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Beyond the stars and stormy nights.
A young boy's mind is about to take flight.
Away from the troubles of today's past.
This boy's mind is free at last.
-n.s.
Long Live the Dreamers, Healers, and Story-Tellers!
Feed all the fires, aid all the flames.
Burn down the gates we cannot maintain.
Abandon all ships, rip off the chains.
Tear down the walls we cannot sustain.
Exit the server, turn off the game.
Will you stop trying to **** with our brains.
Stop the attacking, stop giving me pain.
Break down the system or we'll all go insane!
-n.s.
I always assumed
that you could determine the will of a writer
by the quantity of ink
remaining in his pen.
Yet, I have never fathomed
what makes him brilliant.
Is it his degree of education,
his inequivalent repertoire of vocabulary to the common man,
or just born gift bestowed by heaven?
Later, I came to the lucid realization
that brilliance is conceptualized
at the hand of the inner mechanics
and harmonious complexities
that portrait the writer's
heart, mind, and soul.
From which, shape his message
by the process he takes to arrange,
construct, and execute
his philosophies and mental apparatuses
This, ladies and gentlemen, is a writer.
-n.s.
To what degree is your empathy
for the person sitting next to you?
Is it bare, do you care?
No matter your point of view?

We are tied to the one by our side
by the strong string of kinship.
Wether we are related or undictated,
this connection has an eternal grip.

We must love our neighboor like our creator*.
Willing to protect them at any cost.
No matter if un-aided or even stark naked.
This connection will never be lost.
-n.s.
Creator - mother & father or higher being.
I'm not who I used to be,
I'm recreated in my own ideal image
set by the my thoughts
that make me who I am
today.
I feel proud to call myself, "me".
Because I would rather be no body else
than the man I made reality.
So here's to those wanting to find themselves.
Wanting to be who they are.
Just set youself free, and
*let it yourself be.
I've touched the clouds,
way up high.
I've rode the sun,
I've learned to fly.

I walk on air
and soar the sky.
I spread my wings
and start to fly.

I've seen the sunset
slowly decay.
No come with me birdies,
let's fly away.
As a kid, I was always told to be the best,
to strive my hardest,
and go above and beyond the status quo.
As a kid, I was always compared to those around me.
Never have I been judged as an individual.
Nay, I was judged in comparison to the success of my peers,
and not for a moment, would I believe that their parents where too doing the same thing.
So instead, let's all be compared to the person we were yesterday.
Instead, let's all be judged by the ability to exceed our own limitations, and rise above them.
Not, the standards of a system.
For the first time in awhile
I can parade a meaningful smile
of gratitude and happiness
because of those I share my life with.

No one can tear these feelings down
because who I am is not worth the frown.
And any hateful words don't stand a chance
because no matter what, my heart continues to dance.

My friends and family are always near.
Without them, I wouldn't even be here.
And with my friends, family and sweetheart by my side...
I am happy.
-n.s.
Not my best, but this is for everyone that's been a part of my life. I am who I am, I'm proud of it. Even though I make mistakes, I am human. I'm just happy to be alive.
So much is taken for granted,
abused and neglected.
As if they feel entitled
to the luxuries they already have.
So many of the privileged
aren't even grateful for their own ability
to see, hear, or even breathe.
So here's to those few
who, even though blind, can see the light of life.
Here's to the few
who, even though deaf, can her the voice of the Earth.
Here's to the few
who, even though paralyzed, can march through their existance
with nothing more than a smile of gratitude
for what they have.
And with every blessing, privilege and gift,
here's to those who never forget to say,
"Thank you... for everything."
-n.s.
The eyes that could change the world.
If only they could speak.
For they would speak of the woes and trageties
of what lies behind them.
They emit light to show content.
But the light is produced by fire.
It burns, damages, scorns.
Yet yeilds light to see the color.
The beautiful color of his stained-glass eyes.
-n.s.
I've never seen
so much pain.
We are all caught in this world
that's cursed in vain.
The struggles are real.
So very true they are.
It is our job to fight through them
and to seal away the demons in a jar.
Hold on tight.
Get ready for the ride.
Always be brave.
Never try and hide.
This is your life.
Take it by the horns.
Life is a wonderful journey.
Not just a tour.
I don't wish for my poems to be explained by teachers,
scholars, or philosophers.
I do not wish to have them broken down to find meaning within
or for them to be celebrated by others
because of who I may become.
I wish that my poems speak to your soul, heart and mind.
I want my words to resinate with your spirit.
More than any other words could.
Let the poems, speak to your soul.
Let it speak its own message.
I wish for this to be the examination of my work.
- n.s.
Let my work be, let it speak its own message.
Give me my body and my lost sanity.
Take away all of this absolute profanity.
The marks on the walls, the knifes and the saws
are used to make me cringe and squeal
the words you always wanted to hear.
You yell at me, and make me suffer.
You make my life tourture and make it all rougher.
My soul aches from the pains.
My body shackled is by throrny chains.
I will not speak to you, you cannot condemn me.
Leave me now, you've enjoyed the insanity.

-n.s.
The gaze of an eye can show inside
your soul, your heart and even your mind.
The touch of a hand and the kiss of your lips
will make me feel like I'm starting to slip
inside this world I can not bear.
A place where the world chokes me of air.
Can I be saved? Can I be free
of this world where I don't want to be
inside forever, can I get out?
Let me go! LET ME GO! I scream and shout.
What is the point, can anyone hear
me scream and shout, and let it all out?
At the top of my lungs. The song I sung.
My soul seems to burn just like the sun.
Over and over and over again.
Im not a human, I'm a dog in a pen.
Let me go, and take me away!
I'm not ok, I'm lead astray.
Away from love and happiness.
Away from what is truely better than this.
Im breaking the chains and untying the knot.
That was bound to you through my thoughts.
Im tearing it off, getting away.
Im over this, I'm no longer bowned to stay
here with this, the memories.
All is done, it's time for a new song to sing.
-n.s.
when my ancestors told me
that life always
hangs in the balance
I never imagined
that what my soul
was hanging from.

am I an outstretched arm
waiting to be pulled?
or is a
metaphysical noose
tied around my bodiless neck?  

constantly grasping for breath,
always in the shadow of death.

- n.t.p.
from humble beginnings
we become one with the world.
embracing it, living it,
& experiencing it.
from this we gain knowledge,
wisdom, respect,
and distinguish ourselves
from the rest.
however,
we are all part of one being.
one magnificent being.
that has the power to give,
and to take.
this is what God is.
God is not separate,
but with us.
in us.
and we must work with the other parts
of God
to make this
a better place
for all.
-n.s.
God can also be synonymous with the terms 'supreme being', 'universal conscienceness', and 'the force'.
we hold on to dear life
to the thoughts we don't wan to lose.
we grasp on to our ideals
and our stubborn points of view.
we believe we are so deep
when all we see is superficial.
we feel as if we know ourselves
but is all we are, artificial?
we create who we are
from the fragments left behind.
from the thoughts of saints, prophets,
and holy men of all kind.
we forget that we are mortal,
only here for a little.
from birth we start to learn
to the time when we are brittle.
but of what we have learned,
how much do we know?
after all this time, we gained so much,
but did we really grow?
we focused on the differences
and that has left its scars.
but sometimes you need to **** the sun
in order to see the stars.
but do not fret my friends,
do not be perplexed!
because when we die,
and give all from inside,
we will always give life to the next.

- n.t.p.
we are one.
to take a concept and to strip it naked,
and to make love with the emotion,
to caress the bare skin of the philosophical mind,
with such passion, such intimacy
surrounds these actions and encompasses the performance.
mental ***, the prostitution of my conscienceness
to the worlds of thought and idealism.
I give my mind, liberation,
freedom to think,
to be,
to believe and understand.
our world, which is meant for us to live and create,
and to express and embrace that psychological intimacy.
that eroticism that a thinker senses,
the ecstacy of the mind is what we strive
to find, and to feel.
this is how we know.
- n.t.p.
Who am I?
What am I?
Why am I?
How do I think the way I do?
Where am I going?
When is my time?
To go?
Is there anything?
For me?
To see? I doubt it.
Am I alive?
Or atleast awake?
Is this a dream?
If so, a nightmare
full of sweet tales and sorrowful riddles.
One full of questions that may never be answered,
and one full of answers that may never be questioned.
Who I am, is an answer
that takes a lifetime to figure out.
What I am, is an answer,
that binds and seperates us.
Why I am, is an answer,
that can be best explained by those who make us who we are.
I think the way I do because,
I am.
I am going, somewhere;
or am I here?
My time is now...
to go?
soon. too soon
Everything to see,
all for me.
To share,
and to give.
I live my life,
and walk with her
in both dreams.
Because I am reality,
and reality is asleep.
It's all psychological,
the system is the sum of all the illogical
factors that make the parts
of the people that have lost their hearts

in the process.
Nauseous nonsense.
Not cautious!
Weak to the will of the head of the snake,
it's predominant.
The word of the serpent has become prominent.

LOST

to the fight of a god made real.
The words don't deserve to see our knees kneel.

It's ridiculous.

This is society in general.
All it is, is just mental peril.
In this place we call home,
we never lived free,
we reside under the dome.
-n.s.
Let's escape together
No matter the weather.
Just take me home.
I dont want to be alone.

Just take me home,
And tear down the curse'ed walls
Stone by stone.
Stone by stone.

-n.s.
Listen all you people.
Lend me all your ears.
Raise up all your weapons.
Do not live in fear.
Tell me how you feel.
Let me hear your voice.
Yell so that the gods can hear
the people's unanimous choice.
We need to change society.
How people view eachother.
Tell me do you see a difference
between you and one another?
All we are is human.
We all make mistakes.
We all live our lives trying to be
good for goodness sake.
Do not **** your soul
because of what they say.
Look inside, cherish your life
Seize the ******* day!
-n.s.
Carpe Diem!
Is there anything that truly lives forever?
Is it love, happiness, wisdom?
Life & peace?
No sir, not even these.
We all must accept,
that to which has a beginning
must have an end.
For love can not spring,
until we experience hate.
Happiness can not flourish,
unless someone knows sorrow.
Wisdom cannot be attained,
untill one has seen his own mistakes.
Life can not exist,
withought a birth from a mother.
And peace can not manifest itself,
until one experiences war.
So to must everything have a beginning
and an end.
But with what may die,
ought to give life to the next.
This poem is my idea of the beauty of death. This shows to me (aswell to others) that with death, comes new life. When we all die, our bodies will take its last breath and then kick the bucket. A few days pass, and our bodies decay into the ground. In that decay, carries nutrients into the ground, which may feed a plant or an animal. And finally, when a pregnant mother eats the plant, the nutrients You provide will manifest itself into the womb, which will help give life to the mext generation and so on. This, is the true beauty of Death.
the hearts of the poets
are not made of gold
but of ink
that flows out of the pen
onto the paper for which
they expresses their souls
from the deepest recesses.
for the poet's works come
from within.
now...
write!

-n.s.
I didn't write "her" or "his because I didn't want to give the term 'poet' a gender. Male or Female, we all are poets.
I don't know what it means to be normal.
Does society control what is really formal?
Combed hair, and church goers,
anything less, is your bar lower?
I want piercings and tattoos,
I like punk music and rap too.
Ripped jeans and Vans Shoes,
is my style still taboo?
Look at the kids being themselves.
When society locks them in a jail cell and says look,
"You are abnormal and your weird,
if this world was a painting, you're a smear. You're not one of us, so we'll look at you funny and then maybe you'll become one of us one day, sunny!"
But no, it can't be like this
since when do we take what's not ours and throw it in the abyss?
I'm confident in who I am
and I'm proud of who I've become.
I'd rather be me everyday, over what you prefer the outcome.
-n.s.
Rebellion (n.): looking at society and saying, "I see who you want me to be, but I'll show you who I actually am."
The crossfires
Of our hearts desires
Will never get us far.
The lessons we learn
And the rewards we earn
Will shine as bright as a star.

The burdens we carry
Are nothing but heavy
With all the doubts we face.
In sickening times
Within all the hateful rhymes
We all eventually win the chase.

Till death do us part
Till the last beat of my heart
I will never let you go.
The darkness may come
But never forget to hum
The song of beautiful tomorrow.
-n.s.
Now listen my dear,
don't hold back your tears.
Hell is empty 'cause
all the demons are here.

Here comes the witches,
goblins and dragons.
My life is a war
and my soul is the fort.

They tear at my flesh
and they rip up my skin.
I can't drown these demons,
they know how to swim.

I can see the snake
slithering at my feet.
This battle is for the strong,
not for the weak.

I long for the day
for the end of the fight.
I'm alone in the dark, and
longing for the light.
There are those kind of people,
who may tear you down,
hurt your feelings,
make you feel like
you're worthless.
But there are those kind of people,
who will stop at nothing
to see you smile,
and laugh,
and enjoy life.
Those kind of people
are the people,
that make this world,
and your own world
a better place.
This one is a tribute to anyone who has helped me in my life. Dead or alive, thank you for everything.
'Twas this night's hour, my heart did soar.
The kiss of her lips made my soul roar.
And with that kiss, my soul did shout,
"She's the one! She's the one! Never have doubt!"

'Twas this night's hour and I viewed her soul
through her big, green eyes, my heart she stole.
With her beautiful lips and her luscious, soft skin
how I knew she felt the same was through a sweet, dorky grin.

'Twas this night's hour, I was filled with joy!
Like a child at Yule with a brand new toy!
Her being the child and the toy being my heart
I trust she won't misuse or tear it apart.

'Twas this night's hour, this girl became mine.
My love, my babe and my year-long  valentine!
Now that the hour is gone, it's time to rest,
with her by my side and her head on my chest.
-n.s.
Yule (n.) - celebration of the Winter Solstice (a.k.a. Christmas)
As I sit under the Orange Tree,
a place where no one can see,
I think of the world's greater things.
Like life, love,
and the songs that birds sing.

Under the Orange Tree, I can be anything.
A knight, a prince, or even a king!
Under this tree, is my favorite place on earth.
Cause this a place, to me, of great worth.

Under the Orange Tree, I am truly home.
A place where my imagination can freely roam,
& no one can take my from this tree.
For this is my tree, and my tree is a part of me.

Never will I forget the times under the Orange Tree.
The ones where I felt like I could just be me.
And as I sit here, all year long,
I say, "sing again birdies, life is to short to hear just one song"
I wrote this as a tribute to my younger self. To never stop dreaming of your owm personal Neverland.
your name
written in ashes
are a stain
from remains
of who
I once was.

- nicholas, the poet.
for some,
to exist
is an act
of rebellion.

- nicholas, the poet.
Ice cold hands, fire warm heart
oh my dear, I never thought we'd part
like this, oh ****, where did you go?
I thought we only just begun the show!

Knife fights and fist fights, the whole nine yards
the tent is hung and the choirs have sung
I fought so **** hard
up on a noose my emotionas are hung

Welcome to the Carnival!
where you come to **** your thoughts
and all this time I hoped to see
some amazing theatricality
yet you left, with my heart in your chest
I couldn't imagine it would end like this
I came with such a heart of gold
now empty space is all i have to hold
the tables have turned, can you see the burns?
the pieces of heart, left broken on the floor?
oh magic man, show me a trick
a distraction take me away
in this place, I cant stay
the claws on my skin and bones
I dont want this anymore
-n.s.
the words on a page from which you read
relay that sense of melancholy
that facts are facts and that’s all they may be
until you follow one family.

evicted from their home and all they know.
thrown into the ring for Nazis to show.
and all this time, the whole world will grow
while on the inside, dead bodies is all they throw

into the holes where they’re laid to rest.
children and women who gave it their best
to save their families from the unrest,
from the flames those dead bodies would later invest.

we always say to walk a mile
in the shoes of others so that we can compile
a list from our minds which becomes hostile
and our souls become so full of revile

that sympathy isn't a word to express
the games they played - survivors chess -
to keep them alive as death will caress
the souls with which the reaper will address,

“pack your bags and say adieu
to this world which was all you knew.”
embrace those emotions of the person you pursue
for these are things no mere facts can tell you.

- n, t. p.

— The End —