I no longer look for greatness
Among men or the stars.
I clang my head, endlessly, across these bars.
I like the ringing sound they make,
Like church bells-
A wedding cake.
My family gathered round,
No longer hurting.
The tiny dreams that keep me awake,
For in sleep,
I am undeserving.
But sleep I must-
There is greatness in ash and dust.
No soliloquies,
No platitudes,
No profound prose.
Simply death
And cosmic truth.

Water drop
Longing return to the ocean
You can move mountains- erosion

It simply takes time

I am a blood diamond
Beautiful to see,
But rife with pain and agony

Looked upon by dead elk eyes
Sold by treachery and pretty lies

"I came from the dirt
Made the cut and blew"

To shine
A light
I never knew

Poetry is a dull flame to a dark ignorance.
I sing and you dance.
Don't ask what the words mean-
They are a screeching silence
Echoing the musings of a breathless life.
Something you don't understand, but resonates within you regardless.
You sing, by chance I may sway with the beat. I won't dance for my poetry is incomplete. And I can analyze the purity of your eyes, but there is no fun in dispelling lies.
My heart is wonderous art that bears no meaning except to whomever created it.
Nonsensical
Yet relatable-
A sharp darkness
To a blinding flash

Like a moth, I seek flames to ignite matchstick eyes.
I fear kodokushi.
I fear failure.
But most of all, I fear the way traffic moves so slowly towards nowhere.
The trivial things I wish I could escape but can not.
And I know the answers to questions no one has asked...
It is not enough.
I just want to crumple into my self
Like a spider dying.
Becasue I fear everything life has to offer,
And death holds all the promise.
I stifle a few tears
Just to write
Afraid to be exposed by the light
For I am just....

This poetry thing
Isn't for amateurs.
Some nights your heart wants to sing,
But you'll forget the words-
Words that so carefully guide us,
Yet so painfully bind us to a dream.
The dream of escaping, peacefully, the horrendous atrocities of reality.
You see dead bodies bleeding into the street,
But describe it as a stream, crimson from the setting sun's glow.
Watch it flow lazily into oblivion.
The indifference you learn from watching ghastly scenes unfold again and again.
And people sing so merrily, the survival tactic of distraction,
But you've forgotten the words.
What were the words?