Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Its 1:30 in the morning.  And I’ve begun to think of the rarities and adversities in life, which shape

us into the hollow ghosts called humanity. Machines that listen, and obey.  Becoming slaves of a

mundane existence as we go about our days.  Wake.  Eat. Sleep.  Repeat.  With the slight possibility

of variation that may never come to fruition.  Why must we consume, but not provide?  We

multiple uncontrollably, take from this earth, yet never seem to substantially give back.  Something

so beautiful and yet so abused.  To give, may be to take away from ourselves.  But is selflessness so

horrible?  To make the life of another better, at the small expense of ourselves should be but a

small price.  Yet the few whom know this and continue to give out of the goodness of their hearts,

are scoffed at  by the selfish majority.  Why must we, the hollow ghosts of humanity, make

decisions for whatever objective we may have, in whatever situation should be presented, and

then complain of the results or the consequences should they not go accordingly?  Rather than

vowing to improve on the matter of contempt?  The decision was made, and cannot be

changed.  Why fret so much, over something that is now unchangeable?  Why not simply decide

within one’s self to, when presented with a choice of a similar nature, make a different

decision?  We, being the hollow ghosts we are, dwell so frequently on the past.  Thinking so hard,

as if to change events of times long behind us.  We think, as if to comprehend our very

nature.  And in the absence of the desired understanding and/or enlightenment, we complain

about our very existence.  As if anything and everything in our daily lives may hold precedence

over the very fact of our existence.  As if to curse our Creator for making us such simple creatures

not able to grasp the complexity or diversity of His design.  Rather than taking existence itself for

face-value, and enjoying the many fruits of this beautiful earth, we **** ourselves with selfishness

and passiveness.  And we, the hollow ghost of humanity, will ultimately be our own miraculous

yet untimely downfall.
tired autonomies, days keep on flailin', seizin'; darlin', I'd
be bolder if only I'd tried. makin' plans to abandon 'em,
the dark reach and tenements of those towers of regret for
all of my inactivity or self-targeted hostility, and those dreams
meant everything to me until awakening into morning hours
or afternoon, more likely, with the dull grip of uncertainty
shudderin' all the windowpanes back and forth lightly, oh
so **** delicately, and I think about you as soon as I've
drawn up ambition to make any kind of move, the pieces of
the vast puzzle I've called your mind for the better part of
the calendar dates I've drawn up into fifteen gauge shells of
the ghosts of my past, those that follow my footprints in evenings,
the pools of aluminium meltings and lemon extractions
to constrict the summer hours, convictions that bleach out
all other chances of hope.

so relinquish your grip on my red and unfolding heart I've
been beating the syllables of your name with, and abusing
the page width of headspace, serving only to alienate the
froth on the shoreline of daring chances: I'd have given
my all at the sight of romance, but I sit here with no
glimpse of intention from you; the crestfalls I subject myself
to, not for the sake of lack of want, but full lack of what
I'd do if I called and asked where you wanted to go at
three a.m. or five p.m., or any other canonical time of
the day; I'd spend any of 'em with you, and I'd
ask, but I'm somewhat sure you're not that into whatever I
could mean, or whatever my words do seem to transcribe themselves
upon contact with your mind, so keep on existing and I
will do the same.

[or, anyway, at least I'll try]
I

I never saw a mountain move
by the pure grace of love,
But by desire, I saw a continent
dragged to the tip of the sun.

I saw the sea raising its current,
trying to ****** some star,
like the blood in your stream,
while someone else made love to you.

And I lost the will to live,
and the desire to die
chained to your altar.

And the hummingbird
he put on your lips,
it splattered you of freedom,
but in its hum you found a prision

for two pigeons with no course,
for the canary I left in your hand.
and it was not from love, it was of pure desire
that you opened your mouth and closed your fist.

And I lost the desire to die,
and the will to live
Chained to your altar,

As if there was no other God!
That I could worship
As if there was no other God!
To which I could kneel
As if there was no other God!

II

All these men on the pedestal,
and if each one is given a cross,
How many gods will we praise?
How many won't be dead Christs ?
How many won't be stained sheets?
How many, on Easter Sunday
will not even face God? Goodbye.

I opened my mouth and I created you a universe,
I showed you the tiger and the dove,
I planted on your chest an ivy and a rose,
I watered you of morning and sun,
and still, you preferred to go down to hell,
with the loneliness, the bone and the shadow
a snake and a red moon

For his tired eyes,
for his bitter smile,
for his brown hair,
and hands that had never touched you,
and a horseman that won't ride you,
a street on which you never cried before,
and any other meridian time.

For some other Adam
that galloped away
from a paradise he did not find in your summer,
a string of few beads
that is embedded in the ground where I bloomed,
where a tree of blood and prayer grows,
that in each fruit bears my flesh
and the seed of another God.
i am a citizen of the terrible landscape
preaching to savages
hair-raised, growling and
sniffing each other.

& the wind has
not a penny to spare
for the frightening world

i am the thought provoking senator
of this state
i dance naked on broken wrists
and beer cans full of tobacco spit
I’m a terrible conductor who’s lost his train of thought.

“Stool sample….????
I’ll see what I have at my bar.”

If you love to race, are you considered a racist?

I use my left brain to make the right choices.

Let’s call it teethpaste. I have more than one tooth.

I like to push the envelope until it pushes back.

“What type of writer are you?”  I replied, “A typewriter.”

Bear traveling from north to south is a bipolar bear.

He easily cracked under pressure.  He was just so eggstrasensitive.

Rules are constantly broken; they will probably develop severe arthritis.
Work was slow this week.
its so much easier for us to sit here and pretend that we dont need one another
or that the waves dont crash against the shore
or that the moon doesnt rise at night
isnt it?
but
the waves do crash against the shore
and the moon does rise at night
and its inevitable that we need each other
like the shore needs the touch of the waves
and how the empty sky needs the light of the moon
Cigarette between your
lips, smoke around
your face,
you are an angel.
You cloud your eyes with
depth and drink, and
coat your lips
with ash,
stale-**** breath in
your lungs.
You are not
bad, but the
goodness inside of you is the
size of an
ember from your
last cigarette.
You are tar and
toxins, hidden beneath the
sickly sweet tang
of nicotine.
You were intoxication,
a drink I abused because I
couldn't forget the taste.
You are a drug inside my
body, flowing through my
blood stream,
poisoning my veins.
You were never
good for me, but I
enjoyed the sickness,
the sweat,
the illusion that I
was a light you wouldn't
burn out.
Shock and awe
I begin to thaw
The harsh reality
Of a year of insanity

Change is the name
Happiness is the game
I was stuck in the past
Moving too fast

Love was not lost
But it came at a cost
True love does not fade
It ebbs and it wades

Do not become rotten
What's done is forgotten
Forgiveness isn't earned
It is something that is learned

It is not deserved
But He still served
Live and let go
Smile let it show
Exhaustion overtakes her soul
She used to fight it and her demons
Yet lately she sees no reason, for life has taken toll
Sun shines so lovely and weather warmed so right
She found that smiles came and laughter trilled
Her heart fell and leapt slightly again
Yet his words still burned where they fell
Lonely and broken, she stands once again to face the world
The cruel world that stripped away her innocence and ***** her of pure joy
The world that held her up and dropped her, dropped her flat
Just as flat as her deflated lost heart
But yet, she fought on
And through this fight, she developed an unimagiable strength
Her smile still shone warm, her eyes always light
A new detemination urged her on
A new phase of her life
Yes life would be complete in his arms
Yet away from that protection is where she learned:
Life is cruel and painful but through the pain, beauty overtakes time and time again
Next page