"realizations" poems
*coffees are my one-way ticket to contemplation–
to realizations and dramas
it shapes my eyes
to view life like a panorama
coffee makes me think
about the world,
the people
and both combined
coffee connects me to the crowd
to their lives,
mishaps
sometimes shared with mine
coffee gates to different events and realities
it awakens wishful thinking
and kicks curiosities
coffee, summed up
is a friend
of all those who've got their heads in their *****
it is a guru of life
love,
and other life experiences
a.t.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
Now I lay down to sleep
Praying, hoping we don't meet
But every time I close my eyes
I see us together
Then I cry
You took advantage of me
Took my virginity
I fell in love, so to speak
I was soon made to realize
The **** made you different in my eyes
Later realizations
Were made to me
You were older than my dad
You weren't clean
I'm lucky no diseases were
Given to me
Just severe trauma
PTSD
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
quandering, pondering
and whiskey has become
first and only desk liquor. now
digressing to the Blue Eyed
beauty writ of this the final
page of notebook. and now,
reflecting on this early hour.
an hour when the goat's
head stares thru to soul
with always lifeless eyes. stares
thru this soul with lack of
energy, with entire days'
lack of consumption. and with
ease this one has been long
and gone in falsified attraction
of angelfaced Blue Eyed
matriarch; this one patriarch.
thought entirely conceived. contrac-
epted by reality of situation. by
reality in general sense, yet words
spew unfiltered with lingering hope
behind slanted smile. shying stares,
all the while watching from eyes'
corners. voices of all but her's
fall deaf; vessels otherwise mute to
concerns not of the Blue Eye's. and
here this one finds self lost to rom-
anticized thoughts knowing they can
be found sterilized via logic.
contradicting always, yet
no brass holding finger locked to
joint. and realizations of actual
place spears forehead; spears fore-
brain. disrupting what is preconceived
concerning entangled souls. hair falling
aside temples. point of restraint, this
one must end before depression catches
hold; this one calling abrupt ending.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
Suffering stirs up the soul
In agony, there are new realizations
Right in the middle, starts a chaotic vortex
Draining up all the energy, leaving the body numb
The mind is aware, yet it can’t control the situation
Getting more and more ****** into the commotion
The uneasiness unsettles the whole constitution
Shaking the belief for some time, yet, takes a heavy toll
Suffering gives a new awakening, to life’s adversities
Sometimes, we have to silently and vehemently fight
Like a lone fighter, up against, so many enemies
The mind as a weapon, is all you have
Sharpen it and keep it agile, as it’s the only weapon
To fight the sufferings, that gets hold of you
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
I feel so torn
I love them a lot
Except I feel like
I can't love them as freely as I want to
Because they remind me of an ex
I want so desperately to let go of
I want to move on with my life
And to love them entirely for them
Without the ripples of her
Skating across my perception
I feel trapped in my mind sometimes
Living through past memories
That only make me feel sadness now
And I wonder if that closure I seek
Can occur if I can forgive myself
For hurting her so much
How can I take responsibility and
Embrace my faults and mistakes
While also forgiving myself for them?
Forgive myself for hurting her?
Especially after realizing that
My emotional unavailability caused it
And I understand that I must remain compassionate
And I must accept the things I cannot change
It's just hard not to shame myself
When the blame fits so perfectly
In the palms of my hands
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
As talent drained from every inch of my mind
I found reading other's work only made me jealous
I started to feel unpopular
Not enough ideas left to create anything at all. Not a single drop of inspiration.
As all of theses emotions and realizations mixed together
I became okay with copying your work.
*I can imagine you slaving in the dark
Racking your brain to find the perfect words to finish the last line*
Lucky for me I have it all right here, completed and ready to post
Finished and polished and prepackaged with a message I didn't think of but everyone will commend me for.
I hope you enjoy it.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
~**My portrait was painted by Jackson *******
<|>
“***there are no lines or lies in my writings
there are no definitions and perception is only your truth.
Therefore,
my poems are splats and drips, you make them into paintings that hang in your own private museum,
but signed by me as first passenger***”
<|>
when did I write these words?
can’t recall, though undated,
they seem all too familiar, and thinking that if I didn’t,
I should have…
for the title of this ‘poem painting’ has lain in quietude,
a resident in my file of
“someday writs, awaiting,”
when the itch demands you will
essay
**the admixture of words and swords
that will cut a newborn corded reciprocity of thee and me,
an unbound bind that ties and frees us
from and by our shared senses…**
today, an inadvertent blinding sunlight stumble is demanding a
fulsome scratching
<|>
the portrait of each is the irrational intersectional of splats and drips,
each viewer, reader, filters the image through a common
uncommonality,
which is as it should be,
**for if we are each created in His image,
how glorious is the diversity of our deities,
each of us a tiny drop of paint on a tableau
of a small planet, insignificant but
uniquely beautiful intelligent species of godlike creatures,**
human
<|>
the précis of this conundrum conversation bewilders,
a single word drops,
of plaint, paint, blood,
a seconds blush blurred
that is the building blocks of imagery
I state is mine,
but now realizations swiftly fertilize,
**the portrait is not of me,
but of me blended into thee,
and this poem,
is our composition**
that hangs in each of our primary
museum,
newly re-titled,
A Passenger, Realized
Sep 14, 2023
Sep 14, 2023 at 7:10 AM UTC
I was having a nice Dream
when you shook me Awake.
The sky was bruised with no hint of Light.
You held one thin finger to your smiling lips-
Vacation was the only word whispered.
A day full of flying & driving we finally arrived
Grandma's and Grandpa's; Everyone was outside.
Met with pity-filled smiles
and red-rimmed eyes
steel-gripped hugs about crushed my spine.
Aunties, Uncles & Strangers were there.
You told me to go unpack my things.
*Mom, why did you pack me so many socks?
Vacation only lasts a handful of days.*
Realizations pulsed inside like a serpent had punctured my skin
Then filled me with disgusting truth.
Within a few moments
I'd been stripped & thrown
into a hole full of my most secret fears.
My hideous screams still ring in my ears.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
The sun hung low,
sliding down below
the trees,
whose leaves had turned a golden yellow
from autumn's adoring
kiss.
The clouds looked gray,
seeming to bring in
thunderstorms
that weren't to come,
at least not today.
We spoke of
mysteries,
created poetry in our
realizations,
harmony fostered with the gentle
breeze
as we laughed.
The aha's and uhuh's,
the self-discovery and
conceptualization,
they were the sermons,
the creed,
the metanoia.
The rooftop sunset was
the sanctuary,
the gust of wind the hymns,
the moments of silence were
moments of reverence,
our spirituality
birthed in the
gravel
under
our feet.
The world is
our religion.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
I realized that I only miss you when I'm high.
I'm always high though, so maybe I'm trying to prolong your stay and torture myself with the thought of not being able to have you again.
I am realizing even more now as I write this, that I only miss you when I'm high.
Maybe I just want to remember you and pretend to be able to feel you again.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
The weight of the night is starting to settle on my shoulders
and everything is heavy and everything is breaking
And I’m honestly lying on the open carpet
Shifting between positions where I might not get sick
From a hangover of tears and sinking realizations
And my body aches badly where you pinched me too hard
Yes you’ve drawn some blood and left some scars
Yes you wanted too much and you clung too hard
But it’s proof that you played an equal part
And that you cared to stop about as terribly much as a brush fire
cares about leaving the earth un-charred.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 4:37 AM UTC
*Through the vortex
It’s a spiraling journey
From the core to the edges
Churning out new realizations
Beyond your control
There may be many paths
But one destination
Journey shall culminate
Before entering another vortex
Spiral down in awareness
Of another avatar
A different journey
And another destination
It’s continuous*
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
Across from me at the bar table,
the bartender smiles and asks for my order
I tell him, "anything strong," and hand him ten dollars
I drink it up, feel its strength running down my throat
into my ever-growing stomach
I look up and remember what I've left at home
My wife sat in the bedroom alone,
My children pacing around and adapting the way women and men are supposed to be
I have taught my son power, strength, and dominance
While I have taught my daughter weakness and submission
Maybe that's where I went wrong as a father
Where all previous generations of my family have gone wrong
Raising me as a man seeing women as objects,
And I raising my son in the same manner
I take one last sip from my ten dollar drink
Taking it in along with my realizations
In front of me is the door of my home
where I have left women to shrink
in order to enlarge myself to the point of overfeeding my ego
And then I decided to shrink myself into the size
of the women I've shrunk
The size of my home has grown larger
Its proportions have expanded
Allowing each of us to occupy the same amount of space
And so I sat across my wife at the kitchen table
Looking at her at eye level
She smiles and I smile back
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
nineteen
the age of uncertainty
underdeveloped prefrontal cortex
development of morality
nineteen
inside, still a child
outside fully pubescent
on your own
nineteen
too young for the real thing
but slowly learning the landscape
to the world of adulthood
nineteen
the age of beauty
blossoming realizations
living
nineteen
the worlds not what it seems
experience things in a new way
that you never though existed
nineteen
the peak of psychological disorders
anxiety and depression
heartache
fear, instability
and restlessness
nineteen
last year as a teen
a year filled with mystery
and hope
life
love
not a breath wasted
if you know how,
keep breathing
Dec 26, 2010
Dec 26, 2010 at 7:42 PM UTC
Tsk tsk tossed
go out
Your suggestions.
Whisk whisk washed
flow south
Your directions.
Hiss hiss sorry
no time for
sage reflections.
Songs you sang will not be sung
Nor any tales of strength believed.
The brain embodied in such young
Must think it he first to perceive.
Ask every man
Who first made sparks?
From rocks to barks?
Blinding night and fooling fear?
Wholly gone ghost
Our first bright creature
He harnessed fire
Then disappeared.
Realizations when thought anew
Seem to skip from us awry.
So no Salutes
nor an ovation
For those who fostered
Us will be spied.
Gods truth your lips bespoke to youth
Yet still it's not their time to hear.
For these ears are full of magic
And your end rolls
Crushing near.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
When I tried
You told me I will be beside you
When I told you I was hard to love
There was no response
Was that for my own good?
I've been to the moon and have had the realizations of a starving artist
You knew that,
You knew I had no warmth,
And when I left I would always becoming back
I was never gone to stay
I know that you loved me
I know that you wanted to come to the moon with me
That you wanted to understand my art
I knew that when you left
You were gone to stay,
You are gone to stay
But you were never mine.
And I will always be yours
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 12:09 PM UTC
We met here as children,
happy times,
smiles shared between friends,
love at its prime.
Everyday we meet,
streamers,
*****
crayons held high,
in our small hands,
the three of us,
no time for judgement,
no time for worry,
far too many adventures to be had,
underneath this apricot tree.
The meetings grow infrequent,
we meet here as acquaintances,
we meet here as lovers,
knife for the carving of flesh and bark,
dreams of brighter days,
days obscured by a terrestrial haze,
we love,
we hate,
we grow,
we regress,
under this apricot tree.
Years pass,
the meetings are infrequent,
the successful no longer indulge,
there are only two of us left,
we meet as strangers under summer sky,
cursing God for death,
estrangement,
birth,
divorce,
broken,
realizations,
invention,
convention,
peace,
understanding what love is,
so clear now,
how did we get this far,
underneath this apricot tree?
They meet here as children,
they meet as friends,
in its truest sense,
running,
pushing,
playing,
the days get lighter,
the sun a little brighter,
grazing fresh skin,
sun-kissed lullabies,
the toys are different,
but the game is the same,
underneath this apricot tree.
We meet here as children,
laying underneath our tree,
nostalgia feels our lungs,
the feeling is familiar,
but the landscape is inverted,
we love,
we hate,
we grow,
we regress,
estrangement,
birth,
divorce,
broken,
realizations,
invention,
convention,
peace,
running,
pushing,
playing,
everyday we meet,
streamers,
*****
crayons held high,
in our small hands,
the three of us,
our children with us,
we meet here as one,
underneath this apricot tree.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
Upon the sands I stood in vigil,
in my thoughts, in images of her and her song.
Here i am, locked by land and distance,
unable to swim freely in her waters of calm.
How I wish to be part of her world,
to swim the currents of her soul in ecstasy.
Within thoughts, comes many things,
realizations of hurts, and desires that may not be.
I must depart from these beautiful waters,
know I am alien to this place.
I cannot stay any longer upon just a wish,
unable to be more to what she needs.
I must bear the sadness within me,
to walk away, red eyed, full of tears.
Leave her be, in her world to search,
to find one she deserves ever so.
To be content that she finds happiness,
held by another of where she thrives.
I am just an observer, witness to all she is
experienced bliss like never before.
I know now I leave with an everlasting dream,
an imprint in the sand where i stood.
I can only see from the distance, for the days to come,
to make cast of it and a place to reflect.
I know of what will never be of us,
but will always have to remember, her Siren's Song.
Copyright © J.L.Gonzalez 2015
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
I.
with my hand clutching my heart,
i anxiously swept my feet across
the hallway lined with a hundred artworks,
only to discover at the very end
that mine was just
one place short of an award.
i run all the way back the long hallway
to hide teardrops in a dark lonely corner
until my father
came and gave me
a comforting embrace.
his strong hands patted me on the back,
my tears stained his crisp polo as
i buried my face in his chubby belly.
he told me
that i'm the greatest artist
and that no matter what
he loves me.
II.
seeds planted in me bloomed
into realizations
and those realizations bred feelings
and like a tidal wave
the sea of emotions
surged over me
and overflowed to my eyes
chest felt heavy and
my head felt light.
i made my way through the dark and crowded room
to my brother
and in front of all his friends
tackled him in a hug.
he scuffled my hair and locked me in his arms,
and i couldn't believe he hugged me back
instead of pushing me away.
he told me
that he was stupid
and that he was sorry.
III.
he held me back as everyone else went down
the winding staircase.
i knew too well that this day would come
but i injected myself with lies
that February can feel like forever.
but the truth prevailed
and the truth hurts.
our cheeks brush and blush.
he got me on the tips of my toes
and his thick sweater caught my tears
as we wrap each other in a long embrace.
i let go of him and dropped my hands
because the moment felt too right but
he hugged me tighter
and he swayed me
gently
back and forth...
back and forth...
back and forth...
contrary
to the wild beat of my heart.
he told me
his final goodbye
and that he will miss me.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
When I was roughly your age,
I too sought to break the cage,
And I had that newfound rage.
When I was posed with attractions,
I too was brought to distractions,
And I had the highest visions.
When I was counted among the cream,
I too sought to keep the bigger dream,
And I thought that I had the better team.
When I was expecting my team will help me learn,
I too turned a robot and stopped trying to yearn,
And I knew not that there was more than money to earn.
When I was supposed to learn flying,
I too was totally busy in dreaming,
And I knew not how later I'd be feeling.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Let me start by saying how sorry I am. I didn't want this to be an apology letter, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that that is what you deserve, and I never gave it to you. I built you up, just to eventually tear you down again because of my own selfish insecurities. And after everything was said and done, you still loved me. You accepted me for who I was, with every single fault. I never realized how significant you were to me until you left. I just couldn't comprehend that even when we were over, you were still what kept me sane. I would **** to spend a lazy day doing absolutely nothing with you just one more time. You have no idea how much I've gone downhill since you left. I know you always thought of me as the strong one, but lately I have been a complete mess. I can't talk to anyone though, because no one really knows me like you do. You doubted I would miss you at all, but I find myself thinking about you more and more everyday. The other day I looked through our old conversations. It broke my heart. I want to talk to you. I want to hold you. I need you. I just really wish you were here.
All of that being said, I am so proud of you for what you're doing. You're finally addressing your problems and taking control of your life. You've inspired me. I am going to pursue help for my problems with sociopathic tendencies and depression. I hear you're very happy and have found where you want to be. I also hear you're not coming back, and I assume we will never see each other again. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I made a huge mistake. I thought I was falling out of love with you. And I got scared that it would lead to me doing something stupid. But I never fell out of love with you, and I still haven't. I love you. I know that even if I see you again that you will have changed, and be a completely different person. I'm not religious, but I pray to god that you still love me too. It's terrifying to think that I'll never see you again, but infinitely worse to think that I will and that you no longer have feelings for me. I really wish I had come to these realizations before you left. I never even got to give you a real goodbye. So that's what this is I guess. I doubt you will ever see this, but I can hope that one day you will accidentally stumble upon it. I know you'll know it's about you. So goodbye, good luck, and by chance I hope our paths will cross in the future.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC
Rain is refreshing in a strange, backward way. It shocks you out of a deep, prolific lapse of participation in reality and reminds you that you’re still here. You’re still corporeal, tangible, you can feel and you can decide. But rain is still rain. It can be cold and unpleasant to be faced with, or it can be warm and welcoming. Beconing you forth to splash and smile in the reality you forgot still applied to you.
I left behind the idea of full, around the clock consciousness during my last frigid thunderstorm. I realized, during a session already dedicated to realizations, how exhausting it was trying to live my reality to its current extent. How frustrating and soul-crushing it is to have the ambition you truly believed in and planned to embark upon, forgone by the limits of a situation you have no control over. I kept a small jar of ideas and plans in the very back corner of my closet. They were safe, they couldn’t be taken out back and shot nor could they be taunted and destroyed from the inside out. When I was cornered in my intruded closet, when I was taken by the collar and shaken for my truth, they were found. Both above-mentioned circumstances played out shortly but in the opposite order. That’s when it began to rain.
I decided on an alternative: selective awareness. I keep myself alive only feeling and participating when the rain is tepid and pleasant. When I feel the temperature beginning to drop, I fall back asleep, floating through lull and lash, until the sun comes to change the course of my simulation. For days, all I will see is fog. I’m lost and isolated, but that lack of direction comes with an onset of contentedness. There is no one who can see me wandering through a deluded course I have set for myself. I don’t know where I’m walking, I don’t know what’s in front of me, so the warm rain will give me a pleasant surprise as it melts away the fog and gives me hope for sustainable warmth.
The cloudiness that lingers in my head, even when I’m experiencing kindness and sensitivity, reminds me that my effort to make my reality more livable is as viable as staying completely shrouded in fog until I wander off the edge of a cliff. Eventually, as I age out of my simulation, I’ll have skin thick enough to withstand the hailstorm I’ll be forced to reckon with. Resilience is necessary, but hope exists. I often forget it does while I’m wondering, but serenity and light remind me that fog isn’t all I’ve devolved into. Rain will come, and so will spring.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
I was right. All composed of circles, but
Not a bad thing
Relations make life worth living and
Knowledge of them dispels any notion that
It is not
So deeply intertwined the little glimpses
Matter, carry
Explosive realizations in their handbags
It is hot, we are more than
Excited molecules and yet not
Really, excitement is relative
And we enjoy being excited
Heat transforms into a manifestation of
Interrelation awareness
Our world is largely cold and digital
Not to say we need to be
Neutrality is too often stifled by
Polar hands
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 4:16 AM UTC