"progresses" poems
Before all of this, even after all of this, I will forever be a patriot.
Before the poet in me matured and I started talking like a parrot,
The dogs of war barked and I climbed exile's fence on my own
And there I have dwelled, with nothing tangible to bring me down.
I have been on this fence so long and I will remain there forever!
Especially since the premature child is still in the incubator.
From this vantage point, I have learned never to trust any politician
I've always looked at them with mistrust, disdain, and suspicion,
Before all of this and before I ran and climbed the exile fence,
I was once mercilessly flogged, dragged and made to dance
By drugged up and coerced child soldiers with a rubber cable
They tied and spread me like a dog on the market table
I watched as innocent people were killed with a rusty knife
There, I vowed to become a fence dweller for the rest of my life!
I've been a patriot all my life but I have done it from here..safer.
From here I have seen blood spilled, hearts broken, hopes dashed,
progresses stalled, mullions embezzled, promises broken, lies told
people changed, games played, party surfed, interests prioritized.
And from this vantage point, I have learned never ever to trust any politician
I have always been right...though I have looked on with disdain, suspicion,
and operated with caution but through it all, I have remained a true patriot and a fence dweller.
.✍️©️✍️IvanBrooksPoetry.✍️©️✍️
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
The evolution of art never halts
Once we began dancing around fire
Our feet couldn't stop
A place in our lives
Where our subpar seeds
Could be seen as glowing trees
That's the way I feel about my poetry
It reminds me a lot of me
I reread it and rewrite it so often
By the end it seems unoriginal and plain
And all I can hope
Is the themes and ideas that were the inspirational genesis
Remain intact
Art walks a tightrope over the most unpredictable factor
The audience
They are the other half of art
Their power cannot be overstated
And as time progresses
Their power grows
And the importance of art always extends an equal distance
But the stronger art becomes
The more it asks of it's audience
In many cases
The audience is not ready to take the call
This is one of those times
Here at the current pinnacle of art
Surfing the web
A wonderful chance as
Art is a reflection of people and society
The Internet is people and society
But just as we listen to songs
To decide what concert to go to
Or watch trailers
To decide what movie to see
We like what we like
And put blinders on to find it
Like moths to fire
We could do amazing things
If we could harness the potential
Of our collective conscious
But the threat of losing our individuality
Is too great for us
Unable to accept
Our individuality is always in the context of our cosmic existence
We are part of something greater
And we can't escape that
Even in death
We feed what lies beneath
The memory of our lives
Shrinks to obscurity
The maggots that cover our corpses
Flourish to maturity
Everything this world creates is art
And we are it's most complex creation
Not necessarily the best
We just have the most parts
And the maggots that use our dead bodies for sustenance
Were once the monsters that roamed this Earth
They had no nationality
Or political affiliations
Or religion
And they're still here
Waiting to reclaim their throne
Once "smarter" species seek suicide
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
White paint peels off to leave the walls bare,
naked and exposed to
elements.
Much like her soul.
Starved of love and affection,
accepted but not wanted.
Tolerated.
The sun casts her shadows on those
she frowns upon,
leaving winding roads to spiral out of control.
Time shifts her world from
it's axis as it progresses,
it doesn't heal,
it doesn't lessen,
It just is.
Echoes of your voice ricochets
to find her heart,
carrying the exact weight they
did the second they fled your tongue,
never shedding an ounce of momentum
"The waves of pain
that had only lapped at her
before now
reared up high and pulled her under .."
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
In life we tend build bridges
But not all are meant to last
Sometimes we burn those bridges
To keep us from what lies beyond
Everyday we meet new people
Have fun and make new friends
We form bonds and links; as such
We end up building bridges
Throughout our lives we go about
Being scared - in fear
But when we overcome the fear
We grow - we build our bridges
As time progresses - we age
We move on to do so much
We gain property and wealth
And at this very stage
Grow a family - get married
And go about our lives
Ease into reality
And we tend to then build bridges
All the time, things happen
Positive and bad
But we must overcome our problems
And learn from our mistakes
Take lessons from our failures
Know we don't cause success
And as we grow and learn
And as we learn and grow
We form more tightened, strengthened bonds
We tend to build up bridges
Memories are formed
And memories are kept
Stored in many forms
To remembered for being great
And as time passes us by
It brings with memory
As we add to vast memory
We reinforce our bridge
But not all stories flow
Like that of a fairy tale
In life we hurt and get hurt
And ******* seems to break
And when the key stones crack
And are shifted out of place
Our bridges looses and fall down
And our lives with them
And after all the pain is felt
We pull ourselves back up
And what remains after the storm -
We burn what was our bridges
People leave, people die
These things occur in life
Once they're gone, we break down
And are burning our bridges
Another reason why
We burn down our bridges
Is Friends who do us harm
And it's safer if we're apart
Instead of succumbing to evil deeds
We rather stay away
Refrain from any contact
And set ablaze those bridges
When trouble hits us hard
We lose our wealth and money
We hurt all those around
Unintentionally burning bridges
No memory can replace
The presences of a loved one
Instead of mourning forever
And hurting others too
We try our best to rid ourselves
Of memories and reminders
And as we force-forget
The things of our past
We end up sick of flames
Yet still burn down our bridges
In life we build and break
Many weak/strong bridges
Of a lifetime's worth of loved
memories and people
But this cannot be helped -
it is but human nature -
We build up what we love
And burn it 'cause we love it
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
I am Strong
Darkness can consume me
Life can be overwhelming
The mind can feel suffocating
I am strong
I crawl out of bed
I shower and dress
I eat my breakfast
I sit on the couch
I am strong
The day progresses
Tiredness overcomes
Exercise clears the mind
Study occupies my thoughts
I am strong
I go home
I cook
I listen and talk
I get ready for bed
I am strong
Another day has finished
I got up
I accomplished
I am strong
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 9:50 AM UTC
After a long day of making candles, the candle maker decides to bring a candle to life as he rests for the evening. After some time the candle begins to talk and asks the candle maker what its purpose is. The candle maker let out a slight chuckle and says, “Isn’t it obvious?”
The candle feels a bit disappointed by the answer and decides to reword the question, “Why did you light me if you are only going to ***** me out?”
The candle maker realizes that the candle doesn’t know its true nature and decides to tell the candle its true purpose. He moves the candle to a table next to a window and parts the curtains. “See the stars way up there? Some of them already stopped giving light, but from here, I can still see them.”
The candle’s light flickers for a moment and says, “But I’m a small light, nobody is going to see me.”
The candle maker smiles and says, “You’re missing the point. It doesn’t matter if your light is dull in comparison to a star. What does matter is that light is infinite and even though your wick is snuffed, your light will go on forever. You see, light moves in and out of small things to give them energy and then escapes fully intact. It’s the key to life. Without it movement would cease. So you see little candle, your light is important and will never vanish.”
The candle wanes as the night progresses and then finally says, “Thank you candle maker for giving me life. I know it’s about time for me to go.”
The candle maker smiles and says, “Bless you little candle as you journey through smaller things.” The candle maker pulls air into his lungs deep and exhales over the little candle’s flame and says, “Good light little candle. Good light.”
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
American Democracy
is setting a trend:
American Democracy
is a Sitcom, or perhaps a Game Show
of demagogic, narcissistic sociopaths
tricking and manipulating the Public
via various sources in a highly consolidated Media industry
into thinking they vote for a particular flavor of Tyranny
when in reality Today's flavor of Tyranny is all decided for you
because the burden of Choice is far too stressful
for the Moderner without proper medication,
and the power of Choice may require some sort of educated critical Thinking,
some sort of re-edification
which is far too much for us to handle
in this socially sanctioned doped-up state
and with such an intentionally failing Education system
from K through 12 and beyond.
With American Democracy,
We have a grand Illusion of Choice.
It's so convincing that many believe the Illusion is True.
(Sort of like hew we think of Reality, but with Choice of Government!)
For American Democracy,
They don't want mass Education.
They don't want mass Edification.
They don't want Critical Thinking;
Those things prevent a Control by few.
In American Democracy,
They intentionally destroy progresses made, like Rights,
They perpetuate stigmas about things like genders and the concept of "race" itself
They propagate Terror as their Sheeple scream from the sidelines for more
They defile the sanctity of Human Experience, of Reality itself
and chain us to a system that benefits only a few
while destroying everything else,
like Climate and Environment.
These Demagogues are Satan, if Satan is real:
They tempt us with the things we don't need,
filling us with Stress, Desires, Prejudices and Fears,
and ceaselessly wage war on institutions of Education,
all the while keeping us from finding the things we already have within each of us.
This System of American Democracy
has degraded into a corrupted fractal
of the ages-old ways of Tyranny and Terror:
Aristocracy, Plutocracy,
Patriarchy, Oligarchy,
Kleptocracy, Demagoguery,
Bankocracy, Corporatocracy,
Fascism;
Tell me,
What is the ******* difference?
I mean,
even Adolf ****** was elected democratically
under the pretense of "Change"
then, for weeks later, suspended civil rights indefinitely
after a likely false-flag 'attack' on the Reichstag in 1933,
(for which the Nazis blamed the communists.)
under the pretense of "Security":
Demagoguery runs Amok
Among disedified Minds.
They say "Freedom" and "Democracy"
as if it vindicates their Totalitarianism.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Happiness .
A word with no true meaning but a word that somehow depicts all of what one is feeling,
Happiness is when you catch yourself smiling for no reason at all.
Happiness is when everything possible is going wrong but you bring yourself to laugh through it all.
Happiness is accepting oneself fully for when you know your flaws and weaknesses no one can ever use them against you.
Seeing beauty in the bad is apart of this life.
The bad is what makes one who they are and pushes one to strive for everything one could ever dream of being.
Happiness is making everything worth seeing.
If there is one thing that one deserves it is to be happy,
to feel happiness and to allow the inner joy to shine through the inner walls of ones being.
Happiness is entitled to us and no individual , no moment , no fragment in time can keep one from experiencing happiness.
To live is a choice , to change is a choice , to succeed , to be happy is a matter of choice .
Choose happiness , choose to live fully, this life changes , and progresses far to fast to question your happiness...
Love yourself enough to let go of anything that no longer serves you, grows you or makes you happy.
Loving yourself is a matter of happiness.
At times one may fail to see why others see what they see in them but in all honesty it is because one and others are looking at two completely different things.
One sees something they fail to understand and another sees of everything they've ever dreamt of.
To love one self is the foundation of happiness .
And to be happy is to truly live . And happiness is a choice that no individual, thing, or place can take away .
- Tamera Brown
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
Tuesday night, just like every other night, a perfect night to vape.
Realizing, going against the grain is how society progresses.
All these changes leading way to these successes.
Making the past complain, questioning the new.
This **** is providing a new view, brain is set on brew, one you cant subdue.
These gingerbread cookies are ******* fantastic.
Did I just rap?
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
Reaching out for what delivers its existence
The thirsty tree extends its limbs further to the sun
An encounter craved, but still valuing its bestowment
Forever longing anxiously for that connection
The summer winds carrying this hopeful firefly
Emitting the lonely light that calls out for another
Releasing these signals in hopes of discovering you
Again a flicker and finally the mate is matched
Sprinting to the sea, the relentless river runs
Passionately carving its way through the slighted landscape
Obviously enraptured by its desirous charge
Awaiting the second its frenzied rush reaches home
Like the sun now churning our eager energy
Overthrowing senses with this rampantly raging need
Overwhelming magnetism lures us toward temptation
Inescapably mesmerized by this sensation
Profound in nature, driven by this timeless dance
Sophisticatedly conjoining into fulfillment
A base for these unbridled electrical impulses
The quintessence of our fusion now realized
We are the union of two wandering forces
Ignition progresses affectionate meditations
Quietly absorbing the synthesizing of segments
Once unrelated, now entangled eternally
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
London,
Beating heart of England,
Charismatic time-capsule thrumming to its own rhythm,
History looming, akin to massive waves splashing down,
Drenching all, the unwary, the scholar, soaking it up,
Savouring every scintillating droplet, blissful, hopeful,
Weaving through lives, changing with every moment,
Variety of race and creed, intermingling, jostling, noticing,
Sharing sight, sound, colour, scents, smiles and frowns,
Pulsing soul of people, thriving and alive, buzzing with spirit,
In Camden, easy-going, a friendly riot of textured-hazy-peace,
Artful structures of Belgravia, magnolia temples of affluence,
Lauding architectural finery while mere mortals pass through,
Mind swinging through centuries, flowing along the river artery,
Bridges carrying us home, keeping their own dark secrets,
Cranes rising high, creating modern palaces, new beginnings,
Old lives wreathed in the foggy past of legendry deeds,
Embellished beyond reality, ghosts crying out, warning,
We can never own this city, never know this city, not really,
Guardian dragon allows us entrance, pours herself upon us,
Takes our love, progresses while we observe,
All left behind, knowing, feeling, sensing,
We are but shadows in her Light,
Dust on her famous streets,
Blessed to know her,
To breathe her,
Love her,
London.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
At 3:20PM, I collapse into my bed with my Ipad light blaring.
I daydream of happiness.
Taken away from me by every day people,
Who I was made to learn their names.
Drawers left open with their contents spilling out,
As I stuff my clothes in there,
In an effort to clean up.
It doesn't work.
Jumping onto my bed to avoid the ghouls lurking underneath,
As shadows jump out at me in my mind.
Too afraid to close my eyes,
My insecurities are shown in my eyes to those that look.
These are Night Terrors.
I don't have to be asleep to get them,
It doesnt even have to be night.
When I'm alone, bullied and afraid.
They come.
These are Night Terrors,
That show in the light.
That play in my mind,
Every day, Every night.
Sleeping is stressful,
But as the day progresses, you wish for your bed.
But when you get there, you're wide awake.
Being at School is stressful.
But when you get to your bed, you wish to be there.
But when you're at school, Your will is broken.
Everything is stressful,
When You Get Night Terrors.
That show in the daylight.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
She has such fire in her eyes
Knows what needs to be done
It will be conquered
Day by day she progresses
Honor, strength and courage
These are her core values
A passionate fighter
Empathetic human being
Lives each day like it's her last
She questions the world
Hoping to uncover mysteries
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
Strobe lights
Flashing different colors
Every which way I look
They catch the texture of my dress
As I shimmy beside you
We are a strange couple
You with your pale skin
Me with my sweet caramel twist shade
The song changes
This more upbeat
The florescent lights flash faster
The bass thrums in my heart
My body starts to feel the music.
I let go and allow my body to do the rest
I feel a tap on my shoulder
Him.
This boy
I declined
Because of an age difference
He bows and asks for a dance..
I consider
I look at my date
With a stern look upon his child-like face he nods his head at me
He doesn't like this newcomer
Yet
He let's go of my hand as if to say
"It'll be okay for one dace"
I go take this newcomers hand
And dance a slow dance during a fast paced song
Odd...
The song is over as fast as it started
The guest thanks me
and sends me back on my way
back to the boy awkwardly waiting for his mistress to return
A smile immediately illuminates his face
"We are just friends," I think
"We must be..."
As the night progresses it is soon time to leave
He kisses me on the cheek as another once once did and goes off on his way
As I do mine
I see the visitor once more but I decide to evade him
For he is not worth my time
He does not notice me
Good.
I am off
Off to sleep
Now safe in my bed
Homecoming?
Perfect way
To end my night.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
If you wait long enough and allow the silence that roams through the air to stream into your system, you will be lucky enough to see Her in Her wake. Who, you ask? Our Earth.
You can just about see Her blink in the clouds, and Her blue pupils in the vast sky. As she wakes Her little souldiers up and prepares the day for Her people. You can see a driven arachnid as it pulls for its little significant life up the bark of a strong standing tree that was able to handle its own through the night time, with none but a natural rope.
You can see the winged pilots as they take off into the open blue. If you listen carefully enough, maybe you can hear the sweet messages hidden in the midst of their honey-like twitter. You can see the newly dressed Autumn leaf let go of the water droplets it has used through the night as though sweating after a long night's work.
You can hear the young laughter of the first few children as they run about free in a field of their own, you can almost smell their candy-scented breaths. You can see the shadows of the trees as they drag away on the ground, just before they retire for the day. As the dusk progresses, The Sun smiles brighter because it knows that it has human spirits to cheer up, a human duty that it so happily performs.
In the night, I will thank Her for the beauty that she bears and welcome The Night with free sense, for He sings a beautiful lullaby to put Her and Her hard-working souldiers to rest.
And if you listen just right, you can hear His perfect rhythm of nature so that you may sleep as peacefully as She is.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
I am victim only to constant distractions,
restrictions, prescriptions, vicarious factors,
as various factions of elitism prescribe defeat
to the common man; the hard working talented
beaten upon by the self driven commerce land.
Businessmen, crooks, warlords and bankers;
victory purports itself the higher moral ground.
******* the world, lie on the crimson sand.
The brevity of riches in led laden ditches,
trenches v armistice; one man’s control over
cadets and lieutenants. Equality it seems
is general ignorance, propose roll reversal
and receive corporal punishment. Capital
interests will be met with bursaries, bail
out the banks and return to your knees,
put out your hands and beg for your feed.
If the top three percent own more wealth
than the lower half put together while
politicians claim to be fair-weather,
conclude that sincerities amiss, that
your representatives are on the pay roll
of profit driven lobbyists. Career crazed fat-cats
couldn’t care less if you're in tattered garments
or there’s a hole in your dress, their polished
boots carry them from vault to vault
while we fill another with oil-baron asphalt.
As social repression pushes populations
science progresses, enabling armed forces
to kettle us, cut us off and circle on horses.
Power-shifts across the globe become jaded
by investment with private militias and fascist
supremacists seizing resources from war
torn villages to fund their crude sourced
morality, migrants and refugee families
are vilified by ignorance forged in cynicism
caused by the inequality of education.
Here lie the symptoms of infinite regression,
hold mirror to gene-pool as it replicates
the same flawed equation, as populations
expire and conspire so does the problem.
Bombing a country without repercussions,
is as likely as a breaking the waters surface
without sending ripples to the adjacent atoms.
These are the dark ages of social stagnation.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
the Boxing Day test cricket match
has just begun
with the Indian bowlers
out to stymie the Australian's run
they'll be keeping
their cherry ball deliveries tight
so the lads from Oz
don't get any easy flight
on the wicket there will be
a momentous Waterloo battle
the Indian side shall need
all of its line and length chattel
no loose ***** going awry
into the four's ditch
they'll have to be spot on
when sailing down the pitch
in the first session of play
India can't afford one mistake
or their teams shall be left
in the Aussie team's shattering wake
as the innings progresses
throughout the day
the Australian side
will surely be making hay
the pride of both cricketing nations
is at stake on the MCG
those vying to win the spoils of the test
shall require a flawless key
runs aplenty are on offer on the pitch
for the Aussie boys
so the Indian bowlers must forestall
their batting ploys
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
As we begin at the starting line we know who's going to win
There's the white rabbit
Obnoxious,Cocky,A *****
Fueled by red bulls an monsters
He can barley be contained
Fur coat at attention
Like there's electricity in the air
But we're drawn to things with a flair
In our eyes his white coat nothing could compare
It's special
Then there's the turtle
Passive,majestic,shy,common
The underdog
We only like them when there's a chance they might win
It takes each step gracefully
Carefully, trying not to impress
It's been counted out shunned for its slowness
As the race begins the rabbit dashes away
Down the trail reaching its peak on the straight away
Not looking back
His speed unforgiven
Giving it the illusion of hovering off the ground
Not a sound heard as it flies by
The turtle still at the starting line
It's progress unhealthily
It to makes no sound
It's footsteps stealthy
But it stills marches on
The rabbit far ahead
Looses his sights that this is a race
He knows the turtle pace
He begins to dash around trees
Running in circles
His momentum makes the ground begins to give
making a donut effect
So detracted he begins to chase leafs
Caught in the wind
So burned out he crashes
Falls into a trance like slumber
As the turtle still moseying along
Moving at a records pace two steps per minute
Begins to catch up
Soon enough it passes the rabbit
Flabbergasted hes asleep
Quietly it sneaks away down the trail
Pace still two steps per minuet
As the race progresses the turtle has the finish line in sight
Thinking this is its moment
To shock the world
But it ain't over yet
The sleeping rabbit awakes
Yawning an switches its nose
Starts running again
He sees the turtle in his sights
Confused how this happened
There's no way he's going to lose
But fate was not on his side
As he widens it stride
Trying to catch up the turtle just near the finish line
One step and it's all over
And just as the rabbit catches up
It's too late
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
I fell in love with the weird, the chaotic.
I mean.
Have you ever considered what the shaky man at the end of the street was screaming?
Have you ever found order in the chaos of a Jackson *******
Einstein may have been famous for E=MC squared,
but he also determined that S=KlogW.
Order tends to move to disorder as time progresses.
Tell me you don’t warm at the sight of a toddler with ice cream down her dress, sitting in a mud pile with only one sock on one foot, one pigtail half done, and one smile plastered across her indifferent face.
The road of exes I’ve left behind is wrought with Star Trekkies, cult members, and bi polar ********
but here I stand begging for more.
My BFF Becky,
who’s really my therapist Karen,
says I’m seeking inspiration.
But the shaky man on the corner who sometimes thinks he’s God
says that I’m Galileo.
And I’d rather believe him.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
I find comfort in the place inside my head where I can think. A place forever changing with the instability of my emotional state. This special place is a canvas being painted as my life progresses, in the deep blues of despair and soft yellows of contentment. Borrowing smells, visions, and people of memories past and present to build a beautiful escape from reality. It is impossible to remember an exact moment in this place, as it, like all matter, is in a constant state of motion.
Somedays the bright light of early morning is shining in, the dust particles collecting and shimmering like glitter in the air. I can hear birds chirping, harmonizing with the soft, kind voices of my childhood. A hand reaches out to touch mine, their thumb stroking the top of my hand and their fingers tickling the inside of my palm, as if to say: “It's okay, you're here with me now”. Whose hand that is, I can never quite be sure.
There are times where I sit with my cheek against the cold damp window, watching the water scrambling and morphing into new shapes and sizes as it runs down the glass, listening to the rain pounding an unsteady rhythm to which the thunder and lightening dance. The looming darkness intensifies the sound of beating hearts and broken voices. But once again, a hand touches mine: “It's okay, you're here with me now”. Regardless of the emotions it may evoke and the darkness that may linger, it is always much safer than reality here.
At times I am alone in this place with only the babbling of a nearby brook, or the comforting melody of a familiar song to keep me company. Here, I am allowed to be in a moment without the threat of interruption. Here, I am able to think, to breathe.
It can be a place of panic, anguish, or even hopelessness; but no matter how it's ambiance is affected by my mental state, it will always be a place of stability.
In this moment, my special place is far from this room that confines me. It is full of the people I ache to see again, full of memories of times before bad decisions robbed me of all that meant anything in my life. The song “July” by Youth Lagoon is playing: “If I had never let go, then only God knows where I would be now. I built a bridge between us and then slowly burned it. Five years ago, in my backyard I sang love away. Little did I know that real love had not quite yet found me”.
Today it is a place of regret and desire, and the hand is one I long to hold again.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
heartbeat creaks in, out, ladder creaking too--
can you feel it, can you hear the petty voices screaming at you,
can you. can you, can you.
crying out, this is what the water gave back to you:
you never liked her anyway, not the way she got into trouble,
regret doesn’t make someone more dead, anyway,
what’s the rush?
riverbed running dry, what’s the rush?
says, you have nothing to worry about
says, god told me about the paintings, god told me,
says, this is your fault
untucked button-up shirts falling from a fifth floor balcony,
this is what love is supposed to feel like
promising bitten pieces of paper to strangers and other misdemeanors
eating at the cardboard cutout suicide dream
some kind of oasis, or
at least a buried treasure, right?
that’s what we came here for, right?
says, don’t make assumptions,
says, don’t make this harder than it has to be,
says, don’t--
corpse in the river, blonde hair
blue eyes get seven sentences and a memorial
speaking in sentences only churches get to hear
lighting a cigarette and talking about the end of the world
isn’t this what we came here for?
says, what a way to die
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
12/37/14
Our love flourished in the winter
In a place where it never really got cold
Your eyes were always icicles
And your smell like winter wind
You come off as cold
But maybe as winter progresses toward spring
And life reveals itself from under its snow blanket
You heart too will awaken
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,
I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,
I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,
I can’t remember,
I can’t forget,
I can’t,
I can’t,
I,
I,
I remember,
once,
you told me to watch Memento,
that must of been over two decades ago,
it’s interesting how we remember little trivial things,
from years ago,
but somehow we sometimes forget important things,
that happen moments ago,
Selective memory is a thing,
and so is selective amnesia,
I suppose in some ways my memories of you,
are kept inside me as personal mementos,
I miss you,
I miss the life we never had together,
I miss you massive fridge,
I miss our days in Bali,
I miss making love,
with you like you were the only person in the world,
and I mean that honestly,
because in those moments you were the only person,
the only person,
that showed me hope,
the only person,
that showed me love,
when I met you I was a street kid,
I had no money and no class,
but you took me under your angel wings,
and I will always remember that,
I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,
I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,
I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,
I can’t remember,
I can’t forget,
I can’t,
I can’t,
I,
I,
I know,
that you’re married now,
happily in fact,
and I’m not trying to mess with that,
please don’t take these words,
as an invitation of any sorts,
I wish you all the best this world has to offer,
because honestly that’s what you deserve,
sure,
I love you,
I can not deny that in any way,
but that love,
is so far beyond this physical plane,
I know how dysfunctional I am,
and I’ve given up all hopes in making a family,
so when I see that you are married,
I truly pray to God that that marriage for ever after progresses happily,
and actually,
I only wrote this to tell you that I finally saw Memento,
and I don’t even if you remember telling me to watch it,
I guess that’s part of what Selective Memory Loss is,
or rather selective amnesia,
anyways whatever I’ll just get back to what I was doing,
so that you can get back to what you were doing,
which is continuing to live this life and create this memories,
or erase these memories either way I hope you get whatever you’re pursing,
I can’t remember to forget you,
I can’t forget to remember you,
I can’t remember to forget,
I can’t forget to remember,
I can’t remember to,
I can’t forget to,
I can’t remember,
I can’t forget…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
author of multiple best selling poetry books.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548700746
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:40 PM UTC
she will tell you that
rejection tastes of
saltwater and stale smoke
it looks like mascara rivers
running towards her throat
it sounds just like deafening silence
of a phone that doesn't ring
it feels just like a stab wound,
a never ending sting.
She's used to the emotions
used to all the lies.
She's used to all the fake smile a
from even faker guys.
rejection gets not easier
as time progresses on,
but boils up from within her
until she's not alone.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC