Living is often like drowning, and sleeping like flying,
So bridges and tall buildings always tempt me.
When I talk about death I feel brave.
I've always hated how recognition can so easily turn into pride.
They say pride comes before the fall,
But I believe that various kinds of self-centeredness are the origin of all unholy descents.
I remind myself that I shouldn't take my life because I didn't give it,
And my heart continues to beat on its own.
Blood doesn't stain crimson red,
It darkens and crusts on the skin.
Everything that is dead becomes only a memory,
Then it disintegrates and washes away, eventually becoming nothing.
I can’t remember anything from before I had the ability to reason,
So when did I come alive?
I wonder if all people valued beauty,
Would there be peace?
Because I sometimes wonder whether Neil Armstrong meant to say what he did as took his first step on the moon.
I think trying is as valuable as doing,
But justification is a dangerous tool.
I am cautious of failure and success;
But count this as my eulogy
A list of things that I am going to say before my untimely death.
*I recognized the world for the canvas it was and I didn't waste my life.
My dreams were my motivation,
And they were fueled by those that underestimated me
I walked streets day and night and prayed that I would somehow run into the girl of my dreams,
and when I finally found my missing rib I looked at her like she was a piece of art that I just couldn't keep my eyes off of.
I suffered and I found its nectar bitter-sweet.
I didn't get the best of life, but then I made the best of life.
I never stopped caring,
my love for the unlovable made me daring.
I trusted too easily so I was always broken.
I always found things to love, but they never loved me,
But despite it, I still loved, hard, even though it hurt me.
I couldn't comfort because I had never been comforted.
After a lifetime of battling myself, I finally took off my crown of thorns.
I didn't let the past get the best of me,
I gave the future all of me.
I hated animosity,
War was despicable to me,
And I always preached peace.
I prayed constantly that my efforts would not be in vain.
I never actually could stop sinning,  but despite my ugly sins, I never stopped straining.
I was not perfect, but I did the best I could.
I never ceased to hear the music.
I still played, even when I felt like I was playing solo, I still played my part in this symphony of life.
My eyes were aimed at the director, and we played through the storm,
We played even when all hell was against us,
We played, and played, and played
Until eternity came through.....

They told me I didn't know what love was.

Every stinging syllable of that salient statement still splits me open as if
hit by a throwing knife.
How could I not know something that has both affected my life and
directed my strife?
Yet they were kind of right.

I did not know what love 'was',
I only knew what love 'is'.
Love is,
Persistent.
Both consistent and inconsistent, even
Resistant.

But most importantly, love is existent.

As in the time I practiced kissing the basketball.
Forget the swish, my only wish was for that kiss to be
real.

And I fantasized that She'd be my blue sky.
We'd kiss on the 4th of July,
while the fireworks fly by.
Love was with this girl in my mind.

You see, I'm a Romanticist.
I choose not to live in a reality where logic tells me
affection only leads to an *******.
Or a mathematical algorithm can find our
connection.
No, this is the wrong
direction.  

Still, they think I'm insane.
For romance has been too romanticized,  
into something we cannot theorize.
We must all be square,
and think square.
But when I look into the sky,
I can still see her eyes, desperately waiting,
until the 4th of July.

"Enlightenment-Romanticist Complex", you called it,
my conflict of idealism and rationality

Like a doctor, you laid it out for me plainly
the nature of my illness, from which i was unlikely to recover

though somehow you, the eternal pessimist,
managed to harbor some hope that I would.

But tell me, love,
honestly
weren't you, yourself, still suffering from the same?

You looked forward to a full recovery,

but imagine how deliriously happy we could have been

in our little sick-bed.

What is it with Apollo,
that draws my heart like light doth to a sunflower?
Is it the solitude
that drew Apollo to the land of the Hyperboreans?
Is it the love
that he had for Daphne which made her a laurel tree?

What is it with Apollo,
that draws my heart like a bee to a honey-laden-flower?
Was it the over-achiever streak in him
which made him Zeus' favorite?
Was it the dark streak in his soul
that added to his romanticist persona?

Now I know that it is...
the depths to which Apollo went,
the jaws of Fate that Apollo bent,
the torrential dark thoughts that Apollo sent,
the hearts of mortals that Apollo rent.

And when HE said,
You're the only one...!
With my dead mind,
I'm a golden mine.

It's my benediction; it's my affliction!

What am I? Apollonian.

Some people would say that I am a fantasist, an idealist or a romanticist. They would be right.
But its not innocent; I've seen love in all its powers; its glory, its sacrifice, its understanding, its passion, its beauty, its happily ever afters, its successes, and also in its suffering, its misery, its hardship, its jealousy, its insecurity, its possession, its cruelty and most of all its longing. Love is illogical. The amount of love you have for yourself, will attract that same love from someone else. Its hard work or its easy. Its equilibrium or its imbalance.

Everyone in your life in whatever form of relationship holds this love for you, and you for them. You become a mirror image for whatever you desire in life from others. What you lack, you hope they will fill the void, making you whole. Or sometimes where you lack, they take a look around, sniff the air and make themselves cosy in the cavern of your longing. Sometimes just sometimes, you find the jigsaw puzzle piece to fit the void.

This is what I believe about love.

Love is sacrificing yourself for another, but not all of you until you are deplete of reason, choice or circumstance.
Love is making the effort. Actions speak louder than words.
Love is giving til you want to punch yourself in the face, because it seems too much, and then getting over it because you learnt from it afterwards.
Love is breaking past that barrier, taking down those walls, even if its brick by tiresome brick.
Love is travelling 4 hours to see someone to make them smile, to let them know that you care.
Love is attuning your inner spirit. Taking pride in yourself. Taking care of yourself.
Love is loving yourself.
Love is cartwheels, fairytales, hand-me-down stories and a rollercoaster ride.
Love is 22 cut out love hearts, each with a 'I love you because....' hanging from your living room ceiling.
Love is listening. Really listening to one another, and talking like adults.
Love is loving someone, way after they have gone and made their own lives away from you, just because.
Love is letting someone go, for the last time, giving up and slamming the deadbolt on that door, so they can, never, come, back.
Love is letting go of control, negotiation and acceptance.
Love is forgiveness. Internal, and external. Even if they are not there, even if they continue to try to destroy you. Understand, everyone has their own demons to deal with, and theirs aren't yours, you're purely a emotional punching bag. You accept that or you don't, your choice.
Love is understanding that you are not part of their life, unless they make you part of it, then you have a say, but you still might not get anywhere.
Love is saying sorry and meaning the **** out of it.
Love is giving a second chance.
Love is sitting up with someone in the midnight hours, holding them while they cry themselves out of their pain and living nightmares.
Love is believing in what you want, and respecting someone for what they want, despite your misgivings about it.
Love is being honest, in every which way.
Love is a cup of tea in the morning.
Love is your hand cupped on my cheek, so I know you're there.
Love is play fights, pillow wrestling, hide & seek and treasure hunts.
Love is laughing til you cry and your belly hurts.
Love is knowing when I have had enough, really don't want you here, nowhere ******* near me, and holding me anyway, because you know I really do, but can't help myself.
Love is creating trust. Breaking down boundaries and letting someone in.
Love is chinese whispers, bbqs, outdoor fairy lights and midnight fire pits.
Love is a mutual appreciation of the same music.
Love is mutual appreciation of each other. Mutual understanding.
Love is fighting for those you love, against the world if need be.
Love is giving, sometimes until you are spent and weary.
Love IS kind.
Love is acceptance.
Love is being a best friend, a role model, a partner in crime, and a creator of mutual dreams.
Love is wiping away the snot, the blood and the tears. Placing magic kisses on scrapes, scratches and bruises.
Love is believing.
Love is holding someone til they're ok with letting you go.
Love is packing up the car early in the morning with a tent and walking boots and driving off in the sunrise.
Love is teaching someone how to ride a bike, understand a question, try a rope swing or do roly polys down the hills
Love is letting them get it wrong, so they know how to get it right.
Love is giving your life to something you believe in.
Love is not giving a flying **** and jumping off the cliff. Recklessness abandonment.
Love is an adventure of mass proportions.
Love is unconditional - if you place conditions on love, you are limiting yourself in every avenue of your life. Place conditions on other things - respect, commitment and trust.
Love is passion; passion til it overflows into all avenues of your life, til it reaches your happy place, and puts a smile on your ****** goofy face.


Love with all your heart.
For no reason.
Forget the rest.

I want to be the one
in their history books
the legend around the campfire,
a name they won't forget.

My heart longs for greatness,
my bones rattle at the thought
of changing this decrepit rock
into something beautiful again.

Wherever I turn my eyes,
people are breaking on the inside,
homes are burning from this pain;
I see creation crying for freedom.

Can I change anything?
This question keeps me awake,
weeping in the latest hours,
begging God to let me fight.

I hear their cries!
I see emptiness in their eyes,
lost children walking the streets,
asking "Why did he leave?"

How is it I love those I've never seen?
My soul aches for their suffering,
there are human beings dying
and nobody is doing anything!

When they asked me what
I wanted to be when I grew up,
It was always a hero,
someone who fought for others.

All my life I've cared too much,
I'm beginning to feel claustrophobic,
I was given this big heart,
then placed in a little world.

I fear I am simply crazy,
a senseless romanticist.
But I curse my insecurities,
they will not **** me!

My dreams are impossible,
they say it's just my youth,
I'll grow out of this heart,
and join the rest of society.

But I violently refuse!
Let me be a light in a dark room,
may I bring hope to all who breathe,
I give my life to change eternity!

*~ Matthew Walker ~

In a picturesque setting the idyllic complete essence where love is born stored and reborn a forest valley
With trees so rare breathtaking nobility rises and rightly so nothing less would be right in this cradle
Where true love takes it first breath and the mountain that rises as a great covering and protector and it
Adds to this magic spectacle an extraordinary water fall that is made from this moistness it goes back to
Adam when he first saw Eve tears of joy formed on across time this represents loss love forward and
Back to the beginning of time and continues to this day it is the tears of the prince while he had the
Taj Mahal built knows this as you read this it was not just the waters of the sacred
Ganges that went into the mortar no copious hot burning tears ran down his face into
This masonry the adhesive where first evidence that a closer look will reveal to eyes of
Lovers alone that bits of human heart is part of the mix that holds for all time loves true
Illustration into the greatest act known to exist some will be surprised to know that you
Carry an inward picture of your true love and it is now and forever bathed in moonlight
The romanticist can produce this as undeniable proof if it bares these markings one has
Truly transcended through immortal decree you have risen to esteemed revered status to
Know love in this favored position you have crossed to experience a profound
Knowing elevation that speaks feels the inner life of exquisite well being this charge
This power electrifying is the completeness that two people only can know through
Undivided love and commitment These words are all flowing out of a granite mountain from an
Unknown source that has been the keeper of thoughts and emotions since time began all things present
That is growing under the feet of these lovers draws its life from this water the grass the fauna is full and
Rich it has spices that were carried by caravans across the great Sahara from India and the flowers note
The silk from the mysterious Orient two loves entered impoverished lone figures they will be adorned in
Richest silken robes made right before their eyes it commends one who has been alone on the
Euphrates and then allowed their hearts to be bound as one then they have eaten from that fruitful
Valley that was the birthplace of mankind these words this place this love sprang from a Holy hush now
Find and live yours it is your birthright it exists at the intersection where to hearts collide and life is
Discovered like no other

The day we met
she offered me a cigarette
Trying to keep afloat,
she burned a hole through her throat.

Well-polished and looked clean
I had never known a girl from Manchester Green.
Too nervous to speak to me,
she grabbed a bottle, so that she could breathe.

Strangling me with her Tiffany necklace,
I pinched my pennies to avoid being reckless.
I caught her falling for another dose,
As I fell for the blonde in the cashmere coat.

I picked her brain about the dust in her nose,
“you can't **** the young.”
Words confined to my tongue

This was just another secret tryst,
she was never much of a romanticist.

There's an elegance
to the math

but

it's too complicated for
us to understand much less
make a career of writing
ring looped code
or father toddling

equations.

At best, we fancy Newtonian
relationships,

common sense ones that any 17
century young Romanticist
would Realize

The faster we accelerate into Love the greater
the Force of our relationship
and the Mass of our egos multiply the effect

A Love in motion stays in motion

If only we live in vacuums

our fairy tale would never end
and the forever after is locked,
safe behind Castle doors

But our stories are more like Grimm Tales

Impulse
forces of liberated Egos
change the trajectory
of our real

love.

Random white cue *****
bounce us into a side pocket.

And who's to know?

Are the cul-de-sacs
any worse than
landing in an odd corner,
bunched in with only
a stripped
or solid ball?

At least we didn't scratch
against some misshapen Black
eight

To get a degree
you need to be
(which I was never)
clever.

I'm what they called a late developer,
the picture being taken I was just late in
appearing to be
and no degree

It makes sense to me
that's more sense
than the syllabus made
and
educated on the lean streets of a mean town
is it any wonder I let people down?

whatever
how clever or if ever I'll be
I can't say I miss not having
that degree because
I've met idiots with honours
and
fools with some brains inside
and out of those
hallowed
halls of academia

being a romanticist I realise I might muse on what it is that I missed
but
if it was never no matter how clever in the stars for me

I will not worry endlessly.