Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
They keep staring like there's something on my face
Step away, no movies showing on display

I walk until i hit a wall and continue astray
Besides, i don't even see my own self sometimes

But i smile in case there's someone i endear
Keep my face hidden like a professional puppeteer

I'm lost in the middle of what you think and what i am
I'm beaten down for my astound sound

They're annoyed from what i say
But they'll  be even more furious if i said what i really thought, foul play

Now walk away..

I met a lot of folks which i never cared to get their name
Better for them to erase me from their memory
I'll stay in this penitentiary, let it be the death of me

'Cause i'll never miss them they're nothing but a stain buried in the dungeon of my brain

I'll never fit in..
My life's like a novel of science fiction..
I hope you like it.
You told me we were a movie,
But we were more than a 2 hour scripted piece of art.
I remember the willow trees and how they'd weep over us when we felt like weeping, too.
I remember the sunsets and how they came around 7:30 pm,
Now the fickle sun sets at 4 pm.
I remember the girl who told us we were beautiful,
In her own way
she was a sign of the great perhaps before us.
I remember desperately wanting to kiss you,
Even though I reserved those moments for the late nights we were intoxicated
when you somehow made your way into my arms every time
And how our lips would accidentally brush against each other,
softly,
And innocently.
I can't help but realize that you must have known how I felt
And how much I wanted to hold you.
Or how when you rested your head on my shoulder that one morning,
You definitely could hear my heart skip a beat.
So maybe if you're right, and if this is a movie,
You've chosen to end it.
Or maybe you've decided your character has moved on,
Leaving me alone under the shade of the willow trees
With my cigarettes and 4 pm sunsets.

The end
I can still feel them
Warm sweet kisses on my
bare shoulder
Gentle and passionate
I could feel and others could see
How much you love me
"Dear God,
I want to be a poet."

I want to speak in silver metaphors that slither into ear canals and seep into cortexes.
Words that turn eyes to a new perspective,
that crack your skull wide open with honest art.
Reality and creativity,
Taped together and painted over in the truest colours of life.

I want to speak in that powerful, yet still human, voice.
To quake the ground beneath you until you are shaken up
and you shed that exoskeleton of hurt,
or fear,
or doubt,
or ignorance.
I want all of that lifeless skin to loosen its grip around you,
and not bind you so tightly to complacency.

I want to establish communities of words,
that take you in as their own.
Delivered so rhythmically that your own pulse will begin to race inside of you,
parallel to the lines I've written.

I want to make you run with these words,
feel the winds against you,
push past the resistance and onto freedom,
as every weight lifts off of you.
So I can show you that your shoulders were not made to carry boulders,
your eyes were not meant for harsh tears,
and that everyone needs a break sometimes....

I want to be a poet because if I know the truth, I want to share it.
Wear proclamations on the palms of my hands,
hope radiating from my worn skin.

I want to write poems because I know that we're all human,
so why hide it?
Why hide our emotions when we can let them take flight?
If we've gotten through the tangled mess, why can't we reach back and help the next hero climb though?

I want to show love.
I want to understand,
I want to now who I am.

"Dear God,
Thank you for giving me a notebook as a best friend,
and giving me a copy of yours.
I know that no matter how far off I stray with my imagination,
I will always know what is truth."

I wanted to be a poet,
but now,

*I just want to be me
Note: Prayers are in quotations because the rest of the peom is directed toward readers, or audience for spoken word.
It's funny..
Not really..
more like sad..
I just hate it that I'm in love with you.
They try to catch me cause I'm falling from heavens heavy hands.

But I clutch on my mind before I lose it and stay stranded.

The spaces between my dreams is were I'll be standing.

I might never see the green grass as long as the ground's not placid.

I'm a survivor of a horrible accident which is my creation.

My faith died for long time.

But I'm not dead, I'm not dead.
Until I have died..
Next page