We are mortal.
Therefore is it a Sin
to limit One's self
(moreover, others!)
based on mere social or ideological climates.

The purpose of this Life
is to realize One's potential.
What that is, however,
must be discovered first-hand.

Yes,
that is to say
One finds One's very own self
burdened with the miraculous gift and curse
of responsibility
to dream, wish, hope, manifest, and work to create
One's own Destiny
One's own Path
One's own Self.

Nary a coward be!
Express thy true Self always,
even if not directly.

Compromise nary a thing
found within thy Self.
It serves a purpose, as does everything.
It plays a role.
It is necessary
for thy journey to come to fruition.
That is to say
it is up to thee
to decide and create
thy own destiny. Fate.

That is, however, not to say
"compromise not with it,"
For that is healthy-
I dare say necessary.

Rather,
It is only to say
"be You,"
now
and always,
while You still can.

"Be yourself; everyone else is taken,"
or, so said Oscar Wilde.
One may venture yet further:
"many of them are overrated.
Do not underrate yourself."

Develop skills.
Meet people.
Experience.
Practice.
Respect.
Balance.
Ponder.
Create.
L­augh.
Listen.
Learn.
Speak.
Think.
Share.
Write.
Read.
Give.
Love­.
Wait.
Live.
See.
Do.

Gain.
Grow.
Teach.

I'm not quite sure what did it...

It could have been watching
Mother being beaten
or knowing Father was the one giving the beatings.
It may have been
when it was my turn
for the beatings.

It may have been the first time
I experienced the futility
of existing
here and now,
there and then.

It could have been
the first time I felt an
irrational fear of
climbing under the porch
with all the spiders and dark places,
or the subsequent shame imposed on me
because my little sister was
the one who
saved the stuck kitten.

It might have been the time
I rammed that same sister's head
into the side of the stove
and then threatened retaliation
if she told on me.

It may have been
thinking as a child
I was destined for
mediocrity, even though
I knew I was
born
to be great...

II.
Knee deep in thick muck,
******* and fuckery,
we trudge on and on
and through it all....

III.
Everyone is dying.
Some, quicker than others.
I'm going to
ride this out
for a while...

IV.
Hi
Hey, you look cute

Fat. You look ******* fat poured into that stupid dress. You are not seventeen anymore lady, jesus!*
...

V.
I can hear you breathing while doing yoga;
a slow inhale, pause, controlled exhale.
Your body is a....

VI.
Another ten hour shift
with the crew of ******* *******.
If I wasn't the boss
I'd have cracked some
****** heads
wide open
by now.
These ******* don't
know ****...

VII.
My plants need watering, wilting next to grandmas paintings...

VIII.
So, you think you know me...

VIIII.
Spare parts.
Lots of folks out
there made from spare parts.
Pieces that almost fit.

My knees were laying
around out back somewhere;
they were beaten into place.
They got most of the dimensions
right but the joints are tight...

X.
It takes two weeks for your kisses to reach me,
and two seconds for my blood to fill the empty spaces...

XI.
Wait...just wait. Don't go.
I was only kidding. ****...

XII.
Light. Bouncing all over the place.
Light.
Reflected into you...

XIII.
These giant guardians on the boulevard,
My friends, these tremendous sycamores, have been keeping watch my entire life.
They tried warning me...

XIV.
Two years later and your taste is gone but your smells still linger in the dark folds of memory...

XV.
This is going to be offensive to most.
Inappropriate? Some might say.
I wouldn't...

XVI.
These so called poems from
these so called poets about
cutting yourself and suicide really
can wear a guy out.
My tendency towards empathy and
compassion, tested daily, wears incredibly thin.
I've been there, not my thing, this cutting.
I'd rather burn flesh.
We've all got our thing right?
Except self harm isn't my thing.
Not a thing I do,
just a thing I did.
I wonder if these tortured
souls make it through the
next hour after reading
one after another cry for help.
I wonder if some do it just
for shock value, some just to goad
their creators.
I wonder if I am reading a poem or a
suicide letter.
It's unnerving.
I'm all for suicide; I suggest everyone try it
at least once.

Just quit with the incessant
*******...

XVII.
Cut my throat and leave me to the jackals for
I would rather drown in desert sand
than submit to the will of anyone
I do not
trust...

XVIII.
****** clamps, lead weights.
Paddles, restraints...

XVIIII.
I sat alone,
from nowhere a warm, blue light surrounded me.

**.
Balancing these monkeys on my back with the demons in my mind and...

21.
I smell ******* a mile away *******,
and you stink.
I see you shuckin' and jivin',
be-boppin' around like you are some kind of
badass...

22.
And now there are no flowers on the table and no long, dark hairs on my pillow...

I have a friend
close to the end
he talks fantastically about all of the places he has been

His body tired
save for those eyes
which burn brighter than sun tracing an arch across the skies

He says 'Of all the things I know
of all the things I’ve learned...
anywhere you go
the good things must be earned.'

Safe and sound
both feet on the ground
he seems impervious to all the ******* going on around

and when he speaks
though often brief
you hear a man who knows the meaning of true happiness and grief

"How is it I work each day
when aching bones demand respite?
What makes me sit composing verse,
when others sleep into the night?"
(From 'The Worms that drive you')

His one life goal
just to share
the words that cause the sleepless nights, the ones that rattle round upstairs

And oh my soul
was bought to bare
by the words which where exactly what I didn’t want to hear...

"Have you wondered how tomorrow looks,
when you've lied about today?
Have you squandered opportunities
when you've refused to play?
Have you sought the possibilities?
or broken through the ruse?
Have you shed your limitations?
tried to fill some bigger shoes?
Does it all really matter…
that your world is locked within,
That the things which hold you back
are simply things you revel in?
That your greatest limitations
are the ones you self impose?
and the key which locks the door
is locked outside the door you close?"
(From 'Limitations')

"To loose the joy of purpose is
to loose the will to try
and when the spirit of endeavour's gone
the soul begins to die"
(Title unknown)

"Then the sun comes up with a glorious show
And the nuclear dust in the air is aglow
The rich and the famous are dead in their beds
and the ***** and the cockroaches nibble their heads"
(Title unknown)

I have a friend
when shuffling with the crowds
as everyone looks down he holds his head up in the clouds

And though dismayed
the time had gone so soon
as he walks amidst the chaos he hums a gentle tune…

"Who am I and what am I
and what have I to show?
And should I be concerned
that very few may care to know?"
(From 'Soliloquy')

"To look upon my megre works
as worthwhile in the scheme of things,
[Is] to nurture somewhere in the soul
the song which satisfaction sings"

"The hourglass
[will] reach the time
when all life’s frantic urgencies evaporate like wine"
(from '8')

though memories fade
words grow like seeds
taking root within the hearts and minds of anyone who heeds

"[I’ve] seen troubled waters pass me by
from torrent flow to pebble dry
From softly spoken words of love
where teardrops fall to pools of blood

So verily I say to you,
take heed my friend or feel the pain,
From one who knows the way of things
from one who sorts the chaff from grain
(From 'Rule of Chance')

Go outside and look around
the simple things in life abound
The wonder of the detail small
enthrals the mind and makes it all

It’s all before you spread about!
you make the choice YOU WORK IT OUT!
It’s all a state of mind you see
and it’s the simple things that set you free"
(From 'The Simple Things in Life')

(C) bazookio 2014