I used to live on the coast,
with the sun shining every day,
as the gentle breeze would rush under my arms.
I was dragged to a city by a wonderful host,
whilst getting caught in the the disorderly fray,
as I was never able to get the hang of its charms.
You see I'm still not used to the everyday ******,
and the typical poor mans plea,
I think  of the soft subtle waves which hid behind my door,
and the way the light glinted off the calm sea,
I do not think I will get used to this damp city with you,
but at least I always awake with the most beautiful view.

My hands are wrapped around your throat,
gripping tightly as I squeeze the life from you,
with your eyes fixated upon my chest,
where my heart used to be.
Your frequent gasps struggle to keep you afloat,
as you change to the most beautiful shade of blue,
I always found this to be you at your best,
when you are down to your knees.

Don't resist and don't fight,
for only I can remove my hands from your neck,
to peel them away would be a burden,
when it is so much easier to just let you die.

My thoughts when I am with you are impossible to see,
I am unable to decipher thoughts residing in me,
the tension in my mind, tight like a wire,
as  rages on inside me, bright as a wildfire.

What makes you so special is not just your image,
(although that surely helps invoke some thought)
but the mind behind the eyes which light up so bright,
as if within the brain there is no need for privilege,
nothing needed and nothing bought,
with a gentle soul that was purely white.

You free me from the binds within my soul,
as I recognize the potential of what is to come,
without you, within me there is merely coal,
unable to light the fire, as I would merely be numb.

We photograph ourselves,
to remind each other,
of who we are.
But these pictures end up on endless shelves,
as nobody will even bother,
as they are busy showing off their new car.
We don't realize the image we show,
is not really who we are,
but who we wish others thought we were,
and with this mentality we will never grow,
and we will never get very far,
as we alter ourselves for what others prefer.

I do not judge you,
for who you are,
or what you do,
for I am not the judge nor the jury,
I am merely the executioner.
Whom everyone knows holds a bit of fury,
although as I look upon your face,
and see the facade melting off it,
your guilt shows your disgrace,
and as my heart judges your actions,
and my soul decides upon your fate,
it is my mind that must do the transactions,
and executing isn't its best trait.

I had left you long ago,
in mind, body and soul.
but you push back to have me,
at the expense of who you want to be.
You talk about change and being who I want,
but is that really love, when what I want is just a haunt?
What kind of lover would I be,
if I were to restrain the one I am meant to love.
I believe your priorities are askew,
you do not want to be free,
if you are willing to change without a shove,
so please tell me,
how am I meant to love you?

This pressure is like a waterfall,
as I topple from the force into the water.
I'm submerged in everything you've created,
and drowning in your dissatisfaction.
I can feel myself within your thrall,
as you begin this bloodless slaughter,
my lungs begin to feel weighted,
and I am unable to do any action.

But I have been tossed in a lake before,
and was expected to drown in the pool,
all thought I would die in the bathtub,
but luckily I know how to swim.
I will collect myself out of this mental war,
and not be played as a fool,
and it will be my turn to drub,
and I will make it to the water's brim.

Why do we choose to live life by others rules,
following everything we were taught in schools,
being herded through life like a pack of mules,
it is as if we have grown to accept our dependence.
On T.V. shows about children we don't know,
to the latest celebrity caught with a nose full of blow,
we don't realize our minds being molded like dough,
as shadows prohibit our ascendance.
But we can fight this evil that has entered our brains,
and relinquish ourselves from societies chains,
let the blood run free as it does in your veins,
and no longer live your life as if in attendance.

My inner strength and constant fight,
does not stem from some inner might,
it comes from my inner bite,
and the depreciation of those around me.
Through my mental analysis,
I separate others through a dialysis,
and create my own psychoanalysis,
and it boosts my confidence by a degree.
I critique their brain, their clothes and their hair,
what I see in them is not fair,
but without knowing them I cannot care,
and that is how it will always be.
But I am not alone in the world of judge,
it is as if inside of me there is a grudge,
seeing others merely feels like a trudge,
and many others agree.

Are we not the epitome of what we condemn others for,
as we will fight the good fight of our youth,
while we ******* on the internet to a *****,
and blind ourselves to the truth.
That we have chosen to deny what is hurting us,
and instead cover it up with an excuse,
avoiding the humility only creates distrust,
life's truth's are covered by a ruse.
While we tell our children that *** is only with love,
and drugs are what make people die,
while we hide the reason a man ever made the glove,
and avoid the reason in which people fly.
We choose to believe that everyone should be good and holy,
and only the delinquents are what ruin society,
but everyone is the same and going to die slowly,
so why should we all stick with proprieties?

So I have this idea to do a collaboration poem with someone. Where we would set up a premise and then we would each choose a theme and write and put them together and see how they work. Maybe have them be different POV's or anything. Shoot me a PM if you're interested or anything.

The only way nature can compare,
is by saying something like:
If nature was nearly as beautiful as you,
then we would be living in the wild.

I would use nature to describe you,
but you are so unnatural,
it would be a disservice,
or an insult,
to your beauty.

The basic art of poetry is to portray what cannot be seen,
whether it be a feeling of love and happiness or a different theme.
To write of how we feel so much for one woman over the next,
but the recipient of the feelings differs between each text.
Is what we write, truly within our hearts,
or is each poem merely appealing to everyone's different parts.
When I read the poem of heartbreak,
can it truly relate to all those things that kept me awake.
Or was the poet simply throwing words onto the ground,
and attempting to gain support over his illiterate mound.
I do not believe that anyone can feel what I feel,
but then again,
to everyone else,
what they feel is more real.

Oh how I fight,
so that my heart is always with you,
with the temptation my chest tight,
but I always will hold true.
As the thoughtless lustful bodies fill my eyes,
attempting to distract me with an ****** twist,
I recognize they will be my demise,
and create an opportunity which will be missed.
Because my dear, you are but a miracle,
carefully crafted by what one could only assume to be a god,
our love is almost satirical,
causing every potential disaster to appear as only a broad.
With my heart trapped in your hands,
it is slave to your hearts demands.

There he was, just a boy, sitt'in by the street,
impressionable and young, innocent through and through,
up comes a *****, giving him a smile that was sweet,
crooked teeth, coked up nose and spitting a loogie of chew,
she looked at him and impressed a world he never knew.
"Hey there boy, you're looking bored, happen to got a dollar?
I swear, you got enough and I'm gonna make you hollar!"

The boy stared at the boisterous cleavage which she presented,
as he didn't realize the trouble she fermented,
he stood up tall and looked her in the eye,
and replied to her with his voice so wry,
"Now listen up ***** and listen well,
I won't pay a dollar until I prove it isn't hell!
But if you can ****, and ****, well then time will tell..."
The boy had no idea what he had said,
but he wanted to be like his father who was now dead.
The ***** looked down in utter shock,
but this didn't stop her from making money from ****,
she taught the boy her every move,
which in the future he would learn to improve.

When it was done that young man had changed,
his mental capacity had re-arranged,
you see, in his life he had learned so many things,
about violence, *** and all the drug kings,
people would blame it upon the violent/minority gene
but what can you expect, when someone is just thirteen?

Look at what I've done,
do you even see?
The work that I've completed,
it's what defines me.
At least that is what I say,
when I discuss my work to some,
but that is not what is at play,
to your opinions I succumb.

How can I stop this feeling,
of pining for approval,
and begin my personal annealing,
to fight your disapproval?

Why must I sell myself
for your approval,
when I'm loved by so many
or so I'm told.
Why must I pretend
to care for your woes,
when I have so many
or so i tell myself.
Why must I love
when I am not in love,
I have so many to love
but nobody who loves me.

My back hurts,
from the weight that it carries,
the kilos of love which you dropped upon me,
combined with the grams of hate I still hold,
mixed with the pounds of guilt I created,
on top of the sadness stuck within my heart.

My back hurts,
from the things I have done,
to what I have said,
it melts onto my back,
and out of my head.
But you are there to lift me when I fall,
carry my shoulders so that I stand tall,
remove the weight into your heart,
and give my own a strong quick start.

My back hurts,
but your back must hurt too,
as you carry me upon your back,
combining it with the hurt within you.
So teach me the proper form,
I know the weight never goes away,
but you can help me calm the storm,
and maybe I can help you someday.

Rich and lavish, everyone covets them,
wanting makes us selfish, so we choose to condemn,
acting as if the high life is wrong,
and yet we admire it in every song,
but the glittering gold of self-sufficiency,
while believing due to their superb efficiency,
has given the rich a false sense of superiority,
while distilling on us a feeling of inferiority.

So how do we fight back against the man?
We try to take everything we can.
"He doesn't need it! He has so much!"
is what we will shout on a fateful march,
but our words fall upon deaf ears,
as the ones who should listen,
are the ones distilling our fears.

Vous êtes mon petit oiseau,
Vous avez mon coeur, isn't that so?
So don't fly away my little bird,
stay here with me and you'll never get hurt.
Your broken wings I can repair,
and soon you will glide next to me,
We will both be soaring in the air,
to be with one another, over the sea.

Sleep,
I need it so bad,
I want it right now,
like a ***** for some love,
there's nothing I'm above,
Sleep,
The tranquil appeal of silence,
cut off from the world,
nothing in my ears,
free from all my fears.
Sleep,
Why is it so good,
yet unattainable for me,
is it that I don't deserve,
or is that just what I observe.
Sleep,
I'll get it some day,
as it alludes me like a bird,
flying high into the sky,
dodging me until I die.

When I look at art,
I become convoluted,
it tears me apart,
it has become polluted.
Since when did **** on a wall,
or a picture of a tease,
stop to appall,
and begin to please.
The idea of being ironic,
induces the idea of being lazy,
the laziness is chronic,
and fine lines become hazy.
As we tell ourselves it is beyond meaning,
we leave it to the experts to analyze the farce,
but to buy this stuff is demeaning,
it would seem true art is scarce.

I stand above a child,
looking down upon his actions,
but he only looked and smiled,
as I am only one of his distractions.
He keeps his eyes set forward,
without looking back,
his view never altered,
always staying on track.
I look at him as just a stepping stone,
someone to pivot myself until I've won,
but if I wasn't there he wouldn't have known,
for in his mind, he was already done.

The ocean is a perfect metaphor,
alone, alive, unhappy, even content,
it almost feel's like that is what it's for,
but no-one can tell what I really meant.
Gently flowing onto a bay,
will make one think of a soothing scene,
but that is not what I am trying to say,
and that is what gives poetry its glowing gleam.
I can describe the hurt with waves,
or hate with a tsunami,
maybe the calmness within the caves,
as the ocean will will define me.

My words dribble, no, pool out,
as if I just had a shot of novacane,
and I have been numbed of all feeling.
But I know, this numbness will soon escape me,
and I will feel this hole I chewed through my lips,
and I will see the blood I spat on your face.

It's funny how,
the t.v. will tell,
us what to do.
Choose what to allow,
and conserve intel,
and say it's all for you.

Tell a lie,
disguised as truth,
to start a certain fad.
What will you buy,
to conserve your youth,
as you succumb to the ad.

They say "Live your life,
with self-control,
and proud to be yourself".
With a knife,
held to your soul,
on aisle three, top shelf.

I don't want to get out of my bed,
it's too cold,
there are so many things that I dread,
not everything is glitter and gold.
I don't want to get out of my bed,
there is so much sadness,
sometimes I'd rather be dead,
it'd be an escape from the madness.
I don't want to get out of my bed,
what will happen if I stay?
When I die, what will be said?
Only that I kept my fears at bay?

I should get out of my bed,
I may fear loss,
of love,
life,
happiness.
But if I don't get out of bed,
I may as well be dead.

Lukewarm love,
I'll have a cup of it, to start my morning.
I will not quit, I have done my mourning.
Our love is like leftover tea, putting a bad taste in my mouth
It's not worth being free, when leaving it would mean heading south.
To the hell with my life, which means being alone,
It's better to have a wife, and live life as a drone.
Keeping up with all the tricks, just to keep them content,
You'll always get your kicks, hoping your love will augment.
So we can live our time, pretending to be happy,
Living life as a mime, until we become too snappy.
But I'll have a cup of lukewarm love,
I guess I'm in love... Sort of?

Why is it people only read when it is about you,
although these poems are all I can tolerate.
Is it because my words are so true,
when my dislike will only consolidate.
Are you worth the pain which courses through my brain,
as readers pander for the hurt which you cause,
The only emotion that they enjoy is insane,
So to satiate their lust I reveal my flaws.

Lemme just say this,
before you go and take the ****.
I have feelings too,
some of which you never knew.
Words hit me just as hard,
although I react to them like a bard.
Quick on my feet with a rebuttal,
Although I have a knack of not being subtle.
I'm sorry for when I'm so cruel,
my words poor out like drool.
So why can't we both love, laugh and be calm,
because you are truly the best mom.

What is it about me, that makes it so easy for you to hate?
Is it the way that I have succumbed to being your doormat,
Or perhaps the knack you have of making my heart deflate,
I try so hard to make you proud,
Being your savior, your friend and your trustee,
I try to make you talk about me out loud.
But it would appear that you do not think of me.
I must grow as an adult in order to survive,
And then maybe you will care if I am alive.

I can take a hit,
so tell me the truth,
I can take it bit by bit,
I still have my youth.
But if you keep this on,
and play with my trust,
as if this is a heartless con,
and you're in it for lust.
But if you can feel the fire inside,
when your eyes capture mine,
if you never lied,
it sends a tingle up my spine.

My words pour out,
like a gutter reaching its breaking point,
splashing down and creating quite a mess no doubt.
But everything else is wet from rain so it is not seen,
The next day everything is clear as day,
The gutter now has an awkward lean,
And the slightest wind can cause it to sway.

The beauty of Audrey Hepburn would appear to have no parallel,
With luscious eyes and soft white skin as smooth as caramel,
From the class, and the elegance, that so few have,
Combined with the innocence of a newborn calve,
La femme parfaite,
society may say.
Although she does not make me laugh, love and stand above,
Because Audrey pales in comparison to my love.

I explore the icy cave within you,
searching for what can only be described as warmth,
I never found where the heat came from,
but the walls began to melt.

Do not look for me in your heart,
I am not there as I have been evicted,
It was something neither of us predicted,
I guess our connection was not as it was depicted.
I will not look for you in my heart,
For you slipped out in the dark of the night,
When I was asleep and could not foresee the plight,
That was the last time my heart would extend an invite.

Currently there are:
Thousands of cars zooming down the highway at breakneck speeds,
Millions of lights illuminating the dreary road,
With the power of a hundred valiant steeds,
Causing the cement to corrode and erode,
Thousands of fossil fuels burnt merely to transport other fossil fuels,
Pollutants filling the air and altering our environment,
But these are the worlds most precious jewels,
All to feel the capitalist tyrant.
But hey... At least I have air conditioning in my F150 while heading to set off Chinese fireworks while celebrating the 4th of July.
The American Dream.

I look out my window and see a woman struggling with bags,
I look across the street and I see a man in rags,
Weak and torn the people like wasting away,
Their sanity has been been hanging on a fray,
They do not see it this way.
Their lives tell stories which we do not know,
Of hardship and love, and terrible woes,
We look upon their image and decipher their story,
But we do not take the time to recognize their glory,
We only notice the scars and bruises,
As we are caught up in our own muses,
We say "Let us help these harrowed ones!!",
As we sit and twiddle our thumbs...
So before we stare with our full-figured and shallow empathy,
We should be sure to practice our apathy.

I was lost,
within the wild ,
I am lucky,
you like to climb mountains.

It's funny how after a drink or few,
we can talk about everything,
from the polarization of political parties,
to love, life and the pursuit of happiness.
While the next day all we can think,
is how to get rid of this ******* headache.

Oh My God,
Get the **** out of my head,
Oh my god,
You keep me in bed.
I can't stand your smell as if you are a lavender field,
Flowing briskly in the wind without a hitch,
I can't stand the way you think,
With each word my heart will sink.
You used to have me,
in every single way,
But now you are like the sea,
and I can't find the bay.
I'm lost now, because of you,
you made me go far away, into the ocean blue.
But I don't blame you, for I am not a coward,
With all of this water, I merely flowered.

I let it all out,
put right in front.
I just want to pout,
and be very blunt.
It's been taken away from me like wind blowing money away,
what really get's at me is I don't even have a say.
So I let it all out,
with a really loud shout,
Nobody listens,
so I let it all out.

How can I prove to you that I am yours,
In this monogamous love has started mind wars.
You believe that I can not hold your heart,
But to me your mind is sophisticated art.
The feelings which course through your soul have only intrigued me,
I can only hope you will understand my plea:
Of when I look at you smile it is as if there is a race inside my veins,
And I can't run from the feelings because it is as if I am in chains.
Your eyes make me drown as if I am diving into a pool of thought,
I love you too much to realize this is all part of your plot.
To have me love you and care forever,
You really are quite clever.
Caring and loving me with all that you can,
It is as if this was always your plan.
To capture my heart, body and mind,
And in doing so you have made me blind.
Being without you is like a candy without sugar,
and I'm just a big kid.

I want to believe it's true,
but your words drip with guilt like dew falling from a blade of grass,
falling gently enough to notice,
but not to take note.
There are so many flaws within your lies,
it's something of you, I have come to despise.
Must I relinquish and undermine my original sense of being,
or continue with this misrepresented agreeing.

Do you think you could help me out?
I've got a wife and a kid,
I'd almost sell them for the highest bid.
Haven't eaten in weeks, showered in a while,
So that's my excuse for smelling like bile.
So can you help me out?
But you have work, kids and gotta pay the car bill,
The new playstation came out and its looking real good,
You're stressed to find if you'll get money from your uncles will,
And you couldn't be bothered to take a step in the hood.

It's fine, I understand, the prolific problems of the poor are of no use,
We will survive these hardships with only a little abuse.
Take our freedom and take our pride,
Do not worry, we will not hide.
But first,
Can you help me out?

You're controversial,
Insane,
Like a commercial.
Off the chain.
But you make me smile,
and always are fun,
I'd run a million miles,
To play with you in the sun.
I used to go and hide to think of you at night,
I'd squeeze away in that spot you knew which was real tight.
I'd think of you and all we did,
Being children and doing things that were forbid.
It was fun and I miss you lots and I hope you are well,
Skeeter came and you needed company so I guess you two are swell.
-I miss you lots

I hope you don't mind,
that I don't think of you as often.
Everyone else does, but I can't.
I didn't really meet you, because I don't remember.
But the things I do remember I like.
So just know I do love you,
Just, more people we know love you more.
I love you and I wish to have known you more.

You recently left,
I was there the last day.
It felt like a theft,
How you were taken away.
But I understand that is how it goes,
Can you at least listen to what I propose?
We go to the park and hang around there,
I can grab some food and give you a bit because that's fair.
Then go home and get some sleep,
And I'll always have you as mine to keep.
But now I hear you are happy as ever,
And knowing that my bond will never sever.