I’m sorry, sir, for speaking to you
With my tongue only ever in my cheek
But I love you, oh I do

And I’m sorry, ma’am, for speaking to you
With my tongue grasped in my teeth
I spoke my blood, but oh! you were loved

(I wonder if they'll forgive those sins?)

Im sorry, I am, how could I ever apologize?
You trusted me, but I let that die
And I know an apology can’t suffice
I’m sorry, I guess a lot of things die

(No matter what, I love you)

And when I finally go to sleep
What will happen to my soul?
I wonder, will I drown in a river of gold?

Will there be rest in my sleep?
I wonder if it’s like I’ve been told
Oh, I’m holding out for a river of gold


(My eyes are looking away, I’m sorry!)
(Remember me, please? My eyes are closed)

...

Goldie,the golden boy,
the real C-3pO.

Bury me with my golden chains, I was always an expensive slave.

Six feet under, in a brown golden casket.
Many days, nights, seasons and years will come and go.
But I'll still be
Six feet under, in a brown golden casket.

The flesh will rot away, but like an ol' ***** pirate,
my gold teeth will still be shinny,
my rose gold Rolex watch will still be ticking.

Goldie, the golden boy,
the real C-3pO.

Though magpies they are,
love birds they be.
And oh so, drawn to shiny trinkets.
Content was he,
yet his offerings of humble stolen objects,
that could stop her gawking could not
stop her gawping,
for ill affordable gold.

Though magpies they are,
love birds not quite.
happiness was of material dependance
in particular her new flame;
an open window and a pendant.
She fled for warm jewels
but found only cold steel.
A pursuit for prettier rings
befalls a neck that is wrung,
by bigger predators
with human hands,
and by greedy choices
that shun the real gold in others.

Smiles paint our faces
As downhill we go
A golden crown resides
Atop our heads.

We are rulers of the realm.
Our happiness controls life
We dance across the meadow
Vibrant green grass stands tall

White petals with yellow cores
Live in patches, like cities in our kingdom.
I'm tackled to the floor,
We are gods to the bugs of the ground.

Rolling down the hill, faster and faster.
So happy. Happy.
Smiling cannot convey my true feeling.
My love defies a satisfied expression.

I take your hand in mine
You draw me near, not near enough.
My face seems to have forgotten a frown.
It knows not how to make that shape.

Laughs escape through our lips
And we start again.
Running together, together forevermore.
Dancing gracefully into the hands of the future.

To walk with nothing
  In hand

Allows room for a
  Heart of gold

The mountains are alive with smokeless fire.
Yesterday I was running from it all,
I hopped in the car and threw my life out the window
And started to drive
Windows down
Music off
Nothing but the stars in the sky devoid of the moon
And the thoughts in my head that spread out like the road before me.

I didn’t have a destination in mind
When I drove to the harborfront.
Getting out of the car seemed monumental
The cold outside was a barrier I didn’t want to risk crossing
But I braced myself for the slaughter
And opened the door up anyway.

My foot touched the ground
And I winced
But nothing happened.
Each step forward forward forward
Brought me closer to the ocean.

I think it was snowing.
Something was swirling around me in the cold
Encompassing me
I couldn’t tell whether it was controlling me or I was controlling it
But it didn’t seem to matter.
My feet touched the sand
The sand was covered in white dust
The starts reflected on the calm water’s surface
But when I looked down, I didn’t see myself staring back.

Is emotion ponderous?
I suppose it is if I’m writing this,
If I can even ask the question.
Why do I feel so deeply
And have all these thoughts that wash my brain out like the tide
But never can find the right string of words
So that it will impact more people than just myself?

There are things that make sense to me
That don’t seem to make sense to anyone else.
In a fit of passion I see emotions in my brain
And write what I see
To the best of my fleeting ability
But what comes out is just a jumble of words
A couple of images
And not a through line of sense in it at all.

Maybe I should read more.
That’s what I always tell myself
Read more books with meaning
Instead of just the stuff that interests me.
Read more poetry that has words too big to follow
And morals so far buried
I need heavy machinery to dig it up.
Why can’t I write like that?
Why can’t I make words dance across the page
And up and around the minds of those that read it?

All you’ll ever be is someone who’s life has no meaning
Who can’t justify her place in this world
Because she chose the wrong thing to focus on.
There is no gift there
There is no talent
Whoever saw it there once was lying to you.

There’s too many ideas in your head
Too many grand feelings with emotions that can’t be put into words
And not enough concrete to solidify it
There’s no point in continuing.
They’ll just laugh, you know. They’ll read what you have to say and tune out their ears.
The writing is garbage
It’s terrible
It’s uninspired
It lacks the je ne sais quoi
The kind of thing that needs to be had and not taught
The kind of thing that you thought you had, once, but now don’t think so at all.

Nobody else thinks so either
So what are you going to do about it?
You’ve wasted too many hours of your life,
Written too many thousands of words of nonsense
Of pointless nothingness.
You’re past the tipping point.

Keep on writing, I guess,
That’s all you seem to keep doing.
Some people say that once you write enough garbage
Once you dig through enough dirt
You can find gold underneath.
I sure hope that’s what happens,
Because if not then I don’t know what to say to you
I don’t know where you’re gonna go.



Try to write yourself back home.

Your eyes are like beautiful emerald
A wink like a teasing herald
Each spark strikes my stoney heart
This must be your gifted art

The twinkle that shines so green
Shades my view within a screen
My heart is not made of gold
Rather ragged, torn and has grown old

Yet, I long to see you everyday
In my dream or in real either way
I think am fallen in love with you
But my love is coal and not new

I do not shine in anyway my love
Feeling like a humble dove
Yet, drowning in this green sea
My happiness, you are my life's key

Today you are here with me
It's not gold but you can see
My stoney heart has begun to shine
Your love has conquered this heart of mine...


©sim

He was wandering through the woods, when he saw her.

She had long golden locks like gilt thread, it shimmered and its ribbons gently moved in the wind.

She wore an exquisite gold lace dress, which barely touched the green grass of the ground beneath her.

She gave a quick glance at the gloomy man gazing at her.

The beauty astonished him; it approached him with steady small steps.

She was like the goddess Aphrodite, but rarer.

She was the meaning of beauty, the warm air, the longer days, the bright sun, and the worry free smile.

The definition of beauty is easy; it's what leads you to desperation.

As the beauty advanced, her gold lace dress became a fade orange and the beauty in the previous goddess figure faded.

Every moment and every second of this illusion to his eyes appeared as a dream to reality, the reality of the fickleness in beauty over time.

His desperate gloomy figure slowly turned into white happiness. There was no more darkness; all that was left of him was white icy flakes.

The golden locks became white, and the fairness of her face became filled with wrinkles.

She lost her figure, her beauty, her gold.

She often looked into the mirror wondering where that gold light went.

The light was still within their cheeks, but the gold figure vanished.

In his eyes she was becoming something more beautiful than a storm.