The sweetest victory
Is the one you don't see coming
The saddest loss
Is the one you don't see coming

People spend their time
Trying to predict
The future
Then wonder why
The outcome seems bitter

I imbibe on this treacherous night
Amongst fanged smiles
And murderous eyes.
They all know *******-
But themselves- are afraid to die.
Take another one down-
Their laughter like a car crash rapes my ears. They sin but know no tears. I fail but know no fears. I can't relate to my peers. What am I doing here?

Got flanked by one asking, "So, in your eyes, what's the biggest difference between the rich and the poor?"

"One has nothing but act like it's everything. The other has everything and acts like it is nothing. Both think the other a fool."

Another one interjects, "But surely poverty can't be that noble."
As if Jesus was handing out cheese trays and champagne to dinner guests wearing Italian suits with silk vests.
"Poverty is self inflicted. Anyone who works hard enough can achieve whatever they want."

I smirk and say, "That's why your grandfather's business pays for all of your families' needs, so you can reap the benefits and call it work?"

The subject is changed.
Some nonsense about politics now.

And all they do is talk.
No mind changed or knowledge gained.
The atmosphere is dry; tame has become their death glance.
Maybe I should change the music and show them how to dance.

The birds
With their iridescent plumage
Have lost their color due to age,
Or cynical ways-
But they fly
Fly into endless skies
And I'm here
With my pretty thorns
In a world adust with scorn,
Wondering what it's like
To be free

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?

There is no escapin'
The vulture or the raven.
There is no dulcet tone
To dull the ringing in your craven ears, too afraid to hear, "I'm done."
The poor soul knows the misfortune of gold; the gold soul sees poverty as a misfortune.... somebody has to lose. And this desert, bigger than the Gobi, is the one and only locale one can walk infinitely to their doom-
Room enough only for the sun, the moon, and the vultures circling on high.
There is no chance....
Why even try?

We were young when we were friends.
Always used to play pretend.
I was a cop. He was a crook.
Never did things by the book.

Bang bang, he shot me down.
Bang bang, I hit the ground.
Bang bang, that awful sound.
Bang bang, my buddy shot me down.

It was us against the crowd, But time passed, parted us like clouds.
I fit in. He wasn't allowed.
He looked for help, I didn't make a sound.

Bang bang, I shot him down.
Bang bang, He hit the ground.
Bang bang, That awful sound.
Bang bang , I shot my buddy down.

Festering wounds don't heal quick.
I heard something that made me sick.
Screams echoing through the corridor.
He loaded up, kicked down the door.
I don't thing we're friends anymore.

Bang bang, he shot me down.
Bang bang, I hit the ground.
Bang bang, that awful sound.
Bang bang, my buddy shot me down.

I'm a mix of Lil Ugly Mane
And Maya Angelou.
Don't know how to reconcile the two.
Lately, I've been working on my attitude,
But I still don't give a ****-
Still don't give a ****.

My life is a mixture of luck
And bad circumstance.
I know the words to my favorite songs,
But have forgotten how to dance.
There's something my heart longs for,
But when it is gotten
It never lasts.

I shine on like a crazy diamond
Lost in a hazy umbrage.
How do I express myself with words
When I know not where to find them?
The dilemma sends me into fits of rage.

The soul is too much
to measure,
I shine,
Just bright enough
To be considered
Treasure.

Hopelesseley lost,
In a weak daze
From inconsequential week days
That have no bearing on a future I am not promised.
I pretend to be-
I pretend I am
Alive,
But if I could behave eternally,
Nobody would ever know of me.

She slithered through my ribs,
Toungue out,
Looking for a heart.
I knew her intentions from the start.
To devour me is an ambitious task.
"Don't beat yourself up over it."
Is all I ask.
Because the games are fun.
My feelings have been numb
For years, but I can act better than Guy Pierce,
Our conversations were just a Memento-
Puzzles I could never get into.
Cold blood doesn't bother me,
Your cold touch is everything I knew it would be.
She coils, ready to strike,
And I laugh at the thought-
They are all alike.
That venemous kiss;
A generous bliss
Knowing I played my part well.
We're all snakes, but not everyone of us can tell.

I'm giving a reading.
The crowd looks up at me with stars for eyes.
And it sounds beautiful and poetic, 'til you realize that means there is nothing ahead but the void of space.
I'm just floating- hapless, helpless
Through existence.
Every now and then I get pulled a certain direction, but I never enter orbit.
I'm reading to the stars.
The isolation doesn't alarm me like it used to.
I'm either more resilient, jaded, or dead- I can't really tell.
I finish my reading and I'm met with silence. I am lost. I never belonged. I'm too soft for killers and addicts and lawyers and politicians.
I'm too hard for priests and schoolteachers and poets.
I float on through the stars,
Looking for signs of life.

I've been floating for some time now....

I've lost my meaning.
And these words make it worse,
As I cannot explain my universe.
But it's alright.
I'm alright.
My sleeves have always been too long; a byproduct of hand-me-downs.
So when I wear my emotions, it's not even close to what my heart feels.
I've learned to yell without sound.
Learned to cry with out tears.
I know how to die, slowly, over so many years.
From time to time
I get knots in my stomach,
Hunger pangs for something more.
This life is leftovers thrown out by whatever creature created this flawed system, because I know of infinity, but just get a slice of time, so as to be
Silenced...
Fighting gains me nothing, but it's all I know.
Fools dance on unaware, carefree.
Wisdom has no benefits when you know you are powerless- It brings only pain.

Meanwhile, The fools dance on happily.
How foolish can the be?

We suffer the wounds of the dead without knowing.
Until, finally,
It is our turn to die.
We create the scars
The future is haunted by-
Architects of our own disdain.
Cycles cannot be tamed
Only broken.
Humanity has never changed.
Evolution means
Molding into something greater
Than what was.
I dare not refer to myself
By the name
The dead bequeathed to me.
I no longer am.
I can only become.

"Would you follow me
Willfully
To your own destruction?"

Yes
Yes
Yes,
I love
Burning
In the flames
Of flawed
Love

In my head is a universe that no one knows. A love that can't be shown with acts or words. I'm burning on stars
"Solo....
Inhale, in hell there's heaven."
'Beware the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.'
I swim in pools of endless seas
That no one sees.
Any advice is bad advice to me,
And so I fly
"Solo"
Amongst the cumulus;
In God I trust,
But he won't save all of us.
"Inhale, in hell there's heaven."
Don't know where I'm headed.
The world is upside down-
My boots are leaded
I can't fall up...
I **** it all up.
I'm so low
And I don't know where I'm headin'
Life is on borrowed credit
I want to bash my head in-
No one seems to know why
Because I roll solo,
You can't know....
"It's hell on Earth and the city's on fire.
Inhale, in hell there's heaven."

I still think of the time we spent together
It seemed so endless.
The finitude of the moment
Made our love taste sweet.
The misfortune was-
It only tasted so
once the moment
Was complete.

Have I become a vestige of memory?
Are words the only thing keeping me....

Alive?

I fear death; both literal and metaphorical.

These letters trickle from my veins-
Crimson rain
To let you know
I'm still up there
Pouring my all
Into whatever container
You need filled.

I am not dead.....

Still

This wounded cat comes around every so often.
You couldn't tell by looking at her, but she's been through more than is necessary-
The price you have to pay for living in the streets.
And she wants only enough life to keep on living.
She pulls out all the tricks: brushing against my legs, looking at me with her glossy eyes, purring gently.
So I feed her-
It takes nothing away from me.
And she leaves;
I get the feeling she thinks she's taking me for a ride,
But honestly the show she puts on pays for itself;
I only need enough life to keep on living.

Has been around for millennia.
We are fruit
Falling from the branches
Of a tree.
A tree we could never truly understand.
We fall
To give others
Another chance.
Some are carried away
By the wind
Or finches,
Or insects.
But most of us fall.
And most won't grow
Into a life giving tree.
Maybe you;
Definitely not me.
But that is the game.
As I see the ground approaching
At terminal velocity-
I'm just happy that I got to play.

The moon shines as a cross through my blinds,
And it is no longer poetic.
I fear nothing more shall ever be....
And I weep.
I weep
At 2:18 A.M.
In front of poets that don't give a **** about these words.
In front of a god who stopped caring long ago.
I weep not for myself,
But for the child who once saw poetry in every scene, regardless of how ugly or beautiful it was.
The moon light is a cross through my blinds,
And I could give a **** less.

Claire ,the soiled, is a clairvoyant. Clears the air of torment, all she sees is past this moment.
She can feel the apathy and ensuing sorrow, consequence of living in tomorrow.
I hope that she can find peace of mind, so I let her borrow a piece of mine.
The offering is slim,
I could never be them, or him.
It seems, for all the dreams we have, the future is never had.
Claire the clairvoyant questions the clarion call of clarity.
I'm losing touch with her, as she's losing touch with me.
I can't see past the present.
Past and present: that's when I learn my lessons.
Past and present: these are my future confessions.
I outlast my presence, but somehow lessen my essence.
I don't know what the end is.
Where is the ending?
I'm lost in a never ending state of ignorant conjecture.
I need Claire, but she's past this, somewhere in the future, and time travel has always been confusing to me.

My attention span
Is such.....

For you are a rose
Behaving as a dandelion-
Tough,
But
As the wind blows
You are scattered
Leaving nothing for yourself.
Let yourself be tended to
And bloom how you were intended to .
And perhaps, you'll lose your toughness, but then
You Could enjoy the cool breeze
And we can gleefully discuss it

It's disheartening to see sparks that once caught your eye slowly flicker away and die. I think on how long I carried the flame. Has it been long?
How many people have looked into my eyes and saw the fire waning? Now the smoking ashes of a once memory flutter in the wind like butterflies in migration. Where do they go? I don't know nor do I care anymore...

This thing I do with my hands
Is not art,
Though some may see it's tragic beauty.
Like whispers on a mountain range
I write
Estranged from perception.
It is not for you.
Somewhere deep inside
Remnants of my soul cling to life.
Unrepentant breaths,
Suffering humble deaths.
Cuts across my skin
Just to release endorphins.
Pain no longer suffices.
Numbness has taken a hold of me
The mellow glow of a yellow niceness.
Freedom only in death.
Used up four lives
How many have I left?
My soul cries,
"Not quite yet.
Just write it out.
Ride it out."

Another day.
Things are OK.
I'm still waiting
For my moment-
Any moment.
The fire
Has dimmed.
Smoke billows
Toward the sky.
I breathe,
But I'm barely even alive.
What's the point of fighting?

The world is invisible.
My brain can't comprehend what we're doing here.
"Fight you idiot!" That's what the voice inside my head yells.
Poe asks, "Can you no longer hear the bells?"
I can't....
It's all a low buzz now:
Cars honking for me to go,
The songs on the radio.

I am mist
Dissipating in the wind,
But it is OK
It's just another day.

What we
Are,
We shall never
Be.
We are programmed
For the stars-
Programed to the
Sea.

Sorrow touches my lips
As I exhale
An agonizing sigh.
Slumped over in a chair
Eager to go nowhere.
And I feel alone
Because I am.... I think.
And Descartes has been dead for some time now, but his thoughts live on amongst scholars claiming to know something of the world.
Meanwhile, I know nothing. Why does the sun keep coming up? Where do the dead go? Does time speed forward, or march on slow?
My back tires. I change posture, lean back.
I am alone, but these faces are not to blame. How do we communicate when I know not their name?

Don't force your thoughts onto my words.
Don't know if you're not sure.
What I mean and what I say
Are not the same-

A tragedy
I know...

Your eyes
Could melt
This pewter world,
And give
Power to
The powerless.
But the toungue
Learnt silence.
Statues remain
Intact.
Reality is no place
For dreaming.
Money trees grow
Their sickly, green leaves
As souls cascade
Into foreign soils.
You could've
Melted the world
With your song and dance,
But the rhythm
Has been broken.
The clocks are off key.
Some one
Should've done something.
Why are you looking at me?

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

It simply takes time

Begrudgingly, I place shoes upon my feet to go places I've been before
A million paces back and forth
Trail marks left on the floor
Trapped, not by chains or circumstance,
but by a mind unable to feel
Walking through minefields of neglect and lost intellect
How many lies did I forget?
How many lies do I still hold true?
Communication flows from you to me, but not me to you
I'm in dire straits
This turtle race
Makes me anxious
I scratch and scrawl
Diseased words
On my heart
Words like:
"Unyielding pain,
Demons, haunting, hopeless, can't, unable"
And we are conduits of our thoughts
I've been pacing back and forth in these shoes
And just now realized I've never put on socks

I could like you forever
Or love you
Every now and then.
Emotions
I haven't much use for them.
The ghost memories of a once heart
Guide my hand
Across this surface-
And I feel,
I feel

Betrayed

History is changing before our very eyes.
Every moment has its sides.
Only time decides
Who or what is right.
I've seen it time and time again.
And I don't much care for societies
Or ideologies
Or causes,
But I do support humans' right
To be human.

That's all we are-
Be kind to yourselves

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

Oh, oh,
I've been runnin from
You.
Runnin From
Your love.
Trying to keep my head above
Your flooded heart.
I've been picked apart
By scholars and scientists.
None of them know how I exist-
How I survive,
But I'm still alive
Runnin
From you.

I live in the moment
Between sighs
and the half-lies
people spew.
As they prepare to convince themselves
What they believe is true.

I seem to be secure
With what I know.
How am I so sure?
I'm not quite sure.

Everything has its place,
Has it's meaning
'Til you realize
The abject truth:
A spider eats a moth
The same way it does a butterfly.

I feel ***** when I go out in public.
Like a mangy dog everyone tries to avoid.
I don't want to cause problems, but people treat me so.
I stay to myself, someone walks up and asks what's my deal.
"I have none." I say.
They walk away, hate brooding in their eyes.
What gods have I angered to deserve such a fate.
My head hangs low as I look for scraps, to be left alone, that would be a blessing.
On a side note, writing seems to be losing its magic. Things I could not bear seem to be piling on. My escape is gone, and I fear I'm being backed into a corner, and eventually I'm going to have to fight back, only to reinforce people's image of me.

Not sure
                   When it happened.
When I lost passion.
Maybe,
                 Like all things,
It fades with time.

The process of moving a pen
Across a page doesn't feel the same.
Words don't carry weight,
But still they pull me down
As I drown in a pool of non-existence.
And I say "non-existence" because if you exist in a state other than your full potential, does it even really count?

All the failures of past generations and their endless frustrations; can you not feel them mount?

All the questions I can't ask out loud
So I write them down,
But what do I do when anxieties abound
And the smell of fresh ink doesn't sedate me like it used to?

When life gets too much
And you need to escape the clutch
Of reality, where does one recuse to?

Gentle words
                          Move me
Amongst
              Fellow Gentiles
Who weren't promised
                A thing.

What's psalms do I sing

               Now?

What temperance
Hath peace
In me
Started?
The nights
Swoon,
Dreams alight
Upon my mind
No longer.
Endless faith
In hopeless deeds-
Growing pains
From defective seeds.
What I am and what I came to be
Never coincided peacefully
I was supposed to set the world on fire,
Instead I water the seeds of my own discord
That something good may come of it

How does one muster the courage
To continue on
When dying
Is the natural thing to do?

The longer I live
The less I feel I should.
This is not my space.
I drink
To run.
Wish I could run
Away.
I run in place.
My thoughts like spider eggs
Thrive in the darkness-
My heart like sunflowers
Craves the light.
How does one stop this
Asymmetry
Without a violent fight?

The longer I look
The harder it gets to see
Any meaning.
The longer I write
The less it works
To dull my bleeding.

Does anyone have a fix?

My past creations are revelations
Of the beauty I once possessed.
My mind deserves its rest.
My best
Is distant memory
That I can reflect on
Happily.

The world is ending
According to people who've never known struggle.
People who've never had to drink rain water out of a puddle
Those who never had to muffle their breathing while hiding under floor boards
As murderers muddle their nature to execute evil accords.
The most protected demographic
Becomes befuddled at the thought
"Safety isn't promised

I pen these words
To upend the scourge of humanity
In me
For I have been human
Longer than I think I should've.
To be honest, my poetry isn't in the words you read, but in my mere existence.
I am celestial, eternal.
I know this life is death-
Still I take my breaths
Because mortality is a once in a lifetime experience.
I pen these words to chronicle the journey,
Nothing more.
I do not belong,
But here I am;
What keeps me going
Is that one day,
I shall return to the motherland
And this life will be a fleeting memory.
A moment to be remembered
Then forgotten
like it's supposed to be.

Eyes:
The glimmer has dulled.
In the winter
We curled together
Hopeful that summer would melt our frozen hearts.
Cryogenics never quite took off; forever is nothing to scoff at. How are we to spend eternity when this quarter century has already lasted too long? We listen to the same songs on repeat- we know the words but forgotten how to tap our feet. Asymptotic lives forced to come close but never meet. Summer is here. Our hearts were never really frozen, that's just what they told us. And to come together is to burn alive- Salem witch trials- mediocre minds know extraordinary vileness. Nights I wake up drenched in sweat wondering what could have been. I play our songs half hoping to be frozen in memory. I reach and reach, but touch only air. Heavy, humid air. Always choking on ghostly emotions. Rain clouds come round but nothing falls. Existential drought. Bodies fall,
Silent
Under the sun.
The unaffected
Play on the beach
And have fun.

Suffer with me
Just a bit longer.
Starless nights
In the city-
Watching, waiting
For a glimmer of peace.
Shooting stars
Zoom too fast for us
to make a wish, but truthfully,
I don't think either of us would know what to wish for.
Stare at me just a bit longer.
Dimmed eyes
Spiral out of control.
"I ain't a kid no more,
We'll never be those kids again."
Said we'd never hurt each other and meant it. Guess we didn't know how hard a promise is to keep. And we sing our emotions cuz we're tired of screaming and not being heard.
Overdose on lullabies
The starless nights
Seem to go on
But the songs,
The songs are lovely.

Where does a poet go
When his troubled soul
Is now fixed?
What happens when you move on, but can't let go of this
Writing thing?
Were these words my weakness or my strength?
They were all I had when there was nobody to confide in,
No one to listen.

Is there a support group for tears that once ran sad but now flow with joy?
For I am a man now, but deep inside is that lost little boy gasping for breath. Is letting him rest rebirth of death?
These words who were once a big part of me- I can't tell if they were my armor or vulnerability.

Where does a poet go when he's lost his words,
But gained a soul?

escape has become my cell
The Thin veil of freedom
Wraps tightly around my skin
Choke me with your silence
See me with no eyes
Death is a better alternative
You there, reader, are a fool
For sticking around so long
Look around there is nothing here:
3 walls and a cell door, a flimsy mattress atop a metal frame bolted to the wall, and a toilet.
In here I am all and nothing
Escape is overrated

I am a hideous thing stumbling through a field of sunflowers.
They reach high high toward the sky
I hang my head low low to avoid the glare in my eyes. It took me too long to realize; I belong nowhere, and so, I am at home in the shade amongst the nightcrawlers and vampires. The breeze hits my knees, my soul tires of walking through the hulking weeds. The sun sets, and their heads droop. It's finally time to move.