I'm cold,
so cold,
be my sun and shine on me,
be the energy to give me a gleam.
I'm selfish,
so selfish,
so succumb to my needs,
be my mother's ****,
comfort me and let me eat.
Now I am alive,
and you are cold,
but I still need more,
I will be so bold,
and leave you on the floor,
as my insatiable thirst for strength grows,
I will turn away and raise my nose,
for when you die it is not my fault,
you gave to much,
so take that worth a grain of salt.

To leave you is to love you,
isn't that the hard truth.
As I walk outside your doorway,
taking with me all my youth.
We will grow old someday,
and think of one another,
but I choose to walk away,
rather than to smother.
When we meet again,
on a day far from here,
will we be like two lovebirds,
holding one another dear.
Or will you leave and find a man,
who can satisfy your needs,
or will you follow the plan,
and help plant loves seeds.
Love is like a plant,
fighting for that sun,
but the sun can dry it out,
shooting it like a gun.
But if we can shield ourselves,
from the overbearing shots,
we may outgrow these restrictive pots,
and hopefully connect the dots.
Let our leaves touch so softly,
like your gentle hands,
I hope that our grasp will depict,
our growth across the lands,
as they reach past the soil which restricts,
and breaking through the vines which conflicts,
we will meet once again,
connected by this natural chain.

I have a college degree,
but no money,
a future in my eyes,
and that is all I can see.
Blinded by dreams of grandeur,
ignoring the fact that I am poor,
As success is in my future for sure.
Ignoring my surroundings I drive full speed,
not seeing the bump,
I am blinded by greed.
Hitting it and going off course,
running off the road and down a ditch,
crashing with immense force,
and my dreams die without a twitch.

We could have baked the best brownies in town,
ones' filled with warm gooey love,
or cooked the best cake around,
so that people would think it came from above.
We planned on making a flavourful omelette,
which would satisfy us for years,
with colored foods of green, red or even violet,
anything except our tears.
Our plans built up like they often do,
holding us down like a chain on our legs,
eventually our plans fell through,
I guess we waiting to long and became bad eggs.

We are raised with society surrounding us,
yet we feel the need to distinguish,
in-group ourselves with the outliers,
to live with our anguish.
In doing so we gain some right,
believing that different makes us better,
rather than live in that ignorant shroud,
and stand together loud and proud.
What we don't understand is in our drive to survive,
and seem entirely different,
we ourselves have joined a society,
and with that we have fallen into proprieties.
Hot Topic,  and the slop that is gangster,
we wear to create a wall,
between us and conforming society,
who unlike us never heard the call.
The call to greatness,
the call to art,
the call to pimping,
we all had a start.
And now we sit in our ****** homes,
(trying to) make money by day ,
thinking where we went wrong.
How did I fall out with so many opportunities,
where did I fall off the wagon?

Well kid, it happened when your pants started saggin,
when you wore the black to stick out from the white,
when you refused to try because nobody "got it",
and when you were always looking for a fight.
It's easy to put the blame on someone else,
how else can you live with such dissonance?
Maybe if you had shut up and listened,
instead of dirt you would be the one who glistened.

There is more to me I am sure,
I could be an astronaut,
or a politician,
I just need to get motivation.
I have more heart and soul,
it is just buried down there,
but I am digging a hole,
I have the stuff I just got to get it,
it may be hidden,
but not forbidden.
There is more to me I am sure,
it is just a matter of finding it,
I did lose it, I admit.
There is more to me I am sure,
but finding it does not make me secure,
so I will leave it be..
And endure.

Let me have a drink,
I don't want responsibilities,
I don't want to think.
Just let me have a ******* drink,
drown myself in my sorrow,
keep me from thinking of tomorrow.
For if I numb my mind enough,
and drown my sorrows in a beer,
I can accomplish anything that is rough,
while making my mind bright and clear.

Or is that what I tell myself,
as I pop open that bottle,
telling myself my mind will be clear.
And with each drink I gain confidence,
believing that I gain competence,
like a man who fought no wars,
yet surrounds himself with ******.
Speaking of stories which I never knew,
and thinking of the next lie I will brew.
So do I need this drink to live?
or merely just to have a story to give?

Your hands grow moist as we start to slip,
Oh how I remember the days we were attached by the hip.
To feel your breath like a warm summers breeze,
Our hearts were like a puzzle that was finished with ease.
Every bit of you matched up with me,
When together, we finally felt free.

Something happened that shook the puzzle loose,
Suddenly I began to imagine tying a noose.
Our pieces were once so tightly attached,
It appears that we need some form of patch.
Our pieces clash without any excuse,
You are like a bomb with a short fuse.

Now we search halfheartedly in order to be complete,
But to search and learn what we lost would be an extraordinary feat.
We both hope to be completed together,
But we've yet to grasp we may be lost forever.

I'm getting tired,
for you are not that light,
my back is breaking.
I carry you like a mother monkey does,
despite your sagging layer of love,
except I no longer feel the strength of my heart,
and so my back is breaking.

I have been gone,
but now I'm back,
is that not what we wanted?
Now we can get on track!
Or have we lost the race already,
fatigued ourselves,
no longer steady?
Let us push to try and win,
but if we cannot then lets us finish,
have some dignity and end it right,
there is no need to succumb to a losing fight.
If there is the off chance that we make it,
then that is a chance we should take,
because to quit is pathetic,
so lets pretend to be athletic.

Do not let me fall down into this well,
please do not let me fall,
gain the strength to save me.
Come and release me from this cell,
smash away at this wall,
come and set me free.
Please get me out of this hell,
I have been brought down to a crawl,
listen please, to my plea.
No one is able to hear me yell,
It may be my fault they did not hear the call,
or maybe I was left cast out at sea.

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.

My vision is clouded,
but that doesn't stop me from seeing,
yet my decisions are continuously clouded.
Our connections holds me tight,
like the noose around my neck,
yet I choose to hang here,
because what is clear merely brings me fear.

I am why the bell tolls rings,
full of death, pain and hurt,
filling hearts with tears of dread,
for I am why the bell tolls ring.
I am why the church gathers,
gaining support under God,
living through fear of me,
as I am evil's epitome.
I am why you succumb to crime,
hurting others for your gain,
I am the one who passes time,
making your end seem closer.
I am fear and loathing too,
filling your mind with confusion,
I am who makes you feel blue,
as I steal life's illusion.

He did not understand the storm within his mind; as his thoughts would turn towards humankind,
He thought of the hate within his life,
but his thoughts were pure,
as he analyzed the strife,
and contemplated a cure.
But behind the greatest intentions,
and all of man's creations,
there is a whirlwind of temptations,
which must be pushed in the right path.
But with all the greed and the hate,
and surrounded by sin's bait,
things will go awry,
as it is only fate.
So with his heart as pure as gold,
slowly melting as he gets old,
always doing as he's been told,
until his heart is covered in mold.
And with his distraught inside,
slowly going bad with age,
he realizes his dreams have died,
while living life out in a cage.

I care so much for others,
so I donated five dollars,
to stop the child neglect,
because it is my duty to protect.
In my country we do not have child labor,
for we have pure souls,
only heathens would allow such things,
so I let others pull the strings.

Bombs blowing in the air,
ruins the moisture for my hair,
let dying dogs lie I always say,
as long as they don't get in my way.
Let those slum children die,
so I can let out an excited cry,
when my soccer team doesn't let a goal go by.
We should clean and fix this place,
I will say when I visit the disgrace,
how can a country be so displaced,
how did it become such a waste?
But when I get home,
I forget what I saw,
as I have no time to waste,
with society's flaw.

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.

Why is it that every time I finally get it within my grasp,
it slips away like water through a strainer.
So close to what I need, desire, admire,
willing to drop everything for that one chance,
but every time.
Every God ****** time,
it slips away,
out of my hands,
onto the floor,
where it crashes; painting the floor with my failure,
over my other fresh coat of dreams.

Listen to the fact,
do not use your heart,
it has more tact.
Like a politician leading you astray,
directing you,
like a character in a play.
When you finish and the crowd applauds,
you stand as if you are awed,
but the truth is you are a fraud,
and the entire play has been flawed.
We are toy soldiers,
directed by a child,
told to move boulders,
with our weakening shoulders.
What will they do when we go up that hill?
As our footing breaks underneath our feet,
will they catch the rock coming to crush us alive,
or will they merely stand atop,
looking down to chastise.
They will throw their tantrums,
and sing their anthems,
speak of how they did their part,
and that maybe you should start.
Their part was to give direction,
and because of their perfection,
they deserve protection.
So as we lay dying on the ground,
unable to move,
not making a sound.
They will call upon the rest of the soldiers,
to fight their wars,
and move the boulders.

Let me tie my own noose please,
for I know how I like it,
tied with what I call a tease,
and a loop as a ***.
For this is what hangs me,
not my failed work,
but my growing inhibitions.
And as I try to fix my sin,
and stop all repercussions,
my inner self pulls a grin,
and I find myself wiht a concussion.
I don't know where I am,
I don't know how I got here,
but there I am, in a jam,
with a woman biting my ear.
It isn't as if I don't try to have control,
for a perfect set of gifts is not my only goal,
but the simple distraction,
has caused me to faction,
debating over my hearts contraction,
while my body only looks for action.
So what can I do? With these corrupt counterparts,
working together, to tear us apart?
I can merely succumb to my soul,
as I don't have the strength to fight my bodies control.

Well aren't you just a big tough guy,
no need for help,
letting everything go by.
You think you are like a lone wolf,
going at it alone,
not expecting a bone.
Well what if I told you that even wolves have packs,
relying on others,
having someone watch their backs.
What if I told you that it is alright to have someone,
to not always run,
to not need that gun.
What if I told you that you do not have to be alone,
that there is a person,
for everyone.
Well raise your head,
from the dead,
you can make out alive.
You just need to strive,
go ahead and take that dive.
Be like the bird stepping out of its nest,
you will not be a pest,
just do your best.
Even if you fail,
fall to the ground and break a bone,
just remember,
you will never be alone.

My voice explodes from within my soul,
hatred stemming from my broken heart,
blinded by smoke from your heart of coal,
wondering how we tore apart.
While fire emanated from our love,
the heat became too hot to handle,
I should wear a glove when holding you,
but my insatiable hunger I cannot resist.
You are the dinner I have slaved for,
a great idea, soon to be a chore.
Like a child biting a hot meal,
only to be reprimanded by mother,
a kiss from you I will steal,
even if the smoke does smother.

Tell me what to do,
and push me away from you,
as your control fills my head,
make me wish that I was dead.
Don't let me find out for myself,
so when I face adversity,
it will take my mental health,
and fill my life with controversy.
But hey, at least you wached my back,
So I learned to not expect an attack,
So when it came,
I was slain,
as my ignorance became my bane.
But you were right and I was wrong,
I should have listened all along,
I will pay, that's what you say,
If only I had followed your way.
So now I lay bloodied and dying,
and in my heart I know I'm lying,
to tell myself that you were always right,
merely to avoid a childish fight,
I should have looked behind my back,
as it was you who had attacked.

What is it that we see within each others torn heart,
During the times of dire need we have grown apart.
Still grasping for one another as if it were all the same,
And yet we both realize have become tormentingly mundane.
Is it these memories that tie us to this mental prison,
Or the belief that you and I can fight this cataclysm.
Should we salvage all that we have learned to know,
Or is it time for us to let go..?

I'm drunk,
and writing poetry,
about the idea of love, lust and the pursuit of happiness.
But to get out of this funk,
and to stop writing poetry,
I need to pursue happiness.

Hold me in your arms tonight,
release me of all my fright,
be my bodyguard for my mind,
to the real world I am blind,
by puppet strings I hung,
until I was no longer young,
you made me walk on my own,
able to withstand every stone.

I killed him I think,
because of some out of context quotes,
I was the cement tied to his feet which made him sink.
He did not hear what I had to say,
out of sight, out of mind,
And yet he is who had to pay.
These are the psychological consequences of life,
believing I caused undue harm,
because I spoke of the knife.
But that is merely the facts of life,
I did not stab, swing or poke,
at the end of my gun there is no smoke.
There are merely words which came from my mouth,
nothing deadly,
nothing that sent him South.
Yet I feel a harrowing burn,
a fire in my soul,
that it will someday be my turn.

Upon the cliff I stand alone,
after facing such harsh weathers,
standing up with a mighty grown,
as my clothes are torn to tethers.
Looking down at the blood I have shed,
the wounds which have healed,
the scars blanketing my head.
They are merely God's surprises,
never truly a danger,
coming from life's disguises,
from a lover to a stranger.
And yet you are different in a different way,
with words as smooth as silk,
and a voice like a mockingbird.
You wrap the wounds of my heart,
which the sweetest phrase.
I love you flew into my head,
and set my heart ablaze...


This fire burned every scar,
melting my skin and heart,
removing every tiny mar,
and letting me restart.

Why does this world seem so dark,
with ****** and suicide at every channel,
with a **** in some unknown country up on a panel.
And yet we continue to live our lives,
filled with thoughts of insults on people we barely know,
stabbing one another with thoughts shaped like knives.
And then when we are hit with a catastrophic moment,
where someone is dead who was close to our hearts,
and only then is when our empathy starts.
I had a friend die today who I hadn't spoken of in years,
yet I do not find myself in tears,
he was a man who had lived his life,
but took it away when filled with strife.
Yet I cannot bring myself to believe,
that people will put up faces to deceive.
Our selfish desires make us look past them,
forgetting that we could be where the problems stem.
And how can there be such selfish desires,
to ******, steal and start fires.
We desire money and pride,
while looking past societies suicide.
So maybe if we look into ourselves,
and realize we are just one of many on the shelves,
to care and protect should be our main goal,
not to just live and collect our toll.

I can't say what I want to you,
because it is held up in my chest,
I want to scream and let it out,
but I fear that is not best.
They always say never show your hand,
for a modest man is admirable,
but now I must make my stand,
and put myself all in,
by telling you that I love you.
It is not just a love that you see in the flicks,
or the type that you read in the books,
my love is like a thousand bricks,
landing upon your head.................

**** the formalities. **** the artistry.
There is no art in love,
there are no metaphors,
similes,
onomatopoeias...
There is only that unheard of force which keeps me going,
the battery to my soul,
the engine to my heart.
There is only that unheard of lift when I hear your voice,
it flies me above the clouds,
letting me see what I can be.
The only art which I can see,
which involves loves beauty,
is the masterpiece that the lord made,
when he graced us with you my fair maid.

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

I do not want to wake up seeing what I see,
the shivers down my spine,
the fear within my heart.
I cower at the thought of being free,
when the stars will align,
when I must play my part.
I do not know of who I will be,
will I shine,
or will I trip at the start.
I must step out this door and flee,
released from this confine,
I must make life art.

The thought... idea... notion.
That you will leave me someday,
leaves me hollow as a log,
with maggots eating my heart, like your body.
Knowing what we have,
will once be what we had,
lost in the fog of our memories,
with no road back.
That day will come...
Possibly quicker than I think.
Yet until that day comes,
I dare not blink.

Who are you to tell me,
that inhaling a plant's smoke is bad..?
Should I no longer stand by the fire?
for fear of filling my lungs?
Why do you care,
if my child does not know your god?
My god is bigger, and bolder, and better,
so why don't your children listen?
What is it to you,
if I want to die?
Leave this world which I no longer love,
yet, you cut my wings so that I cannot fly.

It hits me hard,
like a brick dropped on my head,
I was not expecting such a drop,
it almost killed me dead.
Although I realize my overreaction,
once I begin to walk straight,
as I realize,
it must be fate.
Think will fall upon me,
and obviously I will be hurt,
but to carry one with it in my heart,
will only cause it to not start.
I must learn to let go,
and release this pain,
learn from the experience,
and remove the stain.
As I see others holding these grudges,
I must learn to carry on through the puddles,
and when I am walking,
and the brick falls on my head,
I must remember this is lesson to look up,
as I am not yet dead.

I like to write as if I'm sensitive and caring,
and yet I'm filled with conceited thoughts such as of what I'm wearing.
I look into the stars and pretend that there's more,
then I can only think of who'll be my next *****.
I'm supposed to let the words of love and care flow out,
but it appears my heart has taken a different route.
I want to believe that I can think beyond such simple joys,
only to realize my head is filled with devious ploys.

To ****, to feel, to ******, to flail,
my mind is filled with such trivial hail.
If only I could change and be more sophisticated,
but my whole life I've only procrastinated.
Thinking of when I will be a man,
when I haven't realized I've only ran.

What have I done thus far?
With travels around the world,
a top grade education,
while coming from a wonderful nation.
I have pride,
dignity,
and above all, honor.
That is what I'll say,
but is that what I display?
I live like a child,
off the gains of others,
begging for more,
like babe scream at their mothers.
I have a false sense of security,
with a feeling of purity,
I cover up my insecurities,
with humanitarian obscurities.
Inclined to take what I can get,
but complain when I must break a sweat,
but I am truly in the world's debt,
and I still have a chance to be the world's vet.

To get the attention which I crave,
must a be a materialist slave,
******* out to the highest bidder,
get me a look and I'll never reconsider,
being within this self-centered life,
filled with someone's drama, love and strife,
my friends are the magazines on the stand,
as I judge them on which is more tanned.
I used to have hopes, dreams and aspirations,
I was original and had my own foundations,
but as I aged and my desires grew deep,
I began to follow with the other sheep,
social interaction was overrated,
I just need a like for my addiction to be sated,
for what's the use of a dear old friend,
when I've got a friend request to send.

Tie that noose around my throat,
and push me off that ledge,
watch my neck snap as I hang afloat,
and make a personal pledge.
The audience perks up,
you let out your howl,
decimating my name,
and putting me to shame.
I will never be like the man I see,
I am different and I am me.
This man has done acts of treason,
from adultery to lying,
all for no reason.
Did we not give him love as he had needed?
Did we not give advice that was never heeded?
Yet he threw us down and turned his back,
backbone and morality he does lack,
I will destroy his name before I destroy his life,
because I am his love, I am his wife.

Are our words not like a used up *****,
standing along over on 2nd street,
being used over and over,
like mashing a dead horses meat.
And as we insult, degrade and beat her,
until she is no longer wanted,
we only cause a stir,
and we walk away undaunted.
We do not look into the past,
unless it has a nostalgic feel,
nobody wanted her to last,
she was only a news stations spiel.
For our words reflect our past,
and the stories we tell of them,
but these stories will never last,
until we speak of a shining gem.

Add a poem
write something sweet
about how the whistling wind coming from her lavish lips while releasing trivial talk...
which sweeps you off your feet.
Add a poem
show off your hurt
show how his fanatic feelings thoroughly threw you on a rambunctious route towards your desolate demise just for you to...
realize you are unhurt.
Add a poem
let it all out
about the tyrannical tyrants who violently violate the psychotic psyche of the regular residence while maliciously making money.
or
show how beautiful blades of grass cry out for more of the subliminal sun which is precariously presenting light in its appetite for attention.
just...
Add a poem.

Your hair is the noose around my neck,
which you chose to cut before I fell.
Your eyes are the pool I drown in,
but you blink and splash me out.
Your words are the venom of my ears,
luckily, the kiss you give me is the antidote.
You are the oxygen which I breath,
and nothing bad can come of that.

Save us they say,
they have stolen our hearts,
they have chopped us up,
and sold our body parts.
Save us they say,
they have taken our rights,
and these rights are ours,
we gained them through our fights.
Save us they say,
as they look for others,
we are dying here,
protects our sisters, mothers and brothers.
Save us they say,
as they cower in fear,
unable to go on,
only steering clear.
Save us they say,
as they lie down and die,
I blame only you,
as I have lived a lie.

I want that phone,
that Ipod too,
give me the camera,
and I will record this zoo.
Throwing a punch,
for the newest toys,
never aware,
these are merely ploys.
As companies control what we love,
creating mountains out of molehills,
such as diamonds and gold,
they make others work against their wills,
just to get something sold.
While in our "civilized" society,
we speak of how we have ascended,
gone past the slave work,
and life is splendid.
But if we took each and every child,
and make them work with no food,
that would get the parents surely riled.
But we HAVE done this with the PEOPLE in the "wild"
and yet we act so mild,
as they die and we just smiled,
because we got the new T.V.,
at the "lowest" cost there can be.

I wake up every morning and think:
"I am a free man, I will do what I want.".
So I walk through my comfortable, three bedroom, two story home with a fully furnished basement, proper neighborhood and a good school.
I go eat breakfast with that stupid rabbit,
which is my favorite form of self- loathing,
Then I dress in my tightest jeans,
that my friend Tommy told me I needed.
I awkwardly shuffled to my car,
whose red color emphasizes my power,
at least thats what the salesman told me...
So I drive on these roads I payed for,
passing by the people whose lives don't exist,
to go to work and pay for:
The car which shows my success,
the jeans which makes me as attractive as success,
the cereal I drown my sorrows in,
and the house which lives my broken dreams.

Your heart is the sun rising after a storming night,
illuminating my darkened insides,
making it flourish with light.
Your eyes are the all seeing god which leads me to life,
protecting my soul,
decimating all strife.
Your skin is like a warm blanket on a winter's eve,
filling me with emotions,
warming me while I grieve.
And lastly, you are life,
the life that I lost,
that someone else tossed,
the one you picked up off the ground,
cared for and shined,
made me feel safe and sound.
You are the life that once was gone,
except creating a midday summers shine,
compared to a dark days dawn.

On a warm summer night filled with the waft of ***** and beer,
surrounded by the fears of every corner rat begging for change,
immersed in the aura of being alone when anything but.
I envision being like a caterpillar growing into a butterfly,
an overcooked metaphor,
but fitting cause I want it.
I imagine leaving these streets and growing big,
throwing down these cigarettes and walking out the door,
working hard until I am hardly working,
living life to the fullest.
As I look out into the endless jungle,
the concrete trees,
that can only be described with another overworked metaphor.
The sun begins to rise
the rats scatter to the dark,
and the lions begin to walk the streets.
I looked down like a newborn monkey,
put out my cigarette,
and go to bed.
"Tomorrow"

Let me cut your wrists and **** myself,
releasing you from this mental prison,
where you believe you cannot escape.
So I will climb into your head,
stab you until I am dead,
then I sneak away through the wounds gape.
As I try to run away,
out of sight and out of mind,
I will drown in your blood,
when my cure makes me blind.

It is overdone to write a love poem,
speaking of how the clouds separate when you are around,
and how your voice is a heavenly sound.
It is overdone to write a love poem,
talking of how your heart is pure,
and how I am sick and you are the cure.
It is overdone to write a love poem,
but that is what I have done,
and compared to you there are none.