"changeable" poems
*
In my darkest days, I held you beneath my warmth.
You indulged me with your feverish hunger.
You embraced me with your piercing emotions.
You were immune to my changeable disease.
I came to a realization that you were my muse,
the best rainbow I received……….
You told me that I was part of your soul.
To me you’re the fuel to my rusty engine,
The energy to my thirsty being,
And the light of my darkened soul.
*
© Pax
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC
We all have faces that we hide away
forever and we take them out and
show ourselves when everyone is
gone and we look at what the years
have done and realize that everything
on the outside changes but what
really matters is on the inside and that
mostly remains the same.
We tell ourselves stories in order to
live and we cure physical diseases with
medicine but find out that the only cure
for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness
is love, so don't hope but decide and
have some fun on that final ride as
you approach the end.
Wash what is ***** water what is dry,
heal what is hurt, dry tears that are shed,
warm what is cold and guide what goes
off the road so you can lighten your
load and don't be afraid to try again
as everyone goes south every now and
then as we all fall in love though we
disregard the danger but learn that it
takes strength to love again but it
takes courage to be loved.
It takes strength to survive but it takes
courage to live just as it takes strength
to feel a friends pain and courage to
feel your own pain, so change the
changeable, accept the unchangeable
and remove yourself from the unacceptable.
Jon York 2015
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
I don't want an easy love.
Sure, I want a napping in the sun,
Doing everything and nothing
All at once
Staring into each other's eyes
And giggling at an in-joke
Kind of love.
But not a simple one.
Not one that settles into my bones
With the inevitability of old age.
Not one that grows so comfortable
It becomes ordinary.
I want fire.
I want passion.
I want a love that makes me fight for it.
Over and over again.
I want a love that keeps me on my toes.
That never settles into routine.
Sure, I want a coffee in bed
Cuddles with a film
Soft pillows and warm skin
Kind of love.
But I also want to look at it
And see that it is ephemeral
And changeable
And all the more precious for it.
Sure, I want a lifetime kind of love.
But a lifetime's a long time.
And I want it to be a wild tango,
Not a slow and stately waltz.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
my future partner,
Hi, I’m anna. I guess we’re co-writing this chapter of our lives together. I’m sure it’ll be epic. It takes a while for me to viscerally latch onto another being, so congrats to you for stealing my heart
because if I’m with you, that probably means I really love you.
I like sushi a lot, empty bookstores, and tea sipping sessions with my cat, xiaoxiao, who you will probably hear me talk about twenty-four seven. I hope you’re a cat person.
Within the realm of the arts, I like to write poetry and play piano. But my secret hobby is photography. It’s the best way to know someone without really knowing them. And if you hurt me, I’ll probably create an entire musical composition or a playlist of poetry about it. But I’ll forgive you instantly.
I might make mistakes, too. For instance, I’m horrible with directions, remembering events, deadlines, or anything unrelated to pedantic learning. My erratic and changeable moods can be quite the predicament as well, but I promise to be as tolerable as I can be through my storms.
I’m a biomedical science major with a minor in neuroscience. Assimilating an array of medical innovations, education, and terminology is, personally, my zenith of academic interest. I have a love and longing to help others. But sometimes, moving towards this ultimate vocation is strenuous and I do hope you understand how much medicine means to me. This means late night MCAT study sessions, mountains of neuroscience books, stacks of terminology notecards, homework, and paramounts of stress.
But I want to work on that. I promise that whatever I love, I love to a seemingly boundless depth- “from the tip of my apex and beyond,” if you’re into medical puns. I promise I’ll take you out to dinner, plan cute dates, and spend as much quality time with you as I can. I promise, we’ll travel to so many places, eat all the food we can in all the countries we visit, dive in every ocean we can find, and fly over every country we can point to on a map.
Most importantly, I promise to give you reasons to continue the chapters in your book. Because I struggle with that too.
Whether it be in a month, a year, a decade, or a lifetime...
I promise to love you, see you soon
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 8:42 AM UTC
Full of acceleration
Peculiar being the indication
A force of an electrical charge
The formation of changeable skies
Electricity as it soars through the air
But word of caution in beware
Electricity that excites
The skies in not wanting to be polite
The thunderstorm that had arrived
The skies parting ways in strive
The Heaven’s electrical message
It’s the Heaven’s that watch
If your soul’s not right, it is the electrical charge of catch
The skies of electrical approach
In God’s terms this is no joke
The hands of Heaven’s electrical skies
It’s the wonder’s that continues to make us wise.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
The Fire Witch, Poet and Fool
by Doyenne Arcannes Solace
Now is the season of ice and fire
Indigo skies and glass tipped trees
I am the fire witch Poet and fool
Come dance tonight with me
Gray shadow skies and cold rainy dawns
Changeable as time and unchanging as stone
I am the fire witch Poet and fool
Come sing my song with me
I dance the fire and step on the smoke
I whirl and spin and step on the beats
heart beats blood beat
I am the fire witch
Poet and fool
Now is my time
This is my Power
The Fire Witch croons the Call
No one here but She and me
The Lady
the
Poet
and
Fool
and She watches the fire witch dance
No Rite or Circle but love alone
I am the fire witch
Poet
and
fool
Solita 2010
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Not once did l expect this to happen
Never in my wildest imagination did l think you would leave
Your sweetness melted in my heart
But it was all a lie
The promises and the oaths
We would never say goodbye
We would be together forever
But it was all a lie
Being that shoulder to lean on
A friend to depend on
The arms to cry on
The strength in my hopelessness
My eyes in my blindness
And the guider in my helplessness
It was all an act
It was all a lie
Those changeable watery to baby blue eyes
The flowing golden hair
Made me believe in a fantasy fairytale life
But it was all a lie
The old dreamy smile, you shattered
My visions, desires and dreams
You mercilessly destroyed
Leaving an empty person without hope only unforgettable lies
WHY DIDNT I REALIZE IT WAS ALL A LIE
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
By a day's difference, and a night's
indifference...angelic flight looses
evasion what was embrace.
The repose of memory blighted by
forgetfulness...seven constitutions
ago that personified the goodly
week of creation.
Incontinent, now...to All Things
small that were big.
Admonished whole by the changeable--
thou fairest...unwell.
Supping thy chinny chin chin--with
world-wearied, and wearying palms...
overgrow The Garden in hopes it may
obscure The Fall.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
My age is such a disrespect to how old my soul is
I've been 16 for 6 months now and I have learned so much
But really,
the lessons That can only be learned through experience;
Those started 3 years ago
In 3 years I learned just about enough to be set for the rest of my life
That makes me sad
I've always been different you know
Open minded
Non judgmental
Free spirited
Wild hearted
Rebellious
I thought about things in a different way
My intellect is and has always been one withholding infinite depth; at 13 years of age it was greater then my ability to differentiate from what was, what wasn't, and what could've been
I was definitely way to independent for my own good
I don't think that being a 13 year old made up of all those things was good for me
But I guess there's not much I can do about that considering the fact that all of that is left in the unfortunately non changeable and non reversible thing called "the past"
I've felt way to much pain
I've been treated way to poorly
I've been used way to much
I've been taken for granted
Touched in unpleasant ways and wiped clean of confidence, trust, and security
There once was a time were I was able to feel
You know that type of feel you only obtain once in your life
And then I experienced my first heartbreak; it was as if I died for the first time
I remember the feeling as if it was still living in me
I found myself dried out of tears sitting on the floor staring at millions of tiny broken grey shards of glass .. I realized that I was staring at everything I was that had now been ripped from me; all of my many colors and my perfectly whole self was broken and grey lieing in the floor without life
it felt as if a knife was stabbing right through my chest and my loungs were filling with blood
slowly I was bleeding out
everything that I was; my innocence, the love I had yet to give was draining from my soul & hopelessness took over me for I did not know how to make it stop
2years later
Many deaths later
Here I am
Empty
You might think:
"she's only 16 how could she be stuck in such a hopeless dark whole? How could her loungs be filled with such thick smoke composed of intoxicating and fatal desolation"
Truth is that's exactly how I torture myself every second of my dam life;
With that same question
How could I have let my past **** me and shape me into what it wanted me to be?
I should of fought for myself
People keep telling me to fight but I'm not really sure if there is anyone left to fight for.
16, Beautiful, Damaged
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
Sitting beside her
Watching her slowly break to pieces
The only thing keeping her together
Were her thin calloused arms
Clasped tightly around her heaving chest
I couldn't bear it anymore
I love you...
I blurted out hastily
Before the significance of what I said could settle in
But I couldn't take them back
The words now stood between us
Floating in the silence of my confession
Her eyes widened and bloodshot
Arms wrapped tightly around herself
Hair left in a messy half tied bun
She sat just an arms distance away
And all I could was see beauty
In those runny kajal lined eyes
Coloured a warm shade of brown
I love you I specified once more
Her stumped silence more annoying now
But better, much better
Than one filled with her tears
I've loved everything about you I explain
More for my own sake than hers
For my mind could barely process such a confession
I love the way you dance to the corniest of songs
When you think no one can see you
I love how you spend an hour just figuring out makeup
Only to walk out with just lip balm gracing your face
I love how you try to dress ****
But would rather get married in a pair of boxers
I love how you're a hard core geek
But still can't resist an episode of Greys Anatomy
I love the contradiction you are
As changeable as the winds
But always steadfast when I need you
I love that awkward smile
I love that messy bun
I love those over sized t-shirts
I love that sarcastic mouth
You are not as weak as you believe
Your scars are what I love most
And how you show them off with pride to the world
Your imperfections make you perfect
And your...
Before I finished this sudden display of verbosity
She kissed me
Wrapping herself around me completely
For our imperfections we loved
And no person would make us erase our proud battle scars of life.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
As the light made islands on the water,
ethereal bubbles frozen with warmth,
tucking tired beaks beneath wings, pigeons saunter,
into sleep, on tesselated petals, going forth.
That summer aura which sparks from you and thrums
moving dials to a sanguine solstace in me.
Hitting cold skin, the blood rush is autumn;
cathartic capillary trees with loose fingers and red leaves
and in these veins speeds my guttural london estuaries,
to syncopate their tide beats with yours.
Those mediterranean wine filled arteries
will encompass my imperfections to pearls.
From my idealist sonnets hearts you come
fixed on air, a changeable paint that can't run.
Like newborn fern fronds you unfolded your words
cut with castanet syllables peppered in.
Sentences ushered on as pacified herds
breathed out plumes, rippled fire, wind-thinned.
I then learned a beauty untamed, is a beauty rare.
Those eyes indeed are coffee dewdrops pierced by sun.
Those lips are pronounced like unbroken waves that tear,
on the cusp of unspoken words braced for freedom.
Core bright, i see the rose through the street's ornaments.
From the slight rise of your nose to those angular cheekbones,
further a picture of stunning complex arrangement;
identity of locked cogs, in you, are the pieces of home.
Islands on the canal of time; forever moments un-faded.
We aren't seen in a new light without becoming more illuminated.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Moments notice, temporal sign posts,
shifted meanings and twigs of broken memories all standing stark,
as white lights of embers glow, slow to realize the masses continue to wonder.
Eyes blazing in the giggling realizations uncanny calling out,
of the in between, as many of us glean and glimpse.
Have you oh wondering soul heard? have you oh simple soul seen?
If so what is it you have grasped of this altered edge of oblivion? fair the a well spring of signs to set your heart and mind free?
Or only to cast your gullet into eternal slavery, under the cutting reality of a cemented view?
Flowing edge of the swells this temporal cascading do cause the light do play in the reflections truth of stability abound in focus and vibratory standards , counted and measured only in the minds eye and the hearts manifestations of excepted adherence to a collective?
Or have you , or I , us sad and amazingly fickle souls found the true sound of sound doctrine?
One of truth , love and understanding? For seems this dear hearted friend, is far from the end, though not the beginning unless the glimpse of it has been felt and rendered assured in your own heart, least we get ****** again from the very, very distant pasts start.
So, it is asked yet again, where do we stand in this torrent and gelatinous time of man? Or shall we start all over again and wonder how tech can strip and manipulate the core and essence of a man and his absolute grasp of what is changeable in our entire past?
Or is it merely and simply just that we are all on the very edge of our dreams in this construct of a thing?
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
Shall I deny who I am to gain what will not remain?
The approval of man.
As fleeting as dust in the wind.
Or shall I live for the Truth?
Live...
for Him.
Live for the Eternal One.
And His Kingdom's reign.
Shall I live for the love of man?
Which is fickle.
Changeable.
Like the phases of the moon.
Or shall I abide in His Love?
Which is immoveable.
Unrelenting.
And will never change.
Shall I deny who I am?
Feeling outwardly comfortable.
While my soul is in chains.
Shall I live for the temporal,
which is so short and fleeting?
Like shifting sand.
Like shifting sand.
Or shall I live for the Eternal?
"On Christ the Solid Rock I stand." (Edward Mote, c.1834)
Firm Rock.
Stable Rock.
This is where I choose
to place the soles of my feet.
Firmly planted in His Word.
Firmly planted in His Love.
With my roots going deep.
"On Christ the Solid Rock I stand."
On Christ the Immoveable Rock I stand.
With roots going down deep.
With roots going down deep.
Into the Eternal.
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
The clueless rebel surveyed the situation.
It was a bitter chilly day.
She walked and talked unto herself.
As her being she took in hand.
An underhanded twisted year.
A year that could have been divine.
This rebel without a clue.
The weather changed.
Left in ignorance.
As last year dies,
She's knowing what she needs to do.
However, like the weather she is changeable.
Malleable and playful.
She tickles tigers.
She likes the reaction.
From at least a hundred,
unsuitable attractions.
Pretends to be a vampire,
******* souls from innocence.
While seeking unreal ideals.
Always out to impress.
In fact as the year ends.
She is no wiser than she was last year.
Memories in the dustcart.
Much beyond reprieve.
While once again another starts.
She continues sadly being deceived.
All these bright ideas of resolutions.
Conjured up from institutions.
The tears will roll at midnight.
To kick last year out.
She's the fool.
The one who seeks notice.
And hereby notice is given,
All change.
Well maybe anyway.
The spotty leopard.
Needs to find some stripes.
And maybe a backbone too!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
I worshiped her as much as ideas and dreams were worshiped. Only sometimes when I met her at the passion podium wearing my true self, Harlequin with a thousand names, a shadow of my lip is lowered down her pearly neck. She sighed passionately watching my coal eyes as my breath of fresh forest moss and violets stroked her. My ideal desires turned into worship of the forest elves towards slender birch trunks. As easterly wind with words I bent the branches of her smile, touched her imagination with pictures of needs and trembled the leaves of her youth with seductive rumble. She had no chance. I chose her as a single flower, she was not mine and therefore was nobody's. Hypnotized by my silence she awaited for black hole of fate to drew her in and convert her into the shining star of my worship. She will become mine even if I kidnapped her and imprisoned as my Harem slave, I promised myself the first time her shadow fell on my path. At that point she was wolf's hunger at the buffet, she was rainstorm in the desert summer, electronic sight for the blind. She was a mountain of Christmas gifts packaged in a slight *** appeal. I thought it will last forever, that love, and hanging her picture among the portraits of forgotten lovers I watched her as last after many. With remote thought I left a little room on the magnificent wall of romantic freedom knowing that Harlequin's love is fleeting as smile on his face, transient as grimace on his mask and changeable as a form of drawn tears. Love of Harlequin is fantasy fiction story in which one woman does not stay for long.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
This is the shorter edited version of our story. It tells you the facts, but it doesn't tell you the why. It leaves a lot of blanks that you can fill in, so it could be about your own highschool experience. If you want to know our story, read the unedited version.
There were five of us.
Freshman who grew up to be seniors
There was the oldest, the skinny one
He was tall and awkward
He was so quiet and shy
He only texted
He was uncorrupted
He was a lover
Then there was the Latino
Amazing athletic talent
A great friend
Funny as hell
Romantic and gentle
Loyal and patient
Next came the little one
Obedient and but passionate
Younger than everyone
Guileless and enchanting
In love with the latino
The most bendable, changeable one
Also there was the clown
Everyone’s friend, no one’s best friend
Wannabe family man
Strangely perceptive
Always smiling
Ladies’ man
And then there was me.
Full of surprises
Loud, rebellious, crazy
Fearless, childish
Independent and devoted
Steady and never-changing, slightly judgmental
That was us.
We were all connected, but also independent
The boys fought
Mostly over the little one
Then we fell apart.
We’re almost unrecognizable
The tall one, the oldest
Got his first girlfriend
He befriended so many girls
But secretly was dreaming of the little one
He’s leading his brother
And he doesn’t even know it
The latino is mostly the same
He doesn’t fight as much
But he never got over the little one
Now he just gets admirers
He’ll grow out of high school
He already knows how to do life
The little one got so lost along the way
But I decided to stick around cuz she’s my best friend
She’s already taking college classes
She’s working with children
Now she’s planning her life
But she doesn’t seem happy
The clown found himself friendless
He made a lot of dumb mistakes
He still hangs around
He parties and smokes
To hell with being good
At least he’s accepted his fate
And I’m lost too
I don’t party or drink or smoke or have ***
But I’m losing my religion
Bad things have happened to me
I’m no better than my friends
I’m sad I’m no longer special
And so we’re lost
Some are on the mend
But we made it through high school
We got so messed up along the way though
I drive home listening to Queen
The clown showed me that one song
And I cry because we are the champions
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
I am the ghost in the machine
You raise the curtain and what Tim Burton told you would be there is
I will feast on your Innards and cast without regard to your suicidal aunt
a hand gun and tell her to have fun
I am the devil and it's not evil I seek it's retribution.
Join my clan; you don't still believe you're part of some godly plan!
Ahahahahah! You're so cute when you’re terrified. Go on try and run, you'll never hide.
but behind your eyes I smell desperation.
And any chance at rehabilitation would be ************
And yet you have hope behind those eyes. Your mind racing with possibilities that I might be lovable and changeable.
But I’m the devil and hell is my navel
I control the universe.
Your dog got hit by a car.
Blame me,
He looks better as tar
he makes a great floor mat. Should have trained him in hand to paw combat.
Your mum is terminally Ill
Send me the bill.
You best friend dies, hate to say it but did he even try.
I control and contort; I do not send hope or
Comfort. I am the devil. They say third times the charm
Maybe this Time you'll remember I'm here only to do harm.
I'm the ghost in the machine.
But I'm only as strong as you make me seem.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
It's a lovely morning
This changeable weather
may settle this afternoon
The grass has died
and the ground
is dry as dust
They'll be banning hosepipes soon
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
Abusive & Apathetic
Bashful & Brash
Careless & Corrosive
Depressive & Destructive
Exaggerative & Egotistical
Forgetful & Fake
Glum & Guilty
Horrible & Hurtful
Insensitive & Intimidating
**** & Judging
Kill-joy & Kidling
Lazy & Lousy
Menacing & Mean
Nasty & Negative
Opposing & Offensive
Paranoiac & Pathetic
Quarrelsome & Quiet
Reckless & Rude
Stupid & Selfish
Troublesome & torturous
Useless & Un-changeable
Vindictive & Veracious
*Who the **** cares anymore...Sick of thinking for this...*
X...
Y....
Z.....
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
there are parts of me that force the pain,
that let it roil in my bones until i am breathless.
it builds until i exhale it in an herbal smoke,
or until i write it in a fervent and blood-rushed poem.
there are parts of me that don't feel the pain.
these parts are healed, and most days they win out.
they pervade the unhealed parts of of my heart,
and they fill me with an ecstatic joy.
there are parts of me that remember
and there are parts of me that forget.
there are parts of me that take in what i feel and use it
and there are parts of me that gladly let it drift away.
there are parts of me that are strong
and parts of me that are not,
and mostly i only show one part or the other.
i have no in-betweens,
and that's why i am me and why you are you.
i believe that's why someone fell out of love with me
and i believe that's why i am so changeable, so wild, so full of doubt.
i am pieces and parts,
broken and lovely,
tessellated and electric and free.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
I feel like I don't belong here.
I can't place it--
Maybe too pure,
Maybe too evil,
Maybe too ill.
Its hard to say
When every word flung
Wildly around is a
Contradiction.
Too sensitive,
Too changeable.
The balance causes so
Much cognitive dissonance,
And the more I approach my heart,
The more it alludes me on the horizon.
Colorless,
These words ignite a
Flame
Stronger than any pigment.
I am worthless.
I am a treasure.
I am worthy.
I am pitiful.
I am beautiful.
I am a fool.
I am genius.
I am every word they say to me,
Yet I feel like
I am none.
Their icy words spoken with
Frozen hearts
Set my teeth chattering.
Nothing can protect me from this
Impeding cold.
The energy is inexhaustible.
Their ranks are numberless.
The fight goes on,
Teaching me the person I am
Is ought not to be.
Destroy the anguish
Mistaken as beauty.
They take my heart from me--
Brutally beating the bruises,
Formulaically tearing the
Gashes open with silver knives,
A gray harder than the
Silver of the moon--
Harder than the silver of my heart.
I am bruised,
Broken,
Wanting to be gone.
And they laugh at my pain.
They don't believe me when I say
I have nothing to live for.
All I need to do is to
Live up to the low bar they set,
But that's never good enough.
The words bleed out of me,
Yet they remain unsaid.
They would taunt more
If they knew their wickedness.
Sleep saves me from this endless cycle of
Torture.
Engulfed by
Vivid of imaginations of who I am,
I forget for a time
What they told me.
Meet me in this innocent state of existence,
Escaped from the pain.
I wish I knew how to
Avoid their toxic remedies
And the poisonous reminders
That they own me,
And will decide who I am.
But poets tend to exaggerate:
Tell me how it really is.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
A masterful One hearing of the Tao
immediately begins to embody it.
An average One hearing of the Tao
half believes it and half doubts it.
A foolish One hearing of the Tao
laughs out loud, and yet
should fools not laugh,
it wouldn't be the Tao!
Thus t'is writ:
The path into the light seems dark,
the path forward seems to go back,
the direct path seems long,
true power seems weak,
true purity seems tarnished,
true steadfastness seems changeable,
true clarity seems obscure,
the greatest seem unsophisticated,
the greatest love seems indifferent,
the greatest wisdom seems childish.
The Tao is nowhere to be found,
yet it nourishes and completes all things.
-
--
---
- - -
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 1:56 AM UTC
When I write about you for the first time I write because there are roses in my mouth that bloom when the first moment arrives it caresses my cheeks with full bodied smell of it's unblemishness. It hold me close in its envelopes. Makes me believe in one thing only. That there are moments to savour and there are moments to discard. With every moment to savour there is the wholeness inside our time. Complete sentences without any wasted death. The dryness in my voice is taken as imperfection you are willing to embrace and the sweetness in my nature becomes changeable with every room you occupy in my unfurnished thought. Where you are is where I am. Not even the lasting second you seem to create when you stare into my eyes that avoid your steady stare. Wishing this was just a conversation between two voices only rather than a visual experience with taste, touch, and sound. So much more can be said with the senses but I speak with the willfullness of a telephone call. I am communicating entirely with my body, hoping you know that I know you can't see me. With my smiling "hello" that you translate as returned affection rather than an affection in my ubringing. My manners don't show any less warmth of a home that welcomes strange men. Take me into account. I am not a woman with many choices. I have no strategy for love. I have no moments to select from. I am one at a time. I am more than one personality exploding into a mouth that only speaks meanings rather than symbols.
My words spell out more spaces and my spaces spell out more than silence. You told me more or less I am a pause in your playlist. Whichever song plays next, may you be understood. My silence never ceased listening.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:19 AM UTC
Have you ever thought why so many people write about their misfortunes more than about happiness?
The word happiness has no specific definition but it is described as emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy. But it never lasts long.
Every other emotion like rage, suffering, love, pleasure, anger, sadness, etc. Are derived because of the disappearance of happiness. The state of being happy does not last as long as every other emotion because of the hurt, it is engraved in our minds, and in our bodies.
The more we live, and the more experiences we encounter, good or bad, have you not realized that happiness isn't a long-lasting, permanent feature or personality trait, but a more fleeting, changeable state. But when we’re unhappy, it never seems to go away, it's always there, even when we try to replace it with the distractions in our environment.
We create an alternate reality to avoid our present tense of the things that actually exist because in our minds we have yet to accept the idea that we are not ready.
We are unwilling to face it to avoid discomfort because the truth hurts, and it's more comfortable to stay inside our little cave of darkness, than in a place that will blind us with light so bright it hurts your eyes.
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 3:50 PM UTC
Vines of sound wind around my heart.
Wind of distant passion blows in
a changeable east wind.
Take me with you
to your interior landscape,
and I promise to ask no questions.
Shadows of late afternoon sunlight
tremble silently on the wall beside us,
listening to the battling of my heart.
Time and again
I have been undone by you.
Zeus himself stands by, admiring
your tricky disguises.
The simpler and more transparent
the convincing illusion
that you are some other man,
the more dangerous
the dissembling.
It is always you.
Always will be you.
And this will happen again
as it is happening now.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC