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drizzt Feb 2014
A void untouchable,
A bottomless pit.
A fear irrational,
A piece unfit.

The pain unbearable,
The looming obit.
The thoughts unshakable,
The light unlit.

Our breaths identical,
Our smiling legit.
Our days uncountable -
*I only wish.
Total Syllables: 63
Total Lines: 14
Total Words: 36
Amount of times I've thought of you: Immeasurable

I would think that last sentence cheesier if it wasn't so true.
drizzt May 2014
It's in these small moments
When you least expect it.
A burst of gratitude
For all that you haven't.
And inversely,
All that you do -
So have my thanks
For being you.
My friends
Are there
When I'm
Not here.
Just a thing that needed to be said.

Dedicated to The N.H
drizzt May 2014
I crave a voice other than mine -
It consumes me in pleasant conversation ,
But then slowly moves into darker realms

Dispelled by a shake of the head.

I crave a voice other than mine -
Mine is not a voice I am capable of following blindly,
Or trusting with the whole of my heart

As it seeks to destroy the very thing I hold dear.

As it seeks to exploit my single, greatest fear.

As it seeks to drown myself in my own silent shouts and the grabbing of my hair.

I crave a voice other than mine -

But they are all asleep.
Murphy's law seems to really work on everything.
...
Writing when I feel that things need to be written feels good, in a rather odd, yet relieving sort of way. Though if this is the only way that I'll write (hint: it is), I'd rather not.
drizzt Feb 2014
I wonder how I'm still standing.
I wonder when my head will stop pulsing.
I wonder if I'm about to fall.
I wonder if I'm only coping.
Part 1 - Scattered Thoughts of Wondering

The first in a five part series, the remainder to be released over the next four days.
drizzt Feb 2014
Punch after punch,
Blow after blow,
I **** it in and make it my own.
Breath in, breath out,
I'll get through this by hoping,
I still wonder if I'm only coping.
Part 2 - Allegories of a Physical Kind

The second in a five part series. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
drizzt Feb 2014
Pick up your feet!
Move, stride!
In polished black shoes you will come out alive!
Pick up your head!
Smile, grin!
Your uniform donned you will surely win!
Pick up your gun!
Load, aim!
You are ready to own this painful game!
A soldier strides forth, his demons groping,
He wonders if he's only coping.
Part 3 - The Warrior's Heart

The third in a five part series. Our hero, our hero, claims a warriors heart. Emphasis on claims.
drizzt Feb 2014
The battle rages,
A beacon of light shining,
He knows he will live.
Part 4 - Hoping through a Haiku

The fourth in a five part series. I just felt that a haiku fit this feeling.
drizzt Feb 2014
On a convoy, coming home -
My place that emanates love.
Tired, weary, beaten, torn -
But my spirits soar above.
A sigh of relief escapes -
My mouth turns upwards, doting.
Stepping through the doorway warm -
I know I'm not just coping.
Part 5 - Returning from the War

The last in a five part series. The worst is over now - I am home.
drizzt Aug 2014
He wore a coat from the day he stepped
Out from his home now forgotten and lost,
With patches and pockets and rips or
Tears scattered 'round a cloak journey tossed.

He wore a coat from the day he stepped
Out to remove now himself from his sheath,
He pondered the skin under now bare
**** and uncovered the monster beneath.
I really wish I didn't have to write this one, but unfortunately my brain disagreed with me.
drizzt Jan 2014
"There were two men in one city - one rich and one poor".
Thus begins David's sin.
The green eye, staring, craving
Did the great king in.

I am not anointed by god.
Never have, never will.
But I too commit David's sin
Unless the beast - I ****.

"Time heals all wounds" the proverb states.
But can it slay all demons?
I'd like to say "yes", and believe it.

I can't.
I don't like reading this one, the whole way that it was done bugs me. Strangely, I still felt like they were words that needed saying on my part, so ***** however they came out.
drizzt Mar 2014
At times I burn orange,
Hints of yellow, red -
A hearth fire,
Warm,
Protective,
Fed.

At times I burn a green,
Hints of purple, red -
A cursed fire,
Cold,
Negligent,
Dead.
We humans have always had a strange fascination with fire. We desire its warmth and closeness, yet are afraid of getting burned.
...
If that's not metaphorically resonant, I don't know what is.
drizzt Jun 2014
I sit here against my screen, my words flowing like
the blood in my alcohol inflated veins,
My mind muddled, yet flowing, open, and at ease.
I sit here listening to voices, singing. And I miss you all.
I would like to say that it consumes me, that it occupies my every step. I would like to think that it would make me human.
But it is not that.
It is a dull aching in my stomach. That small nagging in my gut that reminds me that while I am not truly alone,
I sure as hell feel it.
My friends,
I would love to raise a glass, smile, and thank you all for everything, sitting here shirtless and tired in my desk chair.
But that would be talking to the two million pixels on my screen, and not you.
My friends,
You help me walk. You help me jump.
You let me fly.
My friends,
I've said this before, and
My friends,
I will say it a thousand more times, because I cannot say it enough, and
My friends,
I thank you.
Under the influence of https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4egb2gpIg4.
And perhaps some bourbon.

Dedicated to everyone - To those who will see this, and those who will not alike.
drizzt Oct 2014
Summer turns to winter,
And cold conquers all.
In solitude I stand,
Then shiver, then fall.

But suddenly, a breeze,
A spring thaw come soon.
Dancing, sometimes touching,
She swirls and sings a tune.

Crimson gal(e) pulling inwards,
To which crimson hearts betray.
She is my god of the gaps,
And as wind, she blows away.
I haven't written anything in a while, and I've been toying with something along those lines for a while now, so I just sat down and did it.
drizzt Oct 2014
Setting sun and color dims
Some park and bench from ancient years
Some thousand heads have rested there
On rotted wood and metal.

Rising moon and darkness falls
The withered cane clicks on the walk
The empty purse a ticking clock
'Til tired eyes shut finite.

Countless stars and total night
Her wrinkled soul like body maimed
Her tattooed wrist whose digits named
One jilted grain of sand - sleeps.
Wrote this one a while back, and just never got around to posting it. I originally wanted to put it to music, but the meter was too weird.
drizzt Jan 2014
I used to act when I was young,
and people claimed that I was good.
To don a mask and live with it,
upon the stage, as I should.

I do not act now, when I'm old,
but those around me do.
They don their masks and live with them,
while off the stage, without a cue.

I shout at them and try to reason,
"Why do these masks you wear?
Free yourselves from inhibition,
from intolerance, from fear."

But my pleas on deaf ears fall,
And the the people refuse to come to.
They refuse their removal from their faces,
Their masks stay solid and "true".

I used to act when I was young,
upon the stage, as I should -

But now -
when I need it the most -
no curtains, no lights, no props, no post.
I cannot act -
I cannot bear -
I have forgotten how to wear -

A mask.
An "old" poem I wrote in December of 2013, which I am posting here as I did promise myself that I would post everything, and I figure that counts past poems as well.
drizzt Jan 2014
I stand facing the tree,
Its bark still bearing the marks of my fist from
One year ago.

I stand facing the tree,
My fists still bearing the scars of its bark from
One year ago.

I stand facing the tree,
My fingers curl and clench, my gaze fixated -
One year ago
The was no one standing in my way.
drizzt Mar 2014
There are songs about love
And songs about it's loss.
A wise man once said
“Music is there for when words fail us.”
When our emotions clash and rage and burn
Or simply flutter about
In Beautiful Chaos.

But what to do with doubt?
There are no songs about lacking.
Stepping each step, knowing that irrationality
Hides in every corner.
You are worried for yourself.
You ask yourself "Will I?"
You ask yourself "Why Not?"
You ask yourself all,
But answer none.

Our minds are funny that way.
We can have full knowledge that we worry
About things that are pointless.
Things so unlikely that the morbid hilarity of our consideration
Of the possibilities of such things
Should be enough to stop us from believing them.

There are songs about love,
And songs about it's loss.
A wise man once said
“Music is there for when words fail us.”
But I lack burning emotions.
And thus I lack music.
And naught but words remain.

There are songs about love,
And songs about it's loss.
But there are no songs of
The worry of
Never finding it.
I'm rather good at getting my brain to stop being irrational.
...
At least that's what I tell myself.
drizzt May 2014
It's amazing how
Two simple words
Can lift weights unimaginable.
Not a huge fan of 10 word poems, but sometimes they just... fit.
drizzt Mar 2014
Bus lines, known and missed.
Streetlights, gleaming, brisk.
Cars showing signs of movement,
And never stopping.
Their lights unblinking as they move straight,
Across the highway, the crisscrossing pathway
That when looked at within these moments,
These moments of semiperfect feelings and emotions.
The streets and cars and lights and buses all feel
Right.
They engulf me.
Their metaphorical resonance echoes across the chambers of my chest.
They move into the once perceived place where all emotions call home.
The thoughts settle. I allow the words to flow out from inside of me and into my my thumbs as they pound away, silently, on my keyboard.
My heart is a city.
It pulses.
It beats.
I am alive.
I am Bright. Tall. Proud.
Content.
Me.
Written while in a very good mood and being influenced by this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wLXJASUOmI
drizzt May 2014
Trust is a mirror
That I ask you to hold
With a steady hand
Lest you drop it.

There are a few who
I trust to show my face
To whom it matters
Such as myself.

Trust is a mirror
That I myself have held
With a steady hand
Before it dropped.
I like how notes are optional - though I've always left one, so might as well leave one here. I honestly wish I had more to say on the subject.
drizzt Mar 2014
It sits in my stomach / Resting, waiting.
Unsolved, / But not unwarranted.
A problem.

It stirs / it bristles as it sits up and stretches.
Yawning / pandiculating.
It's awake.
\
It begins to gnaw.
Eating you alive from the inside.
Encompassing the whole of your mind.
Focus.
Focus.
Focus.
You can't.
You run.
You can't.
You hide.
You can't.
You breath.
You can't.
You can't.
You can't.
It is there.
It lives on.
It cannot die.
It thrives.
It grins.
You collapse.
It wins.
I have no trouble with problems that relate to others, for those I can solve. The ******* are the ones you have with yourself, simply because no one can help you. Or at least that's what you think.
drizzt Jan 2014
My pen poised above the page,
I feel the need to write.
But my thoughts and feelings I cannot fathom
And find words that feel right.

I'll ask you to imagine,
The words not written here.
Look for them between the lines I draw,
In the spaces ever bare.

You may find this ironic,
As your eyes gently roam.
While they examine each and every word,
Of this unwritten poem.
The unwritten poem is far more melancholy than this one.
drizzt Jan 2014
Sitting in my chair,
Staring out my window,
As drops of rain fall outside.
I see you standing there,
Water pouring, drenching tears.
I want to give you my umbrella,
But I am locked inside.
An old poem I wrote back in October of 2013. I have no idea what I did with the meter here, but I did promise myself to upload whatever I wrote, whether I like it or not.
drizzt Dec 2013
"A new year, with new beginnings"-
A phrase that all do say.
"I'll change myself, and become different!
Today's a brand new day!"
But there's one question that I ask,
An answer which I crave -
Should last year be deleted?
Are you sure you want to save?
My answer is yes. I hope yours is as well.
Have a great 2014!
drizzt May 2014
I need a mattress,
An object to fall on.
Something to cradle me
As I drift off to sleep.

I need a mattress,
An object to sleep on.
Something to comfort me
As I fitfully dream.

I need a mattress -
But, alas,
I dream -

I fear.

If only I didn't fear of crushing it
Under it's weight
As well as my own.

I want a mattress.
When wanting something,
You think salvation lies
In becoming it.

— The End —