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Mister, misses
A snake's tongue
To sounds of hisses
A caged bird
The spoken word
Breathe life into me
Or kick me to the curb

For I am human
I am only me
Not justified by anyone
Or anything else
You may see
Picture this, picture that
I'm not looking to offend you
Or contemplate an attack

I have seen myself
From my inner spirit
As I dream the day away
To write a song, and
Perhaps someday, hear it
For music is my passion
And writing is my attraction
And as a wonderful couple
Together, they equal my
Purpose, significance, and
My call to action.
This poem was one of the first personal poems that I wrote a few years back. It was around the time that I was getting reintroduced to poetry as another way of personally expressing myself, alongside my main method of music and songwriting at the time, still today.
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Marooned  land-locked
    on  island  earth

Born with an orphan’s
    unknowable ache

Born with an empath heart
– always feeling too much –
mystic receptors wide awake
    in a highly sensitive soul

It’s as if I've walked along
      forever alone,
    one step at a time,
    lost in a restless nebula
from the earth to the moon

Consciously dreaming
      to steal away, 
bearing the weight of the sky, 
upwards over the mountain,
away from these chains
         that bind

    The maelstroms echo
behind silenced, probing eyes
with an unsated thirst
      to be wanted
    dead or otherwise:

Never understanding
    the reasons why,
spinning around in my head;
where "once upon a time"
        was hidden,
        buried alive              

A lifetime spent trying
    to unlearn the things
    I wish I’d never
    sought to know,
    clinging to the love
I've touched in my life
  evermore enwombed
       in my heart

    Passing milestones:
walking another barefoot mile
passing so many locked doors
    without keyholes
– way outside the lines –

    Choking on all
    the latent words
      lay fallow, 
      left unsaid 
Always looking for
something dreamt
but seldom manifest 

Growing so tired and weary
with no one standing by my side;  
no one to lay down beside me
    to take a rest for awhile

Just another chapter
in a timeless same old story;
  another dark star
      burned – out
      – vanished –
into the utter obscurity
of a sky so close and yet
       so far away...


Jesse Stillwater ... August 22, 2018
Thank you for reading ...
Aniseed Aug 2018
These words are fingerprints;
A momento of the fleeting seconds
Where I overflow with emotion
Like a glass under a faucet.

True, these portraits are usually
A collection of broken mirrors,
But let me write when I am howling
At the moon in my car
As the man on the radio makes love
To his microphone
And the glow of streetlights light
The path home.
Let me write when the floors are clean,
Lemon cleaner and sunlight pouring in,
And I'm trimming the ends of flower stalks
For a vase that paints these walls of mine "home".

I am not entirely fragmented.
My ankles may weaken
And my spine my stiffen
And static might overwrite my thoughts
When the sun retires,
But against everything, I stand.

I stand.
A moment of clarity.
Aniseed Aug 2018
It's a dance I've forgotten the steps to
An equation, a misplaced formula
A melody with lost lyrics

Forgiving myself is as easy
As putting my hand on a hot skillet

Loving myself might as well be
Rocket science

------------

Bitter are the memories
That marr my skin
In unwanted scars
And paint my prose
In purple flowers

Give me an IV
Of rain-soaked November nights
Or dry heat against my skin
And fresh earth between my toes
Or the feeling of a hand
On my shoulder
Maybe I need to talk to someone.
I'm a small pebble
making a giant ripple
A speck of black sand
on a coral white beach
The left foot
kicking up a storm

A hermit, a drifter
a paradigm shifter
I am a disruptive
not a destructive force
I think outside of the box because inside I'm lost

I've been Nero, DaVinci
Neruda, Dali
burned as a witch
and now I'm just me....
a small pebble
making a giant ripple
Poem written for a blow-torch painting I did earlier this year.
This is a new page.
Empty;Deep Love and woes fill;
The former is me?
Fresh start same games but different play that is the sentiment don't want to say anymore
Shiloh Reeves Jul 2018
I told myself a while ago that I wouldn't let this cruel world darken my heart,
that I would remain loving and caring.

But I've began to take notice:
I'm destroying myself trying to be there for other people,
may it be family, friends, colleagues, coworkers;
The end result is the same and it's my madness...

If there's one thing I outta learn from this it would be to live for myself from now on.
Shiloh Reeves Jul 2018
Don't allow the voices of other people to cloud your judgement.
You battle with that little voice in your mind enough.
You stay up late at night wondering.
You come to realize your whole existence is a lie.
And you want to know the truth so you start asking questions
and when the answers don't come right away,
you grow frustrated and angry and start pointing fingers.
When you taste madness, take a breathe and try to understand what it is the man above is trying to show you.
If you can realize this,
you are closer to your dreams than you think you are.
A piece I wrote that inspires me.
I hope it inspires you as well.

If you enjoyed, please take a look at part 2 of Monkey Madness.
Frank Discussion Jun 2018
Just straight repeats are playing
In the darkness.
"Beat me" proceeds burnt out,
******* wisdom.

Broken, beat-up, second hand,
Used emotions,
Carve grooves and ruts so deep
On fractured psyches.

"Don't you want to turn it off now,
Take their hands and give them cleaning?"

"Don't you want to burn the house down,
Gather ashes and give life meaning?"
Frank Discussion Jun 2018
Break

The heart

Of the one

That broke you.

Smash!

Burn

The lives

Of the ones

That bind you.

Smash!

Tear

The flesh

Of the one

That haunts you.

Smash!

Smash, just for the sake of being heard.
The innate beauty of breaking.
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