I am the flightless pelican.
I’ve found myself with my mouth full,
my stomach full, and so much still on my plate.
Possessed by an inhuman hunger,
I will gorge upon pure potential.
I will yowl on and on, without sleep.
I have sand between my toes.
My shoes are glued to my feet.
Keep on running ‘til the calluses come.
There has to be a point where I stop to sweat,
and I’ll finally get my sigh of relief.
I have one ride left on my bus pass.
I have a tendency to ramble
and languish in my own stench.
People tend to forget this at first;
lured in by the false face of a genetic fluke.
They want to know the impression I left,
not the procrastinator; the cud-chewing goat.
I can’t sleep being held,
or if I feel someone’s breath in the still.
I start to feel the urge to burrow
into the quiet quilts; patchwork Promised Land.
I cater to the crowd that caters to themselves,
but I’m no Utilitarian. Fox and Lion.
I have cousins like brothers,
and I have brothers like strangers.
Stray cats with names
and a copy of The Mahabharata that I stash my money in.
I’m sitting on a sunny pier with my hook in the water;
avoiding conflict with no bait.
Paper cuts from the gold leaf
on the edges of hymn book pages
with burgundy leather covers.
These guilty cuts, bleeding for what seems like hours,
while we steadily forget that anyone was singing.
Alone with our thoughts in the crowd.
You are fad and fantasy
you are placed on a pedestal by the world around you,
And I'm sorry.
I know you enjoy it.
But I will not worship you.
I will not love you as they love you.
I will not bask in your light as if you were the sun
and I was a rose
No. I refuse.
You are my friend.
I believe that, but some days, I do
not care if you are dead or alive.
You are more fad than friend to me.
You embrace your pedestal.
Should I bow at your feet?
Should I kiss the ground you walk on?
Girls squeal in your presence.
They want you to love them.
Teachers believe in your talents,
more than the rest of us.
I flit everywhere, like a shadow.
Seen by few, loved by few.
And that's the way it shall be kept.
Believe me, you do not want me.
I do not wear the latest fads.
People can be like this, if the world lets them to be.
If pain is a river, I'm drowning
If sorrow is a swamp I'm wallowing
If desperation is a waterfall, I'm falling off of my tight rope because
I'm desperate to live
"Time is but a stream I goa-fishing in"
"Who could bear the whips and scorns of time?"
"I wasted time, and now time doth waste me."
"Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today's a gift. That's why it's called the present."
"Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana."
"Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted."
"Time heals all wounds."
And tell me, are you ready for the clocks to stop?
For your life to be poured out like sand, into a pyramid made of the sands of time?
Are you ready
I write because
My inner soul leaks out onto the page
One minute I joke and laugh
He says he sees floating lights
Next he's lying on the floor
But I keep my calm
I'm in shock.
I can't believe
I don't know why,
But I believe in God
I want to be alone,
Yet I don't.
I don't want to see a love poem every time I scroll down the screen,
Telling me what I don't have
And what I'm not wasting my time on
I'm in isolationist.
And I've forgotten how to love
And I've forgotten how to love
Being with people.