Gazing upon a silent sleeping city through my window pain
Your perfectly captured picture I'm clutching soaked and tear-stained
Your bright smile in my mind is forever singed and framed
The rain instinctively falling to the beat of my broken heart
Missing you like flowers misses the desert rain
I'm holding on to your perfect memory
How do I cope with this longing pain
You were the air that I breathe, I'm starting to choke on oxygen, your silhouette still haunts me
I feel I'm slowly going insane
How am I suppose to let you go
When I'm constantly craving your healing touch
I can still feel the taste of your lips
This heartache is living within my soul
From this spiraling emotions, I have no escape
I only have God to blame
Every part of me being led by blinding hate
I can no longer see happiness
It was stolen by a tragic fate
The tragedy is a part of life
It's how we pick our selves up after the strife,
Keep moving forward
Put your hurt in a vice
Squeeze till love is in lust
Of course it’s watered down
Everything is and see
There’s always a watering down
As you knew always and we all knew
Along with you but take notice
Of how it all is
In all dimensions this
And this and this and this
And this and this and this
But yes we see it all snapshot
Until maybe just or only a poem
Can or cannot capture
What has to be but it may get close
Or close enough to see nothing
Is forgotten or forgets nothing it
Has worse dreams than you
But knows they are not dreams and
Some will sow seeds and
Or maybe just or only a poem will
Wonder if yum yum this appeals
To mind or this or that part that
At present needs what it does not
Yet know it has in abundance
In profound abundance
Or call back tomorrow
Or tune in tomorrow
Or hope for tomorrow
Or just hope
Do you see the boy?
Skipping and jumping under the sky?
Laughing like he has no fear in the world.
Holding hands with air.
Do you notice the way he moves?
The way his feet jerks and grooves?
Moving so unnaturally,
Laughing like there's no end in things.
Lovely schizophrenia, isn't it?
The way it came from his mother?
The way he cares for someone else
Suffering from the same mental illness.
Delusions, fabrications, dreams that is unreal.
the way that he perceives the world makes me really feel.
Uncomfortable, yet I don't think that he asked me to feel
Pity for his condition.
Laugh of a thousand children,
Asking for a better future,
Those ones that seek the asylum,
And look forward for capture.
Public opinion on mental illness is changing, but is it for the better?
Before you take up your blade, Sharon
who do you see?
Will you be cutting to heal
or incising to free
some carefully hidden,
some up-til-now unbidden me?
When you take up your blade
and test the fresh edge
do you have an image of a me
fixed in your head?
Can you see in your mind
a kinda-me roughly out sketched?
When you make your first cut
do you have a clear vision
of what I'll reveal
have you made your decision
as you press down and carefully cleave
with loving conceiving precision?
When you lay your blade down
do you see I've appeared?
Do you know I'm complete
when the excess is cleared?
Or when you sleep do you wonder
whether there's a less of a me
maybe a more of a me
silently waiting here?
You need to see Sharon Walter's art to fully understand this. She cuts away at images to reveal something new. Quite remarkable.
Photography to me, is capturing fractions of moments that are so mesemerizing a fraction is still beautiful. I don’t mean this in a bad way either. To be honest a photo doesn’t ever give me the full experience and won’t ever will. But these moments lived where so amazing even just a fraction is beautiful. You’ll never capture the taste, the smell, the hair standing up on your back. Your capturing just one of our senses and that by itself is miraculous.
I write the notes
At what never be
I write the notes
Hoping you’d see
Capture the universe
I write the universe
Dreaming upon the stars
Every word a stray
Catching the stars like fireflies
Filling bottle by bottle
I can only hope you’d see
My little universe in a bottle
I’ll give to you someday
I just watched a news report
which removes carbon dioxide (CO2)
from the Earth’s atmosphere
to reverse climate change:
Big fans **** in air
which is passed through liquid
which absorbs some carbon dioxide (CO2)
then the CO2 is extracted from the liquid
by chemical reaction to form
solid pellets of calcium carbonate,
thereby removing CO2 from the atmosphere.
One Direct-Air-Carbon-Capture (D-A-C-C) plant
can extract 1 megaton of CO2 every year
from the atmosphere –
which is equivalent to 40 million trees;
It would take 40,000 D-A-C-C plants worldwide
to stop further climate change.
when will global society
become desperate enough
to avoid bad climate change events
like cyclones, droughts, floods
that governments will spend the money
to build these 40,000 plants
and save us all from climate change.
In the street full of flowers,
I saw you again.
The sound of film can be heard,
Didn't care if what I captured was blurred.
You probably didn't know when you started hurting me.
I approached you and I want to be honest with you this night.
I still wonder, wonder, beautiful story.
I still wander, wander, next story.
You were hurting too,
Now promise me,
Don't throw yourself away.
You should be your light baby.
Like the other day,
Come in front of me baby.
I want you to be your night.
In this scenery full of flowers,
Interwine our pinkies,
I want to make you mine.
I really love 'Scenery' of BTS ' V and 'Promise' of BTS' Jimin. I was thinking of creating a separate poem of the two but why not combine? So I tried but I think it's messy so I'm sorry.
I wrote about you for the same reason I photographed you
Because even though we aren't the same people now
You're the same person I fell in love with on the old pages of my journal
But instead of being wrapped in your arms, the words on my pages hold me close and bring warmth to my heart, much like you used to
The photographs of you pull up the corners of my lips to create a soft nostalgic smile, though my eyes start to pool in the corners
Not tears of sadness, but of melancholy remembrance for how much has changed since the ink dried on my pages
Tears that remind me why I write and capture
So that I can relive the moments I held dearest and preserve those who walked down my path with me, no matter where they veered off on their own, they'll always remain the same in my story.