lauren

lauren Sep 2016

i find broken tree branches littering the floor of your bedroom, and as ive searched forward, i have come to the blatant realization that the physic resembled closely to your very own build. your own kind of relative nature. cut down and abandoned and stripped of your blossoms once quivering through the wind and giving into the storm. a frail heart etched into your side, telling a once colorful story, now rotting away at your roots.

i liked watching you grow, how your roots shared your thirst, and entangled with mine. but your roots have been exposed and mine along with them. now the earths crust splits to welcome us home. you, already being picked again, watch as i lie next to your replanted seeds.

lauren Sep 2016

the dark

when i was younger i was afraid of the dark
but now, i frequently find myself stuck in it
when i was younger i could turn on the lights
but now, my lightbulbs just seem to burn out
when i was younger i could run to mother
but now, i am too old to hold
when i was younger i used to be afraid
but the dark taught me that it was time
to realize that i had to grow up

and being afraid of the dark
was the only thing keeping me young.

two minute brainstorms are good for the soul

lauren Jul 2016

rebirth

theres a passion in existence that mere words cannot express: shaped by rhythm, rhyme, meter and cadence.
this is objectively dictated by heartbeat, pulse, senses and even breath.
life speaks tragedy and eloquence in the language of all experience.
words being the tools that should wield to craft a mural of abstract, and an assemblance of felt realities
taking in each account to form something beautiful.
this is consequently the key to understanding your purpose on this world.
you were not placed here for pure entertainment of others,
but, maybe,
as life paints out a mural for them,
you are just a drop of color in the existing abstract of their existence.
but as i see your mural being completed
i realize i have purely limited the motion of starting over again after coloring outside the lines.
as i finish your mural your purpose will become clearer.
and as the mural finishes,
so do you.
not to be morbid
death isn't colorful,
but it can be just as beautiful.

this writing was essentially the beginning of a story i began to write. i just cannot find the patience for it.

lauren Jul 2016

turn table turn

turn table turn
for you so set in your ways
can capture the light of day,
and turn it into dismays.

turn table turn
take the feather of a bird
and bury deep through hardened ground,
while the city scrapes and burns.

turn table turn
keep the secrets out and open
so as the sun rises to bring the day,
you leave the rain moping.

turn table turn
until i stop you now
gravity is law,
and i’ve finally learned how

to

turn table turn
i’ve stopped and realized
that your heavy burden lasts,
until the end of all my lies.

turn table turn
you're slowing down indeed
i’ve learned to stop and think,
i am no longer in need.

of the

turn table turn
until you realize
that your turning tables,
were only your disguise.

turn the tables
DEFINITION
reverse one's position relative to someone else, especially by turning a position of disadvantage into one of advantage:

Jul 2016

E. E. Cummings

A Connotation Of Infinity

a connotation of infinity
sharpens the temporal splendor of this night

when souls which have forgot frivolity
in lowliness,noting the fatal flight
of worlds whereto this earth’s a hurled dream

down eager avenues of lifelessness

consider for how much themselves shall gleam,
in the poised radiance of perpetualness.
When what’s in velvet beyond doomed thought

is like a woman amorous to be known;
and man,whose here is alway worse than naught,
feels the tremendous yonder for his own—

on such a night the sea through her blind miles

of crumbling silence seriously smiles

lauren Jul 2016

and so i say

overall, experience of ordinary and blatant sadness was an outlet of disconjoined thoughts.
some sort of wall put up against a garden of insecurity, vaguely jumping at the opportunity of embittered troubles.
maybe if you can’t see the stars you’ll finally understand what its like to lose your way and utilize the forgiveness that was once embraced.
more or less like the birds that stayed during the winter and forgot the weight of their bodies.
nothing can bear it.
you are not an open wound and the stale taste you experience is not the taste of bad blood.
this is about you walking away with darkness in your voice.
realizing that perhaps there was nothing more terrifying than the thought of something lurking in the shadows,
and in speculation,
there was never anything there.

sometimes, finding meaning in another's writing can be a beautiful thing, even if you have no idea what they may be writing about.

lauren Jul 2016

an excuse for society

the simple way
your hair falls on your open shoulders
is a reminder to never be ashamed
of how the world treated you
remember
it tries to balance too many unsculptured skulls
and painfully neglects the opened minded
trying to fix its very own mistakes.