i want to write something people can resonate with.
for most of my life, i spent hours in book that i cried with or laughed to.
but now it is my turn.
i want to write for the ones with swollen hearts that are full of love,
i want to write something for the kids who were never enough,
for those spend hours sitting in the shower because the water frowns out the sounds of their tears,
i want to write something for the ones who have spent nights upon nights dreaming of ways to leave this world,
i want to write something for those finding bliss in baggies and hope in a pill
for the children who have found companionship in literary hero’s,
for the ones who twist words and rhymes,
the ones who for countless hours have manipulated vowel sounds and consonant endings.
i want to write for the ones who still believe in the magic of pixie dust,
for the ones who’s pixie dust only lives in hard bound books and in aisles of forgotten book stores.
i want to write something for those who appreciate the weird and find comfort in the uncommon.
i want to write for those fighting every day for that loaf of bread in the grocery store.
i want to write something people can resonate with.
because i’ve been there
so here it is,
here’s to you.

Does it always have
to be the red balloon
that flies?
When it should be
the permanent
blue skies
There are various colors
waiting, but ain't red
I hate the sluice of indigo
and sulfuric smell of purple
Not because of the lies
that lay ahead
It reminds me of the happiness
I lost in quadruple

So I'm sitting here, right?
Thinking of something to write.
It's not going very well, if I'm honest.

Like, I can't really think of something important to say...
Poems are meant to be poignant, though, aren't they?
Something worth time and effort, like a parable, or learning how to drive.

If you're interested, it hasn't been that long,
But I underestimated my own ability to shut down at will,
To run head first into dead-ends.

What is a poem, really?
That's not rhetorical, I am genuinely confused; my default state.
How many feet do I need in a line? I only have two to spare.

And if I give them away, how do I cross the finish line?
So I'm stressing over where to put the stresses
So my head's as blank as the verse in a Shakespeare play.

So I'm losing patience quickly, like a drunk doctor,
Or some similarly silly simile-slash-simulacrum,
Simulating the deepest of sympathies for myself.

Wait...Did I just do it? Did I just write a poem?
I think I did. I mean, I probably wasted your time in the process.
Sorry about that. Really, I am. How do I finish this?

Thanks for listening!
Wait, no...
The end!
No, hold on! I can do this...
Have a nice day!

Ah, whatever. You get the point.

Sudden stop
on the pace that it flew
****** me awake
it doesn't seem good
hard to take
what to make
not easy it seems

All of a sudden, out of nowhere something came across the way.
Exactly what this something is,
it’s quite difficult to say.
As of now the present is on hold because of this something.

Difference of opinion leads to conflict of interest
Escalation in conflict leads to war
Always remember never forget the cause.
Go into details of each and everything,
follow the same.

Over a period of time it will be realized,
time and again cause is the only thing that not only remains the same, but is also important and hence in no way there is an escape.

Never forget that you are facing an odd
Never try to evade the same
Over a period of time it will be realized that odds make a way for many more new things in life that can not only be touched, sensed and felt, but those same things can be a part of  life,
making an otherwise routine life very much interesting.

I love ABC simple
Rhyming people
To think they
Could could be my equal

See the sequel

I don't wanna bust guns
But the flames I must
Turn you to
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust

I don't rust

But I need a couple runs
Gotta get it right
In tune
With the light
Say goodnight

I don't fight

I wanna feel the love
But I missed that
Connection
Couldn't see above

Holy water in the basin
I feel so soaked
Killin it in the basement
Footprints in pavement

The problem with being
A genius
Is if learing
Is the line between
Life and Death
The path
Is too clear