You know how great it is to make you joyful?
And to touch the highest peak of mountain,
To gain years from life which worth living,
Without any quarrel or not fighting
You know how great it is to be courageous?
To admit everything that you are afraid
To be surrounded by poems and pages,
Outfacing the life which of nonsense was made
You know how great it is to forget the death?
To neglect everything making you kneel
Once you were angry at what it was called,
But love would be a bauble as against what I feel
You know how great it is to surpass yourself?
To rise again before the absurdity of life
To feel heaven and hell even to their grains,
To embrace your own god and innermost drive
... You don't know how hard it is to be aborted
When you're stumbling at the top of a console
When you're numb and your vision's distorted,
You're about to fall, losing hardly gained control
You don't know how hard it is when everything hurts,
When all silly meanings and happenings torture
When you are betrayed by the 'forgiver god',
However, you speak about something called 'virtue'
You don't know how hard it is to be all alone
Like one day you will lie in your freezing grave,
Knowing that a happy life is impossible,
Just trying to be only powerful and brave
You don't know how hard it is to be recondite,
Every time to face the clash of dimensions
Meanwhile, “to walk in your shoes” to be fair
And be surrounded by myself in various versions
in my closet,
I have a torn jacket
two holes in its pocket
a rip in its hood, and
a broken zipper
patches, and stickers
stains of liquor
from when i drinked
so that I wouldn't miss her
I haven't thrown it
it's precious, for some reason
to throw it away
would, to my heart, be treason
I wore it when we met
on that cold autumn night
when the freezing wind swept
the leaves to our left and right
a scene from a movie
or a novel, perhaps
I look back and I tremble
I faint, I collapse
my mind goes numb
stuck in the memory
of that autumn night of fate
I gained myself, but I lost myself
when I put my jacket in her hands
Remember me, please,
When the last sliver of light cease,
When the sound of the last sigh slowly dies,
When my hand no longer caress your chin.
Those lips curving in smile, tenderly pressed against your chest,
The single, crystal-clear tear that would never leave my eyes,
And the laughter you would always break free from my sorrow.
Caress those memories:
The warm assurance of unwavering bond, the calming embrace,
The reason to be and the reason to withstand,
And that sweet melody when I called your name.
Do remember, and smile.
As all of it had happened once, I assure you,
however unreal it may seems, like an illusion or a dream.
I promise, I will remember, wherever it may be.
One day you'll wake up from the scream of your alarm clock.
You'll rise, despising every minute of it as you dress and brush your teeth.
You'll kiss her goodbye and head out for the 30 minute commute to a job you hate.
You'll sit at your desk, watching the clock while your boss breathes down your neck about numbers for an annual report.
Five o'clock will hit and you'll sigh because the drive back is always a bitch.
You'll come home to her waiting for you, tell the kids to listen to their mother.
Dinner is meatloaf, her parents want to come visit next month.
You can't watch the game because The Voice is still on and, you promised the kids you'd let them play video games for half an hour before bed.
By the time ten rolls around and you've finally gotten to see the last inning of the game, you'll be called to bed because she's got an early morning and doesn't want to wait for you.
It's Wednesday so you have mediocre sex and when you finish, you still feel incomplete.
She'll clean up and come back to bed, only to fall asleep within minutes.
You'll stare at the ceiling.
You'll wonder why you felt off today as you drift off into sleep.
But you'll wake up at 2am.
You'll jolt into consciousness and know why today just wasn't right.
You'll still know the touch of my face, the warmth of my arms, and the heat in my glare.
You'll know I was the one that got away.
And I swear, you will regret it.
A man had a gun for a mouth,
and it was hard for him to see the safety,
his tongue only made things go south,
he could not reach,
He didn't have many friends,
those he did wore kevlar,
None would wait, in the end,
and he dug his own grave,
He worked alone for good reason,
his situation made teamwork unbearable,
he hunted when it was in season,
his mouth, the only thing needed,
He could score a date quite well,
women flocked to his sight,
"What a barrel!", his looks could sell,
conversation was never alright,
His wife was a shield, a maiden of honor,
they worked quite well, nail to hammer,
where she was his mouth, he was her bomber,
ready to strike at the first threat,
His child, the only love in his head,
at birth so strong,
his son had arms of lead,
What carries on is molded by the past,
the fruit grows and ripens,
Until it meets it's last
moment here and the gun gets dim,
God is the creator, but death always wins
prior to passing thru cervix, buck naked bare
this grandson of Aaron, the sole heir –
foreshortened to Sol Aire
evinced (as shown via ultra sound),
which at birth became crystal clear,
an obsessive compulsive prone
human being, endear
ringly cute as a baby monkey possessed fear
some countenance tipping the scales needled gear
greater or lesser than seven pounds
(minus or plus a few ounces)
with a mass of dreaklocked hair,
otherwise a gangly sack of many a lovely bone,
could not help himself but jeer
thus upon exiting birth cana;
found him twirling loose
kinky follicular fibers accord
ding to medical records,
a combination of his being bored
(with a really lee super strong arm penchant)
to sport dreadlocks, tough as hemp cord
an anomaly, which no app could com pare,
boot nonetheless highly adored
resembling inimitable indestructible filaments,
when taut could lift off the ground a board
dillow, which no reference manual could address
even topnotch experts queried, could not explain
outrageous constituent rare
lee if never seen before, though still insured,
a novel boot nada so critical freak of nature ma lord
hirsute component part in a triple tier moored
substantial pressure upon the head,
entwining, looping, spilling somehow
interweaving umbilical cord
into a mass of whirled wide webbed wear suitable for
four seasons, which bamboozled,
grew like Kudzu into
an immense globular mass galore
('bout the size of Rhose Island) after one year hoar
more, and wove in part from stem cell threads, nor
ceased proliferating after birth placenta
accrued intact and immediately put in cold store
room, a by very peculiar product
tinged with strands of blond hair
evoking how lioness would roar
and conveying this tiny dude
into a self concocted
hermetically sealed giant spore
miniature mummy, who without doubt
looked like a lady bug hide entombment
able to survive thermonuclear war
as a minor subsequent repercussion
the downy side understood, impeterable forest
filched countless growing years, without jest
ting, when figurative messed
hair em scare em bedlam reigned as a supreme nest
sans shrieking obsessed invisible hoodlums
broke free their electric kool aid acid test
from maximum security solitary confinement in vest
ment for naught (busting andirons weighing down
with reinforced steel trapdoor cladding
didst not bar compulsive
banshee like imps of thee pervert,
but merely slow down
miniscule limbs emulated a hitch hiker thumb
upon will could assume the Alaska Bull Worm sized
Albatross shaped achorage)
unsinkable (short term)
screaming, rebelling, quaking,
atomic sized banshee beastie boys
et cetera with fiery zest.