I’m wearing these shades, to hide my face.
Since you’re all staring so hard;
watching me just in case,
maybe I’ll slip up,
or reveal a hidden mistake.
Hanging onto my every word
“What does that mean?”
“How can we be sure?”
I'm not your t.v show,
don’t put me on your pedestal.
I’m not your savior,
I can’t heal your soul.
I never asked for this,
so go turn your head;
quit looking at my mess,
or waiting for what I say next.
And go save yourself,
because I can’t help.
I was in jail the night we met.
The dues I paid still don't explain
How 'twas for you I was meant.
After you stole me away
And showed my mind sweet surrender,
I learned to keep the demons at bay-
They made me a cheap pretender.
In a clairvoyant haze,
I let the light of love hold me tender.
The paths I walk are now paths I raze,
You led me to the root of splendor
And with that I'll do okay.
Meets the eye-
Who you see
May just be
To set you free.
Self-Love is like honey to the soul.
What makes you shine
Lies not in your gold;
Age yourself like wine
To accentuate the soul.
Point light source.
Glimpse upon your reality.
Emptying their forsaken breath upon battle-scarred ears.
Anticipation of the days to come,
Eases the empty mind;
Drain'd by warfare unseen.
The fight ongoing,
Rough-cracked skin boils in the sun,
Heat-stroked by the anxiety.
Retreat into the shadows,
You poor, blossoming flower.
All you need,
Is partial shade.
Your pastel blossoms will bloom,
With colors that will amaze and astound.
Feed upon the streams that drift by,
And at last you will shine as your heartsongs always knew you could.
Define your own beauty,
And become your very own,
Point light source.
~Robert van Lingen
I want to scrub your memories from the wall,
each image of that smug face in your arms.
A singular still-life of you and I
is all I ask, feed my fragile ego.
But alas the past is cement and you
must not discount the value that it holds.
Yet my bottomless greed, it knows no bounds.
You see, I want your future, past, and now.
On a stranger's lawn
Dosed to the ears in
It's easy for one
To let go
And float into space
So long as they know Calm
itself by its full name.
Shackle them to the ground
Until the Earth itself
Seems to swallow them
into her fiery depths.
Living under the influence
Is only a jolly trip
When you become
You caress my limbs
You can never say hi
I know you are mine
The warmth of your hospitality sets me at ease
We seem to understand the unseen
There is more to the push in the trees
You are a destroyer, devastating
You still have beauty as I watch your beat
My soul hears your control
Yet, you are nothing more than the breeze
love's lushness makes me blush
so much that the sadness
that had my life awry has died
in all of my pointless comparisons,
I am self conscious of all
the ways I am similar to everyone else,
unoriginal and ununique.
To summarize: I am lame.
For who cares whether or not
others notice these things?
They are figments,
merely. But- I am aware
of my primary, incessant concern- myself.
I notice, naturally, with no sense.
It is totally normal
for me to engage in this self conscious nonsense,
I desire to be a robot, lifeless,
but what good would awareness do then?
Self conscious about a few loose bolts,
the whole circuit would short,
and that'd be the end of me.
It is the schism.
It is the juxtaposition
between caring about myself and about others,
of everything and nothing,
and I cannot find the balance.
I am a teetering pile of flesh pancakes.
There’s something in me that wants to destroy me
A voice that works to punish without reason
A hand that is brought down undeservedly on an innocent conscience.
A cane that leaves ****** lines across my mind
As it beats the positivity into submission
And a spear which impales my confidence
Like a soldier would do to its enemy.
The remnants of your influence
Echo down the halls of my concience
Long after I slipped away into the night
Here you are still
Whispering that I am not good enough
I cannot make on on my own
Sixth grade, middle school,
That's when it begins
The competition, the bullying,
Trying to fit in,
Trying to fit in
But standing out all the same
Trying to belong,
But left out of everything
Their words begin to sink in
They breed self conciousness
She longs for the 'me'
She used to be
The one with self-esteem
But she's let their words define her
They bind her, hold her, keep her
Blind, unable to see
The beauty on the inside
On the outside, on her tear-washed face
She keeps it bottled up inside
Afraid to tell anyone,
She thinks she's the reason why
But the reason she feels so dark inside isn't her.