brain's running on a train track
destination's outta wack
no station in sight
breaks off left and right
where my mind
a quickly typed out poem about my adult struggle with ADHD
I'm extremely disorganized
I don't know what belongs where
Take my eyes for example
I can't find a place to rest them
I tried setting them on you
But everyone agreed that **** wasn't working
They explained that an organized man
Adheres to categories
And you and I
Are not of a kind
I attempted to argue that you organized me
You folded me neatly
When you beat me
You always made sure to set me aside when you were done with me
You'd place me in a bin
Or release me to the wind
Yet there was a burdensome fault in my littered logic
They explained that an organized man
I must use eyes that are sanitized
To see how we're not categorized
And avoid your matador eyes
Because things will get messy
When the bull in your fists
Sees the roses in my heart
My humanity starts to part
And my wishes I begin to opine
For the nature of a bovine
So I wouldn't misplace my eyes
And be what I'm classified
But that nature eludes me
As do most things
On account of me being disorganized and all
But I'm a quick learner order burner page turner
I may not know what belongs where
But I know I belong neither here nor there
Making my eyes not belong anywhere
This is what develops my entropy stare
When I was a child,
I grew rebellious bones,
Waging war against
that thing we call
I've pulled off the
most amazing heists.
An odd and subtle shift,
It's no longer half as fun,
To get away with it.
Is this responsibility,
An over zealous fence?
Suddenly "ought to"
Has taken precedence.
You can have your cake
and eat it too,
You can spurn
the hand of sleep and remorse,
But when sense
and sensibility mature,
The wisest response is,
"Well yes, of course."
Organized teaching limits some learning
Blinds us from truth, the shiny is alluring.
Organized media sometimes mislead information
Their freedom has boundaries of confrontation.
Organized politics always have hidden agenda
- A self-absorb Propaganda.
5th one... two more left, and still trying to edit it.
Pondering in Rhyme.
thank you all for reading...
this piece is getting controversial...
Naalala ko noon
Tinanggap mo ako ng buong buo
Sa inyong lahat ikaw lang
Kaya ayokong lumayo
Pinilit kong mahalin ulit kita
Kahit alam kong hindi na
ikaw ang dati kong kilala
Akala ko noon, magiging maayos ang lahat
Kung paano mo ako tinanggap noon
magiging ganoon din ngayon
Pero bakit hindi?
Ayoko sa lahat, iniipit ako
Ayoko sa lahat, papatali ako
Ayoko sa lahat, magiging alipin ako
Ayoko sa lahat, pipilitin ako
Gusto kong gawin 'to
Pero bigyan mo ako ng oras
Hindi ikaw ang mundo ko
na laging iikot lang sa'yo
hirap na sila sa'yo
Gusto kitang iligtas
Gusto kitang magbago
Bago kita iwan
Sana kahit paano
Kahit para na lang sa kanila
At hinihiling ko
Sana bumalik ka sa dati
Parang noong unang tinanggap mo ako
Salamat marami akong natutunan sa'yo pero hindi ko na kaya.
Precise and organized
is the place we live.
A chair, a city, a country, a world, a galaxy,
all have systems of organization.
Running like clockwork,
precise and intricate,
everything in the universe is perfect.
But I don’t understand why.
I think to myself:
Why is the universe not a messy soup?
How is everything so independent physically?
The universe was once chaotic, random, and tumultuous.
But now it is neat and calm.
We live in a tranquil era of the universe
where such a world we inhabit can exist.
This entropy has served us well.
We don’t have to worry.
Everything will be alright.
Yet as I write this war and struggle encompass our earth.
People are dying in the hands of their loved ones.
Screams, tears, shots, explosions.
These frightening realities
come from a beautiful blue marble of a planet.
Life requires just right conditions
to grow and evolve.
Yet life is the sole imperfection in this universe.
— The End —