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Dec 2019 · 75
Sam Ciel Dec 2019

I hate the phrase "getting over you"
Because that's not quite what I want to do
It implies that you are an obstacle to be overcome
As if it is possible not to succumb
To the proof of the truth that I'm struggling to live without

The evidence is everywhere
Even when I'm trying not to look
Whenever I try not to care
It's like opening a book
That I've read ten thousand times
And still pretend not to know the words to

And whenever I decide to give it thought
To figure out this puzzleknot
Of complex feelings in my brain
Of relief confusion sadness pain
I just remember I was never a scout
And I **** at tying knots
So I'm not sure that I've got the right tools for this job
Or what they even are

There's a beauty in the chaos
And we can appreciate the overwhelmed
Anger is clutched in the fist of relief
Clarity in the mist of confusion
Sadness is walking alongside the grief
And there's pain in every happy protusion

Every curve of the puzzleknot
Is composed of both the "haves" and "nots"
And abandoning a single twist
Would mean abandoning the entire lot

Which I'm not going to do.

have one without the other
But perspective here is key
If you begin to unwind one
You undo another three

From the highest mountains you can see the majesty below
And from the darkest valleys there's only one way you can go
And either one
exist without the other's view
But the promise of a change in scenery
Is one that I hold to.

So I'll take my puzzleknot
And put in on a shelf
And every time I look at it
I'll just remind myself

That even though I know the story
Know the twists and turns
Every single crooked glory
Is something I have earned.

Living in the space between
And acknowledging the truth
There's no being us
or loving me,
Without me loving you.

The next mountain looks a lot closer than I thought it was before. And I'll happily help you get to the top, even if at the end of it all, we're looking at different views.

No matter what we become I'll always cherish what we were.

Keep writing.
Dec 2019 · 60
Double Time
Sam Ciel Dec 2019

Heartbreak isn't easy
When there's nobody to blame
No malice spite or jealousy
To hide beneath your shame

Just four irreverent hands
Reaching out at remnant strands
Of exactly what might have been
While trying to displace what was
So that they can at least stay near each other
Not fear each other
And the infinite possibilities in one another's arms
That sweet siren's song will do more harm than good
If either one of them should
Surrender to that impulse
And let wandering eyes do more than dream
Let irreverent hands grab those seams
And unravel the tapestry of
"What ifs"
"We coulds"
Never stopping for "buts" or "shoulds"
Should we really continue on like this
Dancing with the devil two steps from bliss
I'm not worried about what we'll do
I'm worried about how I'll think of you
And my two left feet

To complete this metaphor
I'm worried that if you want more
And can dance the devil's crooked tune
Swinging partners under moonlight
Keeping rhythm and hope in time
One in heart and one in mind
That I simply can't keep up

While I'm suspended in that dip
Supported by your fingertips
What if your partner takes your hand
And never lets it go again

Heartbreak isn't easy
When there's nobody to blame
So forgive me if I choose not to dance
This dangerous refrain
Three people dancing
Three different tunes
Is a good way to step on some feet.

And I don't want any of us getting hurt again.

Keep writing.
Dec 2019 · 68
Sam Ciel Dec 2019

Let me get these words in ink
So that maybe I won't think
of them any longer. My mind can wander
no more preponderance on you
you see
memory is fleeting
and mine flows swift
but words don't stop repeating
so long as you keep reading

Keep reading them
and kneading them
work them over like paltry dough
sculpting faces you don't know
what shape they'll take just the ones they took
work them rough and don't look
only forward

forwards to the future
where lightning lips don't strike like thunder
where maelstrom eyes can't pull you under
to a future where you
can simply float

a boat atop a quiet sea
where love gets lost in foam
and all that's left atop the ship
is a heart without a home
A poem a day to keep the pain away. If I put my thoughts on paper, I can come back to them later.

Keep writing.
Dec 2019 · 114
Sam Ciel Dec 2019
Twilight fire
Burning bright
Dancing in the winter light
Keep us warm and bring us night
And carry us to Spring
Everything in its season.

Keep writing.
Sam Ciel Dec 2019

My heart
Is breaking
But it can be repaired

My soul
Is weeping
For all the times we shared

My mind
Is shaking
Now that we are done


My life
Will still
Go on

And maybe one day
When the skies aren't grey
And we've gone our ways
And the darkness fades

Maybe one day when my heart beats new
And my soul sings too,
And my mind is fine
That's when I'll meet you.

Maybe one day
Maybe one day
Maybe one day
We'll meet
No edits.

Keep writing.
Dec 2019 · 56
Sam Ciel Dec 2019
Swimming in memories
Four minutes old
Trying to rewind to
Find the time for all the times I told

That I would never find true love
Never thought there'd be two loves
Two sets of hands that fit like gloves

Two seperate sets with unique functionalities
Fit the hands perfectly splitting rationalities
From fears

The mind
The heart

Working in tandem
To slowly tear themselves apart


Love is like a flower
Grow it with some watering
And try not to shower it


Step two

Too much love and it'll drown
With some time you'll know the why and how to
Spread that love around

Step Three

Your single bud's turned into more bouquets
And suddenly your love has grown in many subtle different ways

Step Four

Always wear the gloves when you go  gardening
Pray that if you ***** your hands
That you won't feel a ****** thing

Step Five

Don't be afraid to fall
Don't be afraid to lose it all
You love and live recklessly
So why would more love
Change a thing?
So long and farewell.
Bittersweet bliss and a few nights of tears ahead.

Keep writing.

Nov 2019 · 65
Untitled // E
Sam Ciel Nov 2019
"Can I introduce you
As someone I'm dating?"

Simply, yes.
More complex:
Shout it from the rooftops
With the power of a hurricane
Gale winds echoing
And carrying my heart's refrain

Let it loose like lightning,
Flowing freely from your lips
Electric currents riveting
And pulsing through our fingertips

Tell the world with thunder
A heavy crash they can't ignore
Sonic forces rippling
And tearing forwards wanting more

Rain it down like hailstones
Bludgeon them until they break
Bruise the words into their skin
Let them make no mistake

Are a force of nature

And I could never say no.
You said you like to feel powerful.
Feb 2019 · 388
First Seconds
Sam Ciel Feb 2019
On a fleeting February morning
Seconds pass like icicles
And as I stop to listen to their steady drip
Those seconds seem to slowly slip

Immeasurable, finite mornings full of
Infinite calculated risks.

Life weaving 'round my fingertips
Electricity, in my hands and my heart
Feeble panics and anxious starts

What, exactly, is love?

A painter's elegant brushstrokes, as tender and careful as
A passionate song, the percussion mirroring the rapid heartbeat of
Something as simple as a question
Sent to two phones.

There's a comfort in being alone.
You don't have to worry about breaking hearts
No nervous texts
Or ginger starts.

Everyone can hear the song.
Everyone can see the painting.
Anyone could read this poem.
Blank verse, freeform, enigmatic.
Exploring love is the most terrifying / most reassuring thing I have ever done. Nice to know I'm not alone.

Sorry for my absence all. I lost my voice for a while. I'll try to be more active.

As always,
Keep Writing
Oct 2017 · 185
Sam Ciel Oct 2017
Through the eyes of a dormouse, the world all looks bleak
As those who feign strength prey on the weak.
Shepherds lead sheep to houses of silence,
Empty rooms full of false facing guidance
Led there by lullabies that flatter their sin,
Desperate and desolate,
Metamorphosis begins:
Where sheep turn to songbirds as shepherds thin flocks
Wearing bright winged masks and red woolen smocks
Preening their feathers, and sheering their skin,
Anticipation dripping from each shepherd's grin.
Wolves in sheep's clothing
Would be saying the least,
For their songs herald banquets,
And echo kings' feasts.
Now, more than ever, keep writing.
Jan 2017 · 733
Sam Ciel Jan 2017
If a frame is worth a thousand words,
And still by all accounts,
A thousand words is all it takes
To make a second count.

Except a picture doesn't move
until there's twenty four
So for every thousand words too few
I'll write a thousand more

At least that's what I'd like to say
That I have two billion words.
That's eighteen years turned into frames
To heal a world of hurt

And it's not that I'm not willing
But rather, I'm not able
So I'll use freeze frame magic
To tell this hero's fable.

To reiterate; twenty four frames per second
Creates the illusion of motion
That's twenty four thousand words per second
To recreate this fluid notion.

And illusion isn't a word I like.
It implies he isn't real.
But the movement inspired in all alike
Has a kinesthetic feel,
And acts as a concrete testament to his existence.

His grin was always worn a little bit off kilter
As if it couldn't hold all of the joy it filtered,
And was tipping into the surrounding space
A contagious smile that slowly spread across his love ones' faces.

His eyes glowed without compare, immersed in umber flame.
The questioned who you were and asked you without shame,
"How can I help?"
They burnt away the paper mache masks we so often wear,
Mantles and guises with incendiary tears
Would fall to the ground, replaced by genuine care
And glimmering hope.

His eyebrows. I could talk for hours and still not touch the length of those majestic caterpillars. And no, there's no poetry here. They're eyebrows. Just looking at them, at him, you knew he would make you laugh.

And he did. He carried a profound simplicity for his youth,
And understanding hidden unkempt and uncouth
Behind messy tufts of shaggy hair
Aloof behavior, suggesting "I don't care"
When really, that's all he did.

He walked with a loose sensibility and a tenacious
Comprehension for life that many of us still grasp at tentatively.
He loved to live.
He lived to love.

If only life were so simple as kissing the pain away.
Which brings me to what I'd like to say today.

Sometimes, actions aren't enough to take away the pain.
Sometimes words cannot will the past to live again.
Sometimes what we feel seems wrong
And what we know is wrong feels right
Sometimes we don't have the answers
And sometimes that's alright.

Our hero lived a wondrous life,
And left so much love behind
His legend isn't simply his
But his and yours and mine,

A legacy lived on through us
And countless stories told
Frozen movie frames
We'll remember 'til we're old.

Snapshot stories played on repeat
Forever in our minds
To make up for the things not done
And words we'll never find.

I'd like to close on the last few words
I spoke to my dear friend.
"I won't say goodbye for now,
but *'til we meet again."
I wanted to genuinely write a thousand words for you.
And while I was writing, I realized something.
I'd want to write a thousand more.
And a thousand more.
And a thousand more.

And I don't think that feeling will ever go away.

So instead, I'm going to trust that you'll live on in all of us.

To my dearest brother.


As always, keep writing.
Jan 2017 · 377
Sam Ciel Jan 2017
Tattered tapestries weathered with destroyed diagrams depicting derelict debris, once accruing avant-garde glances now know naught but bliss, for before time stole their accolades, fortune found favorable the telling of their tales.
Just a piece of imagery that hit me the other day. You could not have ruins without first having a city. What is broken was once whole.

And so it continues.

Keep writing,
-Sam Ciel
Dec 2016 · 358
Act I, Scene IV
Sam Ciel Dec 2016
Rose tinted shutters go off when I blink
Infinite heresy, each second passed
One thousand words paint a picture in ink
To make time's fickle framed flamed folly last.

The air grows thin as chemicals ignite
Our hearts and our veins wane, burn, wax, and glow
Temporal sands turned to glass cast a light
Voracious reflections, tentative, grow.

A crusade for knowledge here we begin
To know each other plain naked and bare
To quest and covet for what lies within
To examine our faults, our sins, our tears.

Two way mirrors peering into our souls
Laborious, fleeting, seconds made whole.
Every second feels like forever, and I still want more.

And, as always, keep writing.
-Sam Ciel
Dec 2016 · 510
Sam Ciel Dec 2016
Drunk on love
Is a phrase I have never understood
Until now

It's the way you say lollipop
It's the minute bobbing of your hair when you laugh
It's your ability to fluster me and leave me speechless when I normally pride myself in my rapport and
I wonder what you're thinking right now
Is any of it the same?
It's your curiosity and your genuine soul and spirit and your tentativeness and your fear and

It's that the whites of your eyes
Remind me of home
Sun kissed skies
And a longing to roam
The horizon

There's a familiarity and I get a pit in my stomach that tells me I miss you.
I notice the difference when I reminisce, you-
The difference is, you don't smell like cow ****.

You smell like crisp morning rain
And bath salts.

I don't actually know your scent.
What I meant
Is that I'm calmed by the crashing of rain
And the other supposedly drives you insane.

You provide me with both:
An overwhelming peace
And an ever-growing crease in the folds of my mind
As I try to rewind
To the first time I met you.
Burned into my brain: the first time you set two
Boisterous, beautiful, brown gold orbs
Patiently on mine as you tried to absorb
All of the pieces of me
Contrast and contour
Not one fault ignored.
And by no fault of yours,
You sat and you listened
As sunbeams glistened
And my heart raced
And my mind doted
A smile donned your face
And my emotions exploded
Amidst this maelstrom of noise
These powerful currents
Distant echoes grew poised
And struck me recurrent

And your laughter sprang forth
From your buttercream smile.

Time slowed, and I thought: please stay for a while.

Residual raindrops grew reluctantly silent
The insecurities of my ever-racing mind resided
Dim in comparison to the fervor you'd quelled and excited

I could feel my legs keel and go weak
When you returned stolen breaths as you started to speak

And they told me to "be careful"
And "not to fall too fast"
But this vertigo feels lovely
And I'd rather it would last.
A joy to me.

As always, keep writing.
-Sam Ciel
Dec 2016 · 393
Battle Scars
Sam Ciel Dec 2016
Abstract tears bring melancholy rain
Concrete fears and whitewashed pain.
I sit perched upon my precipice
Teetering and testing tinctures of tumultuous joy and overwhelming sorrow,
Looking back at yesterday and forward to tomorrow,
Tentatively trying to find my balance.

The idea of tomorrow surrendered forever ago as the options narrowed;
Continue forward, carefully planning each step, measuring it down to the quark, exhausting myself with the weight of a thousand heartaches and broken dreams, tearing myself apart at the seams
Tearing myself apart as it seems that no matter how many steps I take, and no matter how many times I break,
I'll never get where I'm meant to be.
There are no longer options two, or three. All I know is to go forward.

And yesterday seems so far away, as the images unfold in my mind;
Tick tock things unwind
Click the lock, "you'll be fine"
Smash the clock as time rewinds
I resign and rescind my thoughts;
I don't like looking back.

And memories last longer than bruises,
But just because someone else wins,
Doesn't mean everyone else loses.
A battle fought is a lesson learned
A lesson taught by those who've earned
The knowledge that won them that battle.
But not the war
Lost in the worlds of after and before
I slip and as the world rushes towards
My hands catch the edge
And I look not up, not down, but I look around.

I am greeted by a multitude of sheer drops and cliff faces
Tightrope walks and narrow spaces
By people around confronting their fears
Abstract pains and concrete tears;
The burden I bear and the weight of my steps
Is a reflection I share with every breath
Mirrored in the world around me...

And so my message to all of you battle-scarred
Benevolent beautiful badass bards:
Pull yourself back up
And try again.
I say it every time, but now more than ever... Keep writing. -Sam Ciel
Dec 2016 · 301
A Romantic
Sam Ciel Dec 2016
I am a hopeless romantic.
That isn't to say I don't believe in love
But rather I find myself perched high above
Looking down on it.
As if there's something wrong with it,
As if the siren's song has quit,
Has lost it's allure;
No longer demure, but somehow obscure,
I look down as if it's impure
and I'm unsure why
we've let love die.

As if the idea of forever
Was ripped from me
And all that's left
Are fleeting memories,
preconceived ideas of what constitutes the eternal bond of

Tracing eachother's dichotomy into your muscle memory
The shape of their face, the texture of their skin, the curve of their lips
Recalled by brushing fingertips


The promises made when two mouths meet
Chemicals called bliss, cut bittersweet
Because parting is such sweet sorrow
And so you sprint towards tomorrow
Hoping that as you race
You'll find that place
Where you're as breathless as before
As restless as before
To explore life

And you collapse on opposite ends of the world
Hurled to bed
Dreams don't dare disturb your head
Because reality is finally enough.

This irreverent flame
Has been replaced by fickle games

It all seems empty.

I feel like I'm going through the motions.
Adrift on some tide in the ocean
Intermittent waves of love, labor, loss,
Each one with compounded cost
Greater than the one before
And I just wish I could come ashore
And stop drowning.

People throw pennies into wells
And wish for their dreams
I throw a flame in the sea
And wish to for the reams
Of uncertainty to unfurl.

I don't want this love.
This consistent inconsistency

There's something about romance I can't help but be
Attracted to
And this **** isn't it.

It's not as if the experiences aren't real
But the substance isn't there
The idea to me is surreal:
Love without care.

I just can't do modern love.
It's as if you're caging a thousand doves
Asking them to sing
Clipping their wings
Then releasing them from a cliff
And asking them to fly
Then turn around
As you leave them to die;

A plummet towards the fish in the sea,
But as we plummet, we just might see
A few flames drifting idly past
Fading flickers fighting to last
And reignite our ideas of love
Ashes to life, Phoenixes from doves.
As always, keep writing.
-Sam Ciel
Aug 2016 · 331
Sam Ciel Aug 2016
Always. Anytime anyone asks about always, but before brutish chance can coerce, clashing choices decide destiny. Everyone except the exceptional few feel flustered, frustrated, foolish, faint, and frankly, ******. God gives graciously, gestures gestating generosity. However, he has his intricate intelligence of intimate ideas and ideologies. In jest, jubilee, and joviality, a juncture. A joust for the jugular. Keen and kindling, kindred killing, keelhauling laughter and loitering love, mankind makes mistakes. Many mistakes. Mortality is... notorious. Openly obstinate, obfuscating perpetual pain with quick, quiet quarks of rotating rationale and regular, radical, senseless self sacrifice and sacrilege; Stop. Time turns tumultuously, ticking towards tomorrow. This thing, these things, take time. Understand. Ultimately, unhappiness vexes vivaciously. Without withdrawal, where would we wander? I wonder. Yearning for yore, zealots. Zephyrs on the wind.
The only thing that is eternal is the search for forever.
Aug 2016 · 525
National Anthem
Sam Ciel Aug 2016
It doesn't matter if you're wrong or right.
It only matters that people hear you.
It doesn't matter if you cower, or fight.
It only matters that people fear. Who
Are we to have an opinion? How dare
We voice our own thoughts and care
About matters that matter to more
Than our own life?

Strife runs rampant and the source is "unknown."
Every problem we face is unrealistically blown
Out of proportion. The right to free speech
has become "the right to blindly preach"
What we think is right to those we deem wrong
And everyone joins this cacophonous song.
We cannot hear their cries through our screams
We cannot hear their sorrow.

Though it seems
As if we are taking a stand
All I see is a contraband market where
People get off to the pain they inflict
Where individuality is slowly stripped away.

You're left, or you're right
You're right or you're wrong
There's only black or white
The grey area is gone
You're with me or against
Blind obedience is the best defense
Against the constant oppression
Like a Catholic in confession
We are down on our knees
Worshiping over their pleas.

And nobody's listening!

Two sides with no purpose
You're just another number
Not another person
And the numbers don't add up
No matter how much you know
And you look at all the data
It just goes to show we
Like share and comment
More than we
Might care to stop it
Our six seconds of fame
Matter more than the shame
We might bring to other parties
When we play our party games
Our brains are electronic
Our hearts made of stone
There's an ice in our veins
And a chill through our bones
We are a nation that doesn't care
About the lives of any other
We are a people who won't share
In anything but the belittlement of our brothers.
Divided in arms, United we stand.
Black white and red
Are the colors in this land.

So let's paint a mural.
Color this pain with epidural
colors and strains to color the gains
and not the losses.
Let's put down all these guns and crosses
The bullets, blood, and vindication
Let our voices and hearts
be the "Shot felt 'round the nation."
And not just one anesthetic *****
But an allergy test. Like the child so quick
To forgive the pain he's endured
When his gaze is lollipop-licorice lured
We have to grin and bear it if we want our reward.

This burden is ours, let's share it and move toward
A brighter future. A colorful tomorrow.
An energetic empathy to replace all of this sorrow.

There's blue for when you're sad
A purple tinge for melancholy
Scarlet, crimson mad
For all the times they said they'd call me

A bright-pink first kiss
Gently laced with gold
The silver tinge of wisdom
That comes when time has told
Your story to the world
Thrown your colors on display
Shown that who you are is compounded
Across a spectrum of yesterdays.

There's green for when you're sick,
Dark hues when you're alone
A white fog that falls so thick
When you don't know where to go.

There's the violet throes of passion
The infinite shades of art
The color that seems so quick to change:
The fickle human heart.

Let's condemn the colors we're supposed to be
And forget our indignation
Let's make a mosaic we're proud to see
Out of the true colors of this nation.

And when the rest of the world looks at this state
Let us show them we are United.
Our palette is a blend of every shade
And we will no more be divided.
Jul 2016 · 296
Sam Ciel Jul 2016

This is it. This is the moment. You are now, and you will never be again.
Pay attention before the moment's gone.

Time is fleeting. Now feels like an eternity.
Describe it.
Is it beyond words? Use colors. Can't see it? Taste it.
Write the words into the world with your movements. Actions speak louder than words, right?
Write it in scribbles that make no sense to anyone who isn't you.
Write it into the grooves of your skin, trace it into your muscle memory.
Do whatever you can to turn something fleeting into something timeless.
Now taste the sea-salt goodbye.

Jun 2016 · 251
Sam Ciel Jun 2016
People tell me I'm strong.
I'm not.
I'm strong willed.
I have a strong will, but there is no thrill.
I don't live, I survive.
I do not have a strong will to thrive
In my passion, my art, my career
But a strong will to survive
Without looking up to steer,
My eyes pinned to my feet
I don't know what to do
So first I take one step
Then I take two.

I'm so determined to keep my eyes on the ground
In part because I'm afraid of what's around
And as an artist I'm told to look within
And hear with-out sight, and never give in
And always move forward
Even if you're stepping on thin
Ice. Or thin air.
And if I look up, I'll see nothing's there
I'll be too scared to take that next step.

They tell me I'm wise beyond my years.
Because it appears I've conquered my fears.
I put on a smile, but it's just for show
I see people come and I hear when they go
And I wonder how many are feeling the same.

And just like my life
I know not where this goes
I rhyme without reason
I make the words flow
I walked a mile and a half tonight
(And of course I speak of the time which I write,)
And not once did I glance at the stars so bright
That used to fill my life with light
Because my soul and my heart and my eyes are weighted
I feel as if my existence is fated
To perpetually fail
I'm a boat with no sail
Oversized driftwood
Just wishing that he could
Stop moving.

But that I can't do.
So first I'll take one step.
Then I'll take two.
If by chance you're reading this and you're someone I know, please don't be concerned. When I feel a unique thing I try to capture it in the hopes it will help someone else. Doing so helps me past the moment. And besides, you've felt it too.
Mar 2016 · 329
Heart of a Lion
Sam Ciel Mar 2016
They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
Well, I don't have any good pictures of you.
And now my pen feels heavy,
and I'm trying very hard to make sure these words are written
In ink
Not blood
Because that's not the picture I want to paint.

I don't want to idolize you, to put you on some pedestal.
I don't want to diminish your value, either.
You were human.
We all are.

That's part of why this ***** so much. Mortality's a real *****.

I could wax poetic for as long as my constitution allowed and you still wouldn't be back.
That's the worst part about tragedy.
It's not that it hurts. It's not the void where someone's existence once was,
The tear in the world where there simply just isn't anymore.
It's not the heartache, the pained cries or
The river of tears so wide we can't just
Build a bridge and get over it.

It's that we have to.
It's that life goes on.

I always tell people to live in the moment instead of taking pictures, because memories last longer, and here I am, trying to paint a picture of the past.
Whoever said hindsight is 20/20 was full of **** because there's no way in hell that I can put a life into words, let alone merely a thousand.
I'm sorry.
I want to know what to say right now.
I want to have the right words for all of the unanswered questions.
I want to help.
I want to heal.

Right now I can't.
Right now I'm allowing myself to hurt.
We all should.
We all grieve in different ways so please forgive my self indulgence.

But everything great I've ever done I've written down and he was a great man so ******* I'm going to indulge.

The man had the heart of a lion.
He had the heart of a lion and the mane to match it.
He was brave. He left home to pursue his passions in foreign lands, and his courage echoes in all of us.
He was bright. Not only intelligent but a genuine source of warmth for people on their coldest days. There's a fire he started in all of us and while it may seem dim right now soon enough it will rekindle and grow.
He has lit an eternal vigil in all of us.
Burn not in solitude.

He was many things. What that was varies from person to person but it is in times of great duress that we truly realize how fragile life is. And how important it is to hold those you love close. To live life smiling and without regret. To forgive and let live, and above all else, to make each moment count.

To the un-daunting Dante,
Requiescat in pace.
Or raise whatever hell you'd like.
For all those who have lost and are lost as a result, let the light of the lost guide you.
Dec 2015 · 605
The Sound of Silence
Sam Ciel Dec 2015
Silence is a song I know all the words to
And I will read your eyes like an open book
A single glance is all it took
To know you were in pain.
I now call you my brother.
This is due to two parts you
And two parts me
We share this same animosity
Where in our eyes there's sorrow and loss
And as our tears drip down and water the moss
Keeping us pinned as the world moves forward
We pray to god for some misdirection
Any rejection of our inner reflection
So at least that way it wouldn't be so bad.

Silence is a song you know all the words to,
And as I saw you smile that guise of a grin
It filled me with this disgusting chagrin
That I wasn't alone in my misery
The truth is, I loved the company
And I'd moan and whine and grovel and complain
But having someone helped the pain
To fade.

And though I've sung it for who knows how long, I'm done with silence's solitary song.

In the absence of time, I created space
Words from my mind to my fingers to the page
Emotions burst forth in a crescendo of rage
And I'd cry and I'd scream and I'd laugh and I'd toy
With the thoughts in my head and the fears in my mind
The toils and turmoils all bouncing in time
To this desolate orchestra I play with no help
Conducted by the faults I saw in myself.

In the absence of light, I found this void
This space without time where I tried to avoid
The feelings repressed underneath the sun's rays
Compounded and bolstered, god knows how many days
I'd ended with smiles, to come home in tears
I'd gone from crying in laughter, to facing my fears.

But there's another song  I see in your eyes
Hear in your voice,
Louder than the lies that echo inside as we're falling asleep
Each one a wolf we counted as a sheep.
And though we share this animosity
I look in the mirror and the thing I didn't see
Was a friend in sight. But... again, I was wrong.

Silence is a song I read on your lips
And as your smile slowly slips
I pray that you'll open with deafening sound
Send fault lines through the silence around
Chasms deepened with every note
A cacophonous joy from both our throats
A sudden duet like some Disney dream
A resplendent note piercing the  seams
Of the absence of noise
And the presence of fear
And amidst the chaos
I can finally hear
Your voice.

Silence is a song I know you sing.
Humming quietly as you think
You're alone.
But you're wrong, too.

Each outburst adds to the melody
So every person should sing with glee
Louder than the pursuing chorus
Sing so loud they can't ignore us
Silence is a song the world knows well
But it's our turn now so let's raise hell
And raise our voices to the heavens above
Fill the deafening silence with words of love
And as the walls around us begin to crumble
Slowly we'll begin to stumble
Free from this prison of our own minds
No longer fear what lies behind
Look all around and be at peace
For the truth will set us free.

Silence is a song that damages the soul
And only through noise can our lives be whole
The things we don't say never get said
The things we don't hear will never be read
In the eyes of another singing the song
Because without words they can't sing along
So make your own words, and play the notes wrong
Throw a cog in the workings of sweet siren song
Acknowledge the light and let others in
You've got the new lyrics already within;

Hope is a song we all know the words to.
Silence is a song that damages the soul.
Less structured or organized than the majority of my work.
A few messages melded into one.
Keep writing,
-Sam Ciel
Nov 2015 · 674
Sam Ciel Nov 2015
Behind the veil I wear upon my face
Despite the actions I partake tonight
Knowing you has filled my heart with grace
And seeing you has filled my soul with light

Let's play with the fire that runs in our veins
Temper with feelings that we shouldn't dare
Testing the temperance of these social chains
Cast off their irons and lay ourselves bare

Fruit so forbidden a bite will expel
Serpentine glances from my concubine
With you I'm in heaven. With her, in hell.
With her I'm entangled, with you entwined.

Though each of us will surely do his best
It's your true heart on which my hopes shall rest
This is actually from one character to another for a performance going up tomorrow. We had to write a secret note for someone else in participation. So I had some fun with it. If anyone recognizes the last couplet, that's intentional. It's directly from the source we drew our characters from. Have an awesome night, and keep writing.
Nov 2015 · 901
Sam Ciel Nov 2015
Two brown stars alight with fire fill my heart
with wanderlust. I'm aching to explore
the cosmos she creates within her art,
Galaxies expanding evermore.

Autumnal tones reside upon her pate
And winter's temperance somewhere in her gaze
With summer's passion lurking in her gait,
Spring's abundance in her creative ways.

The seasons below join the stars above:
A marriage of both mortal and divine.
Exploring and chronicling new love
Amidst these cartographic words of mine.

And if, by grace, my journey isn't  bare
The borders of my heart shan't keep her there.
The expression head over heels doesn't quite do it. Odds are she won't find this and if she does, well, she already knows I'm a romantic.
Sam Ciel Oct 2015
At the age of 18
I entered into the unknown
As many had before me
To plant the seeds I'd sow
It was a big change.
Where I'm from
In layman's terms; a farm.

And here there are animals too.
They're just made of metal,
Metal and flesh,
And the flesh ones are scarier.
But this story isn't about the flesh ones,
It's about the metal ones
And the mettle of one so little.
I've been here for a year now, give or take a summer break
And I sometimes find it hard
In a city so full of sound and light
To enjoy myself. The little things.
I haven't seen the stars, for example,
Since I moved here.
Coming from country air and clear skies
That's huge.

I miss it.
I miss the smell, too, because let's be real
Cow manure and roadkill
Still smell better than this town.
But most importantly
I miss the little things.
I remember each summer, at our old house
Because of this little body of water in our back yard
We'd get HUNDREDS of dragonflies.
Maybe even thousands.
And I never really appreciated that until now.
So believe me when I say,
A snail
Was the most exciting thing on my walk home yesterday.

Funny enough, a sweaty teenager carrying two suits
crouching to look at a snail for
what I think was up to 15 minutes
Wasn't even slightly out of place here.

It wasn't just the fact that I'd seen this snail
But the fact that this snail's little trail
Had come
From the street.
Before I continue, I'd hit a wall.

There's piece of street art outside where I live that says
"do something every day to remind this city why the hell you're here."
And for the life of me,
I couldn't.

I'd try to sing,
but lose the words
I'd try to write
and lose the verse
I'd try to act
and lose the truth
I'd try to dance
and couldn't move.

And here
in this concrete jungle
A snail.

A creature so small but so incredibly strong
Carries his world on his back all day long
Can't give up his burdens until he dies
And I watched this snail with tears in my eyes
Because he'd crossed the street
Believe it or not
Against all odds
He'd slowly fought
his way across the asphalt road
full of fleshy beasts in their metal thrones
but his mettle proved greater
and at a snail's pace
he found himself crossing
and lay at my face.

I made sure no salt rolled off me to him
Because that would be an unfortunate end.
And I thought about words
And verse
and truth
I thought about how I could barely move
And I envied him.

Never did I think I'd say
That I wish to move at a snail's pace.

And if he can do it,
Why can't I?
This is what brought the truth to my eyes
The verse to my song
The words to my lips
The movement in my feet
My legs
My hips
I sprang into life
And went home to write
Because if he can do it
So can I.

It's the little things in life.
And in this labyrinth of greed and strife
Polluted by gasses and animals alike
Just remember to stop and breathe, and then
A snail might make the air clean again.
Thank you, my friend.
Oct 2015 · 469
Sam Ciel Oct 2015
I am a firm believer of believing
No matter how you choose to do so.
So is your cup half full, or half empty?
Does it matter?
I'm not asking for an existential crisis,
merely for you to observe.
The world has you down,
You're tossing around
Sleep is no longer a goal
Seeming completely improbable
And this isn't the first,
And it isn't the worst
And it will happen again
And again, and again
And there's things that you want
Things you don't have
A screaming inside
For what you've done "bad"
And your cup is half empty.
You walk with a smile
Your steps cover miles
Lie soft in your bed
Count sheep in your head
You don't have it all
But you know you can fall
And your cup is half full.

And neither of you is whole.
But you're both in containers
Judging life at the equator
Of what you have
And wanting more:
Wondering forever what's in store
Fearing or hoping
Love or loathing
You don't know, and its fine
No it's not, bubbles brine
Lines begin to blur
The still begin to stir
And suddenly
Something changes.

Is it good?
Is it bad?
Why do we judge things,
Happy, sad.
Quantifying feelings, playing these games
Half full or half empty,
Pretending that the names
We give to our existence
which we do with such persistence
Make us any different
from each other.

Fifty percent is not a whole
And either way you're not as full
As you should be.
If we must insist that life's a cup
Then do your best to fill it up
With malice, tears,
Kindness, fears,
Hopes, dreams
Memories, things
In all shapes and sizes
Be they "empty" or "full"
It all gets mixed to make your soul
And just remember that when you sip your drink
Not only do the lightest liquids float
But the heaviest ones sink.

And what about me?
What do I see
To be able to preach this obscure testimony?
I see that my cup
Has yet to be filled.
Spoken word. Wrote it a few days ago. Meaning to for a while. I'd include why, but I don't want to taint the reading experience.
Keep writing,
-Sam Ciel
Oct 2015 · 314
Clean Soul
Sam Ciel Oct 2015
Two brown eyes
Staring back at me
A memory I'd like to keep for a long time.
Aug 2015 · 366
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
Write me a song
Put words on your lips
Sing it loud
Give me a kiss
Things that I want
Things I don't have
Things in my mind
Things I can't plan
I'll scribble some notes
Make a few words
Tell you a story
My mind I'll purge
You'll lean in close
And whisper, "dear,
Wake up, it's not real.
Nothing to fear."
Free verse. Idle thoughts on paper. I'm scared to be close to anyone.
Aug 2015 · 196
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
Strange faces from
Strange places leaving
Strange traces of
Familiar warmth.

Familiar faces from
Familiar places leaving
Unknown feelings of
I spend more time meeting people than I do staying in touch, it seems.
Aug 2015 · 515
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
Soft rain against glass
Silence speaking words we can't find
Our eyes close
Our minds race
Nothing happens.
And that's okay.
Reflecting on one of the better moments of a trip I took a few weeks ago.
Aug 2015 · 656
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
Fingers brush
Ephemeral Bliss
See title.
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
Yellow bird goes tweet.
Colorless gas drowns it out
Blue tears go drip drop.
Aug 2015 · 394
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
A boy trapped in a growing man's body.
Emotions uncontrollable
Environments unstable
Afraid of the past
Terrified of the future
Living only reluctantly in the now.

His history is a mess of abuse, negligence, heartbreak, and death. He forgets the first, pretends the second wasn't his fault, relives the third daily, and is so used to the fourth he just doesn't care.
Tragedy isn't tragic when it's the norm.

Misused by his father,
Mistreated by his peers,
Misunderstood by the world.

And yet, he tries.
His emotions get the best of him.
So he separates. Confronts. Analyzes.

Stronger than ever, he tries again.
He no longer denies his emotions, and instead accepts them gladly.

Things are fine.

But he can feel them slipping.

So he devotes himself to his own, personal solution. He works day in, day out to understand just who he is and what he's feeling.

Acting isn't the right word, but it's the one people use.

He prefers "living."

Having done it on a daily basis for years, it only makes sense to continue to do so.

But this time, with a new goal. A new frame of mind.

He wants to be happy. happy with his past, happy with who he is, what he's done, where he's going. Just, happy.

Not that he isn't, now. Now, he's reflecting.

In his quest to trust himself, he loses the trust of others.

"You're an actor. I'm scared that I can't tell when you're being honest, or just pretending."

I'll ignore them saying that what I do on a daily basis is pretend, and just say, it still hurts.

It hurts more than everything up to that point and he begins to lose trust in himself.

The first time he hears it, doubt.
The second, fear.
The third, anger.

And as he writes and/or speaks it again, to taste the taunt on his tongue, for the eight thousand millionth time...

And this isn't his usual subject. usually he tries to change the lives of others, to write about something more than himself.

Right now, that isn't the case.

Right now, he's dropping his facade, one he'd forgotten he was wearing, and begging strangers who he can trust more than his loved ones to simply trust him.

It's hard. To try and make the world better. He's not a saint, or martyr, and he's not trying to be. He's human, and he's in more pain than he'll ever let on.

Except amidst a sea of faces and words and songs and writing and ideas he may never see again. Here, he finds comfort. Trust.

Here he is more at home than in his mother's arms.

All he asks is for you to trust him, in kind.

He thanks you now, having finished reflecting, for doing so.
I'm not sharing this one actively. This is the most vulnerable I've ever been in Spoken Word and I don't know when I'm actually reading this, but I wrote this at a low the other day. Still figured it's worth sharing.

-Keep writing.
Aug 2015 · 611
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
You might have heard the saying,
"At the end of the game, the King and the Pawn go in the same box."
but depending on the moves you make, one of them is ultimately the winner.
One of them stays on the board longer, does more for his team.
Let's extend that phrase.
"At the end of the game, the King and the Pawn go in the same box. But the game is decided by the moves they make."
I assume everyone understands Chess, but for those who don't,
That's okay, too. I'll explain one more thing about it.
The Pawn can only move in one direction.
The King can move wherever he wants.
This remains true unless the Pawn decides to go on the offensive
To take life by his own hands
A variety of options open up to him
Whereas then, the King is limited by his options.
He sees nothing new, and can merely advance or
In the same directions he always has.
And he very well may retreat, because when he falls, it's all over.
The Pawn, though? The Pawn can never retreat. He can only move forward
And if he makes it to the other side,
He becomes a Queen. The most prominent, powerful piece,
It goes in the same box but it can determine the outcome of the entire game.
A single piece can determine if, and how any other piece will fall.
This is true of the Queen, of the King, of the Pawn. This is true of the Knights and the Bishops and
the Rooks and every single piece, and so with every thing equally significant, let's strip away the
titles and just look at our actions, because it isn't our title that defines us.
It's how we play the game.
Sometimes that means we have all the power.
Sometimes that means we have none.
Sometimes we are alone.
Sometimes we are together.
But at the end of the day, we all go in the same box.
In the game of life, what we call ourselves really doesn't matter.
Aug 2015 · 550
This Just In
Sam Ciel Aug 2015
It's why we exist.

We conquered the earth, and moved to the seas.
We conquered the seas, and moved to the skies.
We conquered the skies, first with both our bodies and minds.

And then we moved to the unknown.

Historically speaking, when we have been told "you can't,"
We have responded with an equally indignant silence,
Proving ourselves through our actions as opposed to our words.
Proving that we can.

And then we moved to the unknown.

First, came the architects of the mind.
Then, the architects of the land.
Ad nauseam.

Growth is something we, as a race, have always excelled at.

So why have we stopped?

Look at us.

"But we haven't stopped!"
Pay attention to the world around you.

We are bombarded by a barrage of bullets, blood, and banality.
On a daily basis.

Constant updates of what's wrong with the world.
Masked as calls to action.
In truth a cry for help.

Fear mongering is a commonly used term, nowadays.
Let's not even break down what's wrong with that sentence,
As you can do that yourself,
But instead direct our attention to the fact that it is, in fact, wrong
And it's destroying not only our country, but our world.
And no, I am not full of so much pride in this country that I believe we are the world.

I am full of so much fear that we can destroy it.

And we can, quite easily, at that. It's not a question, at this point.
America is the most militaristic nation in the world.

Ironically enough, this is in fact one of the things we pride ourselves in.

But we spend all of this money protecting ourselves from the wrong thing;
America is a nation at war with itself.

What do we see, on a daily basis?

Pull out your phone.

I'm serious.

Open any kind of news.
Search for the following words in the headlines:

It's not a question of whether or not you saw them. It's a question of how many you saw.

These are the kinds of topic that sell the best, with media. Research supports that this is in fact what people pay the most attention to.

No ****. I would pay attention, too.

Except that I don't. Because the news doesn't just report the story any more. They add a little pizzazz. Something extra, to make it more attention grabbing.

Nine times out of ten, this extra something is fear.

It's one thing to see an unfortunate tale of a car accident amidst the rest of your daily news.
It's another to see EIGHT PEOPLE SHOT in big, bold, all caps letters
Then to have the "professional" news people drop buzz words like
"Racism, stereotyping, Gun control," and, my favorite, "political agenda."

When all we are shown is fear, all we will learn is fear.
A country united in arms, divided against itself.

Brother against brother.
Father against son.
Politicians against the ideas they're supposed to represent,
And the Law working against it's people.

People act as if police brutality is the norm.
People believe our leaders are out to get us.
Other races aren't to be trusted.
Other religions aren't to be believed.
Other peoples aren't to be offended.
Radical ideas aren't to be conceived.

Change is an outdated word. We have stagnated, and will perpetually decline unless something is done about it.

And, well, when the nation is too scared to do anything about it?

We must grow, or die trying.

At least that way, people might notice.
I know it's been a while. I've been writing, just not poetry. Still love everyone here, and please, as always, keep writing.
Apr 2015 · 513
Sam Ciel Apr 2015
Have you ever watched a candle burn?
Flicker, fade, wasting away
The wicker waxes and wanes in pain
All consuming and never full
Unsatisfied with life so dull
It grows and builds and strikes and screams
It roars and eats and tears at your seams
You want to let it out but it never quite seems
Like you can.

We live in a world today
Where people's candles melt away
They drip and drop and slowly fall
A silent plop, heard by all
But acknowledged by none
For they have their own flames to deal with.

I was reading the news the other day
And, apparently, there's this new invention
A mental confection
At some grad school somewhere
That's still in the works
From minds of the same inflection
That uses sound waves to

The device and young minds alike.
Relatively unheard of, at the time,
But they may one day save countless lives.

An interesting thought, that sound overcomes
That an amplifier may dampen
Sound inside our hearts
The burning flame that rips apart.
But fire consumes the air itself
And what sound do you make when you cannot breathe?
You open your mouth and you can only seethe
The fire consumes and grows in height
And try as you can with all your might
To make a sound, some drowning noise
The fire devours, ignores and toys
With you.

Our lives are filled with sound.
Why is it then that all around
People fall and fires fade
And candles wax and slowly wane
We burn alive from inside out?
Can this be stopped with just a shout?
A cry for help, a strangled plea
"Please, just listen to me!"
But our lives are filled with sound;
Fires burning, melting down-

Until we learn to hear the truth
Ignore the flames and blow the roof
Off our little hearth, and open wide
Expand our limits, let the flame inside
Perish away and finally breathe
Free from the fires that forced us to seethe-

A prototype, that's all it is.
Relatively unheard of.
Been a while guys! My second piece of spoken word poetry, a little less direct but still a message I hope people understand.
Feb 2015 · 598
Sam Ciel Feb 2015
A gentle reprise from the world's harsh sounds,
A melody, unheard, unseen;
Silence, it deftly and swiftly surrounds,
Transforming your thoughts to visions obscene.

****** and vile, cruel thoughts in your head
Sinister thoughts leave you begging for death.
An ominous visage fills you with dread,
You squirm and struggle, grasping for breath.

And suddenly, crash! A harsh sound awakes.
You curse and you smile, you've won this fight.
The visions are gone, the night you forsake
Cacophony bursts from your chest in full might.

Silence; a gift, or a curse in disguise?
Only you know what in your dreams lies.
Not exactly my greatest work, but I wanted to emphasize how endearing silence can be. Sometimes it's best not to have a moment to think.

Tried to use softer, lighter syllables in the first quartet, as well as a lot of silent letters, then darker syllables in the second (V's and S's have an evil effect), and harsher/harder syllables(K's primarily) in the third. Purposeful use of an extra syllable in the line beginning "Cacophony."

Explaining my choices for feedback, primarily.

Feedback is appreciated, and I hope, as always, you enjoy.
If the thought process is something you like seeing the explanation of, I can begin doing so on a more regular basis. Trying it out, for now. Let's see what happens.
©Sam Ciel
Feb 2015 · 658
Sam Ciel Feb 2015
I'm sure it was just water, though.
At least, when it begun.
The groans and creeks,
The tiny leaks,
Spouting, one by one.

I'm sure it was just water, though.
But water isn't just.
The pipes did bend,
Their lives at end,
Destroyed by time and rust.

I'm sure it was just water, though.
That's what I tell myself.
I slept that night,
They woke in fright,
Their city turned to shelf.
Inspired by a prompt on another site.
©Sam Ciel
Feb 2015 · 895
Silver (10w)
Sam Ciel Feb 2015
A silver tongue shines brighter, cuts deeper, than any blade.
The funny thing about silver is that people want it.
©Sam Ciel
Feb 2015 · 1.1k
Sam Ciel Feb 2015
I watch you when you go to gaze at stars
Twinkling, sparkling, all so very far
Away from me, away from you, from us
Away from all their shallow prejudice.

They call you names, they speak of vanity
"You don't mind" and in moonlight I see
Your true friends support you from above
They share with you the traces of their love.

You say they speak, they tell you tales of life
Each one, alone, has learned in times of strife
That in the darkness, brightest light is found.
And despite the distance, light rebounds.

And as you beam a smile back, I see
Another star amidst the astral sea.
The moon sure is beautiful tonight.
©Sam Ciel
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
Death sits quietly on my old front lawn,
Waiting and watching, for me to be gone.
He knows some day that I will leave my home
Whence he can claim it for his very own.

My house will be his, and freedom be mine,
released from all  material confines.
I'll step outside, and for the first time, breathe.
He'll step right in, and in anger he'll seethe.

The tables are empty, the rooms all bare.
I'll have left him nothing, everywhere.
I tore down all the remnants of my life
For it is time to rebuild o'er my strife.

My house in ruin, debt to Death repaid
Cobble by cobble, my new Life is laid.
I don't know what inspired this. Forgive my temporary hiatus everyone. I hope you enjoy.

Thank you everyone for the overwhelmingly positive attention this piece is getting :)
©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 922
Optional Title
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
Why is it that I hide?
This, I do not know.
But for reasons undecided,
my face I do not show.

I hide behind the words I write
More than the name I bear,
For what's a name but reference?
Something to be shared.

But despite minute importance
In exactly how I'm known,
My name is still another mask
Upon my false king's throne.

And people ask "Who are you?"
As if they want to know.
What they want is my name
Though a  name does not show.

A name does not reveal the truth
In one's identity
A name simply puts on display
A title for all to see.

A title I wear simply,
Though "title" sounds perverse,
For if I hide 'twixt fear and pride
Honor goes unrehearsed.

This isn't to say at all
That the truth I don't reveal.
It's exclusively the physical
I keep from you concealed.

You know me just as well
As you would an open book.
All you have to do to learn
Is simply take a look.

So ask again, "Who are you?"
I'll say, "You already know."
Through the tears I've shed and the words I've bled,
My honest self I've shown.
For those unaware, I write under a pseudonym. Sometimes I question whether or not I'm hiding behind it to separate the truth of my feelings from the reality of every day life.

I hope that's not the case.

Sometimes the false identity is shameful, as if I can't come to terms with my own problems. Other times the distance is exactly what helps me come to terms. It's a very delicate balance.

I find the title very fitting.

Keep writing,
-Sam Ciel.

©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 288
What If I Died?
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
It may seem somewhat morbid,
But I promise I don't lie,
When I say I find it interesting
To ask, "What if I died?"

I wonder what an impact
I'd make if I did bound.
Would I change the lives
Of those I keep around?

I wonder what a mess
I'd make if I did bleed.
Every act has recompense.
Whose tortures would I feed?

I wonder whose breath
I'd steal if I did hang.
Who would be left without words
To dull the sudden pain?

I wonder all these things,
And it makes me smile.
If I passed, they would care.
Perhaps I'll stay a while.
I'm not suicidal. I just find it somehow therapeutic to remember that people would care if I were. It's my strange way of reminding myself I matter. Everyone does.

©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 306
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
I sit here and I listen
To all the things you say
And the biggest lie of all
Is that I don't care in any way
Sometimes life *****.
©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 824
Unswung Hero
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
A knight left on his journey,
Three days he claimed he'd take.
He packed his gear, his blade shined queer;
He'd made a huge mistake.

A knight, left on his journey,
A day he'd been alone.
The hero's trail, a silent wail.
He wanted to be home.

A night left on his journey,
The dragon lie in wait.
As our hero neared, he slew his fear
The beast he would away.

A knight left, on his journey.
And in the fight he flailed.
He could only succeed as dragon feed.
As a hero he had failed.

A knight left on his journey,
For others to partake.
The beast was slain, 'mongst his remains
They found the knight's mistake.

A knight left on his journey
With a blunted sword.
The blade shone queer, and 'twas quite clear;
Death was his reward.
Just a lighter silly poem playing with words and whatnot. The title is literally nothing more than a gag, I couldn't resist. Forgive me.

Let not your pursuit of your dreams keep you from the dreams themselves.
Keep writing,
-Sam Ciel
©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 548
hello again
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
hello friend, how are you?
it feels like it's been so long
it seems only yesterday the two of us
were skipping along

are you feeling bad or good,
could you tell me please?
i heard from Mom the other day
you were dealing with disease

she said to me it's hard to explain
i asked her to anyways
she said you had something really bad
and that we may have to part ways

i told her that she was silly
that you were friends with me
and no matter what should happen
that's the way we'll always be

i heard you're in a better place
i haven't seen you in so long
three weeks passed all dressed in black.
i wrote you a little song

they made me read it  (i couldn't sing)
out loud for them today
all your friends and family
pretend you've gone away.

do you want to hear what i wrote?
do you want to hear me sing?
do you want to hear these words I've here
do you want to hear anything?

because I want to hear everything
every word you have to say
they keep on playing make-believe
you can't have gone away
I miss you friend. It's been so long.
Over the years I've grown.
It took me weeks to realize,
But I think I've always known.

Your ****** afflictions
Left with me one of the mind.
Nobody's seen you in ages,
Except for me, all the time.

I see you every moment,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I see you every single night
When I lay down to cry.

I miss you, friend. How are you?
It feels like yesterday.
I close my eyes and then surprise
We're together another day.

I wish we were, my friend so dear,
I wish we weren't apart.
But we aren't really, at least, for me
Because you're always in my heart.

I wrote a song for you today
A simple melody
a song about our childhood
the way things used to be

free of form or structure
before we did what we were told
and we didn't think before we spoke
or think of growing old

of losing touch with who we were
our gentle innocence.
Though time has taken that from me,
You've had it ever since.
You died young. I've lived old.
Many years have passed.
I see you less and less, my friend.
Though I don't think that will last.

I find my days are growing thin.
Soon, we'll play again.
I'll see you, and you'll see me,
and we'll be together, as friends

a simpler time, before old age
before a life of death
where everyone you know and love
takes their final breath.

A time that's passed, some may say.
But only for a while.
For I'll see you again some day,
And we can reconcile.

we'll skip again
and dance all day
we'll play, my friend,
the pain away

and then i'll sing the songs i wrote
for you so long ago
you'll hear me then and i'll hear you
and forward we will go

free of all our worldly pain
our strife will be absolved
in our new life we shall abstain
from ever growing old

I see you close, my time is now.
And as I do depart,
my age is shed, my body's dead
but i have a youthful heart
©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 286
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
Here I am at home again
Alone again
Without my friends
Here I am at home again
Wishing I was out
Just a short little thing to capture how I feel right now.
©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 789
With As Little Sunlight
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
In freshman biology
I recall learning about the
Food chain and
Natural selection.

I remember how seemingly
Most of the lessons were.
How we'd go home and only a
Tiny few of us would remember.

Most of us left it at the door.

But when the tiny few of us
Who were so used to taking things home
Tried to leave the pecking order at the door,

Everyone else remembered.

They remembered we were
At the bottom of that order,
The bottom of the chain.

And they wouldn't let us

They wouldn't let us forget
That we were at the bottom,
And as they slammed us against whatever they chose,
That they were the ones
At the top.

I remember eighth grade.
Agricultural studies.
And I remember
The first time we planted a sapling.

And my teacher told us
That we were the sapling.
That middle school planted our roots
And now we would grow.

I've always wanted to ask her:
If a tree falls in a forest
Does anybody care?

Because we made plenty of sound.
The thing is, we didn't even get to be trees.
Trees are strong and durable. We?
We were but brittle branches.

Branches that got stomped on,
Swung around,
Smashed into things,
And at the end of the day attempted to gather all the pieces
To try again.

To go into a flock of wolves
Disguised as a harmless sheep.
We didn't like being wolves.
We weren't feral. At least, not at first.

Soon, the sticks wanted stones to break the tree's bones,
And I'm not saying it was right,
But it was how we felt!

More than anything,
We felt alone.

In a world so full of love,
We were being taught to hate.
Even still, some of us tried to leave that lesson
At the door. But a few of us?

A few of us didn't even make it that far.
We couldn't.
Under the weight of it all, we just collapsed.
This time, we made no sound.

And still, nobody cared. If they'd
Cared, it wouldn't have come as such a
To them.


Some of us got back up. And some of us still do.
The world doesn't let us grow to be trees
So we have learned to blossom.

And even though flowers may not live as long
As trees, or grow as high, as strong as trees,
Despite all of these supposed flaws, if given the choice
Right now, any one of those trees would rather
Look down at a flower
Than up at each other.

Trees may last longer, grow taller, see the sun more often.
But flowers?
Despite trees blocking out the light,
Stealing precious nutrients,
And doing everything in their power to tower over us,
With as little sunlight as possible,
Flowers are still
My first piece of spoken word poetry. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
-Sam Ciel

©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 1.0k
RE: Love
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
There's this thing in life
This thing that we call love
It transcends gender, age, ethnicity,
All of the above.

Love is a beautiful thing
Not too unlike a rose
As roses have thorns, and thorns can sting
As love often does.

Love is a painful thing
A blade across your wrists.
Words never spoken,
Agonizing bliss.

Love is a curiosity
An enigma, misunderstood.
Three small words, yet also large
Do you really think they could?

They can, and have, and will again
And so will you, sweet dove.
You'll mend your broken wing
And soar on skies of love.

For love, despite it's quandaries
In all it's highs and lows,
Is something meant for all of us
To receive, and to show.

And if you think
No one loves me,
I say think again!

For in these words
You've found yourself a friend.
Love is more than what we see, what we do, what we touch. Love is who we care about, in any way, shape, or form. Love is something everyone understands, the language that transcends tongue.

Many people, many, kind, and caring people experience hurt and loss, but never forget, you aren't alone.
You're never alone.

There's always someone out there waiting to love you.
Willing to love you.

To the outcasts, to the freaks, to the people who write as I do, as an escape, as a form of therapy, because they don't know what else to do, and to everyone few and far between;
**You are loved.**

©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 330
House of Cards
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
To live a life
One must not fear

To live a life
A lie
With every waking

To do this as
I do
Fear is all
You need.

So do things as
You will.
Avoid the fear
I bleed.

For you have conquered
A greater force than

And with your living
Toppled down my

I am weak.
You are not.

There's beauty to be found
In watching my house of cards
Come slowly falling down.
©Sam Ciel
Jan 2015 · 393
Hide and Seek
Sam Ciel Jan 2015
A knock on my door today.
I thought I caught a glimpse of you;
My mind was led astray,
the truth obscures my view.

Come, let us hide away!
We'll leave this world behind.
The pain, the hurt, the loneliness,
these afflictions of the mind.

If I hid alone,
Would you look for me?
Deep inside my fortress
for all eternity.

And if I'm there already,
In my silent need,
And want you now to find me
is that considered Greed?

Alone in this high tower,
Looking down on you
Free of all my earthly woes.
I hope to see you soon.
©Sam Ciel

— The End —