"complexes" poems
1.You're simply amazing that it becomes impossible to use complex words to truly portray your beauty since no amount of words in the world could ever define you.
2.Wewe ni ajabu tu kwamba inakuwa vigumu kutumia maneno tata kwa kweli kuonyesha uzuri wako tangu hakuna kiasi cha maneno katika dunia inaweza milele kufafanua wewe
3.Jy is net amazing dat dit onmoontlik komplekse woorde te gebruik om jou skoonheid werklik uitbeeld aangesien daar geen bedrag van woorde in die wêreld ooit kon jy definieer.
4. Vous êtes tout simplement incroyable qu'il devient impossible d'utiliser mots complexes à véritablement représenter votre beauté puisque aucune quantité de mots dans le monde ne pourrait jamais définir vous.
5. È semplicemente incredibile che rende impossibile utilizzare complesse parole per davvero rappresentare la tua bellezza poiché non quantità di parole nel mondo potrà mai definire .
6. es simplemente increíble que resulta imposible utilizar palabras complejas para verdaderamente retratar su belleza ya que ninguna cantidad de palabras en el mundo nunca te podría definir.
7. Είστε απλά καταπληκτική ώστε να καθίσταται αδύνατη η χρήση σύνθετων λέξεων με πραγματικά απεικονιστεί ομορφιάς σας δεδομένου ότι κανένα ποσό των λέξεων στον κόσμο θα μπορούσε να καθορίσει ποτέ σας.
So if words couldn't possibly be enough then perhaps if I write it in another language it would be enough, but unfortunately it isn't. Words no matter how I put them out its simply not enough.
You're Adored greatly,
You're simply Amazing.
And I thought you deserve to know.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
What I bring to the table is Sensitivity, Sincerity, Compassion,
Honesty and Respect
What I bring to the table is Intelligence, Good Grace and Humour,
Understanding and Confidence
What I bring to the table is Generosity in spirit and Deeds, Calmness and Reflection, Strength, Bravery and Courage
What I bring to the table is a Caring Soul, a Good Heart and Faith,
Loyalty and Truthfulness and Trust
What I bring to the table is Versatility, Competence and Originality
What I bring to the table is the Love of Romeo and Real Passion
unrivalled..........
So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone!
Am I to blame if some chose not to see
Am I to blame if stunted pride and ego blinds
Am I to blame if stupidity and foolishness abound
Am I to blame if complexes and insecurities assail some
Am I to blame if dishonesty and fickleness is more appealing
Am I to blame if envy and jealousy blind eyes and minds in others
Am I to blame if they term caring and attentive as clingy
Am I to blame if they term Intelligence and Honesty as arrogance
Am I to blame if they term Strength, Bravery and Courage as Male
Chauvanism
Am I to blame if they term Intelligence Competence and originality
as Controlling
Am I to blame when they lack the Ability to look honestly and truthfully within themselves before pointing their fingers
So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone
So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone
at my table..........
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
He sees the world as her backdrop,
And loves her wholly.
She knows that and wants to love him back, but
All she can feel is lonely.
As he sleeps she cries in
Tight, silent heaves in rhythm
With his chest as he breathes.
His face is lit from neon light,
Slipping through a slit on the strung-up sheet--
An eye to the street,
And to everything that's beyond this life that she leads.
But she needs him and
Please, she begs, *Have him
Hate me, at least. I'm weak--
I'll linger until he throws me away,
Because at least then I can say
That it wasn't my choice, but
Everything must fade.*
She goes on a walk every night now,
Riddled with complexes and smoking,
Eyes roving with 2AM mascara,
Wearing a spring dress in dead winter.
Head down in a crowd, aware
Of herself existing only when men stare.
They crave for her, she craves for him,
Her sadness, a narcotic magnetism.
She drowned off the coast
Of the island in her kitchen.
She weighed herself down with
Her faults like mountains and
Yellowed ambition.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
Haters, haters, hiding in the closets, hiding in faeces
your putrid minds full of fears and all your weaknesses
You are not men but degenerates and cowards in excesses
but in your attempts to distract away from your deseases
Look the parents you have and you know you're like rat fleas
you lack a lot which makes you so angry and in pieces
Washing once a week on other days its wet towel on faces
smerge on stunted wieners never to be a winner at the races
You're un-cool all you do is pretend but you ain't got the aces
as charmless as chicken *** you're the left-behind in chases
Never had a true compliment because you have no graces
deep down you're a mess and petrified of background traces
You have ***** linens and bad secrets buried in bad places
you're nasty, think nasty and 've done things that debases
Always afraid you pick on your betters rocking in perfect places
full of inferiority complexes real abilities get up your noses
You've wet your bed and at night you knowyou're *********
playing macho when in reality you want to do men's *****
Nobody likes the faceless cowards and abject scorn they entices
partners and frenemies are there for themselves and free passes
They see through them and smell their weakness without paces
faking laughter at their hate and anger at winners they despises
Haters are sick sad losers miserable inferiors with dark devises
never happy, never content just slimy cowards in dumb disguises
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 8:29 PM UTC
A breadcrumb I am - the morsel of my old dough,
a piece of chewed bread rotten, missed near a toe,
shredded by the sons of righteousness and “normality”,
entombed I am under the carpet to fulfil “morality”.
Mum added the yeast for me to grow, as well as flour,
Hoping my crust would golden as a vivid live flower,
She sprinkled little salt into me, to know the grimes,
Sugar too, for life brings out the salt to eyes, at times.
Dad poured the water, to soften toughness uncalled,
For man is kind too, not merely clay masked, walled -
And above all, they added affection and compassion,
They wanted me to satisfy mineself, not one’s ration.
Into the oven, 9 minutes, under fire: I show colors,
The warmth turned the heart warm for all others;
I am left to rest, to harden the shell and eternal body,
To be perfect as ma and pa wish: not adverse, shoddy.
But the stale, unpuffed, unfresh bread of this world,
covets but loathes what is good and not yet twirled,
It wishes for me to inhibit mold and evict dignity,
Mais allez, étrange moi, expose me not to malignity.
The least of their gurgling sounds puncture heads,
And the weakest of their advice the spirit dreads;
The making of me is the capacity of mine flexes,
Your ingredients suit not me, mortals and sexes.
Days yearn for you, not this battle of complexes:
You, mine old dough who suddenly “complex” is,
My parents baked me on low heat nice and gentle,
And they sear me with words not for me, mental!
Know you: Pita, Kmajj, Brioche, Shrak, or Baguette,
Bread is bread, could be different, but it is no threat.
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 9:27 AM UTC
Okay, the only one has been hiding their racism were whites.
Trying to blend into society with others because employers require a get along attitude.
Go to a bank and instantly you know the hiring schemes.
And this any community.
Same, with certain restaurants you attend.
It's the blend that point the management comfortability out.
White flight, existed because the "fearful" can't adjust to a changing society.
History has shown this.
And they have created it.
Jim Crow's laws weren't created by blacks.
Asians placed in America concentration camps wasn't their idea.
And these were American citizens.
History presently has shown that the new "pick on" group is the Latin communities.
They MS13 or this or that.
Many white businesses must be enjoying their employment keeping them in business.
For in many big cities they building the complexes and hotels, and sidewalks.
History has shown when it comes to justice they the first to try to scheme out of their crimes.
But quick to holler about locking up criminals until it's them.
History has shown when investigating wickedness in government.
They lead the pack.
Then this is just an opinion.
And no way connected to alternative facts.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 11:35 AM UTC
here is something that
mother told me
about god complexes:
“everyone believes themselves
to be gods among men:
even that hideous monster from your
half-remembered Hellenistic dreams
will retreat back to
his craggy hideaway and continue
with his hedonistic ways.
the poor creature:
he will don a halo,
iconize himself in caricatures
pretending that if for a moment
his veins flow ichorous that
Icarus may have envied when his wings
beat in tandem with the footfalls of
the sun chariots’ horses.
“the sun shines upon
hallowed ground, though Polyphemus
will avoid Helios’s scornful gaze.
he herds sheep––his only acolytes––
an unabashed king in his realm,
like a god plays war, or as a child
would play house,
humming hallelujah,
veins running gold-blooded.
when moon rises,
he will hang his weary
shadow at his door and retreat
to his fire-pit. perhaps this will be
the closest he will be to the gods,
basking in the heat of Hestia’s
humble hearth.
“in the end,” mother said,
“Nobody will end up deified.
Icarus may have rained down wax and
feathers in godlike fury
before tilting his head to Helios once more;
Polyphemus waded into the sea,
eyes clouded in godlike fury
before resigning himself to fate, head bowed.”
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Slithering slice
Fixture of light
Flicker, flicker along the fields of my sight
As the bubble I evolve in expands
Expanding towards my iris
Gazing upon my hands
Pupils dilated
Expand, expand
That's all reality does until it morphs towards a new dimension
Once, again it is small
Doing so is your decision
Senses all bound to one
Bound upon the screen am I
High upon the realm is my third eye
Rattling the vibration towards the ends of my feet
In
Out
Then the energy meets
Continuous flow
Cycle, repetition, insanity, whatever may dwell through your mind
All is all, it merely depends on the kind
Variety, but also the same
Dry, but with a hint of rain
There is never a fully accurate range to perceive vibrations
At least not in this journey
My journey, my mere reality
A malleable matter this dimension is
Zoning unto a higher form brings the bliss
Endless doors enclosed in a hallway
Endless hallways enclosed in a complex
Endless complexes enclosed within a grid
Beyond the grid is a mirror
The key to all universes merged and 'alive' within the multiverse
A simple reflection, a mind blowing surge
Breathing deeper into the land I urge
Enhancements as the soul is here
Ego at gone, nothing to fear
How must a force so vulnerable be so beautiful?
That is for all of us to answer
We all thump into one, all inside the mirror of the Green Panther
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
This is in dedication to Mr. John Grant a spokesman
for Veterans for Peace local 31. When during the late Bush years we protested the Bushy Zombies in West Chester
Pa. This took place every Saturday from early morning till
around 4 or 5 pm. He keep saying, "They're drinking the cool-aid."
P.S. Veterans for Peace is also national and is registered
under the U.N. with its own magazine. This was poem was written in 2010
Besides it has a rap beat to it
Lies ah decieven' our minds ah believen'
by ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Drive-by ah flyin' innocent babes ah dyin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Blacks against slavery racists say lazy,
Jim Crow ah knowin', black vote ah growin',
voter lines ah showen', black suppression ah growin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Mr. sweater vest advisin' theocracy risin' ( Rick ********
gays cannot marry his heavy-load to carry,
all Muslims are targets by his government harlots,
body meedlers of women, no rights he has proven
by ah drinkin' his cool-aid and eatin' funny-fudge
Mexican Border right-wingers disorder,
Jail complexes growin', their profits showin',
public schools no maintain', corporate zombie schools gainin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
Corporations are people super-vote-money inclusion,
Super Pacs' delusion, Democracy illusion,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny-fudge
Profits by Lockheed Martin perpetual wars embarkin',
wars appeasin' without good reason,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
No good reason callin' Wikkeleaks treason,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
Houses ah runnin' from ex-owners ah gruntin',
our lands will desert us whole nature unnerved us,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge
Street people ah growin' with hardly non knowin',
parents ah cryin', hungry tots ah dyin', emergency rooms
ah packin', it's healthcare ah lackin'
While ah Wall Street ah hoppin' in triumph give-away-ah-hoppin',
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fridge
Slave hours grind us while paychecks are minus,
GOP congress never behind us,
while ah drinkin' the cool-aid; eatin' funny fudge,
Zombies surround us to only remind us,
QUIT DRINKIN' THE COOL-AID AND EATIN' FUNNY FUDGE!!!
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
there were things
i had never imagined
i would understand
be; experience
and gape bemusedly at my
unbelieving ambiguous eyes
in the unnoticeably clear
smiling mirror of the bathroom.
things such as
being a creep
the creep whose wandering eye
wanders just a wee bit longer.
A microsecond length of
the not-understood, the suspicious,the dubious
the curious sometimes,
but really mostly nefarious lunatic, perhaps...?
the creep whose teeth clench into a
smile.
the lips parting
but only
Mendaciously...perhaps..?
the creep who peers into me
like a god
scouring my precious little secrets
my hurt points,
my loci of scandalous innocuous things
meant to be inside of me
for my self.
the creep who infringes
on my warm bed
of Safety.
***
********
erectile dysfunction
sneer
******
*****
me
father
mother
weirdity
all the complexes
that make you Feel
like a spider
whose web is shattered with
but an uncaring finger.
power.
Uncaring Callousness
terrifying in it's brutality
intent ,
and things beyond .
the creep peers in.
but i was only trying
to make friends.
a bit too hard , perhaps...?
oh the creeps of the world
i understand thy plight
the fact that you never understand
what you are
doing
but only after it has passed
that the black hole irises
of un-understanding visages
come to you
to inform you
that you have been
a creep, the Creep.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
hedonic adaptation
living, breathing an
idealized state
transparent powers
an aesthete with an
affinity for anarchy
shamelessly insinuating
fatal errors in identification
extraterrestrial ***********
at the core of our unity
probing at a molecular level
damning the will to connect
a creative protest against
the artificial
daydreams bleach
inferiority complexes
and insight breaks through
dark and damaging
sacrificial secrets
thrusting toward the deep end
forgoing progress through
flawed perception
the bright light shining through
your self inflicted wounds
cannot be ignored
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
My happiness comes from me ask my friends and the world around me blossoming in a spark of crimsony red moon glow on forethought walks through the shivering lenses of percept that trickle down our backs as we enlighten ourselves with all that is in between and unseen.
It is as if our aged limbs were caressed into a symphony of leverages and their shapes. We cannot be cadavers. We are arms of cheer and picture jasper, adolescent googled-eyes gathers with virile fixations on our partners as we prey on the map lines subtly employing our eyes as we dart across each dimple, pimple, freckle, and gently worn rash lines.
These are the dogs of our incessant barking. Idling for sincerity, as actors swiftly press Winter into us while our limbless diction presents our inadequacy Rd upon our ugly and I'll-tempered neighborly-things. Aliens of the afternoon, first floor agony and karmas standard for living in a reduced climate One.
Wearing down the hooves, undulates from Pepperdine mark trails with breaking breads and twigs and bones. Undulates from another world, behoofed and bemoved, curdling their sappy reselling a of drat and unkindly remarks. And we have begun to wonder when evolution will kick-in. When will the military come for them at the doors and vacate is all from our nontoxic lie-shrouded apartment complexes, condos, and cabins. Slaughter numbers of letters and integers right out in the street; loonies in the town square and the moose are crying.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
The spirochetes of the ages embellish themselves in a mystical quartet, as our respirations reverberate across sanctimonious plateaus of Oedipus and Electra complexes.
Your celestial convictions are tasteful as they wistfully meander through the fuselage of hydrangea bushes and ***** foxgloves.
I can feel the beat of your apprehensive pulse.
As we applaud the demise of this psychological stage-show, where connected separations unravel their shameful mysteries into a vortex of deluded academia; it is evident when someone communicates deep convictions across pulsating swamps of cosmological hemispheres.
So, as we merge into this cataclysmic vortex of enshrinement, let us embrace the past understanding of future ambivalence where the beginning can only be understood within the context of the end.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
optimists and pessimists
need each other
to diffuse
their respective
perspectives.
pessimists
get too helpless.
they feel
everything is on them.
it starts to feel
like they think they're Atlas,
or Sisyphus.
pushing their boulder up
the mountain, forever
and ever
alone.
some inferiority complexes
border on narcissism.
optimists get too helpful.
they burn so hot
they forget that sometimes
they can be as useless
as the pessimists feel.
most people that want
to be positive, surround
themselves with positive
people. and negativity
vice versa.
this creates delusion.
it makes happy people
seeing all that's happy
and unhappy people
seeing all that's unhappy.
no one group feels
for the other
and neither ends up feeling
anything
completely.
you put yourself in
a position where all your
input contains a consistent
confirmation of your stale,
untested outlook.
if nothing is tested, nothing
is validated.
that's just science.
surround yourself with
people that diffuse you.
you need that
tension.
if nothing else,
you won't get
bored.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC
For years
the square inner courtyard,
surrounded by sky-reaching apartment complexes,
accessible only through brief
openings
between the buildings
whose windows looked down
soullessly upon our child's play,
contained my entire world,
and I did not perceive any difference
in the hands, faces, and seasonal limbs
of my friends--
But when I returned
the openings had closed,
the courtyard inaccessible
to an unrecognizable Cincinnati child
whose white face and green eyes
brought only memories--
1884, 1929, 1944, 1967,
and angry April showers
that drowned disapproving windows
in curfews of 2001.
And I do understand.
But,
Would the windows open if they knew
there's black in my line,
way back in my line,
from a time when ships like the Delta Queen--
sailed the Middle Passage
monikered in false virtue
granted by titles like Henrietta Marie--
brought African queens instead of slot machines--
when the fields of mud ran with blood
hemorrhaged from Makhulu's
innocence forcibly stolen
by Grampa's lust.
Now I must window
watch my own daughter,
recalling the lesson
on the names of the week:
You know daddy,
someone just made those names up.
And I can see
beyond her blonde pig-tails--
the darkness of her eyes
recalls the act of shame--
coupled with the sharp wit
of a chained matriarch standing proudly
on the auction block declaring:
These waterways are all connected.
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 8:22 PM UTC
Night hiking through the last of the giant fields
Deserted farm land in between brand new townhouse complexes
Your new found Australian shepherd is herding us
Charging ahead and circling back to make sure we’re coming
The grass is up to our waists
We’re walking to walk
making daisy chains
testing butter cups under our chins,
******* honeysuckle
lightning bugs flicker
The twilight moon is already high in the sky
Our breath is white -
It’s just a bit too cold out
We smoke and talk and shiver
I keep looking at my watch and can’t concentrate
I start to wish I was home cuddled under blankets bingeing on junk food watching tv.
It’s been a bit too long with you today
After we walk home and you leave, then I miss you
Moonlight.
Finally – sleep.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
I don’t play my mandolin everyday anymore,
let alone my guitar or tin whistles
I can’t let this die
I listened to 7 year old Japanese math rock
and want just a speck of that
An identity where I can sift right through
all this mediocre destruction all around
No one even has the gall to admit they’re killing
or the decency to even cover it up anymore
They videotape themselves dancing and
murdering kids for lebensraum
then turn around and say “no we’re not”
I’m tired of surface level house maintenance
followed by immobile phone scrolls
I’m looking for that lesson we’ll all learn
after finally going too far
I won’t play the victim or the hero no more
I did my part and now I’m too old
I need deeper art to escape samsara for good
and maybe that’s the best I can do comrades
I’m sick of details grown so scattered and thin
My whole past feels like entrails
smeared across vast deserts
There used to be rainforests here
but now it’s hard to find the pictures
Just when things almost get too competent and nice
they let decadence do its worse
out of fear that the improvements would make goods and services
too cheap not to be free
Socialism’s bad for business owners
so we lay off the workers and overcharge even more
Let the octogenarian billionaires buy up more water and air
to keep the fellas in the favelas gnashing and grim
Bunker complexes, spaceships, missiles coated in spent uranium;
these are all more important than starving children
Why do the poor keep having poor kids?
Still a conundrum
We gave them a chance to compete
some ephemeral time ago and they blew it
What can we do?
We tried to teach a man to fish…
Imagine Jesus Christ just giving folks fish and bread
for nothing in return?
Jan 26, 2024
Jan 26, 2024 at 3:27 PM UTC
They weren't born with a silver spoon
only an umbilical cord tied round their necks
alas this stopped enough oxygen getting to their brains
creating minds full of mumbo jumbo ideas and fantasies
and a bleeding wound that gives them pain without relief
reminding them all the time they are low and never good enough
cause they were born without a silver spoon on a dusty ***** track
It's a blemish that can never be erased
even with a million lucre they still feel small and stained
you can take them out of the manger not the shame out of them
they always believe and know that those others are better than them
with stunted-brains and raving-angst they never see the world right
its us and them burns the burning passions in conflicted sad minds
life long struggles for the struggle to find that silver spoon never had
Their leaders had a brilliant idea in time
mind without a silver spoon their brains always suspect
find all the silversmiths and **** them all and then nationalize silver
one called Stalin killed millions because he saw silver in their teeth
one Pol *** decided he saw silver in the educated and killed them all
this Chavez took all the silver and gave it all away now they are poor
and Fidel says we'll share equally but I and my brotha will only give
The Silver searchers in the some of the West
decided, we should just fight and talk and hold rallies and hate
all those born with the silver spoon must be punished to kingdom
but look says some, you can have silver if you only apply yourself
that's a trick says them of the befuddled minds and complexes bad
let's just be nuisances and hate and holler and torment and harass
Looking closely all their leaders had silver spoons but that's OK
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 5:40 AM UTC
A simple mind calls for a simple life.
An intellectual heart calls for heartbreak.
A shallow soul calls for an easy lifestyle.
An over-thinking brain calls for unresolved problems.
Try too hard, and we fail.
Don't try enough, and we fail again.
Love too much and you will be hurt.
If you don't Love enough you hurt yourself.
How is it life gives us so many complexes and still expects us not to dream about death?
Or with that, yearn for a day where we can start all over again?
One day a resolution will be found. Burrowed in the dirt somewhere deep inside our growing wills.
Plant your seeds, water your garden, and grow your vessels.
Self-Actualization takes time.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 1:54 PM UTC
His observant mind held
Strands of coded bonds
Fond of expressions for
Incisive presentations
Of what could be foretold.
He metastasized thought
And tempted his youth,
unraveling behavior
favoring adult endeavors
And here I permit my fist
Beneath my chin in complacency
Statuesque, pondering whether
My decisions are remnants of bloodlines,
Coupled complexes attractive to be subtractive
To my true desires
Whether his dismays maybe in part
To inquiries of adolescent angst
The repetitive cycle remains with
Finding one’s embodiment of identity
Feb 28, 2010
Feb 28, 2010 at 5:54 AM UTC
i had a dream i was rising through the trees
i had a dream i was falling through the ground
on docks calling a name i've never known
sitting in empty studies with the lord
calling mine
bad news used to sound like footsteps
down the hallway, used to be my mother's
hand turning the doorknob
and now it is a rotating hubcap
or a night without stars
full yellow moons out over the
complexes in the west
it sounds like empty milk
cartons and the tone of my own voice
it is people demanding that i be open
the most tragic of flaws--
i am meeting people just like me
telling them I want something more
can the wounded want
more?
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
the rustling of the leaves in the trees
the audible tremble
of a collective chill
sounds just like the beach
my front porch
a shining metropolitan shore
the sun seems to soften into welcoming;
a different sun
that doesn’t scowl hotly over apartment complexes
and make liquid of asphalt and people
a benevolent warmth
you can only get
out of the city
the air rubs itself in coarse salt
and Coppertone
this glass of water
in my hand
may well be the ocean
the shift in my lap
the waves
a floating leaf
a boat
adrift on cerulean seas
the children laughing and playing here
are the same children
laughing and playing there, too
i am reminded that everything
can be given a new life
if you tell a wild heart
of an ordinary thing
if i just
close my eyes
a beach
is never far away
Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 6:33 AM UTC
I do admire
How our seasons change
Winter's tale
Becomes summer's sonnet.
Quaint complexes
And their uncomplicated dwellers
Existing in solid metronome.
Years skip over
And it's always the same story.
How do you keep your composure so well?
He painted still life on repeat.
Sometimes things
Are better admired from a distance.
Her tattered quill
Has been crafting chronicles
For ages
Most with mixed morals
And chapters of relentless passion
Shared by the wicked,
The naive,
The reckless,
And the virtuous.
Divulging into each finely chiseled character
Their legends, their struggles
Bid to cease only when
Clocks move in reverse
(History may not repeat itself here)
Here we believe
We posses the entirety of the universe.
(Infinity stops at the border
Of silver sheens
And construction beams)
Within our pool
Of blood and glory
The myths are no longer only
Fool's dialogue.
In this city,
They are alive.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
I tasted the air this afternoon
I tasted dry snowflakes and pollution
Another day in this ohio wasteland
Many things come to mind with that word
Wasteland
Is it me that's wasting away?
Or is it my enviornment ?
Woodlands rapidly giving way to back alleys
And second rate apartment complexes
Or is it me
My true inner being
My real self slowly giving way to society's mandates
Like a tree falling lonesome with his sound unheard
And with no lumberjack to yell timber,
Does the deadfall go to remain unnoticed?
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC