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Thankful

Thankful for this life I live
And for my God above
Thankful for this time I have
To share with those I love

Thankful that I have my health
And the wealth that I may need
Thankful that I have a job
And loved ones next to me

Thankful for the friends I've made
Who stand faithful by my side
Thankful for the lessons learned
That now guide me through my life

Thankful that I have a house
A place that I call home
Thankful for my family
And the love felt from my son

Thankful for this land I love
And for those who fight for me
Thankful for all who gave their life
For this land that we call free

Thankful for this life I live
And for my God above
Thankful for this time I have
To share with those I love

Thankful

Carl Joseph Roberts
"Ate my guts
Devoured my mind
Ripped into my soul
Stole my life
Now you
Want to silence
My voice"
Death of a Poet

Bittersweet, the whispers in my head,
Slugging tender punches intended to dismiss –
and yet they aggravate my sensitivities.

Calm, the winds that catch my sails
churning waters flow beneath my bow –
yet aggravate my need for comfort.

I witness beauty in the stars that hang their glowing spark
an effervescence in night's taut and endless hold –
yet aggravate my desire to endure another day.

On this Sea of Consciousness my shapeless form exists
to float upon its undulations and ride the coming storm –
knowing that sea's starving mouth
hungers to consume a ragged soul.

And knowing that this soul is mine.

Now sinking deeply to bottom's waiting bed
I close the final curtain
of a poet's pathetic act
this pretense that he existed –
as a poet –
at all.

Birth of a Poet

Renewed,
light beckons my arrival
spirit’s song still buried in this heart
its beating throb nurtures undying lessons
awareness courses through a sunken soul.

Returned to water’s restless surface
A vessel waits unscarred from stormy ire
I paddle, sensing land’s embrace –
encouraging my desires…
… to aggravate my sensitivities
… earn my comfort
… and encourage my desire to endure another day.

As this new act begins the curtain rises to reveal
a soul finding ground to call his own – and knowing –
that he never existed –
any less –
than a poet –
at all.
Who I am to you
Is whom I shall be
A person of expression
Using whit as an insecurity
Having words carry my impossibilities
An excuse for hopes dreams and miseries

I long to be
I desire to be
What I can never be
My identity, of make believe
Of which I know everything

As me I can be like anything
As a poet I can be everything

I am the man I've lead you to believe
The man who wants everything
Who'd rather live in fantasy
Where his words are powerful and his soul is clean

Forgive me
My insanity
I am a poet
Unwillingly
Crushed under
waves
Just want to
float
but the world's
weight seems
intent on
smothering
me
Daniel Magner 2013
The moment you begin to believe in yourself will be a moment of pure elation.

The moments immediately following, in which you will begin to vocalize your newly acquired beliefs, will cause everyone that you love (who, coincidentally, were the very same people that had wanted so badly for you to believe in yourself in the first place) to instantly choose their own beliefs over yours.

Following the aforementioned occurrence wherein you began to vocalize your beliefs, you will make (what will appear to everyone that you love to be) unforgettable/unforgivable mistakes. Please, keep in mind that their beliefs will forever supersede your own, which, when vocalized through your own mouth hole, will always appear to be vain and narcissistic in nature.

Your mistakes will then be completely disregarded by your own mind in pursuance of its intrinsic urge to afford you the relief/belief that you are a "good" person, thereby completely trivializing the aforementioned moment wherein you had begun to believe in yourself.

At this point you may or may not be imbued with a great "ah-ha" moment of clarity in which you will discover that your knowledge of "good", as well as theirs, has the very real possibility of being incorrect. If such an "ah-ha" moment does graciously permeate itself within you, you will grow acutely aware of the fact that your knowledge is, and always has been, a choice. You were the only one with the ability to choose the knowledge that you keep, as well as the things you have remained ignorant of.

You will then, and only somewhat facetiously, wish that you had chosen to remain ignorant of love.

After great trepidation and by making many more mistakes, you will come to find that "true" love does, in fact, exist. Begrudgingly, you will then begin to accept that the existence of "true" love is something "society" refers to as a "harsh" truth. A truth of this nature will not be able to be explained to anybody who does not believe in the possibility of its existence.

In situations wherein you will try to explain your personal perception of "true" love to another member of "society", you will be met with either: a perplexed expression of non-understanding, or, a subtle nod of solemn comprehension.

You will fall in the truest of loves with those who subtly nod.

Slowly, you will begin to notice that love, in the abstract sense, lies within the core of all "art". It will seem to you that the goal of any "true" "artist" is to describe something that is inherently indescribable.

You will then choose to either: try (in valiant vain) to describe that which cannot be described or, to simply appreciate the works of "art" that surround you.

You will subtly nod at beautiful paintings that will remind you of those you have subtly nodded towards.

You will subtly nod along with songs that remind you of those who have subtly nodded at you.

You should know now that you will learn all of these things in your own time.

In your own way.
 Nov 2013 dreadfulmind
onaono
I’m not the one who sails with grace
Tempestuous seas
broad as the moon

I’m not the one who stood in her firm legs
Sorting waves of ambition with equilibrium

I’m not the one who resisted equable
before unearthly weather
I’m not the one who faced bravely
A simple stormy header

I’m not the one who surfs
oceans of emotions
I’m the one who swims from dot to dot
I’m the one who knows who I am not.
 Nov 2013 dreadfulmind
Axiomighty
Seen something move out the corner of my eye
Can’t tell the difference between dreams and real life
Maybe that’s why I got such unrealistic visions
They tell me to create a real list of things I could be
But I ainte a realist, because life’s too silly to sit around waiting for the reel to end
They don’t see what I see
These pupils are blood shot with conformity stuck up their rear ends
They just live a broken hope smothered in icing, while I sit on the ledge
My brains got no drive these days, see it flies eh, I’m livin’ on a flaming jet
They keep asking me to flash my knowledge
Maybe that’s why they call it a mind-set
But hell, I only know ledge, never seen over the hedge
Is the grass greener?
I don’t know, I haven’t smoked it yet
I felt high above but then life got plain and crashed into the edge
Of the Earth
And I rose again like smoke does when things get heated
And I know the Earth isn’t flat, it’s got a nice set of behemoths
Ones Mount Everest
And then there’s me mounting every verse until I’ve fulfilled my thirst
Eating creativity alive and only leaving behind the skeletons
So when they pile up you can identify their behinds and come find me in my cabin
Would you like to see my trophies mounted?
Dates below from when they were founded?
They weren’t found, they were downed
And only a fool would mount’em
I’d rather stack’em and climb’em like a mountain
And prove I’m the chest of the world
Look inside and find golden albums

… What the ****, that was a weird dream
REM sleep sure knows how to deceive
And it left me with such a cliff-hanger too
Or should I say aircraft hangar
To store my fly art in ‘er
Feels like I was at a witch-craft banger
I’m feelin cursed as I spell
Feels like the devils got my voodoo doll
Maybe that’s why I’m on fire
I’m so tired my words tie together in red
The line between my dreams and reality is ceasing to exist
My two worlds dance, my thoughts prance and draw blood, in a beautiful dissonance
It’s only when I’m half asleep that I’m truly awake to my passionate presence
Insomnia is a curse and a blessing
 Nov 2013 dreadfulmind
lilpoiein
You can't go anywhere else in this world

You need to be a dreamer who walks in reality

To know that dreaming alone

Won't walk you in reality

What you need is to

Walk your dream along

And falls in eternity, to know that going around

In life, is nothing about easy or difficult

Its about the process of every minimal details

Remember the suffering you will face

And remember the strength

You will be given to face the suffering

Who knows, you will be able to experience

Blessings in suffering

And find your joy in the process of living

And finally it is to realize "life is about knowing what to suffer for"

Also, dreamers don't stop dreaming, reality is about doing

Do what you dream and dream what you do
This is reality
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