I'm gonna take a wild guess
I'm gonna play you a blind chess
I'm gonna tell you how to deem
I'm gonna build you in my dream
You're an angel in a white gown
You're the diamond in my crown
You're the light glowing wide
You're the prayer I always hide
Now I'm awake and cannot see
Now I'm crying inside your sea
Now I'm handing you my last plea
Now I'm giving you all of me
April 20th, 2017
When that moment comes to say goodbye
I feel like a baby who wants to cry
Ohh, life is so hard, baby
Without your love I'm going to go crazy
Friends can't stay forever
Job, work, school, whatever
Honey I want to see you all the time
Even in your dreams if you don’t mind
What people say I don’t care
You and I against the fear
Sweetie, come sit with me and break the space
You and I - face to face
Darling, I don’t know what I’m saying
I just remember we were playing
I wish that time back again
Without hurt, without problems, without pain
Honey, without your love, I feel like I'm in prison
Do you know that story about the guy from heaven?
I'm that guy and I'm coming to you
To fix your life from false to true.
I have been playing with
The concept of morality
In my head for a while;
The guidelines in which we base
All of our actions can be properly
Placed into one of two categories.
Good and Evil.
Is the course of action ahead
For the betterment of myself
Or my society?
How does one even begin to understand
The ramifications of their decisions
And their affect on human history.
What if enlightenment is only
Another word for loneliness?
What if becoming one with your
True self is really just isolation
To an idea that we can transcend
Into something better but:
Let me remind you that evil did not exist before we did.
Even in light of current events,
We know that within each of us
Is a light that is never extinguished.
I know the times ahead may seem tough.
For my generation specifically
Because we are only now finding
Which paths to take.
We may have created evil,
But we don't have to nurture it.
We can become the balance
And remind each other that isolation
Isn't an answer.
Especially in our own selves.
I hope you take this to heart.
My mind is screaming obscenities
And howling like a wounded dog
In the stark midnight air
I look up to see
To look at all the people around me
Can they hear the chaos that originates inside of me?
It's sad to say that my affliction
Is my disguised blessing
It gives me material to write about
I look down at the scars on my left arm
That my 16 year old self transcribed
I think of how long it's been
With this depression and anxiety and social paranoia lurking below the surface,
Swimming within my subconscious like eels that sting when they come to the surface
It feels like I've tried everything to heal,
And yet it persists
My mind goes ablaze
And my heart starts to race
I blame the whole world for my condition
If people were more loving and kind
If I just had someone to hold me and listen
I know these inner wounds would heal
These wounds need kissing and hugs and encouragement
This heart needs loving and then it'll start flourishing
I need support and kindness
I need to be free and
At the same time
I need good hearted people to love me.
Let's all make an effort to be the good hearted people other people need in this world. :)
My favourite version of reality
is the one inside my head.
I know I'm only talking crazy,
we all have those days; pretend.
Pretend your brain is just a stage,
and you have something to prove.
Pretend there are all these people living
inside this world you always choose.
Pretend the life outside yourself
is just the place you go to sleep.
Pretend that when your eyes are closed,
that's the life you want to keep.
Pretend nobody out here is real,
and live like a silent mystery.
Pretend the Earth is your asylum
and keep trying to run free.
This pretending thing is great,
you will soon begin to see.
Live life a little brighter,
*just pretend along with me.
Biggest, blackest vultures
perched above the headstones
Unbending sin collectors
sipping through the nectar
Ripping through the silver
Leave but ashes, purple
Bruises hot and breathing
unfeathered throats, excited
Talons drop like fountains
beaming bright and red as blood
Penny wishes sinking
under oath and God above
The meal is hot and ready
Can only vultures stomach
the melted shouts of children
the deadened eyes of mothers
the headless walking fathers
Biggest, blackest vultures
elegant as navy
clean of human peeling
Of napkin trees, a shading
Their beaks are white and shining
Underneath the highest flag
of their tender country
Happy inauguration day.
It's your head,
and everything in between.
And that, my friend,
is what poetry should be.
Nights are becoming so boring
I hate to write you a sad song
I want to tell you that I hate you
And everything we did was wrong
But the truth is quite the opposite
I’m really lost and for you, I long
My heart has never stopped bleeding
It’s never gonna be that strong
Life is short and becoming shorter
When I once believed that we belong?
January 6th, 2017
You stumble barefoot
Towards broken glass
You fight against the tide
The tide of the tears you've cried
Never going down
Refusing to drown
And all that I can do
Is send my words to you
By Phil Roberts
To whom it may concern
One day we will all be gone
The only whispers that fill the halls
Will be the wind
And several cockroaches
The walls will remember us
But to the air and bugs
We have never existed
—prison of the new millennium
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)
If you were to discover
That your dearest lover
Was nothing more than a robotic cover
Would you be horrified that you were so keen
In adoration for a machine?
Perhaps you would feel a little cheated.
But I think you are being slightly conceited
You never noticed they were an imitation,
Why then, do think of them as some kind of violation?
Obviously you find yourself to be superior.
Is it because they are just nuts and bolts past their exterior?
Think a little deeper,
Is material really what makes them cheaper?
I have a pretty strong notion
That your problem lies with the fact they possess “artificial” emotion.
Oh, do explain!
What is it that gives you the impression a brain,
A collection of chemical and vein,
Is not giving you a fabricated sensation,
Much like the one experienced by the imitation.
Now do you see how absurd it is to decide that what we “feel”
Is somehow much more “real”?
Originally written June 09, 2014.
The first poem I ever wrote out of my own desire.