Jesse Ramon Claudio

Jesse Ramon Claudio Apr 2017

It's been 4 months since we've spoken last, but 4 years since we've ever felt connected. You say I rejected you, but I've only respected you. Our perspectives viewed are identical twins lined up on the chopping block. We've got the looks and the brains of successful successors, but the hearts of two weary men with weary lives laid down to die. Gray clouds cover our minds with a rain fall that will never completely fade away. We look at cloudy mirrors and expect a corrected view, but project you and I as different from each other. we are one in two and two of three. We don't listen to each other,
But ******* this is a two way street. We we haven't spoken, and yes I know we are both broken toys not yet fixed, fixated on our differences forgetting our similarities, However we are blood. Right now blood rivals slinging mud, but one time long ago we were a thing called love. A brotherhood that stood as tall as we could build snow castle fortresses in our front lawn at christmas, and they were fairly tall, at least from my five year old perspective, but those times have melted. Maybe our eyes have gotten older and we need corrective lenses for us to refocus our hearts. Or maybe our bodies are tired of the ******* we put them through so the bags under our eyes decided to swallow us whole. Or there's hole in our brain that dictates how we see the world and for me that's black and for you that's blue. It's why we beat each other senseless every time we walk in the same room, Why are mind games are sloped to have each other lose, and why we see each other in different views.
It's true we aren't brotherly anymore. But is it my fault, is it yours? We play the blame game on a daily basis, we might as well call it a violent game of "tag, its your fault". because ever time we pass on our burden of blame we lengthen the fault line between us. It now takes 4 months to even see each other. And 4 years to even speak. Weeks pass by and the only response I get is a thumbs up in the form of an emoticon. Not even a full word. Why couldn't we be like every other family? Even if they fight like hell they still speak to each other. But you and I have only dead silence. Inferred violence that quakes our home every time we set sail our fleet. And I speak for the both of us...
We need peace, but not silence

Jesse Ramon Claudio Mar 2017

O' Brother

How can i take the monetary subtance, a miserably deceitful good, from a brother a shy less than flesh and blood; Whom gave me more than i could ever imagine. her name was hope. Her maternal twin is love. And our brothership is intensified by both, as one truly trifled heart could ever gleem. He slaved over brick and mortar to provide for himself, for i cannot steal his earnings when i have no right to any fortune. He gave me shelter when i lost my path. He fed me and clothed me when i lost my life. His arms wrapped around my shoulders when the tears trembled down my face. Death, I and he, faced eachother and nothing felt closer. But I, a devil in sheeps clothing, could never accord such heartfelt care in a multitude of life times to come, netherless todays nor tomorrows. Thus, i leave him my belongings, my manmade tinkerings, and all he may ever need. As i depart,It is the least i can do for a brother. O' brother.

#love #hope #bestfriend #issues #giving #money #brother #tinkerings

Jesse Ramon Claudio Mar 2017

Sleepy Head

I looked in the mirror this morning
but I swear I didn’t see anybody
There was a body but no one to fill it
Flesh and blood set on auto pilot
aimed for six feet under;
Black rings wrapped around my eyes
with a straight face
I Plunder to get to the shower.
Semi-awake to fill up empty space.
Because getting out bed is relentless,
I do it every day like clockwork,
but every time it gets a little harder.
Like someone adding weights to my hour hands
'Till one day I won’t get up.
I can barely make it to 9 O’clock
… in the morning
I look at the sun and start mourning
Because it means I must heave myself
Out of bed and pretend that I am living,
When my bed knows otherwise.
It’s smarter than I because it knows to lay still
And let the world pass by.
Humans are supposed to fake it 'till we make it,
But all I want to do is make my bed
So, I can go back to sleep and let the world pass by.
Sure, I’m a stand-up guy
But I probably only held the door for you
Because I fell asleep on the way out.
And if you say thank you
it will remind me to wake up
and keep me pretending to live.
No doubt I fall asleep all the time.
People think I have bad hearing
But I’m just sleeping with my eyes open.
If I don’t respond just give me a little nudge
And repeat everything you just said.
I’m not deaf … or dead yet.
I just can’t keep my mind open
For too long before the demons crawl out.
Thus, I fall asleep and fight in dreams
To wake up to your next sentence
More exhausted than the last.
It’s not my fault
I’m just a little bit dead
And a little bit sleepy

In college, I've had an extremely difficult time getting out of bed for 8 AM classes and this is an expression of my struggle each morning.

#death #depressed #sleep #tired #sleepy #bedtime #deprived #sloth #rambleish

Jesse Ramon Claudio Jan 2017

Library visits

Look -- O’ look
The books we could be;
Seas of lumber
Slumber in dusty sleeves.
Thieves of the night
Write on our eyes;
Lies in the form of words,
Worlds in forms of home.
Some call it fiction,
Imagination calls it sanity
Gravity of our own two feet
Meet to stay alive.
“Strive” it tells me.
“Be all that you can and more.
Doors lead to windows,
Intros to the Galaxy.
Actually living more lives than one.
Undo the restrictions-
Dictions people have over you.
Few are even close
Most will never get there.
Here there is only you
Through the woods behind the books

#love #mystery #trees #journey #books #reading #library

Jesse Ramon Claudio Jan 2017

Untitled

What is your poetry, my friend?
Is it the cool spring day that bounces
off your clothes after a long winter mourning;
the spine-chilling defrosting session
you have when the sun finally rises
and the forward look to the light of a new day.
Or is it the morning silence of a library,
hot teas, and warm crumpets, that carries
your imagination far far away
after forgetting the chaos of yesterday.
Your poetry is your happy place,
your depressed face, your angry taste,
and an exhausted out space...
Your race to the moon and back
before mother tucks you in
and turns off the lights.
It's the bad blues news
and the good old days' anthem
that hums on long to the Sunday tunes
without a care in the world.

What is our poetry, my friend?
Is it a couple of pals laying waste
to the grass below our restless bodies
as we gaze up into the galaxy
and pronounce what is your and mine;
the grass clumping together in our hands
and spilling all over each other's hair.
Or is it the strum of your guitar
and the beat of my hands clashing
against each other to make a sweat
Yet miserable lullaby for our hearts
to pour our into the beach we set camp at.
The waves matching our irregular beat
with its own casual style
that loves to ride up onto our toes mid-chorus.
Our Poetry is what we make of it.
love letters dabbled back and forth
across the classroom get caught
just to share the love we have
with everybody else who doesn't have.
The glittering looks we give
when everyone bursts out laughing
because we know they know
they will never come close to us;
not even second place.
The tear drop memories of what was
and what coulda woulda shoulda been
but now isn't there for us to even cry on;
just cold shoulders and salty whispers
about the past, that should never have been
because it makes up too much pain for the present.

some casual poetry

#love #poetry #life #pain #future #cry #past #present #yours #mine

Jan 2017

Sean Hastings

Demons

People only see the outside of you
They don’t see the demons swirling around
Underneath the thin surface separating the two
People scoff at the idea of me having them
“You couldn’t possibly have any, you are
To sweet!”

But alas that is a bitter thought as they walk
Away. Multiple demons haunt me and live
Inside me, some stay their thirst on terrible
Whiskey and burning ***. Others breathe
Thought the smoke that fills the lungs. Another
Feeds on the negative emotions and destructive
Thought I have about myself. But the last of them
Lives by spitting tobacco and leading the others

I have demons just like anyone else, I just hide
Them better than others. The demons though
Have a terrible hold and grip on me. I can’t escape
Them but I got to the point that I’m accepting them
Now. But who’s really in charge now, me or those
Demons?

Jesse Ramon Claudio Jan 2017

Bed time

I do not know what it is about a bed that compels us to longevity,
to slumber eternity in our wildest of dreams.
Might it be the warmth of its sheets that invites us to prolong our stay.
The wholesome tenderness that hugs us tight in its cover.
Tucked into our safety net, a mother's arm to a child,
where we only live to love and let die.

May it be our sheer will to live the day that chains us to our bedside,
a slave to time, a ***** to work.
We are but men comprised of exhaustion and sacrifice.
A time set aside to pamper ourselves for a while more.
A longing to heal a little further, to rejuvenate our spirits a little greater.
To fix the dark parts in our lives with black sunsets underneath our eyes,
hollowed willow trees in late night dreams carved into our flesh.

May it be for a better life, one less bitter and sour,
sheltered from the chaos upon us these years.
Tyrannies upon our souls, bomb brigades and racketeers.
A shelter, a feeding frenzy of tranquility that keeps us grasping onto life.

Is my bed but a place where my monsters hide underneath,
maybe we sweep our pain underneath the covers
and rest shame and guilt on our pillows
hoping to bring a rest to our demons of the dark
when the sun rises the next day,
soldiers forlorn to leave our post till day breaks.

Or is our answer, E “all of the above”.
Our will beaten till death pulls us apart in our night gowns
and whispers “sleep thy will, eternity”.
And temptation rages beyond our control
with a red flag glued to our hearts
tired of the ******* life charges at us.

Originally written in pros, but broken up for the hell of it

#life #pain #death #sleep #bed #time #suffering #answers #inbed #latenightponderings