Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Krusty Aranda Nov 2013
Whenever I think of her
I remember the good times.
The laughs and love we used to share.
The passion in my rhymes.

Whenever I think of her
I remember how we talked.
The long hours on the telephone
would never seem enough.

Whenever I think of her
I think of her blue eyes.
The purity of her perfect smile.
Her lips would tell no lies.

Whenever I think of her
I remember all the pain.
The despicable actions that she made.
The hope she gave me in vain.

Whenever I think of her
I remember how I changed.
She made me be a better man
by breaking what she had made.
Krusty Aranda Aug 2014
Everything was easier when I hated you.
Everything was simpler without love.
Everything was better without being whole.
Everything was easier. Now it's not.

Everything was easier when I hated you.
I wrote and wrote about how I felt.
Now my pen is dry, and inspiration lacks.
I wish that I could hate you again.

My purpose was to show you I was better...
better person than you'd ever be.
Now we are both equals living our own lives.
Hating you was really good for me.

Everything was easier when I hated you.
Made me want to be the best I could.
Now my life is wasting on this wretched poem
as my mind can't seem to forget you.
Finally back with this piece.
Krusty Aranda Dec 2013
Winter comes again,
and with it comes the snow.
Freezing in a living room
sits a broken man alone.
He stares at the television
looking for a reality
he once knew was there,
but soon faded into calamity.
A hole-filled blanket covers him
trying to fight away the cold,
but you can't fight what lives inside.
The bitter man grows old.
His eyes still fixed on a deceitful screen.
His mind non-existent for his thoughts aren't his own.
A man dead in life lies still on the couch
while he searches for reality. A reality gone.
Krusty Aranda Apr 2014
  I
never
stopped
loving
her.
  
Krusty Aranda Sep 2013
Who is she?
The girl in the red, white and black dress.
The girl in the shiny, brown eyes.
The girl in the innocent smile.
The girl in the fragile, white skin.

Who is she?
The girl that passes me by.
The girl that caught my eye.
The girl that enchanted my soul.
The girl that I'm too shy to talk to.

Who is she?
The girl with no name.
The girl with no history.
The girl with no age.
The girl with no flaws.

Who is she?
The girl no one knows.
The girl no one talks to.
The girl no one sees.
The girl no one likes.

Who is he?
The boy who fell in love with a total stranger.
The boy who dies to know her name.
The boy who wishes to write on her blank pages.
The boy who dreams of co-starring her history.

*That boy is me.
Krusty Aranda Dec 2015
After you hurt me,
why did I give you the power to do it again?
Krusty Aranda Sep 2013
How can I get a job
when there are none?!
My parents really think it's as easy as just asking for one.
Krusty Aranda Sep 2014
You're sweet,
you're smart,
you're awful nice.

You're pretty,
you're funny,
and have great eyes.

You sing,
you write,
and, despite your flaws,

you make
me laugh.
I love you so.
Krusty Aranda Apr 2015
Have you heard the news?
The age of self loathing is reaching its end.
The winds are changing in our favour,
and they bring fortune, and success, and love.
Embrace this new age of prosperity.
Make it your own.
Forget about the past, and live for the day.
Throw your worries out the window,
and breathe the fresh air blowing in from the streets.
Let it fill your lungs, and fuel your actions
so you can achieve your dreams,
no matter how far-fetched they may seem.
If you believe in yourself, no one will stop you.
Cry out your pain,
and find a reason to smile again,
to love again,
to give the next step and continue your path,
for life is but a road trip,
and you are the driver.
Krusty Aranda Dec 2014
And there she is. The reason for this altar. Decorating it just like Jesus in his cross. Her eyes open, looking down on me in an empty stare. Her body naked, clean, and pure, posing in front of a glowing, golden ring hanging from the ceiling. It is decorated with prayers, written in an ancient, secret, almost demonic, language. She is motionless, voiceless, lifeless.


   She was playing a part in the latest short film from a famed, young director. Her part was that of a shy, frightened girl in an abusive relationship, who wanted to end it before he ended her. In the script was written that she'd die by his hand. A passional crime comitted while she slept. Her life ended by a knife, still sticking out of the back of her lifeless body when it was found by her, now terrified, roommate.
   She had had a few other acting roles before this one, but this was the one that could launch her career. Sadly it would never come to be.
   When the time came to film the "discovery of the body" scene, the cast wasn't so sure about the story ending with the death of the protagonist. They felt it was too extreme for the message they were trying to share. They talked to the director, trying to change the death of the girl into nothing more than a violent fight between the couple. After much thought, the director agrees to change the script.
   But no one can change the script of fate.
   Once the script was re-written, ready to be filmed, the whole cast was called in to do so, but something was amiss. The lead actress hadn't come. Her answering machine had over 78 unheard messages. Her inbox full of unread e-mails titled Where are you?!.

  
   No one would know anything about her again. No one but me.
Krusty Aranda Mar 2015
I am so afraid of what could happen, yet I'm willing to go the distance because the possibility of finding happiness is worth the risk of being sad.
Krusty Aranda Jun 2021
You made my heart race again

just to build a wall for it to crash into
Krusty Aranda Mar 2013
I wanna write new poetry,
but words won't form new verses.
Random phrases cross my mind,
but none bond together to make sense.

Maybe it's the stress of exam week.
Maybe it's my personal problems.
Lack of inspiration or a muse.
I overthink my verses too much.

Why can't I write about fantasy and love,
or maybe about a struggle for inner peace?
Why can't I find a piece of emotion
to let myself go in a sweet melody?

Could it be because she left me?
Could it be the cold weather?
What's the reason I can't rhyme?
Is it that I need more time?

In the end here I sit
typing these words untrue
for I just wrote a poem
when I didn't think I could.
I desperately wanted to upload something today. After a couple failed attempts, this is what I came up with.
Krusty Aranda Dec 2014
I'm writing you a letter
to tell you that I love you.
I'm writing you a letter
to tell you what you know.
I'm writing you a letter
pouring out my blood turned ink.
I'm writing you a letter,
so check out your mailbox.
Krusty Aranda Nov 2013
You and I were born here in the same world.
For this one brief life we're beneath the same sky.
The great flow of time.
The wide expanse of space.
We are lucky enough to share this lifetime we get.

We can gain more if we give.
By taking we only lose.
Let us make this a new age where we show our gratitude.

There's a fragile bud of hope blooming in each of our hearts.
Don't you take that away.
Our dreams are meant to be shared.
Let it grow.
Let it live.
Let us see what it'll bring.

When we share our love we make a beautiful world.
Search it out, and find the way.
The point where we can all meet.
The point where we're the same.
There it lies: the future we seek.

Start from there, and then we'll forge a world where all can be free.
Free to dream, and free to smile.
Free to be who we will be.
Let's make sure we create a world of our hopes and dreams.

In our brief lives
we've managed to meet.
Treasure this gift.
This precious time that we have.
Found during the ending credits of Pokémon X and Y. I do not own this at all, I just thought I should share it.
Krusty Aranda Dec 2015
My heart can only take so much.
Krusty Aranda Jul 2015
Sitting on the steps before your front door.
You were only fifteen.
Wearing denim pants, red sneakers, and a tank top,
and your face full of tears.
Two hours, twenty minutes, and ten seconds ago
you wore your heart on your sleeve.
You'd seen him. You'd met him. You were crazy for him,
but you woldn't believe.
Your green eyes. Your red lips. Your wavy, blonde hair.
None of that could he see,
while I sat on the steps before your front door
hoping you would see me.
Krusty Aranda Apr 2015
Your name.
Your sweet name.
Even when I hear it from someone else
it has a particular sonority
that affects my soul, weakens it,
and surrenders to you.

And it haunts me. And it follows me.
Wherever I go someone calls your name.

Oh, your name.
Each letter hurts me, digging in my heart
like seven tiny daggers,
bleeding out.

It hurts to know.
Reaffirm day after day the fact that you are not mine,
and that you never will.

Far away.
I want you far away, but not distant.
The pain of your absence is greater than the pain of your presence.
Violent convulsion that my heart suffers every time I lay my eyes upon you.

You.
Visual representation of a name.
A name that kills me and gives me life.
A name that moves me and paralizes me.
A name.
Your name.
Krusty Aranda May 2012
Turn to me your sky blue eyes.
Let them see I tell no lies.
Smile at me, and make me feel
that your love for me is real.

Let me kiss your soft, sweet lips;
place my hands upon your hips.
We'll surf the clouds up in the skies.
Turn to me your sky blue eyes.

Grab my hand, and love me tender.
I'll play a love song with my Fender.
Lets lose ourselves in passion and lust,
make our problems turn to dust.

Hear the beating of my heart
telling you we'll never be apart.
Smile at me, and make me feel
that your love for me is real.

Turn to me your sky blue eyes.
Let them see how fast time flies,
but as long as we're together
time will keep on going forever.
I hope this makes you feel much better now. I love you.

— The End —