Thoughts of an inconsequential nature
Don't actually listen
Or I'm afraid you'll really hear me
I just need to vent
And yours is the friendliest face
I can think of.

Please don't take them the wrong way.

I was certain
that I had gotten
over the fact
that we were in the past
until I realized today
that I checked your blog
every single day
in hopes
of knowing what
is going through
your wondrous mind
the last time you posted
was when the leaves had fallen
and the ground was sprinkled with snow
new trees have long grown
and flowers are in full bloom
but I still think of you
and hope you may think of me too

We’re all mad, the world is full of madness. We’re all scared, the world is a scary place. We all fall down, the world is full of many bumps. We’re all lonely, the world is full of loneliness. We all have doubts, the world is full of negativity. Point is, the world is full of everything you feel so don’t feel alone because there’s about 7 million other people out there and you’re never alone.

We live in a world with so much hatred
When will true peace be won?
Why are we judged by our own skin?
Will love ever conquer the world over money?
I am afraid of the thoughts of others
I'm not lost in who I am because I know who I am
I'm lost in other people's view
Because somehow I feel like my views don't matter
But I'm wrong when I say I don't matter
Because my views matter,
Just as much as others

Emma’s Journey

Now no more the slanting rays
Of rain or snow, this poetry
Of weather charting the bright haze
Of days on Earth, sweeping melodies

Did your forget even for a time?
That our days here are limited?
Feel it slipping like an evening hymn
The months become years of lost moments

Most musical and to heaven extending
The loves ones leave us now
The Sun we once held so dear
Is softly descending, O Lord our waiting eyes

This universe as wide as the speed of light
These ***** nightly meditations for what
You would have become, little signs
Of creation and contemplation

While my world is growing dim
Now no more the crimson blaze
Of fiercely loving, give me wisdom
For these tragedies, of losing and loving

And starry pleasures of transcendent gestures
Encoded in art in private moments
Of what it feels like to be lost, anonymous
And solitary, the unexpected sleep
Of a youth dying before their course was set.

A rumble of laughter not from an LOL in an SMS
but a sound from a breathless child
running in a field
not scrolling through a feed

two friends sharing secrets
in a hide out only known by two
not hiding behind a barricade
clear yet mystifies the truth

I see you smiling in front of me
As you share old stories
And dreams of what’s to come
I don’t face a pixelated picture
As I try to communicate
Face to face?
Or face to screen
Or share winky faces
As you tease me
while sitting in a room two doors down

What happened to the times when
We were connected by the strokes of the words on paper
Or the moments captured by film
And not destroyed by a single glitch of a cellular phone

There’s a ring to my name as you call
A melody in your voice
But now
since when have IM ever been better than calling a name
with your voice
we know people more by the click of a finger
than a stroke of a hand
and from 140 words
in an app
expected to chirp our secrets like songs of birds
sung to everyone

We see connection
As the strength of the wifi at the corner of our screens
Dreams are shared with every retweet and reblog
Shared to strangers
Who care about you?
Or care about the amount of followers or likes you get
Of a picture you do not own
Of an experience you have never done
Or maybe yet to do

life is not as beautiful through a screen
it is not about those minutes you spend
clicking that play button
you cannot fast forward or rewind the wasted time
sitting and waiting
as the video loads
just so
YOU
Can live their life

I sit in front of a camp fire
Hearing laughters from every side
Smiles brightening in the dark
What happened to these nights out?
the fun nights where the stars and moon were the only light source
and not the screen of the 3G phone
or when beauty was only experienced and not captured

Through thick or thin,
I don’t want to be ruin.
Friendship we had,
I’ll better be glad.
We see each other flaws,
And break our jaws.
Years has passed by in our life,
Don’t ever use that knife.
Something that we decide ourselves,
Don’t hide in the caves.
Leave the past behind,
I’m your friend at hand.
What hurts you,
Shall be blessed thou.
Let’s face the sunshine,
And let it shine.
I’ll be here no matter what,
Don’t be such a brat.
I love you my dearest friend,
Until the end.

-Jane

There is a silent street
Where poets go
And a tiger color of light
Rains down, a search

That is never found
Via symbols at the end
Of literature and pages
Mere metaphors for

The creative process
Of image and narrative
The act of encapsulation
Experience, such a myth

Like memory, only a ripple
Of the original, so the authors
Glimpse something unreal
And seek to translate it

But the poets know, they
Will never come through
Their vertigo of dream
Writing in the wind

On the sand in the desert
Catching reflections in the river
Of the sky, the essence
Is forever lost, of each moment

Only we can approximate
In art, part of the beauty
Of creation and hunt persecuted
Through time, the testaments

OF sun, wheat, flower, pomegranate
Bumble-bee, united at the same
Address, of autumn on a terrace
Somewhere near you.