.
I sing
to empty myself
of these creative burdens,
these ideas that have a life of thier own
straining and pushing
to escape the walls that hold them here inside.
I sing-
because I can.
Next page