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The day I stop dreaming
     is when I started my progress…

I never really understood to why, oh why
do we have to start a living?

In the city of progress, I became the mindless puppet
Of what we call ‘the clichés of society’
FOR NOW - I’m totally blind in all five senses
    to where my love should be place in…

From a specific today, I am robbed for my silence
Totally alone never wanted nor even needed
Conceivably A misplaced person in a ‘crazy world’
- or it is just me who thinks this way.

Sometimes I would think no one would ever really captured
                          - ‘the essence of my heart’
Or probably it was just me, who never did take noticed.
Guessing I am too
  - Perverse to feel anything within the walls of my five senses.

Despite everything else, I understood how Society lives by.
The imaginable ways it burdens and pleasure in
–> Giving –> Receiving –> Showing –> US
                                                         how life works with their walls.

I could never blame how our world becomes a harsh place,
Yet I could took the blame on US
   or our humanity is too faulty consecutively.
Too many Securities from any Insecurities.
Walls upon Wall of their Owning Glory,
      Almost nothing is free.

So I stand chained from cultural responsibilities,
for we were made to think this way.

Ashamed of what I discovered
So I hide in the covers of my pen
To write, just write,
A Written voice for the fallen..

A friend told me “I think life ends when a man stops from breathing and also when he stops from dreaming. What will keep us moving if we no longer have holds to aspirations, to hope...”

Then my friend, Kalypso answered a big part of it in her review on what I am talking about in this piece, she said: “being a dreamer for so long, having to pull my head and heart out of the clouds and start the mundane process every day, over and over again, would bring me into this realm of thinking. Wondering why we do ...what we do? What is the purpose of working just to pay bills and survive, but barely live? Feeling like I disappeared in the process of becoming an adult and taking on responsibilities. Having no time to explore the world. To ponder the mysteries of life...or capture the beauty of everything around us. How the monotony takes away your creativity and individualism, blends you into society, almost making you invisible.”

Then Rachelle’s questions arise saying: “Do we grumble? Do fall into a deeper pit of despair or do we try to figure out how to transform our reality such that the world is exciting and challenging again?”

With all those thoughts arises from my poem, I came to understand that despite I stop dreaming big, I still hold on to the little hope and a hint faith I have on myself that someday, in some way a dream could rise again from the burned pages of my bucket list.

I am thankful that I have find/found friends in my writings.
So I appreciate everyone who reads me, greatly....

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/willyampax/1336541/
a suffocating pain crawls up his throat
as he watches from the observation deck
a home once his now pathetically remote
in the cosmic vastness an agonizing speck!

brave wanderer was his dusty restless boot
his mind a yearning traveler on endless roam
love flew like sparks without growing root
never was one place could he call his home!

now before him stands an infinite rocky terrain
inviting him to unveil her unexplored asset
replicate a habitat of a different light and rain
build there a refuge retrieve a broken nest!

his lips seek a prayer as if to shake off fears
as creeps up his spine cold night's stardust
whispering the void of four ninety light years
the story of lost empire and all the broken trust!
let's not make earth so uninhabitable as to force humanity one day to seek and escape to another planet that could never become home the way our earth is.
Kepler-186f is 490 l.y. away from earth, discovered in the habitable zone of another star.
fancily dressed we stride
on main street down the barely lit
side streets to get to

The view, on the edge of town,
west of here and now,
where sunsets are gathered
into red and sorrows.

Or we live across the tracks,
where fancy is just washed and patched up,
still,
we stride with the same
destination
in mind and soul.

Futures are still written
only  with pen and papers, any
rich man or pauper shares.

May we someday, be equal.
Their voices echo along the threads of time
I read their works on tattered pages
They say their words did but rhyme
Their's were for inspiration,not wages
They told stories like real witnesses
Of agonizing times and sicknesses
The soldiers of their sweet narrations
They say rode on horses of generations
Triumphant over the trend, glorious
Shooting arrows past lineages,like warriors
They fought against pride and Prejudice
Across boundaries, winged like Pegasus
They flew to bring merit of words and lines
And stood the test of time like wild pines  
They used sharp words instead of swords
Only received rejection ,sometimes nods
Walked long distances,endured perspiration
Sleepless ,so to cultivate some inspiration
They were young but with mature souls
Their relentless effort vividly like Moles
Burrowed through even hardened hearts
And with needles of kindness stitched cuts
Finely weaved justice on paper like Mats
And spread it for the world,across all parts
When speech was hated and persecuted
They stood strong and instead recruited
The course of changes threatened to slay
Erosion corroded letters worse than clay
Their beautiful hearts where kindness lay
Were battered and butchered causing hope to decay
A season came when all was but a lost cause
And were tales of how once upon a time it was
Yet again like a phoenix someday they rose
From the ashes of history, how? Nobody knows
They were stronger and mightier than mortals
And travelled through un fathomed portals
They built a very powerful mental kingdom
Above the prestigious tower of wisdom
Where they reigned like the fires on doom at Mordor
Freed so many prisoners of their situations
Across the entire universe and her nations
Gave them keys so they unlock more doors
Stanzas crawled like maggots across all avenues
With mixed feelings the world received the news
Though were skewed to embracing the return
Because for once they saw a flame of peace burn
Their tears were wiped by every piece they read
Poets let them realize war wasn't only in their head
Reason flowed like waters in fountains and streams
Readers believed once again in their dreams
And like poetry and poets they didn't sit back and cry
Every poem they read,sad or not told them to get up and try
And when they finally got victory over their inner strife
Not even once did they forget poems changed their life
Don't know why I wrote this one, just bumped in my head
Reading the works by Sally, Vicki, Catherine(SoulSurvivor), Ryn, Deborah, Elizabeth, and Pamela Rae, is akin to drinking champagne from a crystal flute. Me, cheap beer from a Mason Jar.

copyright:(revised) June 03, 2015
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