"realness" poems
Mali pala ang nasa isip
Ito pala'y isang panaginip
Buhat mula sa maling akala
Na sakin ika'y tinadhana
My thoughts were not what they seemed
Turns out all this was just a dream
Brought upon by false convictions
That for us a red string was drawn
Ginising mo ako sa katotohanan
Na lahat ng bagay ay may hangganan
Pero kailanman ay hindi ako nagsisisi
Dahil totoo ang ating pagmamahal kahit sandali
You opened my eyes to reality
That things can't last for eternity
I have no regrets what so ever
Because we had a short but real happy ever after
Hindi ko lubos na pinahahalagahan
Ang walang hanggan
Dahil ang importante ay
Ang pagmamahal na buo at tunay
For me, the existence of forever
Doesn't really matter
What's important is
The realness of love amidst the adversities
Wala akong galit na ipadarama
O ganti na sana ikaw ay magdusa
Walang hinanakit na dinadaing
Kundi salamat sa pagmamahal habang ika'y nasa aking piling
For you, I have no rage to release
No vengeance to accomplish
No sorrow to let go
But for the love while you were mine, I only have gratitude to bestow
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
“but if you have to move your best friend’s body…
…you’re on your own.”
Your best friend dies
Before your eyes
Somehow stays alive
Then what?
***** salt-licked hair
Brittle and frayed by medicine
World’s unfathomable weight
Trembling beneath the Wisdom Tree
Her whole being crumples (arrugar)
But her life-force remains intact
Body bone
Running on spirit reserves
Why is that?
She stands and cries
Staring into ether
I sit
Wringing my hands
Her tears strike the ground
In tree-gecko unison
'''
Pacific parasite super-strains
Blood coated throat
The full range of abuse’s color on all fronts
for decades
Attempted assaults, ****
Dengue
Giant Centipede venom to the skull
But worst of all
Rootlessness and fear
the monkey on her back
had a monkey on its back
and was smoking a cigarette
'''
Have you ever seen someone
Completely broken?
Corpsic shell of a woman
Gaunt, wan in the tropics
“Don’t put your trust in walls…
…walls will only crush you when they fall”
Brick-bludgeoned body
The shrapnel lay like
Sun scorched
Novice-woven baskets
At her feet
But now she can see
And breath
Real breath
'''
Genocide’s a ***** yes.
Africans seem fatalistic to Americans
Baby boy body, Grandpa human- shield
“They’re your babies”
Short-lived, yes
But now they have peace
Witnesses still weave the jungle
What do you do with a friend who’s
Seen real atrocity? Evil?
'''
I’m learning.
Prayer is power
Will transcends the concrete (Bunkle, too.)
She serves realness only
Her seeking hands unweave the sacred
Time is of no luxury right now
Serve people through love
and Grace awaits discovery
'''
I’ve never carried a bleeding body.
I needn’t “fear the terror by night,
Nor the arrow by day”
But I saw someone perish
And resurrect
What a gift
What a gift
Gubaadagem, Tinmad.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
Love too much
Hurt too much
Always needing a heart to touch
Limitless sources of abundance so clear
No ability to cause you harm or unnecessary fear
Sometimes momentary blindness, inability to truly hear
Critical lapses of excruciating, intensity from my vivid past
Try, as I might, to make the most healthy relationship last
As days turn into nights, I wish a moment of bliss with you that would last.
Not sure anymore, of anything that is real
Putrid, agonizing, annoyance seems to keep me off keel
Hoping, dreaming and wanting for my positive feelings to be real
Lustful thoughts of our time together feel ****** and surreal
In the midst of the anger and bitterness, I realize I am able to feel.
Seductive, entranced, mesmorized with true love stamped within our hearts, forever sealed.
The dripping of the lukewarm indecision has grown old, decrepit and shames me in despair
Ready now for the realness of a soul mate, never knowing one that cared.
So here it goes, where it ends, know one knows… now that my soul has been given and shared.
In the end, where I have always been
Crushed within the lions den
Here I am, nothing hidden, never knowing the why and when.
My heart is now yours and given of my free will
Never again will I have to trudge up the loneliness hill.
The love that I seek has been found in you
With a light in our eyes, yours sparkling blue.
The things in my past that riddled me with fear
When the darkness replaced the light is no longer here.
I'm trusting you to love me and hope it is true.
This poem was written especially for you.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 1:21 PM UTC
You should know that I often fall in love with girls I play board games with.
Really, it's nothing personal.
It's just that when I get competitive, sometimes I get romantic
Someone once told me that they can't love someone until they've witnessed their worst, and I think you should know that I'm not my worst self anymore.
Breaking down isn't realness.
So for all that self awareness..
I am more of a coward
than I am a king
And I will fill my time with more ordinary things
Because I can barely stand the way all these feelings within me sing
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
*"Let's end the day of sadness
That make us feel in madness
Ask in a way of forgiveness
That make us feel liveliness
Start a day right in happiness
Through bad and good ways of daintiness
We should live full of willingness
In a short period of time, and it's realness"*
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
The realness of it all
just
hits me.
My tainted love,
could be what most
definitely
ends we.
My love,
I am a bomb...
waiting to tick.
the ring on a grenade,
wanting to click.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
I closed my eyelids.
a unique space-time I've
created. A new world with I
and you,
and in it we're us;
pseudo pagans
adjust
in my multiverse of could-have-been's
wannabe's and forget-me-not's,
there's a million wormholes back thru
it's a glittering new world
where we're happy forever
(embalmed)
present-perfect continuity
we'll never need to question or worry
of it
because it'll be ours to [edit]
a spiritual instagram. sorry for the link.
I'm a believer.
our story is brick-bound & pyramidal
it's worthy of true realness
I'll never let that faith fade.
and all I have to do is stay asleep
seal myself, artery by nerve, in this bed.
eyes closed but moving underneath
(forever)
and here I'll lay; 1,000 years on
entirely petrified. a fossil of trust.
everything/everyone I had known - gone
forever.
fleshy eyes, solid as stone now. Blissfully
(always) unaware of their end. No matter the time,
my ( ) still eternally & happily
in dream.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
I have this aching, gnawing hunger,
it just won't seem to pass.
Why can't I ever find a fix,
the fullness never lasts.
I binge on *** and purge with shame,
it's become a sick, twisted little game.
I was always taught that holding hands,
is something from a lover.
How can you kiss my head, and nose,
but say you don't care without a stutter?
Since when did staring longingly into eyes,
become a mask or some disguise?
What is the truth, tell me, does it exist anymore?
If a guy kisses me, holds me, caresses me,
then shows me the door.
Is there a realness, does it exist?
These things cause so much bliss.
But they're just a fix, to numb my hunger.
For REAL love, affection, lust, and desire.
What is real affection, is it out there?
This ******** is causing too much to bear.
I'm starving, I'm aching, please stop doing this to me.
For my heart is too big, too big for there to be no love to be.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
Only one little
silly tiny
movement
can create ripples
of effects
and tonight
as I reached for the
garlic or salt
or whatever
the hell it was---
something harsh was set
I brushed your shoulder
or was too much in your space
somehow jolting your ego
from its permanent, fragile place
You chose to take that
and make a fight
from dust
and this in turn led
to splitting hearts
spitting corrupted trust
passive aggressive silt
swept out
from under rugs
emotional bluntness of punches
instead of the realness of hugs
Where have we reached
what have we done
All I know
is my heart's on
the run
These little ***** triggers
can open
Pandora's sick, dark box
unlocking old resentments
from behind rusty locks
"You will never be forgiven"
are words
that destroy
they suffocate and choke
turn real gold to alloy
and Man, this gold is melting down
running in streams
painting false this town
in shades of hurt
in shades of pain
just lay me down
in this thick desert sun
to bear this unbearable
splintered strain
Let me pour this liquid burden
into the salt of the cracks
of the earth
Let me be replenished
with crystal water coolness
as I, head held up in tears,
remember
my golden worth
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 3:02 AM UTC
It's on them nights I drink alone. Find myself thinking of home. These beers bottle bones empty and shatter. Liquor lung sigh. Chest heavy like a white trash wind chime. Like a six pack of bud ice hanging from some fishing line. Hear them low notes bouncing of the lips in the wind. And maybe you worry, but **** I'm fine to drive. And on those days when my gut isn't a gas tank for beer refilling at a pity party pit stop, I drive on love. Write love poems on phones before the ***** knocks me out. And sure, maybe my love makes as much sense as the words I slurr. And maybe my love is as unique as the crackheads needle in the haystack, but I'll still love you serious as a heart attack. Like a stroke... of genius... an epiphany about the realness of God. That maybe the story is flawed, but you're welcome to believe. And maybe I'm drunk right now, but I never meant to deceive. So kiss me with your break lights, while a pray to the slow light that I can live life like an old man feeding birds on a bench in the park. Got nothing else on his mind... just love... you maybe. And whatever you might think. I promise. I'm fine to drive
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 4:32 AM UTC
there are branches fingers of a dead will tendrils waving into a roaring white nothing wine into milk declaring themselves trying to make their realness known but reaching further into nothing and pin pricking out of the air texture to nothing like stained glass on a cage it gave us like in the beginning was the word and the word was like pretending there is an aether and they guard it and if I race through their gaps
Wake in nothing.
Put on my debris.
Cup my hand to The Sun.
Sit in a stone room and touch myself.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
We are the ***** purveyors of other peoples lives
renouncing the living breathing beating heart
in exchange for another photo of craft ale
and home-cooked food with a foot note description
as if it would fill our bellies and sate our hunger.
We are the dark wave tsunami of digital information
waxing lyrical about that holiday in Spanish sunshine
and a rant about car parking attendants and traffic jams
rather than the outstretched palm to jaw caress of realness
instead we line up perspectives of another bottle of wine.
We are the breeders of the optic L'enfant terrible
gorging on the memories of other worlds in 140 characters
snap shots of the life we could have had outside of the screens
the spineless automatons of digitized free love
the could've been, would've been lumbering electronic has-been.
We are the tumultuous storm rising fighting against the unknown power
we unite to save bees and coral reefs
and explore the concepts of actually doing something humanitarian
all we need do is sign the petition before the 11th hour
and be one of the thousand voices saying:
NO. We won't take this any more!
We are the saviours of our time and the rescue merchants of lost dogs
imbibed by Scrabble and Candy Crush weaving the elusive like a band aid
the tapestry of memes and images of cute kitteh's in boxes
chasing the shadows of reality on a stick for kicks
and all the while the moon is out there somewhere shinning her light
glorious silver light etching through the hash tag of cloud formations.
We are no longer what we thought we were. We are each other.
A haemoglobin gelatinous mass of misinformation and forgotten dreams
You are not alone. Even if you wanted to be,
my friend, my sister, my lover, my brother
quoting movies as if it were an inner wisdom speaking in tongues.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
I can't believe
I left you..
The only thing I'd ever loved
For someone else
Who couldn't compare to you.
She has the long hair
And the prettiest face
But no intellect
Nor any grace.
I miss how you would
Live in the moment.
Because all she does
Is post every second online.
I miss our late roof-top talks
Because all she ever does is whine.
I miss your laugh
I miss your smile
I miss your realness
And every inch of your beautiful body
Because now I'm with someone
Who's too shallow to feel love
All because
I was too scared to love you
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
Five. Cinco.
Half of the ten and a fifth of the twenty five. Mathematics are a funny subject, don't you think? Some man just made up letters to correlate with numbers to transcend to concepts that in all reality could mean nothing and the square root of a orangutan could actually be yellow.
I contemplate on that a lot, being the Grace that I am, wondering if what's real is real, if words are just words, or all they the pygmy hippopotamuses flying in my dreams. Anything is possible. Dreams could be reality, and reality could be a dream. Or maybe there is no such thing as realness, and everything is just madness.
I learned a lot from my friend the Mad Hatter, how to love, how to be disappointed, how to fall into a pit of despair and how to wear a hat like a ****** deviant and love it.
But the most important thing I learned is that sanity is very subjective, because what may seem totally sane to me, completely within the norm, may seem like complex incongruity to someone else. Maybe we're all mad. Maybe no one's mad. Maybe its just you, maybe its not you.
Special. That's another word that always got me, but I prefer to think in the realms that everyone is different. The world is in different shades and hues, none are ever quite the same, so why should people be that way?
But maybe yet again I'm only speaking in riddles and soliloquies and monologues and standing over all my conquests I am screaming my thoughts while they utter not a word, fearful of manic me.
I'd be afraid of manic me. She is quite the finger-twitching tyrant.
Words are words but are they real? Are they what you mean or are they just lies, lies, words that you scream until she dies, dies, and the world is at peace.
Oh, that's not right.
I once wrote a short poem similar to that I could recite by heart, but as my heart has changed the words become jumbled. Death creeps its way into lies, and heavy juxtaposition ***** with my meanings. Eating my words, until I am not a girl anymore, I am a leaf, or a bat, stuck in Wonderland until the end of my days.
Funny how Alice the savior became Alice the bat.
Wait, I'm not Alice, I'm Grace.
Oh, I do not know who I am anymore. And that is the tragic beauty of Wonderland. You just never know what, or who, tomorrow may bring.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
he is
not the kind of guy you would imagine growing old with,
not because he wouldn't make a good father,
quite the contrary,
but because it's hard to wrap your mind around him
not
being
young
he smiles strangely sometimes, kind of an awkward perfect U shape, but it makes me laugh and sometimes I wonder if he does it on purpose
his freckles are like stars, and sometimes I wish I could trace them with a soft finger, just to see if Orion or the Little Dipper will appear in the folds of his cheeks when he laughs, or remain hidden in the creases in his eyes
and he'll say the strangest things, like he's got nothing to lose
he gets passionate about things I don't give a **** about
like calculus, permutations and **** as if he could calculate Life
strap Life to a chair and torture out its confessions, brandishing a TI-Inspire
his eyes glow sometimes, and he doesn't believe in oxymorons or paradoxes
he counts cards at Blackjack, but he'll let me win because he knows how much of a sore loser I am, and he
gives the best hugs in the world
not because they're warm and make me feel like I'm flying
but because of how awkward and gangly his arms feel,
and how reluctant the embrace is, like he's holding something back
and its the promise and awkwardness and
realness
of the hug that
makes them so
great.
Apr 14, 2011
Apr 14, 2011 at 2:50 PM UTC
My eye’s so drenched in my evident pain,
Cry! Cry I do
My heart shakes with my sobs
How? How can you relate
If I try so hard
But you do not care
You are only here to break me
Farther apart
Split me
I am but a lowly servant
To this castle of heartache
Where one will not leave unscathed
My hands grip the table for support
I have seen one to many
Crumble like the old stone out back
I must stay strong with only my shoulders
To hold this, wait!
I can be strong
I must be! I must
Or I will fail myself
To be swept out in the current
So unforgiving
Swinging me so violently around
As you have done
My heart unbelieving
My ears I thought deceiving
But no the truth before my unseeing eyes
Oh I wished were lies
Take me away
Please I beg
My soul can not bare much more
Of these harsh cynical words
I try I truly do
Why oh why am I at blame
At the bottom of your shoe
When it meets the pavement
Crushed and forgotten
Like a memory wiped away
Like chalk on a chalk bored
All that is left
Is the smeared image
Blurred, of who I used to be
Erased forgotten
In the rear view mirror
The chilling realness of it
Leaves me in utter despair
Belated emotion
Running their cold hands
Down my back
These tears seem fresh
But they had only burrowed inside me
I cannot hold on
I fall to my knees
How? How have I gone on
Knowing you have been untrue
You did not love me
You did not believe
You took from me
You hurt me
I am not here for entertainment
So I shall leave
Just as one before me had
Just as I had picked you up
From the dust beneath your feet
I am a slave in your steel grip
No longer will I sit by
And lower my head
I will stand and raise my chin
Instead, I am no weak child
I am strong and mild
So beneath this moonlight
I will leave
With no goodbye
Do not search
I am not here
I have left
I will never come back
I am not so easily persuade
As you stand in the door
And yell
You cry
But this act is over
Draw the curtains
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 7:30 AM UTC
its been four score and more
since the last time i played the cool kid
still on stage i trade the act for a mic
and they called me stupid
this is true ****
can you smell it
im speaking but wont spell it
im hungry this life's a sausage
im eating pass me the relish
elevated like jesus on
the cross you need to feel this
never soft or sweet
i'm like rock salt to teeth
chipping off pieces the size of boulders
catching them on my shoulders
i've got attitude problems, man
i thought they told ya
rebel souljah?
nah i'm the kid in the back of the class
assed out
passed out
the one your girlfriend just asked out
but i just laughed dont worry
homie, i won't touch it
the girls i'm looking for
have something called substance
**** she must have been
someone you trusted
from the look on your face
i can see your searching for an escape
but this ain't the place
unless youre looking for
the eternal sleep inflicted lyrically
i've got the word shaped sheep
to make it deep
if you dont know
i've been dreaming of this
rappin **** for years
eating your tears
drinking your fears
relieving myself in your ears
Brother Ali's been telling me the truth is here
now i feel it in the drum's spirit
with the bass to make it clear
I know that you feel this
cause we come with the realness
we're bleeding the crowd dry
sky high, we're fearless
really we're peerless
cause you're not on our level
we're anywhere from 6-10
steps ahead of you and the devil
you're like the treble, i'm the bass
on ten you're on negative eight
if you look there's no way
to find hate in this place today
im thinking rappers today are too hast
im thinking the stage lights are making me look pasty
despite that we're serving up tracks to call tasty
lace these beats with Rock Co.Kane Flow all day
It's not grace but we play in amazing ways
JUST-STAY-TUNED
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 8:43 AM UTC
He is like those grains in the sand
those that disperse and get blown away
in unsteady stances, unfair hunches
and the point is.... "you don't turn my mind"
in the caskets of your stored emotional
where a connection is jarred and jammed
such a physical distaste and stirred responses
and besides that, the gods must be in the know
ohh...may be the wind that turn into the spring
will turn me on to a mountain of dreams
then the rains will wash and touch me deep
until my feelings tickle me to the flow
that’s the time I would be free to make love
holding hands by the dimmed candle lights
kissing under the bloom of the weeping willow tree
beside other lovers who will be mesmerized
by the flight of the need, the fight as agreed
and the season will capture the realness of love
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
Everywhere I go, each step I take
it is only your face, your laugh
that I ever see
closing my eyes to rest
the ripping and shredding
of my heart, I only see
you.
How I fell and how safe it felt
cursing myself for believing
once more that my heart
guarded as it is
my wellspring of all life
choosing to say
okay.
Be gone the protection
weaponry, armoury and
letting her smile, generosity
of heart, comfort and ******
my naive self, love is blind
as we spoke whispers of
love.
Calling myself a crazy girl
in love, maybe I imagined
the realness of the encounter
trying to believe she's just
another girl who I love
no different than lovers
past.
But she'll never be just another
my love for her deeper than
all those others who reached
inside my body grasping
my soul, always forgotten
drifting away, like all the others
gone.
I really am the forgotten girl.
© Sia Jane
----
"For the moment I can think of nothing— except that I am a sentient being stabbed by the miracle of these waters that reflect a forgotten world."
Henry Miller
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
(Aye.., I wanna be free3)..I (wanna be free2)..I wanna be free,..(aye..I wanna be freed 2)..(Aye ..I wanna live free2)..(I wanna be freed, 3) from all of this pain mane..(Aye I wanna be free2)..mane this world is insane,..(Aye I wanna live free3)..from all of the grieve mane..(Aye I wanna be freed3), emancipated,... Aye,Man
How does it feels to be free,.Aye, I wanna know How does it feels to live free, Aye I wanna be free..Aye, How does it feels to be free,.Aye,..I wanna know How does it feels to live free, Could somebody answer me please.., Instead of passing by me mane,..Aye,They just keep on ignoring me, & Its so annoying to me,..because they are the ones that need my help the most,They need me more than I need them mane,..Aye..How does it feels to be free,.Aye,.I wanna know How does it feels to live free, can yall please stop walking over me mane,..I wanna know How does it feels to be free,.Aye,,
Can somebody please tell me How does it feels to live free,. Because I really wanna know mane..How does it feels to be free,.Aye,How does it feels to live free mane I guess I can only get the best answer from my king Jah ,..Aye
How does it feels to be free,.Aye,How does it feels to live free,Yo that's a good question that would probably never be answered because we all are under mind control by the CIA ,..MK ULTRA, Aye
If I can't be freed then Imma start alot of chaos mane..
If I can't be freed then Imma start madness right away..If I can't be freed then Imma just lead the way for the next generation..Aye,..If I can't be freed then Imma just emancipate myself mane,..It's time to Prison Break,..Aye I wanna be free..(from all the hate2)..(I wanna live free,2)..(from all this pain2)..I wanna be free Prison Break..(I wanna be free..I wanna be freed2)..no matter how many lustful thoughts enter my mind mane, no I won't let these demons confuse me, No way..
Imma stay having hope..Imma stay having faith..Imma stay praying above mane for changes to come into effect in this evil sick crazy world mane,..I can't let the thoughts of not having what I want curropt me, I won't let all of my depression upset me,..I'm sailing all of my pain away,..I'm sailing all of my anger out too mane,..I'm breaking free from every single generational cursed that Satan has place on my me & family,..I'm being me, myself , & I & I'm breaking free, Aye...
I know that the government has been chasing me, but noo I ain't afraid of a good challenge mane..The Illuminati can't have my soul Noo way, These jeaslous people can't have my body..Noo,Noo, mane.. I'm playing a solo game, aye, & I'm steady finding my way, Aye..I'm in the dark homie, but I'm using my spirit to see, Yeah my spirit shines so bright in me,..I think that's just the Holy spirit mane, I always gotta give my praises up to the Heavenly,.. & stump down on Satan mane,
I'm on a mission, I'm emissioning all of this realness, To remission all of the darkness, Aye, no Batman No part time, Noo I won't clock out..I'm saving all of my brothers & sisters that's soul less, Yeah They can & will get their souls back because Imma fight & Imma make sure of that,..Aye,..can somebody please let me know something.., before I start shooting,. Aye..
Young Ston Poet, I wanna be freed mane..
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
An artist, creative and imaginative
Powerful enough to place, into mere words,
The phenomena that take place in his mind.
Marveled enough by his surroundings
That evoke anger, gratitude or happiness
His mind efficacious, his talent omnipotent.
Bourne of superior intellect
Taken in by souldiers of courage and
Raised by wisdom, pain and knowledge.
I'm No Poete, just a Mindless Writer.
Each day the Poete rises from his rest
Each day the Poete more powerful than the last
Each day the Poete expresses greatness from within.
Rhythm and brilliance flow deeply in his veins
Beauty created by the molding of his words
Truth is spoken through the realness of his verse.
Poete Prophet, able to see what's hidden beneath
He sees the lies abstruse in sugar-coated deceit
He reveals the fib's tales and makes them his gospel.
I'm No Poete, just a Mindless Writer.
Exquisite verse, natural and unrehearsed
The Poete will forever be mind blown
And continue to expose the joy in his word.
He writes not for tangible wealth or
Useless recognition, but he blesses his pen to paper for the simple appreciation of veracity.
The Poete steals sight from the blind,
He takes weakness from the strong,
And owns the shades of colour, all to create artistry.
See I'm No Poete, just a Mindless Writer.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
Movies are my passion, the thing I love to do, the thing I enjoy to an extent. People ask me why I am wasting my time sinking into the ineffective fantasy world of the movies instead of enjoying the dignified life of reality. Not many people understand my undying affection for this compelling activity of entertainment. What they do not know is that the real world isn’t actually the real deal. It is a test, an absorbing guidance into the perfect afterlife or the anguishing heartbreak into the tormenting hell. It is their choice which one they choose. It is like the reality of realities in the movie of The Matrix or the corruption and sadness of the desolation of The Titanic. It may be the realness of Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss Everdeen distressingly fighting for her life or the adventures of Shailene Woodley as Tris, loosing loved ones on her way. It could be the fans in the movies, screaming upon their idols or the hatred in the jealous, briskly spreading through the town. The inspiration is overwhelming and the education comes from the films, not from the institution they call school. The alive are in the fantasy and the real are in reality. They don’t understand the goodness that has not been seen in the life they call real.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
It’s 5:04 AM, as I lie awake going on hour number two.
I dreamt of you,
As I often do.
I always awake with a jolt,
The tangibility of your simulated self
Jarring,
My senses overstimulated as if we had touched for real.
When I ponder on you, on memories of us
In my conscious mind,
I have a difficult time stringing together
The details of you,
Years apart having left your image
Grainy and unfocused, although effervescent.
Yet when my eyes close,
You make your way clear into focus,
Every detail of your physical and spiritual form so vivid
As if I’m really experiencing you,
As if you’re dreaming of me too,
And we’ve actually escaped to another reality
Where nothing has changed or faded.
Is this where we now reside?
The current version of us is no longer compatible with the software of reality,
Our data kept in the cloud
Where dreams are stored.
It isn’t real in the realness of reality,
But it’s so vivid, more lucid than a lucid dream,
That I can’t shake the feeling that I’m experiencing the real you
In the only form I’m now able to download.
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 1:59 PM UTC
Solo Flight
A piece of heaven surrounded by sky to hold you against all sorrows that may invade your air space.
First the mounting sky has begun over towering hill the pilot makes for the wide blue yonder
These steely heights one will know the pull of the very mountains felt in this rare sphere
One so truly coupled the picture projects a shadow the same made as the plane eclipsed left to wonder
For two the limitless sky then the storm has brought a divide one now the earth one does hide
Flight now over rivers filled with stone it makes for great white water rafting but life stalls
Into the deep the dive frightens all frivolous and light carefree thoughts torn away
Finally the controls respond your first and needed act is flying into the mist hide within softest walls
The heart seeks a covert a down time needed strength unseen falls alike amidst tears and pain
With trepidation you look about is it safe to leave this feathery cage suspended in the heavens
Memories pictures steady your resolve and the realness of love has unseen emotional stores
With the sky clearing you throttle more power you feel the long lost exhilaration lightening heaviness
Steal away across skies so blue the promise is real again you will meet beyond the wildest blue
Take your bearings follow a chart defined in the best order of perfect undying love
Only this can give wings to wonder you will know by the sweet distant thunder
A voice familiar speaks as you trim the engine and listen to both earth and heaven above
In the ordinary your life will bloom from a journey started under a romantic moon
No one flies dark skies alone
First This is dedicated to Iva who lost her beloved Terry then to all who lost their beloved mates
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 8:00 PM UTC
What is locked away
Can't be found,
Even though, it's right there for you to see
Transparent tranquility in my breath,
Makes you think we are the same,
Mistake,
Even though we share this world, this space, this air
I breath different than you,
I do on purpose
These lines,
Intricate, like the ones on my palms
This is how we are different
Raw realness,
So potent it's almost putrid
Symmetrical syntax,
So exact, it seems divine
A shuffling stream of words fluid to a song,
Yet, alien to you
This is how we are different
Yes,
What is bound to my soul,
Is invisible,
To you
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC