Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Odysseus needs a job he calls pima community college art department chairperson sends her his resume she does not respond after a week he catches her on phone she says he lacks proper credentials laughs to himself his whole life never worked lucrative or reputable position gets job working at thrift store wacky group of coworkers customers store frequently smells like public latrine job expires after 7 weeks he gets better paying job working at record exchange Odysseus always loved music everyday he learns new artist or band his coworkers are at least half his age they pester him about being slow on keyboard he never learned to type neither he nor his generation could have foreseen future would revolve around keyboard he plods on register keys people smile politely kids he works with fly fast making many keyboard mistakes November 29 2001 george harrison dies of cancer he is 58 years old Odysseus recognizes he is from past world different era of contrasting standards ‘80’s behavior is totally unbefitting let alone ‘60’s beliefs it is 2002 and one badly chosen word is sure to send someone flying off the handle he watches his language carefully co-workers mostly born in 1980’s grew up in 1990’s they live indifferent to hopelessness he struggles to bear none of them believe in higher power music is their religion he wonders what their visions concerns for humanity are? they seem addicted to consumption as if it is end in itself he questions what is hidden at root of their absorption? loneliness? despair? apathy? absence of vision? where is their rage against social conversion current administration? he warns them about homeland security act privacy infringement increased government secrecy power they shrug their shoulders why aren’t they looking for answers? why don’t they dissent? do they care where world is going? he realizes they will have to learn for themselves few coworkers read literature or know painters philosophy their passions are video games marijuana “star wars” most of them are extremely bright more informed than he often Odysseus needs to ask questions they know answers to right off the bat he is like winsome uncle who puts up with their unremitting teasing “hey you old hippie punk rocker get you fiber in today? stools looking a little loose! peace out old man” in peculiar way he finds enough belonging he so desperately needs they tell him stories about their friends *** addictions eating disorders futile deaths he is bowled over by how young they are to know such stuff job includes health insurance which is something he has not had since Dad was alive having some cash flowing in he buys laptop computer with high-speed connection cell phone trades in toyota for truck opens crate of writings he abandoned in ‘80’s begins to rewrite story sits blurry eyed in front of computer screen his motivation has always been to tell truth as he knows it he wonders what ramifications his labor will bring positive or negative results? he guesses his story will sound like children’s fable in stark brutality of distant future october 2002 3 week ****** spree terrorizes maryland virginia  district of columbia 10 people killed 3 critically wounded police believe white van responsible october 24 man and 17-year-old boy arrested in blue chevy caprice juvenile is shooter assailants linked to string of random murders including unsolved shooting of man at golf course in tucson Odysseus mentions incident at work speaks of prevailing terror madness in america co-workers kid tell him he is crazy “did you see a white van parked outside the store Odys?” they seem desensitized to increasing national atmosphere of anger panic or perhaps they are overwhelmed by weight trauma of modern life lie after lie prevailing  havoc slaughter make for dull numbness in world they know suicide is compelling option december 22nd 2002 joe strummer dies from heart failure at age 50 Odysseus’s eyes wet he adored the clash everything they stood for loved joe strummer and mescaleros he plays “global a go-go” over and over listens sings along with first track “johnny appleseed” march 2003 president bush launches attack against iraq united states seems drunk with “shock and awe” zealous blind patriotism many people politicians countries around globe question unproven line of reasoning saddam hussein possesses “weapons of mass destruction” Odysseus gripes “not another **** vietnam” record company allows employees to check out take home used product Odysseus stopped watching movies in 1980’s he has lots of catching up to do particularly likes “natural born killers” “american history x” “american ******” “fight club” “way of the gun” “******” “king of new york” “basquiat” “frida” “*******” “before night falls” “quills” “requiem for a dream” “vanilla sky” “boys don’t cry” “being john malkovich” “adaptation” “kids” “lost in translation” “25th hour” “28 days later” “monster” “city of god” “gangs of new york” “**** bill” list goes on perfect circle becomes his favorite band followed by tool lacuna coil my morning jacket brian jonestown massacre flaming lips dredg drive-by truckers dropkick murphys flogging mollies nofx stereophonics eels weakerthans centro-matic califone godspeed you black emperor magnetic fields fiery furnaces dresden dolls smog granddaddy calexico howie gelb sufjan stevens warren haynes dax riggs john vanderslice alejandro escovedo sean paul elephant man bjork p. j. harvey ani difranco aimee mann cat power sophie b. hawkins kathleen edwards mia doi todd kimya dawson regina spektor carina round neko case fiona apple nina nastasia beth gibbons mirah rasputina dr. dre talib kweli immortal technique murs slug atmosphere trick daddy eazy-e tricky list goes on october 21 2003 elliott smith commits suicide stabbing 2 wounds into his chest Odysseus thinks about music when jimi hendrix stood up at woodstock deconstructing national anthem on guitar it took courage when punk emerged with ugly screechy sounds attempting to divorce itself from melodious harmonies of 1970s complacent crosby stills nash  the dead kennedys and *** pistol did not pander to conventional commercial success what they performed were desperate gutsy songs trying to reclaim music rock’n’roll is no longer about inventing instead it imitates its glorious past hip-hop and rap come nearest to risking rebellion but are caught in gangsterism infantile self-adulation no longer does music offer vision of what is or could be instead it conjures looping escapism from hopelessness of modern life he continues working at record shop for several years store contains every genre of music cinema he grows weary of retail sales weary of higher-ups constantly changing rules dictating what to do head manager is manipulative drama queen thrives on crisis once in private admits stealing from company Odysseus nods not knowing what to say head manager works Odysseus hard keeps him down atmosphere of conspiracy betrayal hang at start of each day assistant manager routinely taunts berates bullies teases regularly calls Odysseus “dumb-****” or “****-up” other times laughs after goading Odysseus to flinch eventually bully backs off and they become friends retail pushes Odysseus to brink of misanthropy corporation requires all employees to exercise overt courteousness while serving a public of disrespectful gang bangers demanding “show me black market brotha lynch mac dre why ya godda keep dat **** behind da counter? dat’s ****** up hey old man i ain’t got all day” it always amazes him when shoplifter is caught with product stuffed down his pants thief blatantly states “i didn’t do it i don’t know how that got there” thanksgiving through christmas to new years is most swarming stressful he feels like automaton greeting customer scanning product looking at screen to see if price agrees with product typing money amount counting money into drawer counting money out handing change to customer handing customer product receipt next customer cockroach capitalism packs of masses line up in endless stream of needs stupid remarks job also involves trade appraising condition value resale probability of cds dvds video games tapes vhs vinyl news of  iraq war gets dismal mounting civilian casualties suicide bombers hostages beheadings beginning of 2004 reports of torture ****** psychological abuse **** ****** ****** of prisoners at abu ghraib prison guantanamo bay white house cover-ups denials growing insurgency increasing u.s. body count other costs he thinks about men and women who are so much braver than him then comes re-election and lavish republican parties parades cheney rumsfeld tom delay and whole regime smirk portentously on tv none of it makes sense anymore “we the people of the united states” what does it mean? the dreams and aspirations of his generation have long since faded away he is citizen of forgotten past current world is barbaric place he barely recognizes there are real pirates with machetes rocket launchers on the seas big drug corporations hiding harmful findings kidnapped children abandoned children crooked politicians corruption at every level of society horrifying stories daily ******* priests slave markets extreme heinous cruelties abruptly everyone is acknowledging society is worsening life is not the same he does not understand people and certainly does not understand america or the world he remembers when all could be so good modern existence has turned everything into madness what happened to lessons of history? it is as if Odysseus fell asleep and when he woke everything is changed he is mistaken about what he thinks he knows feels pity for people america pity disgust sorrow he misses his dog
samasati Nov 2012
I believe in smiling at strangers. I believe in saying hello. I believe in shyness. I believe in fear of rejection. I believe in the need of affection. I believe in the need of reminders. I believe in candles, especially those that smell of vanilla or christmas. I believe in wearing small crystals around my neck. I believe in energetic vibrations. I believe in colours - I think each person has their own colour. I believe every feeling is valid. I believe in chapstick and I believe in mascara that doesn’t clump. I believe in nail polish - every colour of nail polish. I believe that the only reason we lie is because we fear something. I believe in poetry. I believe in bluntness. I believe in the intention behind words, but I don’t necessarily believe in words. I believe in travel. I believe in travelling solo. In fact, I believe in travelling so much that it is pretty much all I want to do. I believe in music. Boy, do I believe in music. I believe any kind of musical composition can change a person. I believe music can cure depression. I also believe music can feed depression. I believe a melody can say more than lyrics and I believe that lyrics can be what someone couldn’t put together themselves to explain exactly how they are feeling. I believe anyone can create a song, even though they believe they cannot. I believe a single note can sound like the most beautiful sound in the world. I believe if someone records a song when they’re in an ugly mood, the ugliness emits to its listeners and can drain them. I believe in art. Of course I do. I believe in acrylic paint. I believe in oil paint and watercolours, but not as much as I believe in acrylic. I believe in fingerprinting. I even believe in painting with your toes. And I believe in dancing; even if it looks weird. I believe in flailing your arms even, as long as it feels good and right. I believe in dancing ‘til you sweat, though I don’t like that icky feeling too much. I believe that a babe can be a very ugly person and a physically unattractive person can be a very beautiful person. I believe that people who smile are beautiful. I believe that people who frown are beautiful too, just in a different way. I believe that there are sincere smiles and there are manipulative smiles. I believe that some people just know how to use their eyes well. I believe in eye contact. I believe in engaging. I believe in listening and dropping everything else that is going on in your mind just to listen to what a person is trying to share with you. I believe in sharing - sharing cookies and sharing love. I believe in the frosty cold. I believe that it doesn’t have to feel as cold as it really is. I believe that people complain a lot. I believe that people often have too much pride to be happy. I believe that we should embrace our discomforts and shames, that we should welcome them wholeheartedly so that we can be happy. I believe in honesty. I believe in empathy. I believe in tea. I believe in jelly donuts but only on certain occasions. I believe in quirky bow ties. I believe in knit toques and mittens and scarves. I believe in dresses. I believe in flirting. I believe in coffee in the morning. I believe in big comfy beds. I believe in walking around your empty house in your underwear or birthday suit, singing loudly. I believe in singing in the shower. I believe in singing on the street. I believe in stage fright. I believe in meditation, though I don’t really strictly set times to do it anymore. I believe mundane activities can be done in a meditative state of mind. I believe in clarity. I believe in not judging people because everyone is human. I believe every human has something very interesting about them. I believe in boring people too. I believe in christmas music - not the radio kind, the choral kind. I believe in cheap sweet wine. I believe in Billy Joel and I believe in The Beatles. I believe in Regina and Sufjan too. I believe that the ukulele is a very overrated instrument. I believe in having healthy hair. I believe in moisturizer. I believe in getting to pick a coloured toothbrush at the dentist. I believe in thick wool socks. I believe in baggy sweaters. I believe in yoga gear but I do not believe in sweatpants. I believe that yoga is one of the healthiest things for a person - ever. I believe in buying a friend drinks or dinner once in awhile. I believe in collecting shoes and scarves and rings. I believe in chords but I don’t really believe in jeans. I believe in hot chocolate with whip cream but not with marshmallows. I believe in dorky Christmas sweaters. I believe in baking cookies instead of cake. I believe in eating disorders - I do not support them, but I do believe they are much more severe and various than most people think and I believe there should be better/proper help for those who suffer instead of the usual cruel inpatient/outpatient care. I believe in trichotillomania and I believe in dermatillomania and the severity and impact it can have on its sufferers. I believe in gardens. I believe in every single flower. I believe that everyone is always doing their best. I believe that most people love to struggle. I believe in hope. I believe in having faith in yourself. I believe in iPod playlists. I believe in gym memberships in the winter, not the summer unless it’s to swim. I believe in matching underwear every day. I believe in Value Village. I believe in singing in bus shelters when you’re waiting for the bus. I believe in dressing up according to holidays. I believe in Grey’s Anatomy and I believe in Community. I believe in skirts and dresses that twirl like the ‘ol days. I believe in longboards more than skateboards. I believe in plaid like most young people do. I believe in bows in my hair, but not as much as I used to. I believe in foot massages and hand massages. I believe in reflexology and reiki and essential oils and chakras and crystals and holistic nutrition. I believe in anxiety; even crippling anxiety. I believe in awkward romances. I do not believe in flip flops. I do not believe in Beatles covers unless they are really insanely good; then my mind is blown. I believe in having long enough nails to scratch someone’s back appropriately. I also believe in biting nails. I do not believe in telephone calls unless I am extremely comfortable with the person. I believe in blogs. I believe in journals. I believe in naming special inanimate objects like journals, instruments, technology and furniture. I believe in the idea of cats more than I believe in cats. I believe in sharpies or thin pointed permanent markers. I believe in temporary tattoos. I believe in streaming movies online. I believe in royal gala apples. I believe in avocados. I believe in rice cakes. I believe in popcorn. I believe in airports but I hate the LA airport. I believe in openly talking about *** but I don’t believe in making it seem shameful and gross. I believe there should be no shame regarding sexuality. I believe in reading some great books more than once. I believe in laying on the couch under cozy blankets, watching a great suspenseful tv show or movie. I only believe in having a couple bites of cheesecake. I don’t really believe in lulu lemon. I don’t believe many people can pull off the colour yellow. I believe in buttons over zippers even though zippers are easier, they just look kind of dumb and cheap. I believe in the sun and the moon equally. I believe in closets over dressers. I believe in staring out the window for a good hour or so.
May Elizabeth Mar 2018
Oh, to see without my eyes
The first time that you kissed me
Boundless by the time I cried
I built your walls around me
White noise, what an awful sound
Fumbling by Rogue River
Feel my feet above the ground
Hand of God, deliver me

Oh, oh whoa whoa is me
The first time that you touched me
Oh, will wonders ever cease?
Blessed be the mystery of love

Lord, I no longer believe
Drowned in living waters
Cursed by the love that I received
From my brother's daughter
Like Hephaestion, who died
Alexander's lover
Now my riverbed has dried
Shall I find no other?

Oh, oh whoa whoa is me
I'm running like a plover
Now I'm prone to misery
The birthmark on your shoulder reminds me

How much sorrow can I take?
Blackbird on my shoulder
And what difference does it make
When this love is over?
Shall I sleep within your bed
River of unhappiness
Hold your hands upon my head
Till I breathe my last breath

Oh, oh whoa whoa is me
The last time that you touched me
Oh, will wonders ever cease?
Blessed be the mystery of love
This poes is actually a song by Sufjan Stevens, and I hope this doesn't get copywritten, but I credited the original artist. I just think its a beautiful song, and sounds like a poem, and I love it a lot. I did not write this.
Jennifer Weiss May 2015
It wasn't long before He sent you a helper,
and you knew it right away.
But what if we just made
a mess of the whole thing.
Made just for you,
but you missed the boat
did ya?

Noah said this ride is only for two,
and He left you there.
And boy, I miss ya...
Almost all the time.
But He told me to keep moving,
I just wonder why you're always on my line.
But I don't like this kind of losing...
Maybe that's not my place.
But He and you both see it in my face.
So I try to learn to bite my tongue.
And I'm not sure how it got so deep...
But it isn't up to me,
And no, it never was.

Except when I loved you only for me,
then got stuck loving you because
you set me free...
it'll probably haunt you or something.
Lyra Brown Mar 2013
i simply cannot fathom
going out every single
saturday night
the world is cold and vicious enough as it is,
and we all know
that nighttime is different universe,
alcoholics covering up their scars with the slogans like
"i'm young and i'm allowed to have fun" or
"YOLO!"
bars full to the brim with
**** yous and what's your numbers and i'm-in-the-mood-to-start-a-fight-bro
don't  get me wrong, it is fun
to go out sometimes
but after a while it gets old
because the world is cold and vicious enough as it is
i much prefer sleeping or
curling up with a book and a blanket and a hot mug of tea
cuddling with solitude while listening
to Sufjan or Regina or Elliott or Joni
or watching a disney movie,
where i feel safe,
clinging to a place
where the world won't ruin me.
Gita Sep 2015
It's 12:29.
I'm thinking about the moon.
It's one of those "Sufjan Stevens" nights.
His music always manages to perfectly translate my befuddling feelings and thoughts into rhythm and beat.
If I rest now I will miss out on what the night has to offer.

It's 1:07
I'm lying in bed.
I hear my mom on the phone with grandma.
They always manage to keep the conversation fresh and perpetual despite the 8,096 mile distance.
If I let my eyes close now morning and work will arrive faster.

It's 2:03
I give up on homework.
I open the laptop to watch Netflix.
I re-watch a show I've seen a dozen times.
If I escape to dreamland, this sense of knowing of what is to come will be stolen by the uncertainty of the subconscious.

It's 4:32
I'm filled with sadness.
I have procrastinated badly.
I abruptly jump out of bed and head downstairs to brew coffee.
If I go to sleep, I will regret it in the morning when I will face the consequences of my laziness and late night reasoning.
Sankalp Dharge Jan 2018
It was nightfall whilst I commenced
Howard and Sufjan resonated my head
Heart was thumping against my chest
Slightest of drizzle varied my eye
Psyche was sketching days to the fore.

Plunged dead to the world midnight
Came vigorous next to the first light
I felt the caring wind filled with bliss
Resembling a mother’s kiss
The western sky sparkled surpassing dawn.

I was drunk on the beauty of this world
The sea still, tranquil and cavernous
Ignoring the horror, it formerly heard
Shortly I glided forward and beyond

Draining my past behind...
I wrote this while travelling in Mumbai.
It was an amazing tour. This city never sleeps.
I feel nostalgic.
Salil Panvalkar Sep 2015
My playlist on Youtube writes itself into a poem
It elicits Love, Lust, Loss anger along with a few other emotions
Ratatat takes me on a tour of Rome
PHOX shows me how to dance in Slow Motion
John Denver joins me on the tour of Country Roads

Highlight Tribe encourages me to Free Tibet
Bioshock Infinite do I dream of with Schyman Elizabeth
Kavinsky with his beats, urging me to Outrun
Lose Sight now and again with Andrew Bayer and Ane Burn

Abandoned Pools take me down the memory lane in Clone High
Foo Fighters whisper in my ear that I too can Learn To Fly
COCAINEJESUS, Akira, beats and samples; I have PINEAPPLEKISSES
Cloud Nothing reminds me that I should Stay Useless

Discover A Little Opus as I take a ride on Little Comets
Sky Rabbit opine and observe the present In Our Times
Joey Badass shares with me his funky ideals of World *******
Coheed and Cambria describe brotherhood in Key Entity Extraction

Geroge Ezra sings an ode to fathers in Listen to the Man
Perfect shows me the other side of the coin with Simple Plan
The Peppers tell a story of starting over covered in Snow
Shakey Graves says takes a chance and Roll the Bones

John Wayne Gacy Jr. the serial killer is immortalised by Sufjan Stevens
Imagine Dragons, the subconscious and fears come alive in Demons
Owl City tells a fantastic fable about insomnia in Fireflies
Ellie Goulding finds sweet slumber even in dark times in *Lights
One of those days when you want to do nothing but to feel.
And nothing makes me feel like music.
Lucas Jul 2018
it's the caffeine making dark crescents undereye
not some divine enlightenment
(there might be a dash of soul-searching though)
low, glazed limbs are frozen still

a frosted flurry of flakes falls
relieving my concentration
returning me to the road
to the pale glow of white snow
silhouetting the bare oak grove
hefty adumbrations emerging
charcoal on unblemished canvas

"Harden your heart, grow up"
"Harden your heart, grow up"
I repeat over and over
click
I get a different result
Real insanity would be conversing to myself, not chanting: pshaw!

My insides now cold as ice
open windows, abrasive breeze

I don't have a seat warmer

don't need one when everything's the same temp
I've hardened my heart, my groovy slouch recedes
jaw set and stiffened
Sufjan and Novo Amor siphoning my hope
tears become stalactites

"I have loved you for the last time"
pulling me back into colorless pensiveness
matching the steadfast sentinels blurring by
I took a lonely drive down a wooded highway during a depressive episode
I remember winter, when we first met
at the coffee shop in town. How could I forget?
I didn’t think you were interested,
even though you sent the message.
Stayed on your phone, barely said a word
while I tried to get your attention by being absurd.
I felt like there was something just beneath the surface
but I couldn’t quite tell just what it was.
As the weeks passed, you’d open up a little.
I tried so hard to hide how you made me so brittle.
And when you kissed me at the library, I remember trying to hide my smile
because I was so happy, and your beard tickled. I was so glad to be worth your while.
You played Sufjan Stevens and held my hand real tight
when we went to our spot for the first time that one night.
Then the next day, you threw me away.
I guess you were scared, didn’t trust me, and I didn’t know why. It drove me crazy.
For three straight weeks I didn’t see your face
and I was so depressed, thought I had been replaced.
You blew me off, so I moved out to Little Rock.
Tried to run away, but I can’t seem to ever forget you.
So, I came back, and then you left me again.
Said you thought we should just be friends.
And then summer blossomed and you came back around.
My heart was ablaze with the joy I had found.
So many summer nights with you in the passenger’s seat;
I never could ask for a memory more sweet.
Summer changed to fall and I didn’t see much of you.
Kept sneaking kisses in your kitchen, out of your parents’ view.
Fall turned to winter and you were out of reach.
Our fighting got worse, used mean words in speech.
So here we are again, and we’re back to Spring
and you have lost all faith in me.
Thrown our love to the curb, forgot about the memories.
And now here I am, crying on my knees
because you won’t try, won’t even believe me
when I say that I’ll be everything you need.
But don’t you see?
These good and bad memories still aren’t enough
and it’s not that you leaving is just tough.
I can’t forget you or even move on if I tried
because you are, without a doubt, the love of my life.

I will be waiting. Even if it means I wait forever.
Jennifer Weiss May 2015
I love you like the way
I first fell in love,
at the first glance.

I love you like the way
you taught me about
true romance.

I love you like the way
I remember Valentine's day with fondness,
even though all I got were
workout pants.

I love you like the way
you played Sufjan Stevens
and extended your hand
for our first dance.

I love you like the way
you always stayed
when I shoved you away,
without saying sorry.

I love you like the way
you had to walk away
and now everyday is almost the best day
and please don't be sorry.

I love you like the way
I will always love you everyday.
And pray you find every joy
and forget every sorrow.

I love you like the way
I love someone with everything,
Like there is no tomorrow.
I love you too much to tell you any of this either.
Wallamo Jan 2013
Beneath me is a busy street, around me are caffeine fiends, behind me are friends, yet I am momentarily stuck on what I cannot reach. My mind has not left our last encounter.

We were both so still, neither of us knowing how to react, as the lyrics so accurately depicted our feelings toward one another.

Alone, silent, and constricted we listened. I was so hopeful, you were so distant. As we created together your sadness lifted and the air was different. We left our hearts in our heads and explored the humor we've always used. After creating you told me that you felt the only cure for depression was creation. I smiled and felt like crying as I looked at your eyes. I had no response.

"I feel I must be wearing my welcome. I must be moving on. My intentions were good intentions. I could have loved you, I could have changed you. I wouldn't be so, I wouldn't feel so consumed by selfish thoughts. I'm sorry if I feel self effacing, consumed by selfish thoughts. It's only that I still love you deeply, it's all the love I got," sang Sufjan. We so silently listened. We did not look at one another. We were both scared in that moment. I was scared in that moment. I did not expect what I heard, I was scared of what I heard, as he had taken the thoughts out of my head.

Perhaps those lyrics did not strike you in the way they struck me. They were piercing. But I know you; your thoughts wander to places that I cannot reach in those moments.

Your mind travels so far. I used to know where you went, in your fits of silence, but you have changed. I know so little as the direction. East, West, near, far. I can only guess.

Now I sit at the window, silently listening to music that we so recently silently listened to together. Still so accurately depicting how I feel.

You have changed, you have grown, you have shrunk. I have done the same, for better and for worse. Our love is seemingly lost, but still lingers in every conversation and glance and thought.

This same place, where I wrote about you, both good and bad, where I spoke to you on the phone, where we came together. This place has not changed at all. It doesn't know how much we've changed, how much you've changed, or how much I've changed. But in some ways, we are just like this place in which I sit - we haven't  changed. We remain the same.
Ranita Jan 2014
Few will know these things and fewer still will understand what this is to me in this moment of tonight.
But I really don't care because what I feel right now is real and I haven't felt the feeling of real in a while.
Today is my birthday. I'm older now. Wiser? Maybe, maybe not. I definitely went through enough when I was 18.
Now is my time to learn from it. And I'm kicking it off with a night of listening to an album I have abandoned.
Age of Adz. By Sufjan Stevens. And it's different now I think, I wasn't older yet, I wasn't wise I guess.
I want so much to be at rest. And I will fall asleep to an old friend singing of futile devices, getting real, getting right, and dear impossible souls.
And I will cry at the memories but relate it with new. Because today is a day of transition.
Because I want to be well. And I'm not ******* around.
arubybluebird Jun 2015
I don’t necessarily fear death. The thing is that I know it is going to happen and although I may never fully understand why it must or grasp the concept of it, I accept it, I accept death just as much as I do living, but the thing here is…I still haven’t fallen in love a second time after having my heart broken that first time. There are many note cards I haven’t written to the people I love, to the people I admire. There are botanical gardens I’ve never been to and literal roads I’ve yet to take. I want to drive through them, walk through them, jog through them on foggy morning, sunny evening, mid-winter day. I’ve never tried playing the banjo, bought a lottery ticket, or lived with roommates or a boyfriend on the second floor of a four story apartment that overlooks a deli shop somewhere in Los Angeles or New York City. I still haven’t treated my grandmother to a gals day out, I’ve never dyed my hair some absurd color, I’ve yet to taste a  crème brûlée. There are so many courses I still want to take, so many things I still want to learn, clubs on campus that I want to be a part of, books I’ve yet to read, songs I want to listen and re-listen to. There are still things, so many things, there are still the words “I’ve yet” and “still” and more than anything the words “I’ve never.” These are the words, these are things that get to me, that fill me with restless thoughts and wavering emotions at 5 05 am. I can hear birds chirping and roosters cooing from outside my window, my parents heartbeats are lovely and synchronized a bedroom over, the voice of sufjan stevens is resonating from my laptops speakers, my legs feel hot underneath this linen sheet and woven blanket, my eyes don’t feel as tired as they probably should, and I am not ready. I’m not ready to let this all go. not yet. and that, although not death itself, is my greatest fear of dying.
I want to live now more than ever
Amanda rodeiro Dec 2015
It’s gotten bad

Not bad as in this feeling will pass

Bad as in not caring if I crash my car and don’t survive 

At least it’ll be an excuse for dying 

I imagine what my funeral would look like 

Hope mom would know Id want daisies, sufjan Stevens playing and my face looking the same way it did in everyday life

Vanity still exists in death 

Dad used to have his up and down days 

He still does 

The way to survive?

Lock in all up in the imaginary vault you hold in yourself

Hold all the negative thoughts

anger

sadness 

Hold em hostage

Don’t let them see the light

The one flaw in his plan was the outbursts he’d have from the demons escaping for a little while

Wouldn’t happen for a month

few weeks

two weeks

few days

everyday

Sometimes I think some of them escaped him and found their way into me and that’s why I have an unjustified anger blooming in my aching chest that I can’t silence 

It’s no excuse for what I say when I lose control 

When my apologies reach the thousands to the point where they don’t matter 

I’m sorry

That I can’t make up my mind

That I can’t do what’s best for me

That I do things to hurt myself

That I think I deserve pain

That I can’t stop saying sorry

I need to stop feeling sorry
Tawanda Mulalu Aug 2017
I.
//Yum Yum, No Vacation//

Such remarkable running you did there
You look like you're out breath, where is the air
You carried around yourself, air-bending monk
Heaving this way and that like you're in a funk

Yeah, I know, promised to never comment on you or your look
No more, at least to myself, but, baby you shook
Like how you shouldn't be, like someone like me saying 'baby'
Please, I trickled down your throat- gravy

Maybe, if you wasn't lying to yourself, life would be gravy
But then again- my mind is hazy
Maybe, if I'd been more faithful than lately
We coulda ended more stately but that's just a maybe

I like to deal with certainties so if it ain't that physics
I gotta ask why, where and when is it biting me
My space and time aren't hyphenated I'm not prepared to give
Myself away like that- so, can I live?

(Eh, you prolly didn't like me that much anyway
Eh, it doesn't bother me that much anyway
Yeah, writing past that call me Hemingway
Blam, end of a verse just like Hemingway)

II.
//Beach ******, No Vacation//

Oh wow, what weather indifferent is difference
Hello Boston, with your moodiness, how is you feeling?
I'm doing fine cause I'm doing me
Shower with rain and ice, movements in your symphony

Sympathy wasn't no nothing I asked from you
But double negatives ain't mahala so hala with sunlight akuna mathata
Lion King if you really wanna know
Roaring on so bitter with this flow

like

You really gon' try play me out of this Simba
Like Mufasa didn't gift me that rhythm marimba
Whatever homie, they don't even know me
Way they actin' up, they could win a Tony

******- and I thought I wasn't good enough
I'm good, getting out of my dreams, getting out of my seat
Good- like the only house concrete after a huff and a puff
Summer- only time the lyrics get done- sheesh!

III.
//Biking, Frank, Jay, Tyler//

Watch      what you say to me
Watch      pretty clear to me
Tick-tock til' next drop you don't mean none to me
No more if you play me, see

Soft boy, hard heart if need be, breathe
Not just for next stroke, left strokes, knees
Don't get weak, leave ***** sheets hang in breeze
Last whole night b, don't mean I'm happy

Pretty nice problem if you asked him
Little boy playin' 'round Invader Zim, where his friends
at? act   like   you   -   don't care
act? act         -you do-  so scared

Of dying lonely, crying won't be done
Nothing welled in tear ducts since fifteen, no fun, so done
with this shh... where the catharsis
Hamlet complex: the rest is shh... silence

IV.
//Fourth of July- Sufjan//

O, when the crickets clunkered and thundered
I thudded against myself- mind against skull
Bruce Banner in Incredible Hulk, whisper in bulk
Ghost in the Shell, heard sorta mumbled

Skip a few weeks later she breathes on my neck
Same thoughts really I don't like how I see me
I mean, I like myself, I hate my body
Or rather the idea of a body, microphone check:

Can I finally hear myself? Am I still stuck in myself?
Can I get outta myself? Can I please get some help?
I like living and touching and I like what she did there
But imagine if could disappear into universals and share

the same space as numbers and shapes
with none of this creaking and yearning my body it makes
I am a corpse in the making- and so is she
No matter how long we keep at it I am still inside of me

I didn't finish
I didn't finish

I didn't
I didn't

I
I
Lucanna Apr 2015
There is a
Chuck Taylor black energy connecting  
Every one of my couch’s teens
But please don’t generalize a single spirit
And especially stay away from adjectives like
“angsty” and “misunderstood”
Never accuse them of such a cliché travesty
At such an age spotlighted syndrome  stage
The Sufjan Stevens song she brings in has the same yearning
That another’s canon snaps with trapped black and whites
That same shadow tangos with the forced-into-therapy-tween’s
faint scalloped smile lines
of times before, when she had not been hunting for her own identity
When she could spin around the willow
And not worry about her eyelet ******* peeking through
Then the cloud covered eighteen year old daisy
Drags amber strands across forehead while she murmers
Blame that oozes from her juvenile jawline, mirroring
The prior sweetheart that stormed out of my office at 3:00pm
Tawny strands across her wrist
And how could I ever forget the last string of fiber
Fierce and cross armed  
The last knot to the cat’s cradle of adolescent midnight string
“I know I will conquer my genetic hand”
She declares
Bubblegum harbored in fleshy cheek
Whiskers and all.

I hold sacred in my bones
The appendage I am in all of this
wide eyed need
And I let the walls absorb their sighs
Until, in awe I witness
the beauty in vulnerability  
Again
tween to teen clients
Trevor Blevins Nov 2016
I'm a heavy philosopher when I'm drugged up, I sing The General Specific in bed with the Elf Queen.

How many thousands of times did we make awkward eye contact,
And then receded out of our shells
To both ponder our crises with Sufjan Stevens sad verses falling out from the ceiling.

I've fallen directly in love with life in the nighttime.
///
I'm sure that there was some cloud of fog when I slumped out from your room.
There was a physical haze I was trapped under
Trying to feed you harmony, melody and restore your confidence.

Reading your signals, it says your words don't match the hurting in your eyes,
And that scares me.

In reading the Russian legend of the Snow Maiden,
Doesn't she have to melt in the summer?

It's the delicate balance of nature that ruins any hope I conjure,
But with the temperature dropping below freezing
I'd just as well preserve my happiness
Until I can't control its thawing out
And imminent disintegration.

That, of all things, can wait.
biche Apr 2021
Love yourself
You are the one thing
I needed
Share of yourself
Show me the things that
You believe in
Love, can you love yourself
Show me everything
Every reason to believe in yourself
Make a shelf
Put all the things on
That you believe in
Love, can you love yourself
Show me everything
Every reason to believe in yourself
Love yourself
You are the one thing
I believe in
Love, can you love yourself
Show me everything
Every reason to believe in yourself
Make a shelf
Put all the things on
That you believe in
Love, can you love yourself
Show me everything
Every reason to believe in yourself
Love, can you love yourself
Show me everything
Every reason to believe in yourself
Love, can you love yourself
(You are the one thing)
Show me everything
Every reason to believe in yourself
(You are the one thing)
Love, can you love yourself
(You are the one thing)
Show me everything
Every reason to believe in yourself
#rebirth #renewal #regeneration
Ranita Mar 2017
You somehow had the strange ability to make me feel everything
While simultaneously making me feel like I was nothing

I'll say this, you sparked in me a love for music
Specifically Sufjan Stevens
No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross kills me
"**** me I'm falling apart"

"Here's a coin, call someone who cares"
If you ever called, I would have cared
I wouldn't have ever stooped that low

I don't miss you and some days I hate you
I hope your life is everything you wished
I know you've been searching for something more, same as me

-Ranita
Nathan Tuy Apr 2018
So I punched the wall again.
For the first time In two months.
The bruises were completely gone just last month.
It was a smart choice I’d say.
The wall was an antidote
And my hand was poison
That I was going to use for them.
Do you know what pain looks like?
It looks like the look in your beautiful mother’s eyes when she’s looking at you.
It looks like the words your father yells at you.
It looks like you singing Sufjan Stevens’ The Only Thing to the all smashed-up package of cigarettes in your hand.
It looks like the ******* bruises on your **** knuckles.
It looks like the ******* scars on your ******* arms that they think are ridiculous.
But it’s not ugly.
Pain is a blessing.
Because it lets you know you’re still human.
Even though everyone treats you like you’re not.
OnwardFlame Apr 2020
So what is there to do now?

All this space, all the fractals
Appeared and hovered
I watched them like holographic
Pastel
Or an ink blot black
Fly me high up into the sky
With a profound perspective
A knowledge that sometimes
Many times
You have to go your own way.

Nothing looks quite like I thought it would
And I'm here in the Alabama sunshine
Just trying to believe in my grit
Just knowing I've gotta fight for whatever is next.

I try to find peace and clarity
The hallucinations and sparkling moving lights
Watching plants extend and reach
For me, for mine
It breathed life into me
How quickly things can change
So you really cannot depend on anything.

I'm sometimes over here
Wondering oh where, oh where
I'd been crying the name out
Of a man I know not
And sometimes I fear its just going to be a parade
Of never finding
Never choosing
Never being chosen.

Its never easy to see another one go
I comfort myself with words of reminders
And acknowledge the points within which
I feel drained like a rain cloud
******* me dry
And I look for happiness in other things
Today I mostly just laid in my bed
And in moments missed my ex's.

I wonder if they think of me
Think of me deeply
In this utterly strange
Severally cinematic time
And I believe the answer to that
Is a very loud
Thunderous
And colorful
Yes.

I release the spirit of the wanting
The spirit of the darkness I've been letting hold me hostage
I saw the glow and confusion
Of devices
And the hold they create on us all
In our day to day.

Its so hard to know where to go from here
As Sufjan reminds of Chicago's
Cold bitter resilient beauty
And I gaze out my window
Knowing its gonna be okay
Its gonna be okay.

I didn't know
What it meant
To be let go of so hard
Until you shoved me away
With such clapping
I heard the sounds of hands
Colliding
And grieved the loss
Of an audience member
I just wanted to hold space
Time
Refuge
Longevity
And that was never
Would never
Could never
Be you,
Sweet Cole.

I wonder if you like my friends photos
I wonder if you talk to them
I wonder if you think sweet
Or sad thoughts on me
The girl you pushed away.

Do you remember the first photo we took together?
I do.
Neon Summer
And we walked back
As you complained about your ex
And I remember
When I first agreed to be your partner
Proposed it even
And I figured
Why not
He's shown up
He's shown up
And at that time
I really needed that
And maybe that was just enough.

Its much quieter in my world now
Though drama seems to rear its head
In a new place
And I just long for silence
I just long for respect
I just long for the ease
That I very seldom have felt
And I know I'm ready
I've never felt so ready
For whatever is next.
Dylan Mcconnell Mar 2020
When the feelings subside...
From the negative self talk to the self-hatred.
From the disordered eating to depression and anxiety.
From trauma to substance abuse.
When all of that and more subsides...

I will listen to "The Only Thing" by Sufjan Stevens. I will lay on my back looking up at the ceiling, debating all that's whole in the world. I will turn my head to see a human looking back at me, as to remind me i'm so much more than myself in a world that beckons to hear me.

When the feelings of
guilt, shame, and self-loathing subside
and the light seems to shine over a trillion clouds
with a small smile from the heavens
-if i were the poet to believe in heaven-

i will draw with my favorite pen
and write a letter to someone i once despised
yet never send it
because **** actual feelings
and **** spending money on stamps

when the feelings of disgust and squirminess
decide to run away,
and i'm left with a black hole of anger

i will simultaneously cry and scream while running away
from everything i once believed
i will block a person or two, feeling utter regret
rant about three more times,
and return to the life i call home.
i think i'm learning how to love something again

— The End —