Hold my head down and drown me in that lake which we swam in before.
Take the memories of flips and smokes and drown them with me.
Take the idea of us being family and hold it under.
Take the thought of our future and let it suffocate.
Take your heart and let it die with me.
For while I may be dead,
You must live.

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?

It was a bit ago when you left,
You see, it caught me off guard,
I never considered you capable of theft,
But when you stole my heart, I took it hard.

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 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.

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.

The kindness which you have covered me,
Is like protection from the ice cold sea.
"You ****, you're weak" is all I've been told
I began to worry about life when I'm old.
But you stepped in with your words full of softness and care,
And briskly reminded me you'd always be there.
Inspiring, sensual, genius and lustrous,
Are not any words which describe you with justice.
You are but the drive within my heart,
That a runner feels at a races start.
Or perhaps you are the light in my soul,
Keeping me driving and never quite full.
Of all the things that you do there is one special thing for me,
You want me to be me and that is all I can be.

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.

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.

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?

The future president was shot today,
they found him dead,
with a bullet in his head,
oh how I think of his mother's dread.
She will tell them all the hero he was,
and how he gave his life for a just cause,
nobody realizing the potential that was wasted,
due to a strife of old men,
over a violent thirst they had never tasted.
They will talk about him though, as if he was a friend,
as they say his sacrifice will help society mend,
then they step off their podium and into a room,
and they laugh about what the media will consume,
as they fatten their pockets,
with donations to their cause,
scheming with their caucus,
about all their new corrupt laws.
While a hundred miles away,
the boy's mother sits at his grave,
and as she leans down to pray,
the lord is thanked, for making her boy brave,
and most of all, for keeping the heathens at bay.
but far away in a different place,
there is another boy who was shot in the face,
with his mother also in tears,
and their government spouting the same fears.

Laying here like a stone in a stream,
water rushes over, wearing me away.
I attempt to stay and be resilient,
but I am dwindling in size,
and losing power.
I am lifted and sent along the stream,
crashing and tumbling so that I become obscene,
finally falling down the falls,
while I find myself at the bottom of the water,
content with myself, despite the calls,
watching the rest be drawn to the slaughter.

As you sit next to me,
under this golden apple tree,
above us are the golden crisp,
while the rotted are at our feet.

Make a joke,
laugh a little,
and antagonize the issue.
It's just a poke,
they are all so brittle,
she just needs a tissue.
"I haven't seen it",
"doesn't affect me".
Say what you want to make it fit,
and ignore the resounding plea,
"but she was all over him!",
the antagonists cry,
as you expect her to act on every whim.

You are the sun that rises in my day,
the water that nourishes my dehydrated cells,
the clothing that warms me in a winter's night,
the light that keeps away a night's fright.

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.

Think of the ones who live below us,
who survive only because of natures good graces,
the ones who live in an abandoned bus,
and are always seen as basket cases.
We do not look upon their eyes,
and realize that we are the cause of their demise,
as we make savings by buying more,
and taking advantage of those that are poor.
Though this does not come into our heads,
as we sleep soundlessly, comfortably, in our beds,
for every rich man there are hundreds in the street,
who wear tattered clothes, and no shoes on their feet.
Will we live our life treating them as obsolete,
just so we can check out a celebrities tweet?
Or will we rise above our selfish desires,
and pull these poor men through the fires,
feeding and caring for people we do not know,
just to keep them out of the snow.

The snow is freezing outside,
you don't feel it though,
you are warm.
Come here.

Are you cold?
Here, take this jacket; I made it from my sweat and blood,
Sewed the skin together with my veins,
ignoring all the pains.
As I piece together my skin bit by bit,
it falls apart with the slightest slit.
So be gentle with this jacket; it is held together by what holds me together.
So don't be the one to tear me apart.

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 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.

The words I write are not alright,
They appear to me out of the light,
From within me that there is a fight,
I hope my words explain my plight.

My words are wrong in many ways,
Hurting many for many days,
When I'm done I just feel haze,
Let's just hope this is only a phase.

The letters I put together to create each word,
Could control the sheep like a herd,
So I let my speech fly like a bird,
But sometimes my speech is a little slurred.

What I can do is not up to you,
To love, lie or always be true,
My words touch only a few,
But know I always wrote them for you.

I was saved from below,
and shown what is above,
thanks to the girl that I love.
For if a monster such as me,
can feel so complete,
which is a feat,
then there must be a being that is saving me a seat.
The things that I have done,
will never leave,
and I will not run,
for a man faces his fears,
and that does not follow a few beers.
Strength must be given or gained,
through experiences that have pained,
but once you recognize the wrong,
and see that you are strong,
then life can be saved,
and with gold the streets are paved.

The calm ocean engulfs you and I as we sink down below,
holding hands and dropping down as the pressure overwhelms,
with each passing second the tension starts to grow,
and you attempt to take the helm.
You begin to kick,
rising up to the air,
but I fall like a brick,
and all you do is stare.

Think of a good title,
what is on the inside does not matter,
what is on the outside is vital,
so you'd best not get fatter,
as you are just a glossed over part of life.
and not noticeable unless there is strife.
So...
Think of a good title.

To speak the truth is to offend,
but I do not have a kind word to lend,
as you scream and shout about my doubt,
expecting me to lie in order to please,
but I have no reason to appease.
In society the truth is cruel,
like how that homeless man smells like ****,
or how your still foolish, despite all the school,
but you must insist of living in a skit.
In this play everything is fine,
there are no stereotypes,
there are is no swine.
The fool in the corner was brought down hard,
by societies expectations, with which he was marred.

This is not the facts of life,
there is ******, ****, followed by strife,
people will **** for their own personal gain,
and when you want sun, it will often rain.
Some men work hard,
to see their life fall,
while others lay back,
and try to steal it all.
To recognize the truth is not a sin,
to bring it to our eyes is not offensive,
as we must learn to save other's skin,
instead of living life with only a grin.

Here I am just sitting with you,
looking at the sky as everything turns blue,
What should we do? What should I do?
With you.
We take a drive in your car,
we won't plan on going far,
but we are, and here we are.
A million miles away in this old, beat up car.
You've always been my pretty young wife,
yeah, sure, it caused some strife,
standing on the edge of a knife,
but isn't that the meaning of life?

I was young when I met you,
In a corner is where we became two.
Cowering in fear of a new home,
But you didn't realize how much you would roam.
You became my friend in so many ways,
Always agreeing, mentally giving me praise.
I traveled far into a new place,
You remained stead at my side with grace.
We conquered my fears and shed a few tears,
You were with me through many hard years.
We always would keep each other warm,
You kept me safe in the night during storms.
When you were leaving me it hurt so much,
To see you in pain, and without a crutch.
Laying on a pillow without a sound,
It was almost the end of the round.
You said goodbye to me one last time,
I thought you would end up being fine.
I came home to find you so cold,
But you taught me a lesson which was rather bold.
I love and loved you and always will,
I hope we can sit atop a nice hill.

Come to me,
let us create some controversy,
despite what we say, we do not fill our hearts with love,
while promising one another our soul,
we push away with a shove.
For we are like gasoline and fire,
and yet we are shocked by what always transpires.
An explosion which is filled with rage,
trapping each other into a cage,
while our minds burn to a cinder,
the final goal is only to hinder,
for water will not douse this fire,
as I call you a ***** and you call me a liar.
These feelings I create because you provoke,
are the feelings which I have always spoke,
So don't be surprised,
when our love goes up in smoke.

I can never seem to finish a book,
I often get distracted you see,
another story will catch my eye,
and carry me out to sea.
This lack of consistency,
has put a fear in me,
that I cannot create my own.
For we have a story,
which has so much glory,
like the great loves we learn in class.
A man killing hundreds,
through a war of the worlds,
as he fights for the love of his life.
But what I worry,
is that in the great flurry,
our love; I will accidentally bury.

I look back on what I have done,
what I have lost,
what I have won.
Looking into this blue ocean,
overwhelmed by my petty emotion.
I am just a figment of this vast grand planet,
yet what happens around me,
I can barely stand it.
As people pass by without a thought,
of who I was,
and what I sought.
Who am I to judge what they think,
when I forget their faces within my next blink.
I think of my intelligence and how it is higher,
and how everyone surrounding me is nothing but a liar.
While I fill my mind with these pompous emotions,
I do the same as them and go through life's motions.
So what about me makes me better than them?
Is it my distinguished goals,
and their lacking of souls.
Or is it the fact that I am so cynical,
that I feel I am above as if a the pinnacle.
Either way I continue to say,
how everyone is lazy,
and I should always get my way.
And with these thoughts of self-righteousness,
I take away all likeness,
of someone with politeness.
Pushing those away has become a hobby of mine,
and one can only hope,
that alone I will pass the test of time.

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.

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

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.

Hey you, let's get it on,
but first let me hit thing ****,
for the sinful lust of obscuring reality,
will help us fight the feelings of mortality.
As we have lived with restrictions upon our souls,
while handed down our hollow goals,
circumventing our wills,
with those little red and white pills..
So is it wrong to want a reprieve?
And not always have a job to receive,
whether it's life's responsibilities,
or our peers hostilities,
sometimes I just need a break,
and while society asks me sleep,
it helps me stay awake.

We act so original,
but are so abysmal,
stop with the dramatization of your woe,
there are so many like you, as we know.
It's pathetic the way in which we perceive ourselves,
different, charismatic, on an unheard of level,
but we are just another item on the shelves,
yet we continue to look in the mirror and revel.
Take a look out the door,
realize there is so much more,
to being a human being,
than fighting to be a king.
It does not matter how you are distinct,
or in what ways someone is the same,
by being human we are all linked,
and you are not better by gaining fame.

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.

Fake it until you make it,
and you will go far,
you have done this "a thousand times",
in every bar.
You are an actor, governor, a poet,
and you know it,
Approach each boy and girl,
as if you are the shiniest pearl.
Some may notice your dull gleam,
but the rest will see you as a dream.
Fake it until you make it,
and success will follow,
the longer you go,
you will be less hollow.

Tear me open,
So that no one can first.
Reach inside of me,
and pulled out my crushed innards,
don't let a bit fall free,
and then plunge back inwards.
Keep on feeding until you are full,
and then tie me up around my throat.
Save me on the side until later,
Or just forget I am there.

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.

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.

Here I sit,
an American,
on a balcony in Spain,
with a French lover,
and nothing to say.
How un-poetic of me,
that I am not the epitome,
of what a poet should be.
While I should describe the love of my life,
or contemplate life's last words,
I sit content with no strife,
and stare at the birds.

She was too blue,
the other was too red,
I like the color yellow,
you are a nice shade of sunlight,
and for me that is alright.

I lay here with the blood falling out of me,
drip, drip, drip.
The sound echoing through my brain,
as with each little drop I got a bit more insane,
drop, drop, drop,
there is the sound of my life in a bucket,
used to feed the youth, as my life is gone,
so **** it.

I knew I was in love; when you told me someone was above,
and I believed you.
I knew I was in love; when you woke me up for a walk,
and I went on the walk.
I knew I was in love; when you first yelled at me,
and I apologized.
I knew I was in love; when you said that you would be leaving,
but you did stay,
just in another way.

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.

We are together,
just sitting side by side,
no idea of what the other one hides.
But as we hold one hand,
and the other is clenched,
meanwhile our thoughts are drenched.
It is as if we both were water boarded,
while looking into each other's eyes,
with each drip comes feelings of despise.
But who was it that dropped this water unto me,
was it you or someone who I could not see,
the only thing that stayed within my mind,
is the thought of how you used to be so kind.
And I forget that you have your own thoughts,
they become disarray while I try to understand,
as I am caught up in trying to connect the dots,
but to connect them I have much to small of a strand.
So you cut it with that piercing gaze,
and you put me into a daze,
for I hate you and you hate me,
but how was it that this came to be?

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.

As I sit, here alone, in this empty room,
I think of what we were,
I think of what we could have been.
When I walk, all alone, down that night time street,
I think of where you are,
I think of what you are doing.
Here I am, laying alone, sprawled out in my bed,
I think of where you once were,
I think of my emptiness within.
I am alive, alone, living without warmth,
I think of my inner scar,
I think of my undoing.

I wrote a poem today,
describing a sinister thought; about the pains of the heart.
Tormented until decay,
all emotions draining away.
And as I poured my soul into words,
a swift destruction overcame my art,
and in a second it was torn apart.
As I sat in broken shock,
the loss managed to open a lock.
One that kept my mind, heart and soul jailed,
but now the rusty lock has failed.
For I recognize this loss is the same as in life,
One molded with such effort; destroyed in strife.
And like I will write a poem I will love once more,
and with it I will grow at my very core.