"begginings" poems
At no time in my deranged youth
Did I ever grasp the full breadth of the truth.
A living death is sown by us alone,
In a paradox of pestilence
We are our own entropy.
From a rancid repellent abyss
I have climbed forth,
Cloaked in your memory
I storm forward, knowing that I shall not falter
There upon the alter of life's trials
I found a token of acceptance, a funerary charm.
From the dust of a bygone age I will mark my place.
Your hand grips like the talon of an eagle,
I found salvation in your touch and cellular synthesis in your stare.
Now months past the playful begginings, now,
I find your skin particles still cling to me,
Magnetized, electric connections, remind me of our bonds.
Though ******* so perfect, would make slaves of nations
Swayed beneath the legions of laughter marching forth from your mouth.
I cannot crucify your image, though I martyr myself in your name,
In the depths of my shame, your gentle presence remained,
A mirror to the pain, a white blouse stitched, lightly parted lips,
Bring back that ethereal face for one day,
It helped me to battle, and brave the night,
The fight I fought, was for your touch alone.
Now you touch me with different hands,
You choose how you touch, I take what I can get.
It is the meaning behind the caress that abolishes my regrets.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 7:01 AM UTC
Mickey was a murderer
Malevolent and heartless
Likely killed a courier
Tempted by his progress
Made to feel inferior
Delivering the knowledge
His emptied eyed exterior
Empowering the bosses
Always had an an opened ear
Could reinact the process
Always tried to keep it clear
He filtered out the nonsense
Always had a deagle near
Mickeys thoughts were loss less
Always ordered steak and beer
As he slithered from the charges
Always knew the ends as cure
But begginings were the hardest
The waters ever murkier
And fogging up his goggles
Never feared what's lurking there
The details were his doctorate
He knew who was what
And what was where
The devils were his hostages
Only hostile to his care
As he spelled it out with markers
Only rich to others fare
He was cleaning out their closets
As only those who know who dared
Know how they finally lost him
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
Are people happy?
Are they content?
I see so many blank faces
Faces of disinterest
They are neither happy
Neither sad
Feelings are none
A blank canvas if you will
They dont feel anything
Nothing at all
Is life something that is lived
Nothing more than this?
Aspirations are not in the cards
The wheels keep turning
The direction unknown
Endings are endings
Begginings are beginnings
This is life
Mindlessness and transfixed
Life goes on
What is to be
Is to be
Regret is none
Future is approaching
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
He might not ever get the best of her
She might never ever get the best of him
The phrase "hope floats" is like kicks to the shins
Hot, cold, rain or shine...
thats the weather and how the world spins
Bend, fold,try to intertwine...
live's together, cant tell begginings from ends
In and out
Up and down
Left, right, all around
They both start to recognize the sound
The onset of rot to rotten, remembered.. But forgotten
Like a drop of water to cotton, its absorbed, but drips keep droppin'
Heavily involved the situation had snowballed
As it dreadfully disolved, both wish the other still called
Nobody's fault, no reason to set the bar higher in life's pole vault
Tried stalling longer after already being stalled...
Its too late to light up these darkening halls
-J.A.M
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
Science explains life as a series of reactions.
Some are inevitable.
Some are just chance.
Science is supposed to be a explanation,
But somehow,
Impossibly,
Mabye just because I am me,
Science has failed me.
That day in 7th grade was just a fleeting feeling
Or so I thought.
A crush is just that.
A confusing, scattered mix of feelings, that normally,
Science could explain.
Dialated pupals,
Normal.
Fluttering heart?
Normal.
Flushed cheeks?
Still normal.
This is what science explains.
Perfect sense.
But what about what it can't explain.
This little fleeting feeling can
Turn a normally sane person into a aparent lunatic .
Turn a single word into what seems like a thousand buzzing
Coded messages.
Turn a slight stumble into a worldwide tumble.
That quiet little feeling,
That you told to just go away,
Has apparently decided instead
To just keep growing.
To defy rationality
To blurr the line between just a flutter
And the unknown.
Even after a year of starving that feeling,
And you think, its finally gone
With a mixture of
disapointment and relief.
Just to find out that it was hibernating
And ready to make a comeback.
Why
Do these things
That just start as just a little feeling
Defy science
And turn into what could be described as
Resiliant, controlling,
Exiting,
Odd little feelings turned creature
That seem to have minds of their own
And a twisted sense of humor.
Things that some might Call
the begginings of love.
One of the few,
Or perhaps many,
Things that are truly
undefineable.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
Moonlit ending
Knowing how this finishes
Smiling at the end
Oh, this beautiful end
Word for word,
Cannot go back
Your heart has grown too small
'and I'm all better now
Yet, I still hope it all works out for you
In the end
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC