Pink dream, cotton candy
Like a warm-hearted cancer
Snugged in my palm tightly
hushing my nightly distress with an answer.
Gently tuck you in my pillow case
Wish for calming waves to drift me away
Time after time, night after night
Second after second
Heavy-lids say farewell to
Until an old photo comes across your eyes, you will never cherish the little pieces of time that pass you by.
To experience is beauty, To live is just a waste.
My mind is full of feelings. My heart is full of feelings. There is no logic to me.
I am art. I was designed by an artist. I was first crafted in the womb. My thoughts are put on paper and become art too.
Life is art. We create moments and memories. Our art is often a photograph.
Feelings are art.
The way you decorate your home is art.
Singing the song you love is art.
We are all artists. After all, we were designed by an artist.
I've been thinking a lot about creativity, individuality, and free-spiritedness
Here, have a dime,
My two cents by Five:
You're not that sublime
When it comes to being alive.
You slam some door and claim your might;
Not impressed by how you've dared
To shut the doors and scream to fight;
You're the kid that's truly scared
Of all the things you can't control,
All the things you'll never know;
Not fear nor anger will fill that hole;
Even roots must break dirt to grow.
You're stuffed in far too small a space;
Cramped wings find no room to fly;
Sometimes I wish you'd have the grace
To just let go and simply cry.
So much lost in the fear of being wrong;
A self-fulfilling prophecy in every song, when in point of fact:
There's more to life than being strong;
Your inner child's got a cataract.
You're the match that sets yourself aflame,
Because somedays you still need to feel;
Anything less would be far too tame
In this search for something real.
All I know of timeless wealth
Is how to give a loving hand;
We have to be the one to see ourself, but
By your side I Truly stand.
To speak of what's true:
If every fear is just projection
Then if I am to question you
Surely I speak to my own reflection.
Guess you're gone again
Watched you walk away;
You always said breathe out then in;
Know you'll be back someday.
Same seeks same to find its home
Not meant to chase the vogue
Some souls are surely made to roam
Rebel always chooses Rogue.
And rebels need a reason
We can’t abide bad laws; yet
Against the heart there is no treason
When standing for a Cause.
Always loved unspoken things
Like the thrill of open sky
Every bird must find its wings
To let go of fear and finally fly.
Beneath your chest there beats a fire
A powerful creature that needs to be free
Weave these words into the pyre
This is who you’re meant to be.
And I refuse to be your cage,
Won’t bind your feet or blind your soul
Won’t consign you to dance on broken stage, ‘cos
You’re meant for more than that role.
Can’t hide a sky of stars in a box
Can’t bottle a boundless tide,
Can’t block nature behind black locks,
Though I’m ashamed to say I’ve tried.
If you must fade to find your grace
Because you’re made of art,
Just know you always have a place
Wherever waits this heart.
You’re always free to go, and
Seek each untraveled road;
Build your dream abode.
Just please hear this song
That I’ve been singing all along:
I’ll always prove your fears were wrong, for
Some things will not erode.
I won't play by the rules of the game; hate will not become me. If you ever go into that darkest spiral where you feel you are a grenade and so you push everyone away and then feel that next wave of despair that is utter loneliness at the seeming-realization that you have cut out everyone you love in your life - if that ever happens to you and you reach that stage of existential loneliness in a vacuum of infinity - you're not alone. You're not abandoned. It will not push me away. If you ever feel like you're unreal, come find me. I'll always listen.
Is anyone real out there?
What a horrible question to tear
Apart this life,
Which always rhymes with strife
Because there's a limited number of ways
To say we're running short of plays
To fill these broken days
I don't think I'm better than anyone
I don't think I'm magically The One
But I also don't feel real
And here's the whole spiel
Maybe these bones are made to rust
At the intersection of fear and trust
'Cos all this pain is just reflection
Every fear is just projection
Insanity - I cannot condone
If we want to be free, do we have to be alone?
Whatever else is true, whatever ways I'll rot -
I truly love you; words are all I've got
The 4's attachment is being broken;
All that's expressed is just a token
I can only show the 2d shell
And so I Truly wish you well
But I'd sooner save you from this spell
Hey broken one: are you reading yet?
This is for you, so don't forget
The rhythm doesn't matter
All words will fade, left in tatters
And though this path we can't condone
I swear to you: you're not alone.
You're somewhere amidst the thought and ****;
I bid to you: please stop and look
The slightest difference between we:
I'm a permutation of thee
I know the things you cannot say
I, too, seek each shattered Way
Combing The NeverNever every day
For another reason to stay.
I know you fear you've fallen wrong,
But there's meaning in your song;
Long past the end of time,
What's true will shine through every rhyme.
Because I know you'll stalk me someday; the curiosity won't let you stay at bay.
So this is what inspiration feels like:
When it's come time to take a hike,
And every fork is a new road to take
Every choice is another path to make
Every word is another leaf to rake
Every thought is free -
What a wonderful gift for me.
The mind is strong, so
No thoughts are wrong
Or out of place;
Fear bites no grace.
To those who choose just love:
Your light outshines the dove;
'Cos for all that you may know,
You still make room for worlds to grow.
I could sit and stare,
And bide my time;
Thoughts rip and tear,
And try to rhyme.
Somehow it seems so strange
That though we poets,
Filled with strands of gold or gray,
Can rarely find a way to say
What's truly on our minds;
We're too caught up in the blinds.
Perfection is a savage curse,
But self-rejection's even worse.
Maybe it's okay to be afraid;
You can't pick and choose what to feel;
Know your soul's not being weighed, so
Put pen to page and just be real.
I wanna write in the bath
Just to prove I can,
So I am;
No clue what I'll say,
But that's okay;
I don't need an in to win;
I just gotta play.
Language conquers mind;
Maybe we're all too blind
From the search for a metaphor,
A greater meaning, a Something More;
I wonder what we might be
Without the concept of you vs me?
I give up on titles