"myseries" poems
I hurriedly pull my street dusted , golden brown Toyota into the middle of a gas station war zone. The kind that turns neighbors into enemies, fighting to gain the only valuable piece of real estate around – the gas tanks. The drivers collectively sport the exact same exhausted and frustrated grimaces. A rusty and dated “ Exon Mobile” sign stands tall and strong against the sundrenched sky. The day is coming to a close, and the sun seems hurried to set as if it is exhausted from the day’s labors and expectations that it must rise again tomorrow, just like the gas station’s patrons. This station, to most, is just another stop. Another errand that puts itself between you and the warmth of home. This station, is just another stop. Another errand at the end of an endless day. But to me, this place is full of promise. This is the one place on earth that gives us life. It gives us the chance to see the world and to explore uncharted grounds. This place brings us closer to adventure and myseries, to happiness, to heartbreak, to feeling. This is the fuel and the energy that is waiting to help you make it to the hospital at 4 am to see the birth of a child. This old and worn pitstop let’s us fall in love with the world, with what we can see, with eachother.
But there is this silver truck with tires too big and a man two sizes to small in the passenger seat. There is a prominent dent in the left side door that has remained unchanged, unhelped, in weeks. As this silver, dented piece of metal sits in the way between me and my pajamas, I have the chance to stop. Not to stop because I’ve finally got to where I’ve been trying to go. Not to stop to pay the McDonald’s cashier in shameful regret of another broken new year’s promise. But to really stop. For an unexpectedly and disappointingly long time. To stop with no expectations. To be forced to just stop. And to wait. And to look around.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
How to invite;
Take a light
Pen it down
Write a movie
In your mind
Juggle thru the vines
Untangle the myseries
Unfold the petals
To find
Simplicity in words
And nature's sweet tune
Listen to the heart
It calls for you
Open up a prayer
Down beneath the earth
Ask the core
For the answers
You search
Follow up on scars
Heal them if you may
Ask for forgiveness
For them and yourself
Sing sweet harlows
Rapture in the dance
Wind rain fire
All make up your name
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 7:06 PM UTC
the one with handful of chalk and myseries
the one with love and mind as books..
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC
SOMETIMES
Sometimes things are better shared softly
like powder smeared on a baby's **** lest they go red with rashes.
Sometimes better early tears are shed Slowly
Then left to build and burst forth like volcanoes!
Sometimes a broken bone is cured with a Crack
'Cos when Pampered is left to swell and rotten.
Sometimes life is spent swimming in the pool of the past
And the present existence is left dry and cranky
Sometimes a Lie is meant to Ignite the truth
But the effect is not impressive like a firework!
Sometimes when anger burns like Sulfur
It takes only the ice of patience to quench it.
Sometimes we tend to drink in mysterious light
while our souls lurk in the shadow of myseries
Sometimes an Echo is just a friendly reminder
That the unstuccoed walls do have ears that listen.
Most of the times 'LOVE' is all we truly need
And a bounty of it is stuffed in the stars
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 7:05 PM UTC
Have ever thought about How to paint the love ??
In my worst mature
When i forced to love you
My fears, my pains and sarrows
Flapped their wings .... behind the hills..
But now...you...marry
As i carry my myseries alone
Its all make me into the journey
Long lasting, never returned.............like painting into hearts that cannot clear and make real.
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 2:14 AM UTC