"alleviation" poems
Ask me,
Ask me now daddy.
What I want to do when I grow up.
I want to be happy.
No, not happy
I want to be happiness.
I want to be joy and cheer and admiration
Confidence and peace and optimism
I don’t want to be like others, no, I want to be love.
The smile that comes across your face when they say your name,
The look that makes your heart skip a beat,
The song that makes you rethink every second you spent together.
I don’t wanna be the poem, I wanna be the emotion behind it,
Not the first kiss, let me be the nerves,
Not the dance, let me be the excitement,
Not the Officiant, let me be the vows.
When I grow up, I don’t wanna be a doctor mommy.
I want to be the feeling when someone’s told there’s a cure,
Or when a parent finds out their child will live to be a teenager,
Or maybe I want to be 3 in the morning when a mother holds her child for the first time.
I want to be affection and adoration and passion
Oh, I want to be passion.
Let me be passion.
So that you cannot do without me, because nothing without me has meaning.
So that when you are playing the final strain or scoring the winning goal,
Or writing the last chapter or finishing the last paint stroke,
You will think of me.
Maybe I’ll be allegiance or devotion or respect.
I won’t be the soldier, I’ll be the loyalty.
Or the surprise in a child's heart when their dad comes home early,
Maybe I’ll be the feeling when a father meets his baby for the first time,
And the child already knows his name.
I want to be piety and faith and worship.
I don’t want to be the pastor, I’ll be the lesson.
Maybe I’ll be the obligation behind the first baptism or first communion.
Maybe I’ll be the words when someone so low is told someone loves them.
I’ll be the salvation of the gospel,
The redemption to the guilty,
The forgiveness to the sinners.
When I grow up,
I want to be the opposite of sorrow,
The antonym of misery,
The reverse of fear,
The contradiction of rejection,
The antithesis of disappointment,
The inverse of insecurity,
I want to be the alleviation of anxiety,
The ease of pain,
When I grow up,
I want to be happy.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
**ABRAHAM LINCOLN’S FAMOUS CIVIL WAR CONDOLENCE LETTER TO YOUNG ***** MCCULLOUGH ABOUT DEATH, LOSS AND MEMORY**
Executive Mansion,
Washington, December 23, 1862.
Dear *****
It is with deep grief that I learn of the death of your kind and brave Father; and, especially, that it is affecting your young heart beyond what is common in such cases. In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. The older have learned to ever expect it. I am anxious to afford some alleviation of your present distress. Perfect relief is not possible, except with time. You can not now realize that you will ever feel better. Is not this so? And yet it is a mistake. You are sure to be happy again. To know this, which is certainly true, will make you some less miserable now. I have had experience enough to know what I say; and you need only to believe it, to feel better at once. The memory of your dear Father, instead of an agony, will yet be a sad sweet feeling in your heart, of a purer, and holier sort than you have known before.
Please present my kind regards to your afflicted mother.
Your sincere friend
A. LINCOLN.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
It's so hard to forget the pain
that is sourced inside my heart
when you also bring me
peace and joy.
Pain is addicting.
It's so hard to be honest
after all I've known is to pull up
the strings on both ends of my mouth
and smile so that whenever the doctor came he could say,
"Son, you're perfectly fine." (#AccordingToPlan)
I wanted to keep you smiling, no matter what.
It's so hard ******
to keep looking at you, knowing
life will or will not change
for better or worse.
No one can say for no one has the answer
to the future.
I cannot stay bitter or frustrated for more than a day.
It's so hard to release the pressure off my chest
like a gas tank relief valve
after all the emotions that have amassed
with no other option for alleviation until now.
Thank God for HP.
It's so hard, I feel left out
It's so hard to know what to do
It's so hard to let go,
I think I'm in love with you.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
regret
regret is the most painful feeling
more painful is the regret you feel
for making her hate you
than the hate itself
regret is the moment
when you are thinking:
this is it; the things I have done
have made it come down to this moment
when I want to end everything
everything that could be
all for the mistakes of my past
all my regrets
gone in a moment
the moment that ends it all
when I will not feel regrets
of what I have done
in the past
and I won't have to be afraid
of the future
that I never knew
nor will I feel the regret I have left behind
for ending everything else
all the good that could be
all gone in 1 moment
1 lonely moment
all because you want to leave your regret behind
but you leave everything behind
and everyone
everyone is left behind
to carry the burden of your regrets
and for them to regret your last decision for you
they regret not knowing
not helping
you
what they could have done
is not have helped you not have regrets
but to move past them
so
you may lose all your regret
to make this decision
and end it
but you leave all else behind
ALL ELSE
to regret your last decision
but
if decided not
you won't regret it
and the feeling
of alleviation and relief
of numbness and comfort
combined
into your being
into your mind
is as strong of a feeling
as the regret
that started your pain
the regret
that this time you chose not to create
DO NOT let the last thing
-the last feeling-
you leave behind
on this earth
in this world
be a feeling
of regret
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
She is spontaneous poetry, no need to be written,
a dam burst of emotions subtle,on what I float along,
a whirlwind at an unpredictable time of the season
looking for an intimate space to churn and churn and churn.
By now, I know this without her even hinting,
all her dark clouds will rain in torrents nonstop
in to my landscape, sultry, broad and tranquil
I am an open sky, a stage ready for changing realities
a cloudless calm now in meditative expansiveness,
ready to change from dark, cloudy turgidity
to it's contrast, white feathery fluff that's dreamy.
This time round, when she visited,she did lie naked
on my bed supine, looking at me wistfully for a while
in my mind's sky beams of morning sun criss- crossed
all the nine openings of my body tightly shut, I sat meditating.
But I felt her chaotic presence in the energy field spreading,
she hurriedly removed her clothes one by one,smiling
in the buff she alights on my lap,a butterfly on a flower was her,
by and by a sweet heaviness enveloped my ***** in union with hers
I hear the primordial boom of the big bang, refining as an "Om"
travelling sans any medium it goes outwards to expanding universe.
to the 1"Chidakasha" where everything begins and go beyond.
Her storm energy, Tantric, seeks alleviation of existential pain,
I hear my glowing inner eye whispering in light to the far galaxies,
In one form she is so much, past present and future converged,
She is 2"Mahatripurasundari", great enchantress of the three worlds.
Shakthi, the feminine energy that moves earth, heaven and hell,
Kali, the dark energy, seeking sublimation through catharsis.
On me she moves like a tortoise deliberately,my nervous system reads,
She would defeat the hare and win the laurel, in yogic, trance I discern.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC
honestly?
your happiness makes my throat drown
in some sort of almost-tearful
rise to the occasion
of your smile
and every sad word, or quick avoidance
dries me up, aching
with a strong want for the alleviation
of whatever it is that drags your footsteps
whatever it is that brings you down to my level
and closer to understanding me
and perhaps it's that fear of complete openness
that makes me rush to brighten your day
or maybe it's just the fact
that i care
either way, i do what i can and more
to paint the clouds away
for you
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
They are
monotony.
Pulchritudinous
aesthetics,
Alleviation
to
seclusion.
Do you not feel the heat – my wrist on yours
burn tales more rich than ours on nights more dark
than souls too tense to feel the eyes of God
draw shame on backs of necks so close?
Or is it
just me?
Conjuring
fraudulence
Accrediting
ludicrous
buoyancy
I know its there I know the life that flows
through limbs of mine can move through cloth to touch
the skin of yours I hear your eyes I see your voice
I breath you in why else are we so close?
And
innocent
And
serene
And
happy
And
secluded.
How can you sit not feel those things I feel
not think those thoughts I think not see your wrist
sink in to flesh as soft and pink as lips
I long to taste? We are al-ways al-ways
al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways
so close...
They are
tolerable
Doused
ardor
maybe.
Benumbed
incandescence
maybe.
But still
They are
here.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
When you ask the right question and get the answer you hoped wouldn't come
When you find the truth and it's what you wished you'd never see
You can feel it in the back of your mind
The tension
That feeling in your head that things aren't what you thought and they probably never were
It's something you gotta sweat out before it clogs up your brain and your heart
All learning is alleviation of tension
All decisions too
You can't run from it and you shouldn't want to
In dialectics you have thesis, antithesis, and synthesis
What is, why it shouldn't, and what must come next
I promise that I'll never come to a final conclusion about what Anarchism really means
Because anarchy means standing up for your neighbors
Anarchy means letting the people you care about have the choice to not have you in their life
Anarchy means embracing what you love even when it kills you
And maybe it's up to me to make each day worth living
To get out of bed and have a good reason for doing so
Because some of us have to carry the baggage of being awake each day
And some of us live their days painfully sober carrying the pain of emotions unhindered
But the pain I feel now is as meaningless as the imaginary lines that separate countries or the flags that fly over them
My pain is meaningless compared to the knowledge I stepped back so that you could live life according to what you want
Because being an anarchist means living life in accordance to what you think
And that's always been hard for me
For once I knew exactly what I wanted
But I also knew deep down you weren't ever as sure as I was
And here we return to the tension
The tension that has kept me up a few nights and forced be to go on long walks until my feet hurt instead of my heart
The tension that left me feeling like nothing, but not in the way Max Stirner intended it
So instead of hiding this tension or letting it eat away at me like so many times before
I have to live according to what I think
So we have the thesis: looking for stars through a wall of clouds and the hope I had in my heart
The antithesis: uncertainty and a sentimental past two steps ahead of me
The synthesis: Realizing that I need to let you go
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC
I've been waking to the sudden throes of intense sadness despite morning sunlight, as if there was infinite darkness in the former breaths shared with a being I was meant to want, and somehow want still, yet this being is a shadowy spell, a glare on glass, a riddle of all my dreamt desires, and somehow also, my attempted reality; somehow also, my doorway to my deserved insanity. A wholeness in this end I cannot find, fight for, grasp, endlessly seek, for knowing somehow this is not my choice, nor my alleviation, not when all the moves somehow belong to him, all accepted actions, all verified decisions, his, all sensible words, his, not mine, never mine, I am simply voiceless, stuttering, adoring, a loving woman's shape, never filled with fiber. Never was my static so ensured, never was my strength so bottled up and stored away, so ridiculous, nonsensical, like a mime locked up in a tower, in so many ways.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
Open face of demonstration, demanding a new declaration
by excreting exclamations to explain to them
that there is no place for them to lay their head.
You want to erase them, and just replace them again
with a new generation that will provide the revelation
that will spark the alleviation of the victims of trade that had been played by those trained
to wrap chains around them, no longer locked to the ground but running in place nonetheless,
circling around at whatever pace has been set.
Playing house in the devil’s play-set.
Always alluding to what you wanna play next.
It’s time to resign from the contract you signed, pay all of the cancellation fines,
so you can start your own design.
The one that makes you inclined to put time into that
which will impact the things that you blame for losing your mind.
The things, you complain, are a waste of your time,
While you sit around and just hate and drink up a glass of whine.
Open innovation can transform into inspirational collaboration,
which will then send out invitations to the world
to take their own aboriginal exploration which would in turn destroy all awol nations,
thus, breaking the boundaries of potential imagination.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
I really want to say
I hope you're okay.
I see something on your face, a familiar grimace.
I want to tell you, I suffer from mental illness.
And all too well, I can recognize your pain;
I too, have struggled under the overpowering strain;
The suffering caused by a malfunctioning brain.
I see how you've started to avoid and withdraw.
I see enormous stress in the tightness of your jaw.
I see you grasping, desperate for some alleviation,
from this curse of complete anguish and frustration.
I see you like this not because I wish to pry.
In you, I see myself. Allow me to clarify.
I have been where you are, totally lost and alone.
Hiding from friends and family, ignoring my phone.
There were many times I felt held together only by thread.
Eventually I decided that my only option was to be dead.
But there were no lights at the end of any tunnels.
The attempt failed, and I continued my struggles.
Then someone reached out a hand for me,
offering somewhere safe for me to be.
Longing for relief, feeling defeated, I said yes.
And looking at me now, you would never guess,
the darkness that dwelled deep in my head.
Today I'm better, and quite glad I'm not dead.
So, I'm here, should you ever want to talk.
Please, feel free, tell me to go take a walk.
But I swear, my intentions are honest and kind.
I want to help you take back control of your mind.
This is just a hand held out, from me to you.
I urge you to take it, and I'll help you through.
Peer to peer, I'm offering you solace.
If ever you need me, I'll be there, I promise.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC
Expectations agony deep inside my mind
Has reached a point of no return
What is this you do to me
All of this that burns
Neither logic lies nor sense does it make
I care not for what I see is true
True it feels and it must be
The answer lies in you
Alleviation of curiosity is a must
To calm what rages deep inside
No peace left as is
Unearth or come untied
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 12:19 PM UTC
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
I was as young as air is fresh on the first spring day
I roamed around my tired, empty house,
With only the crackling of the radiator for conversation
A combination of boredom and thirst
Motivates me as I waltzed into the kitchen
Purple faded headphones blasted
A spice girls song from around my neck
I stretched my arm out as far as I could
to **** open the refrigerator
The last water bottle in front of me
I took without a second thought
Eager for the cool comfort of crisp consolation
I tilted my head back, allowing a delicate stream to enter
In a brief, abrupt moment, a cigarette
**** meets the tip of my tongue
Immediately I spat out the uninvited guest
my knees embraced the ground
With weak knees and glistening eyes
I begged my toothbrush for alleviation
my teeth were clean, yet the taste evidently remained
It lingered like chalky autumn air
Tasting like rain soaked leaves
It was building a home on the back of my tongue
Desperate I lunged for the freezer
and greedily snatched an ice pop
My trembling hands fumbled with the wrapper,
As smooth saliva slithered down my chin
The first chilling bite sent me into a
cloudburst of algid winter bliss
the foul taste in my mouth
began to tenderly dissolve
Knowing limited time was left,
it clung as if my tongue was a cliff
my hero overpowered the chalky bitterness,
just like that it was gone
I joyfully squealed as the corners of my lips
met my flushed cheeks
the rest of my hours were spent eating Popsicles,
Ecstatic with freedom from a terrible villain
And although it was cold outside,
I felt like a warm summer night
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
We are naturally wary of different
Our anticipatory
Participation in fear
Blinds us from the signs
That classification
Of the population
Fuels separation
In our great nation
And the degradation
Of our education
Through miscommunication
Due to deprivation
Of alleviation
As far as the segregation
Taking its formation
In our imagination?
These bounds we set
To set us apart
Take hold in heart
Because we impart
The notion of racism
Through our pride
Proud to be black
Proud to be white
Proud to be
Whatever it is that is me.
I’m sure it is right
Though I did not choose
No I wasn’t trusted with choice
I wasn’t given an option
No opinion to voice
I came as I am
I came as man
With no color in mind
Nor hate in heart
A patch of untrodden
Still smoothed soft snowflakes
Unscathed by the treads
Of worn down soles.
No limits exist
To whom
They were never shown
Never taught
Through words or by deed
Never separated
Through race or creed
Disparity through diversification
Norms forming cult cultures
Secluded islands of identifiers
Imprisoned in our tradition
Caught up in the familial familiarity
Of being a drop in a raincloud
Growing heavier each summer day
Until the burden bursts
Out in thunderous roar.
And yet the race will remain
Runners at their mark
Pushing to get ahead of the pack
Forgetting there is no finish-line
Since it was never a race at all.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:13 AM UTC
I used to hate the color orange,
But when we pop mandarins into our mouths between Creamsicle-sweet kisses I feel as if I’m being transported to a different dimension where we’re the only two in existence.
You’re the sunlight that hits the earth at 6pm, making everything seem as if it’s warm and glowing.
Every time I see a candle flame flicker I can’t help but think of you who exudes the same ambiance of alleviation that the walls of my childhood home once did.
If sunrise and sunset were to be combined, they still wouldn't compare to the magnetizing brilliance of your aura.
You emulate autumnal earth tones and crackling wood in brick fireplaces, echoing your heartbeat and bringing about a sense of raw intimacy shared between two.
I trace my fingertips down your spine, reflecting upon the likeness between you and the sun,
And I wonder why no one ever named a color after you.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
I hear the roar of your truck engine as you wait patiently atop my driveway
I slide on my sandals hurriedly, slip out the door
Dressed in a loose, ripply top with my favorite shorts
Bouncy hair and glowing skin
Edible fragrances dripping off my figure, into your nostrils, in which drag themselves to the lobes of your brain, the taste buds of your tongue
And you
With your golden rod complexion, form-fitting black t-shirt, exposing the contours of your sculpted chest, loose Bermuda shorts
Complementary ball cap and aviators
The faint hypnotic smell of sweat and my favorite cologne that compliments your natural aroma perfectly
A playlist of songs reminiscent of old memories
Singing
Dancing
Laughing
Crying
Beats on my eardrums
"Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go round!"
Our vocal chords stretch like rubber bands as we scream to these memories in motion
The beach is reserved for our use, or so we pretend
Together, we are alone on this small strip of land
I run to the sand, allowing my toes the comfort of such a familiar feeling
White hot, burning, tingling, relief within seconds as the warmth conducts and disperses across my skin
I unbutton my shorts and pull my top over my head, run to the waters edge in hopes of pleasure, alleviation from the gnawing humidity, liquefying my bones
I submerge my head, fogging my mind, allowing complete relaxation to fill my entire being
I find you beside me as I surface for Oxygen
Beads of lake water cover you cheeks like melted snowflakes
You stand there, naked next to me, your clothes at shore
Your hands search my back, find the fasteners of my bra
1
2
3 un-clipped by your hungry fingers, which now travel to my hips
Tugging at the thin, lacy fabric covering my
innocence
Now, in your palm
And with your other palm you beckon me back to the sand as you say, with tender breathlessness,
"You're beautiful"
In which I believe you as I lie upon a sandy towel
As you carefully lower yourself upon me
As our fingers interlace
And our lips, thirsting for lust, bind together
We are one
We are love
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
You look at me as if it's my job
To save you from what ensues
Well, I am no knight
Girl I've got my own issues
I am not who you think I am
You'll never understand
That I am part devil
See my red right hand?
You sit and deconstruct the words
I use to deconstruct
And ask me the questions you're
Too afraid to ask yourself
I've sentenced myself to solitude
But you won't let me be
Riding high on the coat tails of fame fame
Answering the same questions differently
I don't even know if my opinions are mine anymore
Is this an origonal thought or was the seed planted
A time ago by an impalpable bellwether?
I don't want your admiration
It's leads to my frustration
I know I'm no lodestar of creation
Your mind needs some mediation
I'm near my peak of exacerbation
Please leave to give me a moments relaxation
I just crave some alleviation
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 5:59 AM UTC
quote
"every living creature on earth dies alone"
word to donnie darko
and i can no longer endure the limitations set within the confines of this unrelenting soul
unwilling and yet eternal slave to capitalism with a damaged price tag
therefore,
i am unfit to be sold
but **** it,
grab your coat cause you better believe it's gonna get very cold
while we take a stroll
through the catacombs of our infrastructure
but you should be very wary of corporate black holes
where i hear democracy is supposed to console
but alas,
im out here and im ******* white water rafting in student loans
humans living on south congress without a place to call home
meanwhile we're ranting and raving about the newest iphone
and totally unrelated,
but i swear to god rick perry is the ******* antichrist
he may possess some obscure remnant of a mind but he does not possess a soul
so whilst immersed in melancholia,
i guess i will simply enjoy my cup of tea
within the mists of burning buildings
i hear hell is a place devoid of logic and reason
and if that is true, then so be it
i decree
that this plane of existence is the epitome of pain and suffering with no guarantee of alleviation, comfort, or consolation
just death, **** and disease
oh this life,
this life that we lead is vacant of any inherent meaning
and everything that you could possibly see is the product of absurdity
but as for me
i am but a hallucination, delusion, or fabrication
either way you spin it i do not actually exist
and with that as a matter of fact i am very complacent
i am cynical and consumed with self-hatred
but do not be mistaken
**** your scores i am not here for commiseration
simply put, i just needed somewhere to say this
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
Monotony plagues me,
Parchment dulled with gray;
Alleviation claiming my wishes,
My grasp purporting uniformity.
Eyes desirous,
Heart adamant,
A vista emerges,
Rainbows leaking onto my paper.
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 5:10 PM UTC
Two paracetamol
washed down with Gaviscon
from the car stash, 7:57
Later, at break,
if I’m feeling cheeky
I’ll pop a couple of Nurofen
from the desk drawer
and ride that mild alleviation
At lunch, if the planets align
and I reach the toilet,
in the muffled cubicle
my eyelids will flutter
as I stretch and let the Anadin Plus
do its thing
Medicate to educate
Mar 12, 2022
Mar 12, 2022 at 3:11 AM UTC
happiness is different for everyone
when two lovers glittering irises have a rendezvous
after being a part for too long
when fingertips paint masterpieces on hypersensitive,
empty rib cages that forgot what it was like
for touch to make love with skin
when the sweltering, sultry coffee cools and
you feel more alive when you greet the bottom
of the porcelain mug with your satisfaction
when favorite seasons embrace the earth
{snow sleeps on eyelashes}
{the rain wakes us, reminds us to dance underneath it and laugh}
{sunshine warms us and summons freckles to decorate our shells}
{autumn addresses us to appreciate beauty and cycles}
lighting scented candles that your resting loved one always adored
when small children receive the attention from too busy parents
that are missing essential moments in their lives
purchasing things you don't need just to forget that you aren't
getting what you need that can't be bought
when the struggling find the remedy and relief
that they gave up hoping for and deciding:
"maybe i'll live a little longer"
"love a little harder"
"hold on a little tighter"
maybe the toxicity at the end of a ***** *** or whiskey bottle
where slurred answers are foggy and misleading
or perhaps quickly swallowing drugs without anyone seeing
so you can escape the demons that fight in your head
and prevent you sleeping when dusk surrounds you by
hiding beneath your bed
when the soldier saves their friend from the grasps
of death and prays to a god that they don't believe in
maybe happiness is the alleviation of hardship
or the state of mind that varies
whatever it is, cherish it and remember:
happiness is different for everyone
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
The force pulling me home is stronger than
the pull of gravity at my feet.
Like the way
the negative side
is drawn to
the positive side
of a magnet;
No matter how many times
you pull them apart
No matter how far
you separate them,
eventually they're drawn
to each other again.
For years, I've told myself
I could do this on my own.
I would do this on my own.
Move half way across the world
And never blink.
But here I am, only an hour away,
and reaching the brink.
Surrounded by the creaking.
The creaking of the reel
on the fishing pole
that is my home.
I flail,
and I flail
as the tension grows harder to fight,
as the line becomes more tight.
Trying to resist
but the hook
digs deeper
in my cheek
and causes me to reach my peak,
Diminishing the belief that I wasn't weak.
And I release.
The strain becomes cooperation,
the pain becomes alleviation,
Oh, how mundane was this resignation.
Cause I know deep down
I don't want to fight it anymore.
I can't ignore
that you're only doing this
because you adore
the daughter who got a bit offshore.
You just want to measure
how much I've grown
And then toss me back
to find my own
but sometimes I'm scared to be alone.
The only reason
for my treason
revolves around the fact
that I don't think I'll go back.
The devil that you know
is better than the devil that you don't.
Stay in the boat and suffocate
never to swim again,
or be thrown back with the sharks,
where your future is up to fate.
"Life begins at the end
of your comfort zone,"
is what they taught me.
But it's the unknown
that continues to taunt me.
The thrill of never knowing what's next,
the longing for home that's given me a complex.
These are the effects
of writing your own checks
and facing shipwrecks
once you've moved on to the next
phase.
I'll have to accept that
gone are the easy days.
And there's all different ways
to get through the maze.
and no matter how far my mind strays,
a piece of my heart, it stays.
At home.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
The manner of her tongue was a bit antiquated, yet her personality was heretical, rejecting traditions.
She is an ingenious paradox and I'm a little abashed to say that I'm in a state of extol.
However I came to the consensus that I will safeguard her inaudible heart, scorn every hint of dismay, and feed it to the vultures.
I have jettisoned my own grotesque nature, for she is my alleviation.
It might sound querulous, but she is the pinnacle of my languished existence.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC