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Yanamari Sep 2020
Words fly on the whims
Of the tongue that speaks them
Like the flow of the wind that
Sways air to and fro
The air itself not as harmful as the
Wind that guides it and yet
The combination is the what carries
The perpetrators' knife through its victim

And there is no fault to the air
For the air did not create itself
And there is no fault to the winds
For the winds did not create itself
And their is no fault at all
Merely cause and effect;
The heart feels as it does
And morals sway with the wind.
Thinking back to times when I was experiencing low mood to a point where I couldn't help not expressing warmth towards a certain person even though I was more expressive with the other people in the same group which led to me being accusingly told words that felt a bit harsh, but I knew what the person was saying held some form of truth and yet couldn't help being the way I was. People say whatever they want, people perceive what others say as right or wrong, people feel differently towards the words of others. We are sentient. (Pers Ref.: UGDIRC2019)
Yanamari May 2020
Sitting by the lakeside
Legs dangling in its waters
Kicking lightly
As the cool night air
Settles under the skin
Mind wandering
Subconscious fluctuating.

Mind wandering
Subconscious fluctuating
Heart clenching
The waters suddenly thicken
Almost pulling
And yet it hasn't thickened
Still lapping beneath the knees
Heart uneasy
Thoughts attempting to solidify
Like ice at room temperature
Drowning out the voice of reason

Was there a voice of reason to begin with?
Learning about oneself is only the first step of each section of an art piece made up of many sections...
Aaron Feb 2019
Maybe I'm actually a hell of a lot smarter than you accounted for, or
Maybe you thought no one would care when you slammed that door, or
Maybe all whispers fall and all vows die and no one remembers before

or maybe I'm the token ***** of all the humor life could pour into a bashful face
It's funny how things go without a trace
Like you and me and destiny
And trying to have a place
See I thought I'd be a saint
Married love into the taint
But my only Buddha's a midnight toker,
a hedonistic fraud, that laughing joker
Looking for God in a game of poker.
This was a drinking poem!

— The End —