An artist draw
A writer write
An actor act
And an admirer admire

But sometimes we need to look back
To people that has been supporting us
To ones who helps in need
To that person following the path we lead

I can't write a good poem
That's not true the poem is in you
And If I keep one trying why?
Look at the sky vast and high

We need supporters
One is enough
But two won't hurt
And so on

Life full of ups and downs
Surprise or repetition
Reward of punishment
But think of that as a gift not a burden

We can learn a lot from people around us
Behaving, Talking, and such
Sometimes looking back worth a try
But don't let the time passes by

For all my friends and family i know you are all feeling
frustrated, helpless, and ready
to give up. It’s not your fault. You are not the cause of our suffering.

You may find that difficult to believe, since we may lash out at you, switch from being loving and kind to non-trusting and cruel on a dime, and we may even straight up blame you. But it’s not your fault. You deserve to understand more about this condition and what we wish we could say but may not be ready.

It is possible that something that you said or did “triggered” us. A trigger is something that sets off in our minds a past traumatic event or causes us to have distressing thoughts. While you can attempt to be sensitive with the things you say and do, that’s not always possible, and it’s not always clear why something sets off a trigger.

The mind is very complex. A certain song, sound, smell, or words can quickly fire off neurological connections that bring us back to a place where we didn’t feel safe
, and we might respond in the now with a similar reaction (think of military persons who fight in combat — a simple backfiring of a car can send them into flashbacks. This is known as PTSD, and it happens to a lot of us, too.)

But please know that at the very same time that we are pushing you away with our words or behavior, we also desperately hope that you will not leave us or abandon us in our time of despair and desperation.

This extreme, black or white thinking and experience of totally opposite desires is known as a dialectic. Early on in our diagnosis and before really digging in deep with DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy), we don’t have the proper tools to tell you this or ask for your support in healthy ways.

We may do very dramatic things, such as harming ourselves in some way (or threatening to do so), going to the hospital, or something similar. While these cries for help should be taken seriously, we understand that you may experience “burn out” from worrying about us and the repeated behavior.

Please trust that, with professional help, and despite what you may have heard or come to believe, we CAN and DO get better.

These episodes can get farther and fewer between, and we can experience long periods of stability and regulation of our emotions. Sometimes the best thing to do, if you can muster up the strength in all of your frustration and hurt, is to grab us, hug us, and tell us that you love us, care, and are not leaving.

One of the symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder is an intense fear of being abandoned, and we therefore (often unconsciously) sometimes behave in extreme, frantic ways to avoid this from happening. Even our perception that abandonment is imminent can cause us to become frantic.

Another thing that you may find confusing is our apparent inability to maintain relationships. We may jump from one friend to another, going from loving and idolizing them to despising them – deleting them from our cell phones and unfriending them on Facebook. We may avoid you, not answer calls, and decline invitations to be around you — and other times, all we want to do is be around you.

This is called splitting, and it’s part of the disorder. Sometimes we take a preemptive strike by disowning people before they can reject or abandon us. We’re not saying it’s “right.” We can work through this destructive pattern and learn how to be healthier in the context of relationships. It just doesn’t come naturally to us. It will take time and a lot of effort.

It’s difficult, after all, to relate to others properly when you don’t have a solid understanding of yourself and who you are, apart from everyone else around you.

In Borderline Personality Disorder, many of us experience identity disturbance issues. We may take on the attributes of those around us, never really knowing who WE are.  You remember in high school those kids who went from liking rock music to pop to goth, all to fit in with a group – dressing like them, styling their hair like them, using the same mannerisms? It’s as if we haven’t outgrown that.

Sometimes we even take on the mannerisms of other people (we are one way at work, another at home, another at church), which is part of how we’ve gotten our nickname of “chameleons.” Sure, people act differently at home and at work, but you might not recognize us by the way we behave at work versus at home. It’s that extreme.

For some of us, we had childhoods during which, unfortunately, we had parents or caregivers who could quickly switch from loving and normal to abusive. We had to behave in ways that would please the caregiver at any given moment in order to stay safe and survive. We haven’t outgrown this.

Because of all of this pain, we often experience feelings of emptiness. We can’t imagine how helpless you must feel to witness this. Perhaps you have tried so many things to ease the pain, but nothing has worked. Again – this is NOT your fault.

The best thing we can do during these times is remind ourselves that “this too shall pass” and practice DBT skills – especially self-soothing – things that helps us to feel a little better despite the numbness. Boredom is often dangerous for us, as it can lead to the feelings of emptiness.  It’s smart for us to stay busy and distract ourselves when boredom starts to come on.

On the other side of the coin, we may have outburst of anger that can be scary. It’s important that we stay safe and not hurt you or ourselves. This is just another manifestation of BPD.

We are highly emotionally sensitive and have extreme difficulty regulating/modulating our emotions. Dr. Marsha Linehan, founder of DBT, likens us to 3rd degree emotional burn victims.

Through Dialectical Behavior Therapy, we can learn how to regulate our emotions so that we do not become out of control.  We can learn how to stop sabotaging our lives and circumstances…and we can learn to behave in ways that are less hurtful and frightening to you.

Another thing you may have noticed is that spaced out look on our faces. This is called dissociation. Our brains literally disconnect, and our thoughts go somewhere else, as our brains are trying to protect us from additional emotional trauma. We can learn grounding exercises and apply our skills to help during these episodes, and they may become less frequent as we get better.

But, what about you?

If you have decided to tap into your strength and stand by your loved one with BPD, you probably need support too.  Here are some ideas:

Remind yourself that the person’s behavior isn’t your fault

Tap into your compassion for the person’s suffering while understanding that their behavior is probably an intense reaction to that suffering

Do things to take care of YOU. On the resources page of this blog, there is a wealth of information on books, workbooks, CDs, movies, etc. for you to understand this disorder and take care of yourself. Be sure to check it out!

In addition to learning more about BPD and how to self-care around it, be sure to do things that you enjoy and that soothe you, such as getting out for a walk, seeing a funny movie, eating a good meal, taking a warm bath — whatever you like to do to care for yourself and feel comforted.

Ask questions. There is a lot of misconception out there about BPD.

Remember that your words, love, and support go a long way in helping your loved one to heal, even if the results are not immediately evident

Not all of the situations I described apply to all people with Borderline Personality Disorder. One must only have 5 symptoms out of 9 to qualify for a diagnosis, and the combinations of those 5-9 are seemingly endless.  This post is just to give you an idea of the typical suffering and thoughts those of us with BPD have.

This is my second year in DBT. A year ago, I could not have written this letter, but it represents much of what was in my heart but could not yet be realized or expressed.

My hope is that you will gain new insight into your loved one’s condition and grow in compassion and understand for both your loved one AND yourself, as this is not an easy road.

I can tell you, from personal experience, that working on this illness through DBT is worth the fight. Hope can be returned. A normal life can be had. You can see glimpses and more and more of who that person really is over time, if you don’t give up.  I wish you peace.

I often idealize others, especially when I first meet them, and feel comfortable in sharing the most intimate details
with them. But I often feel that these same people don’t care enough and aren’t there enough for me.



© Copyright Tyler Atherton

I am tired of my grades determining my worth
I am tired of negativity stealing my happiness
I am tired of ******* slicing through my inner peace
I am tired of fixing something when someone always messing with it
I am tired of thinking but still asking
I am tired of looking but still searching
I am tired of sleeping but still dreaming
I am tired of reminiscing but still remembering
I am tired of loving but still wondering
I am tired of admiring but still idolizing
I am tired of everything but still hoping
I am tired of expecting but still waiting
I am tired of living but afraid of dying
I am tired of crying
I am tired of yelling
I am tired of being sad
I am tired of pretending
I am tired of being alone
I am tired of feeling  crazy
I am tired of feeling stuck
I am tired of needing help
I am tired of missing things
I am tired of being different
I am tired of missing people
I am tired of feeling worthless
I am tired of feeling empty inside
I am tired of not being able to just let go
I am tired of wishing i could start all over
I am tired of dreaming of a life i will never have
I'm tired of it
I'm so tired
but most of all
I'm just tired of being tired

I know i'm tired
I know i'm physically and emotionally drained
but I have to keep going

pipe dream,
borne of a moon beam,
shone solely through the shower steam
(evaporation from the heat gleam
of an idolizing heart scheme)

and i am
just a
support beam

in my own house

who left the water running.

I. you don't even know who you are yet, but you still have to stand on top of buildings and scream what you stand for. people won't hear your values unless you write it on their skin and tattoo it into their minds, so that’s what you’ll do.

II. you aren't vain or stupid for idolizing singers with blonde hair and blue eyes, because they look like you, and yet they’re strong and beautiful. it’s okay when you connect to their music then you connect to your favorite boy band. they’ll teach you how your resident ******* means nothing compared to you. they’ll teach you how to winged eyeliner, and how to put your hair in a messy bun. they’ll teach you a new love for songwriting and you’ll probably want to start playing guitar, but the biggest thing is that you relate to them and they give you confidence.

III. wear your ******* choker and straighten your hair (or leave it wavy if you’d rather). wear your dark eyeliner and cover your eyelashes with mascara. if you want to wear blue knee high socks, please do. keep your hipster shoes untied if you want. ignore the ******* who thinks you look nice but not in the right way, and go buy that dark lipstick you've been wanting for weeks.

IV. don’t trust the people that tell you Taylor Swift has too many boyfriends, and that Beyonce dances too ******. they are the people that will criticize you for wearing a crop top and ripped jeans. they’ll pull you out of math class to change out of your short shorts, and you’ll be forced to watch as the boys you were ‘distracting’ succeed in class while you’re crying in the middle of the night trying to catch up.

V. take more pictures of the scenery. those pink clouds you thought were pretty deserve to be photographed, so do it. they won’t always be around and you have to follow your instincts sometimes.  stop taking so many pictures at concerts. they don’t really mean anything to you, and it’s more important to listen to the music that helps you breathe. cry when they sing your favorite song, and feel your dreams expanding as you watch.

VI. please take care of yourself. when you need help, ask for help, or everything will spiral out of control too quickly. get enough sleep and stick up for yourself when you’re being pushed down. stop caring what other people think, because you’re really the only one that matters. when you’re sad go do what makes you happy, because even if it doesn't make you grin from ear to ear it will help. always remember to love yourself before you let someone else love you.

Gone for years to a different states ago the way across the world
Things are not the same at this different place
Your actions are at a caution because of your new surroundings
If you stay what are you going to do no experience in anything work ethnic
Raised in the streets selling for and dope and other narcotics
Look up to those in the same establishment commence to the only thing he knows
It's more comfortable to him and the questions stop
And the money starts coming in the women giving there attention
He wanted something more, something else, something different

Basically **** gets old
You get tired of taking chances
Your tired of giving chances
Then it all boils down to you just have to let people go.
To regards with bind adoration.

Mom, at the behest of those you feel you failed to impress, let me digress.
You have accomplished more than you realize.  
You have seen the world around with your own two eyes.  
You got a Masters at the #1 Journalism Writing College in the US.  
And did so against the behest of doubters you once sought to impress.  
You survived  bouts with cancer and wrote a book about it.  
You did not waste a lifetime idolizing something worthless or unfit.  
I don’t know anyone else that has read as many pages of literary depth.  
I don’t know anyone else with which secrets are better kept.
I don’t know anyone else who can translate middle English  or drudge through the quantum physics, met the Dali Lama and mastered Ken Wilber.  
Who can cook an epic meal yet without a sprinkle of selfish?
Or effortlessly design, hand tie and smith 1000 jewelry pieces of stone and silver?  
You have contributed to and held influenced in every city and town you ever loved and lived within  
You’re paid fortunate to love someone who loves you both here and above.  
You were gifted with an old soul.  
You smile and liars fold.
You are positively inspired and influenced by the people, places and art you have witnessed.  
Their purpose, intent and why they exist.  
You raised a son who feels he won from all you’ve done but in return you asked none.

This next stage in your life will be your time to shine.  
It is your time to power back up.  
Things are about line up again.  
Before you attempt to quantify the sum of your contributions and accomplishments, look closely at the measure of the parts.
What are you gauging your accomplished-o-meter against.  
Before you answer, consider this:   This is a capitalist society.
The worth of stocks, bonds, even the paper money, all only have value because someone in power says they do so.  
Innovation is only funded based on potential profitability,
not encouraged to enrich mankind‘s forward go.  
Creating for the greater good is tougher than ever.  
It’s maddening to know hundreds of Americans win millions of lottery dollars every week, then we never hear about them again.
Or pull a slot machine level.  
They never surface a year later, having changed their community or town for the better.
I know money makes things more comfortable.
Yeah capitalism rewards margin first, I too am disgruntled.
Your season is coming again.  
Your reason to be and the how, why and when.  
You should see it out here in the Gen-X trenches.  
We are holding together the Gen-Y instant gratify on one end while maintaining morals of the World War II grinches.
There are so many media outlets now, spewing raw, unedited, shallow ideas meant only to capture my time and money.
Your noble intent, the quality of what you are trying to achieve and contribute, it has a place.  
Your cost you spent, the things you piled up, now in a storage space.  
It’s worth continues to increase.  
I want to help you during this next stage and make the last one cease.
I don’t want you to tape your hope up in a box in a storage unit for another 5 years.  
Your newest book will be revered, buy the Time to debunk Shakespeare
and prove it was Devere.

Surely I am dreaming
about heart left in the theater of your ardent idolizing.
Surely I am dreaming
about your strands enveloping my cheek.
Surely I am dreaming
about day in impetuous snowstorms spent in your arms.
Surely I am dreaming
about rush of events that take place only in movies.
Surely I am dreaming
about body panting into oblivion of worldly pleasures.
Surely I am dreaming
about face flushed from compliments of lover.
Surely I am dreaming
about hectic rush to your awaiting hands.
Surely I am dreaming
about red roses protruding from corners of your sensitive hands.
Surely I am dreaming
about heat of caresses in boiling blood.
Surely I am dreaming
about book of poems about our first love.
Surely I am dreaming
about you dancing in the withered leaves.
Surely I am dreaming
about sighs at beauty of carnality.
Surely I am dreaming
about sensitive whispers of desires of melancholy hearts into ear .

Surely I am dreaming
because I did not send a telegram entitled "Looking for love".
Surely I am dreaming
because loneliness can not disappear like stone in water.
Surely I am dreaming
because the best dreams come in the morning.
Surely I am dreaming
because it is so difficult to find warmth of someone else's hand.
Surely I am dreaming
because thoughts gallops as steeds in the forest of wilderness.
Surely I am dreaming
because dawns wake me up in supplication for more and more of you.
Surely I am dreaming
because kingdom of your eyes staring at me can not last forever.
Surely I am dreaming
because I am senseless from blizzard of evening events.
Surely I am dreaming
because you can not find love in a café or bar.
Surely I am dreaming
because I departed a long time ago from the distant land of fulfilled wishes.
Surely I am dreaming
because flowers are handed to uncommon women.
Surely I am dreaming
because hidden secrets are revealed only to beloved.
Surley I am dreaming
because I did not have  eyes half-closed in pleasure before.
Surely I am dreaming.

Stricken with, like fate.
Idolizing. Idealizing.
What makes it so?
Curiosity to obsession.

Obsession to love?

What is love?

Sought after, like gold.
Idolizing me.
Yet none to succeed but for a fleeting moment.
I envy those with their beloveds.

Even those whom have suffered loss, but still love.

Emptiness.
Craving the “good” feelings.
Like fantasies. Wanting someone who isn’t real.
Never to give wounds time to heal.

To invalidate, or embrace?
If I don’t know what is real
And if I don’t know who I am,
Do I follow my heart?
Or is naivety my wander?

What I seek is never mine to keep.
All stories are read, not written.
Not written by me.

How can you not hate me
even if you don't know who I am
there is a chance that you should
since I am male and
we've been bred in a way
making people say "where the ****"
are my brother's decency.

Because when I speak to them
it's idolizing women
then damning those girls for
having the same ideas as my brothers--
they hurl insults
and call them compliments
telling girls to be objects
treating females as plastic
when they are humans made of blood.

She is not barbie
you do not get to change her clothes
and dress her down to
make yourself feel more like Ken--
her accessories and personality
are not defined by your hands
men can not force
themselves onto women
and tell them they dressed
as a ***-doll does.

I'll be ****** for your
lack of decency, people will treat me
as a "man", but in reality--
those are not men they are devils
trying to stay hidden in the dark
and one day feminism will bring equality
for humans, and then we'll have to
deal with the devils hiding
beneath our skin.

I see myself on a cream white bed, crisp sheets with a black frame

elevated so that when you throw me down, my long hair cascades around my face like a vision of a mermaid underwater

The room would be slightly lit, but only by a lamp of two

The shadows emphasize our muscles, toned and beautiful to each other

The floors are carpeted with something expensive so that when we move our feet it's silent

The bed does not creak and the only sound is a slight breeze coming through a cracked window door with curtains waving softly, dancing in the growing dusk

As I see it, one hand holds you up above me slightly and our bodies curve together

My long slender legs open slightly as my dress falls down into my thighs and piles on the floor

The exertion of my breathing moves the fabric covering my *******, emphasizing my collarbones

I see my arms up together above my head, wrists being held by your one hand as we breathe, panting before anything has really happened

I see myself close my eyes and turn my head a little to the left to shiver in pleasure as you bestow a kiss to my neck

Turning in synchronized motions as you move your head and lips lower, grazing my collarbones and erupting goosebumps down my spine and I turn my head back to accommodate your advances

The hand holding my wrists releases like an octopus releasing ink as it swiftly moves like a cat of prey to the base of my skull

Grabbing my hair, your hand pulls back to tilt my lips up to meet yours, aggressively but sensual and I moan involuntarily

You pull my hair again as you realize it very much excites me

Not everyone can do this, but you definitely get away with it.

Your tongue, as sweet as I remember but with more force than our first kiss begins to explore my mouth. Our tongues intertwine and my newly free hands wander up to your face, through the soft curls of your hair, caressing the perfect definition of your cheekbones and tracing down to the nape of your neck

Down further, unbuttoning more than was before, until your chest I have so wanted to see in person and not just facebook pictures, the marble perfection like Michaelangelo's David

Your beauty makes me want to cry

Your perfection

And you think I am perfect

I disbelievingly place my fingertips upon your perfect skin and you shiver from my touch

Your shiver makes me realize that we are both human and you are not the God I make you out to be

You are though, to me, in this room, so human and so ethereal at once
Growing bolder, I grasp at the incredibly smooth skin and move down your hard, muscular stomach

So incredible

I have wanted this for so long

I let out a moan of desire and approval which you stifle with a kiss

Grabbing my wrists again with one hand you bring them back behind my head, releasing them again to pull my hair back as my entire body reacts, back arching, hips raising up to meet you. I want to wrap my legs around you and have you right there, bring you into me with all the force of my longing and waiting

My hands bring closer this reality as they race to your belt and hastily attempt to remove the buckle

Desperately, you have reduced me to crying with desire for you, moaning wantonly like a ***** instead of the image of sophistication I presented for you not twenty minutes ago before you enticed me to fulfill the desires of my past, the desires always in the back of my mind, lurking like creatures in the deep, dark and forbidden

Satisfyingly, I manage to get your belt undone and pry open the buttons with my fingers, still shaking with desire

I want you to satisfy me, to fulfill the ache for you to be inside of me, loving me, caressing me, idolizing me

Calling me a Goddess as I call your name

That will come later

For now I attempt to lower your pants

I raise myself with my arms behind me, my hair cascading down my back like some sort of bronze waterfall

I stand, still inches shorter than you, tilting my head only slightly as I gracefully bring my arms over your developed shoulders

And press you close

I want to feel your hardness against my everything

I want to bring myself as close to you as physically possible

You are everything I have ever wanted, you are the man I have dreamed of

And tonight you are mine

I tip my head back, hair tickling your fingers, and moan in ecstasy of
the thought of really having you

You obviously don't know what you do to me

But judging by what is between your legs, maybe I do something to you too

I want to be more than a good **** and I feel like I am to you

As the stars appear and twilight turns to darker night, our whispered fears fall out the window and you see me as I see you; perfect and completely ideal in every way

You are my dream, the wish I made upon a star, here in my arms, pressed against me, wanting me as I want you.

Behind two obsidian pools of vast nothingness.
Staring at sky behind broken street lights.
Back against the ground, head in the clouds.
Water stained cigarette truly bobbing about.

"I would like to say my life is built on lies, it's not"
Idolizing villains though i'll always be a "hero".
"Ashamed of honor, for I've never been without".
Grass-is-greener sort of things.

I wish it were enough
But it never will be, my darling

You could kiss me with
The yellow of the bursting sun
Idolizing every inch of my skin
You could twirl the ends of my hair
As if it were your world's glowing fringe
You could create the deepest ******
Curling my toes every rainy moment
You could stain your garments
With magenta messy love for me
You could thrill every wave of
My ocean eyes
Or grip at the seams
Of the fifty thousand cotton dresses
I shed this summer
You could binge on my sadness
Until you've gorged your life blue
You could compose every sonnet
Every melodical romance
Every crushing poetic stanza
You could write my name
All over the walls of your heart

It would never be enough
My love
It will never be enough

January was never in a hurry, relationships seemed a bit too scary  
February always left me feeling lonely
March left scars and forced me to act needy
April lied and tricked me to fall in love with fools like you
No I actually liked you  
I started Idolizing fantasies
blind to see that it was us who were never meant to be  
May came around and exposed what we pretended to be
June made us lay under covers, and lie that we were lovers
July made you lie that you found another lover
It was me you wanted but couldn't find me
So you looked for me in others
All you found was broken hearts full of scars
Bleeding for your attention, while lacking complete satisfaction  
August had you feeling uncomfortable, heat in your veins
Pain in your seduced membrane, just smile and stay in the main frame
Pretend like you feel no pain
September had you missing me, dancing with your memories
I was love and you acted like you never needed me
October had you feeling lonely, while your soul became empty  
November left your heart feeling colder, while your ego got smaller
In December I was all that you could remember

Staring off into the distance of a ***** carpet ridden with living trails of ants, a crawling black river of desolate hunger, counting days of visions, wandering naked in the lake treading water, kissing, spitting out lips and liquid
shifted in dreams
memories poke like a cactus needle open to a room of steam heat and *****
flooding with words that digest imagination and burn eyelids, a cigarette held too close to a crowning flame
incinerating eyelashes and clattering TNT onto the serene image of our drunken antics while the rest of the world is howling for us to see ourselves for the raving lunatics we are, their tired look of exasperation an exhausted mother left alone to raise a hopeless child, wicked only for his ignorance
The last speakers of the paleolithic age journey forth from the depths of the amazonian jungle to heal our souls nailed to the cross as drug dealers because ingested plants grow in the ground

I saw the most beautiful soul weep in fear against a diner booth at midnight
amid plates of burgers, fries and green beans laid on the lineoleum table with no signs of starvation or danger
yet the signs of the apocalypse resonate in all psyches because reptilian brains would rather die than change, conform than bring forth the messianic transformation of our own radical self acceptance as God
and we shun those who are insane on the streets
***** outcasts, poor filth and ugliness
human animals unfit for this society of plastic and image, a mirage over substance
I cross the street rather than look the beggar in the eye because he stinks of desperation, and tell him no no no, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, I can't share with you all
MOLOCH!
The holy yell
flooding the empty headed street
we abandoned our mother and forsaken our selves to flickering images of lust and prestige, **** and *****, ****** and ***, thick wads
idolizing our own form,
the sirens of the modern age, the golden calves danced around in supermarket check out lines,
capturing us on the jagged cliffs of inattention, glories husked and barren, cultivate likes and followers sweet nicotine in the bloodstream, social media mogul reigning over a grand bazaar of ghosts in a room, talking to other ghosts in rooms of faraway lands, ignoring the living flesh in front of their twitchy eyes, cast down for a screen, forgetting themselves for a profile, a small picture in a corner, an Ignominious massacre of life cast through a digital lens, concerts meant for full expression of a cathartic moment of ****** movement, lost to a sea of hand held recording devices to remember how you didn't feel at that moment  with other people milling about as cattle who would rather document and never watch again then dance and live and be a part of the happening, look, Rip Van Winkles throwing pins with revolutionary prussian ghosts in a sleepy Catskill hollow, zombies behind wheels typing to ****, these words will not save you, they will not fill the siphon hole,
I am with you in this burning sodium night on my back in the grass of a night with no darkness
I am with you where the army of madness will overthrow the living dead and shake their working class dreams to the core with the sudden eternal war of nothingness and contemplation and silence screaming out for someone to save us
Everything is HOLY!

Throw open the church doors
think nothing of paying for poison, (as advertised)
but refuse to confront your self possessed greed because the man holding the cup is tired and desperate and I am tired and desperate

A truck hauls a horse
broken wilderness, cleaved concrete, cracked spines wretched scars,
killing anything that isn't hard, impermanent and futile, the land reclaims
but no land to ride, only the black road with its machines spewing the smokey remains of dead ancient animals
nature perverted, mobility imprisoned inside a metal box to be driven when it can run
so apt
for the potential inside coffins of daily lives
talking of dreams gutless to pursue
settling instead for the easy cruise of routine
******* our own hands

We all matter
but this world doesn't work without slaves
so take pride in your nine to five
get some ***** with that job title
and two sentence description
of how you can make the dreams come true, in the suburbs with three kids a couch and security from whatever danger lurks outside of us on TV
our own kind
murderous and malicious
homicidal tribalists
merrymaking nihilists
The fear The Fear
the light the light

I grab her hand and stare into dark eyes deadlocked on the momentary plane, a revealed saint testifying to God's truth Mary Maria, she tells me there is something beautiful outside this current mode of existence, but she's only had a fleeting glimpse

Drooling from pharmaceuticals,
and being told what's beautiful.
Recklessly using our mandibles,
and idolizing party animals.
No time to get personal,
Cuz I must go out and buy the product being scammed on this commercial.

Back.

Intelligence being blinded by fear,
So many don't pay mind, too full of beer
and confused why they can't see clear,
or even eye to eye with their closest peer.

Time spent pointing fingers
and wondering why "bad luck" lingers.
A society high on measurements and value measured by possessions.
The "Iwant" society diseased with obsessions.

Sold opinions with television and magazines,
Never realizing the atrocities behind the scenes.  
More psych evaluations and pills to swallow,
Or open love connections and spirituality to follow?

Many homeless, while uninhabited homes shows a higher amount.  
Pop-culture won't show ya, can the counter-culture even count?  
Fatty fast food paired with fast athletes, just to get a meager billion some dollars. 
There's still time to change though, which is why we need to bother.
 
Too cheap to buy selfless items, well then at least pay attention.  
See me for clarity, there's a wealth of info I didn't mention.

i need to start falling in love
less often.
stop idolizing every brave girl
who shows me the part of her skin
that rarely sees the sun &
waits patiently for my response………..
…..& i always inflate her ego
like a carnival balloon,
& in the coming weeks
i twist it into different animals.
a lion when i'm lonely,
a mouse to mimic misery,
but one day when i'm twisting up
the closed fists of some
metaphor of a memory
it pops & she's suddenly aware
of the clown.

but love is a dish best served
not at all.
skip the meal
& lose the weight of love
& the world seems so much bigger
& instantly you fit into places
you had never even tried before.
the feet that used to make those
distinct etchings in mud
like a tiny topographical map,
hauling that love around
like a bowling ball in a backpack,
those feet don't even touch the trees anymore
& the clouds envy your freedom
as they whisper pick up lines to the moon.

Idolizing drugs as if it's what sustains you
While I'm worshipping love contained in a statue.
I painted your face upon the cracked stone,
Hoping your grace could make me whole,
Again, my goddess crumbles at my feet.
Stolen from me by the shadows deceit.
Hollow was the ground upon which we built,
Our home was a grave held up by rotting stilts,
Twas only a matter of time before collapse,
Foretold by the stars, prophecies own map...
Still, I fought for you, to rip off the mask
Your grasp on my heart faltered,
We weren't meant to last.
To let you go, meant to shatter like glass
So here I am, scattered shards, lost in the sand.
The pieces cut my hands, I don't remember who I am.
Blood smears the reflections. I don't understand,
The message was clear before fears lead you astray
Now Death has come, a headstone is all that remains.

Ur ******* crazy
Because your young and I can see the adventure in ur eyes
You don’t do nothin on weekends
Still most confident and withdrawing
Rather ride around on the beach by the water where you live
Than hang out with me, us

I guess I should’ve thought of that before I fell for you hard
Bout how you prefer your lonesome
Let me in
Before I found out how many miles an hour your moped can go
I should probably’ve done something
Need to stop idolizing you

Read me
Take my foot and drag it against your leg
Own me, why do I predict
I’ll be too needy
You’ll take distance and cancel
You’ll cancel and fall in passion with your own mind and soul

Look down at the ground
Bend your endless back
Show me those eyes with your amazingly hopeful smile
Bend up again and talk a bit slurry
Dark dark tones, tender
Let me combine your guitar strings with my aching desire

Aching aching
Desperate for adventure
And all the other ones sit quiet and awkward looking into complete and pure nite
Me and them have already shared our ideas
Empty empty and desperate for action
For love, wondering if this is all we’ll ever be

Put me on to your black motorcycle and never stop
Grab my thighs while I’m behind you to ’assure’,
I’m stuck to you and I won’t fall of
Only if a double decker bus crashes into us
I will fall off
With you

Whisper how you feel
Even if you’re only expressing hunger
I see visions in those dark brown eyes
Tip toe into the bathroom, look in the mirror
Yayo, yes you
I’m always buzzing just like neon

Imagine
Make our souls complete
Join the ones who just are there
Confess loneliness
Slow dance in the dark
Et prends ta guitar

Now there’s one last chance
Don’t reject again
Paris, way to set up but
With our school french group thirty people
Possible freedom with your friends and mine
But only if you touch me with your fingertips

What was the point
In idolizing and utilizing my resources
Without truly taking or replacing
Anything within my being?
With what anomaly's prejudice
Did you plan to take me down?
It's like you're Little Mac
And I'm Glass Joe,
Throwing punches even though
They don't connect.
You overpower me in so many ways
But back away before credit is due.

I would call you humble,
But in the end I'm still a ****;
A slit in a gown clean up to the hip...
And you're a dancer,
A ******* epiphany
Sweeping across the room.

one of the greatest tragedies
is not only idolizing someone as a teenager
but have them inspire you to the point where you are
completely, exactly, perfectly
yourself
in the purest sense
because you identify with their simplicity, their humbleness
and the way they write not for fame, but for themselves
only to have time pass, where you are stripped down to nothing but
a naked lost sad scared wide-eyed adult
and that person is long gone only to be found
on tv screens and magazine covers, decked out
in golden dresses and singing for billions in prestigious stadiums and arenas
both of you as far apart and as distant as a corpse from its soul
no trace of inspiration to be found

i used to love you
but now you wear too many necklaces
and too much makeup
and you can no longer write
worth ****.

I love you.

Like a puppy would,
dependent on the words you say
hanging on every syllable, heart thumping like mad
waiting for that smile to take me away.

I need you.

Like a baby bird,
emotions too frail and helpless
calling out for someone in my loneliness
alone in my nest, waiting for your return.

I want you.

Like a child's wants,
idolizing some spectacular object
enclosed by glass, but close enough to tempt
waiting for the chance to reach out and grab it.

I adore you.

Like a lovestruck buck,
chasing the elusive doe into the forest
pacing through the thicket like a madman
waiting for you to peek out from your den.

I love you, want you, need you, adore you, and you are mine.

What does it mean,
To be a daddy, a dad, or a father?

A daddy…tucks you in at night.
He checks for the monsters that you believe lurk in the dark. When in reality, they only lurk in your mind.
He sits you on his lap, and plays pony-girl till his legs go numb.
He lets you stand on his feet while slow dancing at all the daddy-daughter date nights.
He pushes you on the wooden swing set that he built with his own rough two hands.
He tries to put your hair in a pony tail, even though mommy’s pony tails are superior.
He reminds you not to talk in Church while father is giving his sermon.
He holds your small hand so that you won’t get lost in this big scary world.
He brews his morning coffee, the aroma awaking you from your sleep, and you watch him, thinking, “I can’t wait to be big enough to try some.”
He will be identical to the man that you are going to marry one day.
He protects you from every little thing that scares you to death.

A dad…will help you with your trig homework, but will never tell you the answer unless you figure it out for yourself.
He sternly reminds you to clean up around the house, or you can’t hang out with your friends that weekend.
He yells at you when you pick on your little sister twenty-four seven.
He repeatedly asks you to help make dinner because your mom deserves a break.
He asks a lot of questions because you neglect to tell him what’s going on in your life anymore.  
He never lets you have what you want and always says, “do you have enough money to pay for that yourself?” or the even better, “money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”
He is always nosey and so old-fashioned.
He is silent in the car because you are too preoccupied to carry on a real conversation while texting your boyfriend that week.
He won’t let you become the adult you want to be.
He comes home, exhausted from work, and you disregard the time you could be spending with him by talking on the phone all night with your friends.
He tries to hug you in front of the kids at school, but it wouldn’t be “cool” to hug back.  
He tells you he loves you, and you can barely reciprocate the adoration that the little girl you used to be, once had.

A father…comes to **** a tiny spider in your shower when you call him, even after you have moved out.
He helps you when your car refuses to start on your first day at a new job.
He walks you down the same church aisle he watched you march along to receive your first Communion, and gives you away to another man, while holding back melancholy tears of joy and sadness.
He tries to visit you and your new husband, but you have a busy life of your own now.
He waits patiently outside the hospital room, until your husband announces that he has become a brand new father to a beautiful baby girl and that your father is a grandpa.
He plays pony-girl with your daughter, because you are much too big now, and his legs go numb.
He is getting older now, but you either don’t realize, or just choose not to notice.

He’s the man who forgot who you are.
He’s the man lying sick and pale in a cold unfriendly hospital bed.
He’s the man, once young and vibrant in your small idolizing green eyes, but is now old and grey.
He’s the man you once called father, dad, daddy.
He’s the man dying slowly before your eyes.
…and before you know it, he’s gone.

No more checking for monsters under your bed.
No more pony-girl.
No more pushes on the swing.
No more dancing on his feet.
No more securing hugs.
No more help with trig.
No more protection from the big bad world.
No more guidance.
No more.

Life is short. We don’t seem to realize that the moments in which we are living right now, will be the exact moments that we’ll wish we could turn the clock back to. People take for granted what they have, such as a man who loves you enough to indulge your childish tendencies and check for those monsters under your bed once more, just to be sure. Your daddy will always be your daddy, no matter if you can feel his warm bear hugs or not. It is hard to think that people can leave your life so effortlessly and never come back. However, what matters the most is the impression that they leave on you and the way you will choose to live your life. My dad has taught me to be smart, caring, and responsible. Along with my six siblings, my father nurtured our family with Christian beliefs, surrounded us with love, and taught us how to treat others with respect and dignity. Although my dad and I have had our numerous ups and downs, I would not ask for any other person to call daddy. Don’t forget how lucky you are to have someone to call father, dad, or daddy, because one day you won’t have anyone to call at all. I am so blessed to know that I will always love my daddy, and he will always love me.

You can't be what I live for.
I won't waste breath on you,
not anymore,
I'm done spending my happiness
where it won't be received-
I'm tired of living in torture
our relationship isn't what I wanted;
what I wanted isn't what you wanted-
I've been idolizing the thought of a door opening
when you're just a brick wall-
to open you'd have to be something you're not
so I'm giving up on you,
for me,
but also for you.

swallowing sorrow, drowning in sadness,

wondrous words, brought on by madness.

feels frail, no wonder this happened.

idolizing ideas, crazy contraption.

tripped up torn, lust like magic.

loyal lover, follows his passion.

lust like magic, no wonder this happened.

It's been over a year since my dad put a gun to his head and sprayed his brains all over the house that I grew up in.

I wasn't there when it happened, but just knowing that it happened that way haunts me constantly. My father had survived cancer, and fought with that for most of my life, so I thought he could survive anything. I never knew how sad he was, and now that I have been slapped in the face with it, I can't shake this terrible feeling. I feel like I wasn't a good enough daughter to him. Like i failed him because i thought he was stronger than he was. Like most little girls, I grew up idolizing my dad. Thinking of him as a super hero. A rock. An unstoppable force who was going to be by my side and in my life forever. But that was not the case. He left me in a blood-stained memory, and all I can do is think about him. Everything comes back to that phone call I got saying he was gone.

There are so many days where I feel all I can do is cry and think about every moment I ever spent with him. Some days I'm just bitter and ******* about everything and I want to punch everyone in the face who's having a better time than I am. I think about his death constantly. I dream about it. And I have become so dependent on substances to fade away the reality of everything, when I try not to drink or smoke, I end up feeling everything 100 times stronger. I just want to be numb. I want to stop feeling all of this. I feel too much at once, and I just hate how much this event has taken over my life. I loved my dad more than anything. He was always the one I could talk to when things weren't going well, or the first person I'd want to call when everything was going great! I have no one now, or at least it feels that way. I am not the same person I was before his suicide, and the people who love me might not love this new me. They might only love the old me, and she's never coming back.

it was two weeks before my 25th birthday when it happened. Everything near his death date is tainted. My birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas. I don't want any of it anymore, because it will never be the same.

All I ever wanted was for my father to see me succeed. And I'll never get that chance. He died knowing I was a loser. He died knowing I hadn't become anyone yet. That I hadn't done anything with my life. Well, I'm doing something now. At least, I'm trying. I'm trying to get my art out there. I'm trying to get my life in order. I've quit smoking for over 5 months now (and I want to break down every minute of every day and smoke, but I'm staying strong). He'll never get to see the woman I'm becoming. It tears me up inside when I realize everything he's missing. And then I just start to get angry, because there are so many times when I've wanted to give up on everything. But I haven't. I'm still here. I'm still here fighting with my own pain, and now on top of it, I'm fighting with his, too. It's so much weight for one set of shoulders to carry, but I'm doing my damnedest.

Eyes a creamy caramel
Looking at me
Girl; slow down
I want to walk with thee,
Skin so smooth
I can feel it without touching you,
All I wish for
Is one everlasting day with you,
Smile as bright as the sun
Caressing my face,
If I was a lawyer
You'd be my best case,
That pretty face of yours
All up in my dreams,
I wake up frantic
Busting at the seams,
I've been thanking God
For creating you,
Praising him
All the while idolizing you,
Plagiarizing your looks
Would be a crime,
I've run out of lines
For my next rhyme,
You're so fine, so unique, so sweet,
Being close to you
Would be my ideal treat,
If the hills had
As many curves as you do,
They'd be a drifter's paradise
Dream come true,
If my life ended
Before I could be with you,
I'd have one last thing left to do,
I'd thank the heavens
For having laid eyes on you...
© okpoet

Embrace your identity,
stop living for everyone else,
your idolizing "things" instead of gloryfing Me...
Ive never left you nor have I forsaken you...
See what the devels made you believe?
Pay attention in these days, beloved...
The enemy will play a big part in trying to steal your soul, try to take away the love, and joy from you,
to make you believe that you dont need me. Draw close to me,
leave the pain and the sorrow behind you,
and move forth on your walk of victory...

I haven't been here a lot, I chose to escape this world for a while,
so I could control the feelings of hate behind my smile.
I was hurt in this world so into my daydreams I ran away,
in the shadow of the trees I hid from the harsh light of the day.

Whilst I was gone did you miss me?
Or was I just another forgotten memory?
Did my face haunt your worst nightmares?
Or did you think 'Shes gone but who cares?'

I hate this world I have ventured back too
I gave up all the fantasies and dreams to be with you.
But why should you care you ask? It's not your life thats dying,
At night in bed it's not you that is crying

I paint a plastic smile on my face whenever you're near,
and I pour sweet idolizing words in your ear.
I let you treat me like a slave because then at least I'm noticed by you,
but yet still you'll only be happy on the day my lips turn blue.