Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Jan 2015 · 949
The Stars Align
Simple Man Jan 2015
Have you ever sat in a room with someone
Knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt
That you’re sitting alone
And no amount of small talk, or discussion
Will change the fact that you’re both firmly ensconced
In a reality that can’t even be imagined in another world
At first it aches, the slow tearing of emotion
In long thin strips, like a piece of paper
Slowly destroyed by bored hands in a classroom,
Just waiting for the bell
Every interaction becomes a small game
Of who will care first
Care enough to leave, to put to rest the tired debate
Of why we’re here
The game just doesn’t end though
Always ambling back, refusing to accept
That earth and pluto only know each other in passing
A small wave to acknowledge the distance
With full understanding that
To meet
Is to invite the end of something precious
Jan 2015 · 1.2k
A Personal Paradise
Simple Man Jan 2015
Bukowski once said that there is no point in writing
If the words are not ready to burst from your skull
Wayward pilgrims demanding surcease at an altar of irreverence
Hoping to be spoken aloud
Birthed on thoughts from the pits of our soul
No, he didn’t say that last part
But they were clawing in the bone of my skull
Rending gaps that would pour my conscious mind free
Demolishing the hell that justifies heaven
If you asked me what paradise was,
I don’t think I would have an answer
It’s a world that is changing from day to day
Hardly the province of a sculptor’s hand
Forever unchanging in the veins of stone
Pulsing with meaning that only vision can carve
With infinite meanings in the myriad of views
We each walk away with something that’s just a little different
Like words that we share and speak with different tones
Just to change the flavor of meaning
Savoring the twist on the tips of our tongues
Owning the breath to sway the heart of dirt and stone
Competing for the love of every tree and upturned rock
Whispering our lust the leaves of autumn
Knowing that they will never rise back to the tree
But catching their rotting death in immortal ballads
This is how I imagine my paradise to be
Your silent presence ever creating the stone
Which my words will shape with the rough chisel of force
As I define the world that you crave
While never caring about what you deserve
These are the words that would fall
From every bleeding laceration on my used and tired heart
Bursting from my chest in time with a heart that would stop beating
Just to draw forth a tear
For the paradise I know I already have
But am too callous to appreciate
So I take a deep breath and continue
Walking down a path of dirt and stone
Careless of the footprints I leave
Disturbing nature with fetid pleasure
Don’t we all destroy what we love the most?
Don't know where this came from, but I couldn't seem to not write it.

— The End —