Ice-pick finds my ear;
**** this unfettered silence.
I long for music...
This one's not literal, my ears are fine, but snow doesn't sing as rain does
questions are left standing
nowhere to go
niceties walk like snails
stuck in a hurricane of
cold and dark,
lonely but peaceful;
it surrounds me
how I like it here
For all things there is a season, a time for everything under the sun.
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather.
Forgive me, if i spend my whole life questioning this -
Why is it my lot in life to work and be happy with it.
Am i nothing but a brick in the wall.
A mist that appears for a drop of time and then vanishes.
Merely a stem - some may bud, the lucky will flower
but all will wither and fade away.
Forgive me, when i say this -
For why should evil stick his face in mine and mock my happiness.
I am selfish, I am ungrateful
How can I enjoy this fellowship with injustice?
Where Love stands, hate reigns.
Where Peace sings, war screams.
Where Happiness dances, sadness breaks its bones.
Where Breath lives, darkness suffocates it.
This is human - self-destruction,
Created in love but born to sin.
We know of nothing else, until we find
Ardent patience, Yearning salvation -
This is human - saved for nothing.
some lonely nights
are worth the wake
but are you,
worth the wait?
i put my wishes
into the sun
in a day
i put my hopes
in the moon
in the night
guess it's time
to pop some instant popcorn
and watch my life fall
Hours of childhood
Impatient, with nothing but
Playing by ourselves
what alone endures
Between world and toy
A point which shows a child
Who they really are
Who sets in constellations
And puts distance
In his death
I am impatient with information
I flip to the back of a book
To preview the ending
I don’t like surprises
I read the plot for a movie
Before I ever see it
Just so I always know
Exactly what comes next
You cannot read people like a book
And there’s no plot guide
But I always try to spot the end
Before it’s near
I missed the bus seconds after the last passenger boarded.
Now I sit here alone,
Waiting for another vessel
To drag me to my destination.
The air is cold,
And my heart is still thumping away
Due to physical exertion to reach the thing I missed -
But like everything else,
They're too far to reach.
I don't know how to end this
But mention the tiny speckle of headlights
And the roar of the large vehicle in the distance.
So now I think:
'There's always another bus.'
One of my meh poems.
lost in this world created on a screen,
I can't even see things that really matter to me,
I miss the rawness of your voice,
the pen to the paper,
now we have an abundance of choice.
I can type without looking,
I can manage five tabs while ordering food,
everything is so instant.
we are the impatient,
and the distant.
adaptation creates us to be dynamic,
but I can't seem to not panic.
you are high and dry,
but you're glorified.
you keep staring at your phone
I am just begging to know