the days go by in pleasant routine
only occasional disturbances
     with grandkids  unexpected visitors
     the mailman ringing at the door
          because the letter would not fit the box
     the neighbor asking for a favor gladly granted
     someone who wants to sell some things

the days go by
      preparing meals  go shopping
      splitting the firewood
      running the wash
      checking the email
      go swimming and do AqiaFit
      occasionally have a lunch with friends

the days go by

and I occasionally wonder
about the undesired goal of passing all that time
as days go by

Like the lapping tide
sleep effaces all trace of
the previous day.

It washes the shells
of our dreams upon the shore
of our waking mind...

We muse upon them,
what they meant to us within,
Fades as dawn grows strong.

Actually inspired by the fact that I had fallen asleep wearing makeup and it was all gone by morning. . X'D hahaha. .. this was the poem for my first dream journal back in 2010 .. I  think.

God laid his cards on the table and made me choose.
I picked hope.
She had the warmest eyes.
Her smile was inviting.
She was full of promises.
Promises don't mean anything.

Our government could promise world peace.
Promises don't mean anything.

God could've promised me another hand.
Promises don't mean anything.

You could've promised to stay.
Promises don't mean anything.

There's a lot of good to be said about living life with certainty.
About us.
Revised 1/18/18
Vulpes 4d

I once had a great friend in my childhood years
Back when my world was two blocks wide
A wise owl, hulled in a cloak of gray feathers
Tainted innocence that once shone like snow.

One day, she called me to meet her again,
But all that I could find was a dying bird,
A being closer to death than life itself.
A friend that had only one last wish.

To share her conscience.
To preserve her knowledge.

I foolishly accepted her humble request,
Fully aware of the consequences it brought,
Foolishly waiting to carry her learnings in me,
But shocked to received far more than knowledge.

Realization.

Realization is a funny thing.
For some, it is power or fulfillment.
But if ignorance is bliss,
Then I have been cursed.

I never played much before,
Until I was given a blade,
Playing the knife game every day,
To feel the cool edge inside my skin.
It was
Exhilarating.

Like the sound of breaking bones,
Noise that invades my mind,
Like a broken record,
Screaming out its elegy.

I have been smothered.
Between the weight of living
And the weight of realization.

Realization is not a destination.
Realization is the end.
And beyond that
There's no beginning.

Beeb Jan 13

Kate said that she liked bricks.
I was taught that bricks are bad.
And they are bad.
Kate likes to tell me about bricks.
I don't like to listen,
But I must listen or else Kate will lay bricks down.
Kate scares me.
I don't want to talk to her,
But I must.
I don't want to become like Kate,
And I don't want others to become like Kate.
Bricks are bad.
Stay away from Bricks and Brick Layers.

"It's hard to write about life when you've never lived."

We all have a favorite word,
whether we know it or not

It’s a word we use frequently,
yet not frequent enough

It’s a word that dwells within us,
living happily in our mansion of a soul

It breathes our air
and pumps our blood

And sometimes it’ll cause our lungs to restrict,
or our heart to stop

But, like a drug,
we’ll drink it,
inhale it,
inject it,
and everything goes back to normal

My favorite word is "Definitely." It has a significant meaning to me that it's difficult to put into words. It's hard to think of my life without the word "Definitely." What're your guys' favorite words? :)

You’d think that after so many years
upon this utterly lonely planet,
we’d have learned what our purpose was

But each and every one of us,
each soul and heart,
are as confused as ever

The shimmering stars in the sky
reflecting themselves selfishly upon the lake
screaming at us to look at them;
to pay attention

But we’re too busy debating,
debating whether we have a purpose
or if we were simply made to die

The stars lose a bit of their shine,
creeping silently back to their room,
but yet they were not deterred

Night after night,
the stars gained glow after glow,
until we all finally looked up
and all of our angry faces turned soft

The stars glimmered and glinted,
being reflected in the eyes of each of us
entrancing us;
hypnotizing us

And then the stars snapped their fingers,
but we all continued to stare at the beauty
that we had forgotten existed in this cruel questionable world

We shouldn't spend all of our life wondering if we have a purpose. We should just live and appreciate the beautiful things in life. <3

The night has extinguished reason’s flame;
I won’t suffocate its silence.
Yet I grope obscurity in search of meaning.

My heart is leaping in my chest;
my fingers are trembling.

The mind will always ask yesterday’s why;
tomorrow’s will forever elude it,
for today’s choices are the assassins of possibility.

Death will whisper, all the while,
IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, DO NOT STOP TO COLLECT PERSONAL BELONGINGS.
I can’t take these decisions with me:
so now I’m doubting, doubting again,
failing to make sense of the dark,
trying to give meaning to the moonlight,
looking for answers to half-articulated questions
that suffering has not allowed me to ask yet,
regretting all those lives I never lived.

And then sleep whispers.

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