Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
'So easy'
some would say,
the one who never had his day spin in a silent night or turned
his back to find he looks upon himself.
So easy,
like the spasms of the first ****** the beginning of the fall
and in the falling getting smaller, smaller but finding as the crow flies South in fact you're getting taller and the circle that you're in is the thing that's getting smaller, so you flex your limbs and climb and it's easy climbing over, getting over walls that try to keep you in, they never get to teach you that in colleges or seats of learning,
it's like they'd rather leave you yearning, wanting more and burning with the want of it.

But you never pluck your eyes out to see what lies behind because those learned fellows tell us that to do that makes us blind and if that's so and we take heed we'll never know, I'd rather bleed to death than waste my breath and then again I know that breath is just a roundabout of which a death is just one turn-off,
several light years, where the teardrop drops and all time stops to catch another breath and death is just a taste on the palate of some ancestral waiter,
I wait another turn foregoing all the pain and pleasure of that once in a lifetime final seizure,
I am my own and I am Ceasar in my home, a caliph to sit upon the throne and who can tell me no?
even so
I fall and fall and small or tall without a doubt it evens out
in the end.
  Jun 2015 gregory obrien
Tammy M Darby
In a veil of seething fire
Discontented and decimated
Emotions worn and spent
Empty and cold as a marble vase
With fingered fine cracks
Still beautiful in its imperfections
To the eye
Of loves beholder

And so the tears did fall
In a thick haze of darkness
Repelling the light
A sickly yellow stream
Who in its naive foolishness
Dared venture in
My heart wounded
Wandered
To and fro cross the paths of the earth
Lost in despair

And so my tears did fall
In a torrent of energy
Endless and boundless
Infinite
My soul surged into the unknown of cosmos
The golden heavens of legends
Shrouded in  joy and awe
And the tears did fall

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby June 14, 2015.
  Jun 2015 gregory obrien
Onoma
The sun smiles childlike...
its light is full and fickle--
a burning blindness at one
with what must be done.
The places to call home,
and the beings that abide
there...all made up of
something like the sun.
Whose spirit hides in
plain sight.
gregory obrien Jun 2015
To those of you who know me,
You will know me quite well,
By the words used to describe,
The feeling of hell,

I put you through it,
Before you had the chance,
To think twice about it,
You were caught in my trance,

You were ready and willing,
Eager and young,
You had no idea, I'd be killing,
Just for fun,

I was what you were looking for,
But not what you expected,
I burrowed deep in your core,
And there I stayed nested,

You used me daily,
To mask your pain,
And in return all I got,
Was a stain in your brain,

I love to be hated,
And yes, I'll confuse,
So who do you think I am,
...I'll let you choose.
gregory obrien Jun 2015
I can,
I will,

I think,
I am,

I know,
I do,

I Will Do,
What I Think I Can,
Because I Am...
gregory obrien Jun 2015
The days pass me by,
Can't think of much to say,
I try to tell the truth, but lie,
Why must I act this way.

I've got these feelings inside,
And no matter how hard I've tried,
They will always reside,
I hide the tears I've cried.

The time that I've wasted,
Forever pasted, on my back,
Yet my future is hopeful,
I can save face at last.

But does it really matter,
Does what I say make any sense,
Or is this all just chatter,
Thrown over the fence,

I quite often wonder,
What's the point of it all,
But I'm sure as you also do know,
Its not about the fall.

How do I recover,
From a life filled with pain,
All that I thought I knew,
Is a small as a grain,

Of sand stuck between,
The most obvious place,
And the place, I'd rather not look,
Is in the mirror at my face.

How do I end such a confusing poem,
With the line from Wizard of Oz of course,
There's no place like home.

— The End —