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Mar 2016 · 501
M Mar 2016
You're not ******* winning. No one wins.
Mar 2016 · 586
M Mar 2016
"Get a little rock and roll on the radio and go toward all the life there is with all the courage you can find and all the belief you can muster. Be true, be brave, stand. All the rest is darkness."
by stephen king. not mine
Mar 2016 · 538
four day weekend
M Mar 2016
If I could write a poem by just throwing a bunch of imagery
on a page, then I would. And I do. For example, this weekend
was pounding floods filling up homes and clogging minds
thunderously down hills, lightning and fear, and then it was
fire in the sky and heat, steaming the water back up,
sunlight, sunburns, tank tops, sitting on concrete
running through the mud, staying up late, plans not made,
snowballs, dried throats, black coffee, red skies, board games
grass to wet to sit on, sleepy eyes, the first hint of summer, trees blooming,
washing our legs in the lake, school canceled, getting work done, with friends forever.
Soon I will be free. Am I not already free?
We talk about our futures and sing songs like we're
all gonna make it. Have we made it? Will we be alright?
Time rolls onward and forward and seasons pass and change
and I have my own car now. I will be eighteen years old soon.
I hope God stays with me. I hope I stay with God.
Mar 2016 · 555
M Mar 2016
And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born
then it's time to go and define your destination.
There's so many different places to call home.

Because when you find yourself the villain in the story you have written
It's plain to see that sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemption.
from you are a tourist by death cab for cutie. not mine
Mar 2016 · 559
M Mar 2016
day by day, minute by minute,
I know my future holds more
I learn how much I am worth.
Mar 2016 · 418
M Mar 2016
at this point it doesn't matter why
Mar 2016 · 508
M Mar 2016
I hope it broke your heart but I know it didn't
and now I have to look up at my own stars
learn to stop pretending you ever cared
to stop pretending it all ends up fair, my heart
and your heart are not *******, we are
drifting, weightless, the waves broken
cresting over and sinking one but not the other
I'm a kid playing Risk and I'm stuck in Austrailia
and when I lose, I cry out for my mother
and so do you. But you can't win them all.
I miss loving you but I have to move on now
I have to get over it. It's been about a year since
whatever happened began to happen, but since
it ended there have been new and fresh wounds
repeatedly pouring salt into my bleeding heart
and I'm sorry I can't stop bleeding but no amount
of cauterization or pressure can staunch the flow
when I need to keep beating to keep me whole.
I'm sorry I still care and you don't. I'm sorry hearts don't break even.
I'm sorry if you ever read this because I don't want you to.
I just want to be able to keep breathing when I see you.
I'm doing fine, really. It just hurts sometimes.
Mar 2016 · 2.2k
M Mar 2016
'cause you let it go, now you're good to go.
lyrics to Like I Would by ZAYN. not mine
Mar 2016 · 342
M Mar 2016
I did not lie when I said I will feel the same in the end.
Mar 2016 · 466
scars and hurricanes
M Mar 2016
There are some people who weigh heavy on the workings of the world
shifting powers and stirring, pumping the flow of truth up and down and around
some people can't participate without altering, a mere footprint on the snow
causes an avalanche. Some people tread lightly, knowing any mark
they leave is a scar, but some people's souls carve scars into the world
with every breath and living motion. Some people leave gouges,
throwing their weight around and unknowingly setting
hearts on fire and sending minds into the cold, unknowingly
the center of a whirlwind, breathing hurricanes into existence.
I'm sorry I've changed so much. I'm sorry. I can't help it.
or does everyone change the landscape of the earth equally? Are we all too heavy for each other to hold?
Mar 2016 · 391
and to think
M Mar 2016
and to think that you have called me through ages
through heartbeats, in quiet words, in sunny days
through thunderstorms and when I run and when I lay down to rest
you have called me in the arms of my mother,
in every broken heart and northern star, in my lost soul,
deep in my bones, in hard choices and older guides,
through every single person to whom I have ever spoken,
through dreams and long embraces, warm lights,
soft faces, you have called me through kisses
and forgotten moments, you have called me
when I didn't know I was forgiven, you have been with me
as I walked beside still waters, you have led me
through the valley of the shadow of death,
you have stolen my heart and restored my soul.
Thank you, Lord. I love you. Amen.
Mar 2016 · 457
M Mar 2016
When it rains, it pours, and opens doors.
when I look to the sky by train. not mine.
Mar 2016 · 295
M Mar 2016
But you know that when the truth is told
that you can get what you want
or you can just get old.
vienna by billy joel. not mine.
M Mar 2016
so many poems tell you that you have to fill
the first few lines with a lot of ******* imagery
to fill the stanzas before you hit one or two lines
that actually mean something: and by that heroic
couplet, or whatever the english teachers say these days,
the whole ******* poem is redeemed.
I don't think I should have to write sixteen stanzas
for the sake of the last line, but here I am
so I might as well elaborate a bit on the rooftops
and the moonlight on her hair and the fact
that I cannot love her as I wish I could and
I never dreamed of Paris like other women always expected me to
the smell of baking bread and the Eucharist
hurts my knees and heals my soul, thank God
for God, but it seems unfortunate that we as people can't just
ignore the existence of our Creator. Something calls us back
something hurts us in desperate moments when we've
written sixteen hundred stanzas and none of them meant anything
and we're afraid to show our faces to a priest or our mother
when I drifted away from certain shores I thought
I wanted to inhabit forever, the cross I clung to
led me through sunny and tumultuous waves
I always did like being on the water. I always did
like salt and water and earth and wine and I am
a child of the Church- my Church that tells me
there's nothing wrong with being tender
nothing wrong with having a soft heart-
you see, our God's heart bled out
and He never concealed His tears.
Mar 2016 · 374
M Mar 2016
“Some stupid people started the idea that because women obviously back up their own people through everything, therefore women are blind and do not see anything. They can hardly have known any women. The same women who are ready to defend their men through thick and thin are (in their personal ******* with the man) almost morbidly lucid about the thinness of his excuses or the thickness of his head. A man's friend likes him but leaves him as he is: his wife loves him and is always trying to turn him into somebody else. Women who are utter mystics in their creed are utter cynics in their criticism. Thackeray expressed this well when he made Pendennis' mother, who worshipped her son as a god, yet assume that he would go wrong as a man. She underrated his virtue, though she overrated his value. The devotee is entirely free to criticise; the fanatic can safely be a sceptic. Love is not blind; that is the last thing that it is. Love is bound; and the more it is bound the less it is blind.”
by gk chesterton, from orthodoxy.
Mar 2016 · 414
M Mar 2016
...go on, twist the knife.
Mar 2016 · 661
M Mar 2016
“The mass of men have been forced to be gay about the little things, but sad about the big ones. Nevertheless (I offer my last dogma defiantly) it is not native to man to be so. Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial. Melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live. Yet, according to the apparent estate of man as seen by the pagan or the agnostic, this primary need of human nature can never be fulfilled. Joy ought to be expansive; but for the agnostic it must be contracted, it must cling to one corner of the world. Grief ought to be a concentration; but for the agnostic its desolation is spread through an unthinkable eternity. This is what I call being born upside down. The sceptic may truly be said to be topsy-turvy; for his feet are dancing upwards in idle ecstasies, while his brain is in the abyss. To the modern man the heavens are actually below the earth. The explanation is simple; he is standing on his head; which is a very weak pedestal to stand on. But when he has found his feet again he knows it. Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small. The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world. Rather the silence around us is a small and pitiful stillness like the prompt stillness in a sick room. We are perhaps permitted tragedy as a sort of merciful comedy: because the frantic energy of divine things would knock us down like a drunken farce. We can take our own tears more lightly than we could take the tremendous levities of the angels. So we sit perhaps in a starry chamber of silence, while the laughter of the heavens is too loud for us to hear. And as I close this chaotic volume I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.”
quite long, but from G.K. Chesterton about joy.
Mar 2016 · 454
M Mar 2016
"All the towering materialism which dominates the modern mind rests ultimately upon one assumption; a false assumption. It is supposed that if a thing goes on repeating itself it is probably dead; a piece of clockwork. People feel that if the universe was personal it would vary; if the sun were alive it would dance. This is a fallacy even in relation to known fact. For the variation in human affairs is generally brought into them, not by life, but by death; by the dying down or breaking off of their strength or desire. A man varies his movements because of some slight element of failure or fatigue. He gets into an omnibus because he is tired of walking; or he walks because he is tired of sitting still. But if his life and joy were so gigantic that he never tired of going to Islington, he might go to Islington as regularly as the Thames goes to Sheerness. The very speed and ecstacy of his life would have the stillness of death. The sun rises every morning. I do not rise every morning; but the variation is due not to my activity, but to my inaction. Now, to put the matter in a popular phrase, it might be true that the sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life. The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they specially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical ENCORE. Heaven may ENCORE the bird who laid an egg. If the human being conceives and brings forth a human child instead of bringing forth a fish, or a bat, or a griffin, the reason may not be that we are fixed in an animal fate without life or purpose. It may be that our little tragedy has touched the gods, that they admire it from their starry galleries, and that at the end of every human drama man is called again and again before the curtain. Repetition may go on for millions of years, by mere choice, and at any instant it may stop. Man may stand on the earth generation after generation, and yet each birth be his positively last appearance.”
from orthodoxy by G.K Chesterton
Mar 2016 · 303
M Mar 2016
I'm gonna be okay.
Mar 2016 · 497
M Mar 2016
They know you walk like you're a god, they can't believe I made you weak.
lyrics from Strange Love by Halsey
Mar 2016 · 332
M Mar 2016
it hardly hurts now.
Mar 2016 · 435
M Mar 2016
God the Father of mercies
does not demand much
He only wants us to be open to His love
we don't have to work for it
we were, in fact, made to be receptacles
we were made to be loved, first.
God's will is love and God's will created the whole universe
God is love. That means that nothing but love sustains us
nothing but mercy keeps us from the fires of hell.
How can you know the truth of our Lord and not be changed forever?
Feb 2016 · 592
Not beautiful
M Feb 2016
Hazy stars and steep flat roads and a steamy car nearby
while the dim red butts buzzed around us
like bees, held in our hands, stinging our souls
and it wasn't beautiful. It was very ugly, and as
greenish smoke filled my lungs, I forget
things that I try not to remember, and now looking back
now that I've cried and repented and apologized,
it wasn't beautiful. It was humanity in our brutest
forms, begging for something higher, and we sank
low, low, low into our animalistic needs,
holding each other and falling and collapsing
into a car and hiding and chewing gum and falling
asleep with pleasantly buzzing senses and
staying awake at the same time and avoiding
eye contact with my parents the next morning.
It wasn't beautiful. I don't know how else to say it.
Feb 2016 · 327
M Feb 2016
could it be that it's a lesson that I never had to learn?
lyrics from it's you by zayn. not mine
Feb 2016 · 318
gray and sometimes
M Feb 2016
if I could simplify life down to a word or quote
an always or never, black or white
then I would. But I can't.
It's not that simple. We live a life of gray and sometimes.
Feb 2016 · 854
M Feb 2016
I just want to be free. ******, I just want to be free.
Feb 2016 · 548
an open letter
M Feb 2016
I should not and will not censor my own feelings.
I take precautions: talk to whom I trust, block those I don't
I do these things explicitly because I don't want to make things messy
I don't want things reaching certain ears, so I do what I think is best
but everyone deserves to express their feelings without fear,
everyone deserves to talk about their pain without being taken the wrong way,
so if you want to know, ask me. If not, *******.
I've kept myself quiet for too long. I deserve to work through things
and heal in peace. No one asked anybody to go out of their way to read
what I have to say. Let me say it again.
No one asked anybody to go out of their way to read what I have to say.
Unless I told someone something face to face or consented
explicitly to their knowledge about something, it's none of their business
and frankly, if you think you can make an assumption then you know nothing
about my life. If you want to leave me be, leave me be. Let me deal.
If you want to be a part of my life, then do so, talk to me.
But don't talk about me. You waste your time and mine.
Feb 2016 · 295
M Feb 2016
I have eyes and ears.
Feb 2016 · 339
M Feb 2016
he's making you think that your tiny mistakes spell out
your whole life's failure. You are not the sum of your mistakes.
Especially not this one. Forget to turn in one application and
your whole future isn't blown out the window.
he's making you forget scale, forget proportion, forget love
acting as though its the end of the world,
he's wrong.
he wouldn't know a good kid or a mistake if it slapped him in the face
he doesn't know that his mistakes have ripped apart his family, torn his soul to shreds
and you are not to blame. Dear Lord, you are not to blame.
Feb 2016 · 495
M Feb 2016
**** him. He's nothing more than a loser
trying to push down the kid he's most afraid of.
Why is he scared of you? Because he knows who you are.
He knows what you can do. He knows you're better than him.
He's scared to death of his own failure and he can't
look you in the eye and see your bright future
because his whiny *** doesn't think that's fair
and he's gonna try and beat you down and convince you
you don't deserve it and you can't have it and you never will
but he's ******* wrong. He's wrong. I dare you to prove him wrong.
you never did back down from a dare.
Feb 2016 · 262
M Feb 2016
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Feb 2016 · 325
maggie may
M Feb 2016
You lured me away from home, just to save you from being alone
you stole my soul and that's a pain I can do without.
lyrics by rod stewart, not mine.
Feb 2016 · 340
M Feb 2016
if I got even an inkling that you wanted to be in my life
my arms would be out like they are to anyone that puts in
one percent of effort, anyone that even smiles at me
is my friend. If you don't want that then you don't.
But it sure ain't my fault.
Feb 2016 · 374
M Feb 2016
this time last year, the world fell around me
everybody's lives in shambles and rubble and
me, standing alone on a precipice, fine and unscathed
because someone was holding me up.
this year, God's holding me up. the world is still falling
but I don't depend on you anymore
I've found my own way, found my own way to stand.
Thank God for that. Thank you, thank you, thank you God.
Feb 2016 · 409
M Feb 2016
how do you convince yourself you aren't measured by someone elses' love?
Asking for a friend.
Feb 2016 · 433
M Feb 2016
kissing someone is like all the buzzing and all the chatter
wars fought behind my eyes and choirs of angels
screams of demons, the screeching and aching of
a man as he falls, the grating of Earth's plates and
crumbling of mountains, breezes over grassfields
crackling lightning and shuddering thunder,
pounding heart and throbbing arteries, the echo
of a pulse beat through the hospital room,
nail-biting and foot-tapping and dilemmas and expression
art and logic and worth and failure and love and war
comes to silence. I feel nothing.
My heart, which did beat fast, is calmed and soothed
as soon as my lips touch anothers'.
The buzz of electricity in my veins finds its way
through the wire, and the circuit is complete.
There is peace. There is no more world
there is just two people, two people who
promised not to promise anymore
is this blindness? Is this deafness?
Is this completion and fulfillment?
Will it feel different next time, with someone else?
Is this how everyone else feels?
Is this how the person opposite me feels?
Is this how I feel? Is this alright? Am I okay?
I am okay. You're telling me I'm okay without speech.
Silence. This is it.
Feb 2016 · 475
leather and lace
M Feb 2016
Is love so fragile and the heart so hollow?
Shatter with words, impossible to follow
You're saying I'm fragile, I try not to be
I search only for something I can't see.

I have my own life.
And I am stronger than you know.
lyrics. not mine
Feb 2016 · 369
M Feb 2016
I keep forgetting we're not in love anymore
I keep forgetting things will never be the same again
I keep forgetting how you made that so clear
lyrics to I keep forgettin' by Michael McDonald. not mine
Feb 2016 · 338
M Feb 2016
and I'm the childish one?
Feb 2016 · 447
M Feb 2016
and you follow your heart
even though it'll break sometimes.
Feb 2016 · 312
M Feb 2016
make it easy.
say I never mattered.
run it up the flagpole.
Feb 2016 · 319
M Feb 2016
as if it means nothing to me
as if it could mean anything but everything
Feb 2016 · 551
M Feb 2016
I wish I didn't know how that feels.
I wish I didn't know how a lot of things feel.
Feb 2016 · 382
M Feb 2016
I was set on fire, sputtered out by the rain and left to smoke in the cold.
I fear now that I cannot catch again.
Feb 2016 · 324
M Feb 2016
"Excellence is the result of caring more than others think wise, risking more than other's think safe, dreaming more than others think practical, and expecting more than others think possible."
Ronnie Oldham
Feb 2016 · 365
M Feb 2016
"Looking back on it all, there are so many mistakes I wish I had the courage to make when I was your age."
Feb 2016 · 364
M Feb 2016
I can't make me love you if I don't
I can't make my heart feel something it won't.
Feb 2016 · 287
M Feb 2016
down came the lightning on me
Feb 2016 · 324
M Feb 2016
I heard a voice in a dream tell me
love never ends
not even when the world falls down
when the people around you are in a game
when you aren't yourself
when you dislike somebody or left them alone
when you loved them once and thought you never would again
love never ends.
Feb 2016 · 317
M Feb 2016
stone cold sober and I'm afraid my heart
will never be anything but stone
for anyone but gin and juice.
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