My heart is vibrant
My brain is despondent
Both should just relent
I need a compromise
I need to realize
This is surreal to me
And she just can’t see
My heart is vibrant
My brain...
Doubts plague my thoughts
Doubts of a something my past self sought
Now it is something wrought
It’s my mistake
But maybe she can’t handle the heartbreak!
Maybe...
My heart is not so vibrant
My brain, the same
Maybe...
I am to blame
For this short bout
I feel the shame
For I am a lout!
Forgive me now,
I don’t love you
But I can’t explain how
Hopefully I can
Soon

Love and Hate
Are not opposites
We hate what we love
And love what we hate
And I have never hated
That which I’ve never loved
And I’ve never loved
What I have not hated
Indifference
Apathy
Hate and Love’s
True antonym

Remember the sky even though
it won’t remember you.

Know the constellations tales
even as they know not yours.

Remember the moon’s pull
despite its denying your shadow.

Remember the sun, the dawn even
as its novas your sight,
singes your memories
in forgetfulness, grief and time.

Remember the sunset,
that yields to night
that hardly embraces you.

Remember not your birth,
the maternal pains,
the gasps to your first breath,
the silent cursing of your first form.

Remember not your life’s mistakes,
your mother’s and hers.

Disperse them in the wind,
awaiting angels to hurl
them into the sun.

Remember not
your father’s indifference,
the times he chose
not to be a part of your life.

Remember the earth in all its colors
even as  it entombs everything.
that skins it.

Remember every plant, animal eaten;
the fallen tree that is your house frame
and every book you have read-

for their death and your life
is the child of every poem written
and consumed in the soul.

Remember the howl of the wind
in its indifference,
the universe’s deafness
that seems not to listen
or know you.

Remember that language,
your scream is the retort
to the universe’s grudge.

Shout “I remember”
even as it whispers
“I remember you not.”

I am so sick of pretending to care.
I’m so sick of taking this ****.
we seem to wish that someone would care,
but I’ll drop you for changing your hair.

I have grown sick of all politics.
Differing opinions, your all hypocrites.
I'm simply sick of cynical ******.
The way they love to polish their *****.

I hear what you say, “look in the mirror”,
That’s why I tend to chug my beer.
We all live in fear of all of our fears,
Brought on by distrust of all of our peers.

We laugh, we sneer,
We point, we cheer.
Then freak out to find that fingers point near.

I am so sick of living fear.
I am so sick if chugging my beer.
We seem to crave the fear we fear,
but hide in our safe space till everything’s clear.

I have grown sick of pretending to smile
Profit for virtue, is it all worth our while?
I’m simply sick of modern day style.
The way we stand in single file.

I hear what you say, “look in the mirror.”
It’s my reflection that I tend to fear.
I cannot face the way that I sneer.
I cannot face the way that I cheer.

I laugh, I sigh
I point, I cry
Then freak out to find pointing at me.

You've chosen ashes over gold
Traded your heart for cheap thrills
You grew careless in your love
And drank the poison of indifference

Now you swim in the sea of deception
Because apathy long ago became your vice
She's going to pull you under
And I'm forced to watch you die

I can't save you

Ode to The Epiphaner:

Verse:

So all the silence and emptiness
Is just so I can grow endlessly and free
Unobscured by the foliage’s density
All the oxygen won’t be stolen from me

If the soul and mind can’t hide
In the darkness of the night
How can I ever collect
The fruits of the dreams I strive

Let me
Climb upon barren rocks of greater heights
With the abandoned groves in sight
Every yield is mine
Sometimes a no man’s land
Can be the most beautiful place under the sky  

Chorus:

Those that despair, still care
While the silent continues to sing
The Epiphaner will always be here
For me, a long long road remains
But we will all take flight, we will all fly
Our wings will bid farewell to earth
But, there is still time
There is still time
One day, even time will die
Even time will die
Time will die
It will die

Bridge:

If only leaves and lone stars reside
In the ultramarine midsummer sky
How short and trivial will be my sight
I want to be the century-old desert tree
The Watcher of the waning moonlight
Without the ceaseless River of Praise
I still won’t go “gentle into that good night”


Verse:

Why only distance and unreachable gaze
Could testify the true believer’s faith
Like watcher of the lost, the pale moonlight
I have to shine bright in the starless nights

I have to lead the way
For the broken and dazed
For them to escape
This bleak and hopeless place

Upon the
Land of nothingness and desolation
The road is calm with a sure destination
I will be on time
One day I will be there
Perhaps still the only one
The Lone Soul basking on the other side


Chorus:

Those that despair, still care
While the silent continues to sing
The Epiphaner will always be here
For me, a long long road remains
But we will all take flight, we will all fly
Our wings will bid farewell to earth
But, there is still time
There is still time
One day, even time will die
Even time will die
Time will die
It will die

CODA:

If there are more vessels than waves
In the tides and curvature of time
How tedious would the voyage be
I want to be the eternity shadow
Ever unrequited, loving the sunlight
When all matters in the universe die
The abyss would still be my paradise

Falling, falling, falling,
                                  forever
or is this
                                     G
                                   N
                                  I
                           ­     T
                              A
                          ­   O
                            L
                          F
towar­ds a shimmer in the distance
like a wind that carries a dead leaf
whispering through the chimes
that fall upon deaf ears
as if the message was sent
and it just wasn't heard

No, this is f
                     a
                       l
off                    l
    the                  i
precipice  ­           n
                               g

as I watch the sky
march round in a funeral procession
of our history

F L O A T I N G
in this disorienting gravity

S E D U C I N G
in this magnetic propinquity

T E A R I N G
in this psychosomatic schism

every storm proceeds an epoch
                                              of pleasure
as if pleasure
                    is an
Grecian artifact
                        in the backdrop of Ovid

The caterpillar
                       of Like
                       of Love
                       of Hate
cocoons into insouciant
                                      vicissitudes

            ­                           Y.
                                    A
                        ­         W                                
but refuses to fly A