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1.7k · Jul 2014
Stuck!
Mitchell Mays Jul 2014
Help! I've got my head stuck!
No! Don't pass me by!
Why the hurry? Too rushed to see me!
...well, the view is quite nice here...
But wait! Sir, I've got things to do,
A life to live, a checklist to go through!
...looks like you do too...
Now that I think of it the smell is nice here too...
Wait! Help! I've got my head in the clouds,
And now I don't want to come down.
934 · Jun 2014
Day at the Beach
Mitchell Mays Jun 2014
You exist perhaps most in the waves…and I am a child come to the beach this day.
Over and over you lap the sand, foaming and roaring with joyful play.

I answer your call with a hint of caution, for the last thing roaring that I ran to was a fire and I felt the burn…yet your laughing splashes make me giddy, so I wiggle my toes closer and closer until   SWISH   a big wave I wasn’t expecting! Looks like you won’t let me settle for a little. As you swarm over my feet and between my toes, my fearful defenses are swept away. With a bubbly laugh I try and match your tone. I jump and dance and you catch me, smoothly slowing my feet till they reach the ground beneath…

But I could not be content in this ankle high puddle when it is just the fingertips of your breadth! Deeper, deeper I go, striding further into your wake…Suddenly I’m yanked to a stop by the second tug on my heart by fear….didn’t think my feet would disappear…I lift up my legs. Well, they are still there…I tiptoe forward, cringing with each step, unsure what it will bring, moistened sand or painful sting. A fish brushes past my leg and I fail to stifle a shudder. Now I see that the ocean is not the puddles.

While the splashing waves are you, this deeper unknown is too.

Breathing deeply I pause.              

Is it worth it to stay or should I go back to what I know?

My head pounds….I turn slowly ‘round, away from the giant waves that slide across the black abyss. Behind me lies sand, static, rugged, and bare….but at least I know what’s there.
For a moment I look left, then right, then down in despair.

But alas! My feet have already made the choice. Better to brave the fear, a worthy price for substance, for depth, for you to be there with me. I begin to tread more peaceably…then start to doubt that you would harm me. Yet as each wave pounds against my frame and I feel you all around, I feel your power over me and I know that you could if you wanted to. I trust you, and again I laugh this time at your raucous jostling.

I bring my hands to my face, and drag my fingers along my chin. This is not the face it used to be. I have grown, changed. I learned to stand among your waves. Your current may have pulled me in, but here I am, a man choosing to be with you. No matter how long I look out across your waters, in tempest or in calm, their beauty never ceases to sustain me. Though even in my manhood I cannot hope to see the ocean floor, I prefer it that way. I enjoy the trust of floating…when I sink you life me back up so I can breathe again.            

Yet, I gaze at you knowing that even amidst my most fervent desire to be with you, with the simplest push you could spit me right out again.
It is here that I stand, chest deep, heart deep, in your swirling sea…waiting to see…
612 · Jun 2014
The hope of a soldier
Mitchell Mays Jun 2014
A single lock of smooth dark hair
curled up in a small mint box,
that mellow fruity scent still there
unique among the putrid rock,
my only comfort in despair
from being far away from home.
The time that we have had to share
carries me when i'm alone.
Surrounded by blood, death, and pain
I cling to that luscious strand of life,
so that when I get that dark red stain
I simply think of my dear wife.
557 · Jun 2014
Untitled
Mitchell Mays Jun 2014
Children see life through a different lense,
A creak in the hall could be death.
Imagination stirs their mind to a frenze,
Refusing the body to rest.
Their wild minds consider every option,
While we even critic what we see!
Kids create quite a concoction,
as we dumb it down to the utmost degree.
So is this a pro or a con?
Lets put it as simply as this:
When the robber comes in with a gun,
the kid's under the bed and you're dead!
486 · Jun 2014
[ ]
Mitchell Mays Jun 2014
[ ]
Oh Silence, What is your true form?
Silence cold and silence warm.
Silence is gold and money is power and power corrupts
So on one side silence destructs as an epic dictator.
The high card to any hand, though some may deem you bland,
your flavorlessness is not without potency, for boldly you cry for attention,
the throbbing emptiness louder and louder erupts when broken by words, making any and all sound absurd.
You are the quintessential nagger,
The silent treatment, a dagger to the heart.
Your are the ultimate obscurity,
For one could hide eternity behind that shroud of nothingness.
You are death,
For only the lifeless lack that subtly murmured breath.
But silence doesn’t stop there, for it wouldn’t be fair
To compare that pure soundless air to a dictator and not a peacemaker.
A moment of quiet amongst the riot of life is enough,
Enough to rebuff that ignorance, that helplessness, that stuff,
Which drags beneath the busy current of a day.
What other way could you flush out the reverberating noise
Echoing, toying with your mind.
In the midst of the cacophony silence is ecstasy.
Silence, the epitome of reverence,
For when your body, and even tongue bends in awe,
It is submission so raw, words cannot contend.
Silence is true.
Before a word is vocalized it has already been compromised,
Perverted to imbue a hint of meaning separate from reality.
Thus the purity of silence, how can one twist what does not exist?
But am I any further to understand,
The abilities which silence has?
It is a gift; it is a curse.
To a deaf man constant, to a husband the adverse.
Both dangerous and humorous, but to delve into the depths of quiet is most arduous.
Since we shall never know, the extent that silence goes
It has secrets it shall never show.
338 · Jul 2014
Untitled
Mitchell Mays Jul 2014
The world is a broken place.
Some people blame it on race,
Others on the government being
Out of place,
But for each finger we point away
At our backs another
Has something to say about us.
And after untangling that convoluted knot of loud opinions and anger wrought
We are left with the circle of humanity
Too busy tripping over vanity,
Too busy bringing others to sanity
To embrace it themselves.

— The End —