an incident
comes to
alter your perception..

I know
it may seem
like things aren't
ever going to be alright
but in the end,
time will prove
you wrong-
it always
does.

A diagnosis to prognosis
Hypnosis to sleep
Meditation to mindfulness
A tragedy to weep
Venting to relief
In the oven to eat
The time in between
is time to keep

She's going to be drunk and stupid
She's going to let her hair down, falling over her shoulders, smiling at the slight tickled feeling of it
She's going to dance with boys whom she will not remember the names or faces of but she will remember exactly what they were wearing
She's going to trip over herself, her knees will battle earthquakes breaking day fall of more drink or one more cigarette
She is going to smoke until she can only see a transparent outline of herself in the mirror
And she will smile, freely and oblivious to reality
She's going to be drunk and stupid
And it's going to be the most beautiful tragedy he has ever laid his eyes on

Something about this world is clockwork.
Just watch people live, see the Earth hurt.
By-standing the impending pain to come.
It's easier hushing the screaming some.
Some say yes when they mean no.
A game of tag against a ghost.
Sometimes we wake back into dreams.
Know that nothing's what it may seem.
Leaving is coming, as nothing is something.
When eating is starving, the silence is fussing.
A tragedy's living in a paradox,
Where does time even go when there isn't a clock?

3 years.

For 3 years,
I've felt you,
Felt your warm welcomes when we met in classes,
And your wondrous stories of helping the masses.

You said you weren't religious nor nice,
But the way you pray others joy says otherwise.

3 years.

3 years spent on memories I keep,
Each one bearing an experience so deep.

It was fine time we gave each other,
As fine as time between spirited brothers.

And each year, we grew closer,
We went through hardships together,
But these 3 years were special,
Tackling the mundane and existential.

Times were either us two working on school work,
Or us two thinking why we work.

Precious indeed are those 3 years,
With everything set in stone,
Yet like all precious jewels,
They fall in the hands of the most cruel of cruels.

We were precious, I bidder,
But from our hands our jewel fell, shattered.

3 years.

3 painful years,
As I watch our smiles turn tears,
And our hearts pierced by spears,
For we chose to shut our ears,
And switched gazes with leers.

I stood frozen badly,
As our story begets tragedy.
Because lady, why tell me,
That after all, we weren't meant to be?

3 years.

3 years, my seed of wrath grew,
In the shape of a tree with no fruit,
And as the bark had wind blew,
I felt bitterness from you, my root.

3 years, right?
For 3 years now, my tree stands upright.

Remember when we danced on main street
And buried our skulls in dirt behind the shed

When we ate those light bulbs
Trying to illuminate the black holes that were always showing up in your bed or lingering around us in the driveway

Our knuckles took to cracking in a fever
We soaked them in the party punch last May
Our mixed blood infected everyone that night

Teenagers and their wasted anthologies
Wasted, as in, drunk & drowning
In the city apartment's corners
Or a green backyard that eventually turned lilac grey

Something is screaming in the trees tonight
It might be the wind, but what is wind
Other than gold dust and baby teeth

Remember the night we bought an aluminum can of rage
And planned to mark our town in tragedy
Or the night we shattered vases and elbows
I bled out in your kitchen sink, and you opted for the piano keys

Poem 19
19.05.2016,

Explanatory poems with paid advertising included
Facebook, 21.44 scrolling back to 22.24


far away
buzzing
displaying myself and
things alone.

stereotyping
while mocking
stereotypes

a guy named by a famous poet
took pictures of me
somebody pays me to be and so I am in
this
landscape.

I paid the new God to advertise here.
21 of your friends like God,
his digital skills
In my online
free courses.

The burden of too much, I say.
Simplifying childhood may
protect us against mental health issues.
Raised well.
This life hurts
the bright side of me
I no longer have patience for.
Please, somebody give me a lemon
Just in case.

I feel sick of him
talking about bribery
but I eat news.
Arterial pressure.
How not to…it’s almost a miracle.

A fox is licking a screen.
falling in love with foxes.
it's funny that
my favourite place to see
my own photos is
a radio station,
at least so
far: a
military footprint.

Saltwater battery
can power your off the grid home
for 10 years. My dear, I
love you! Your daddy loves you. I’m sorry I
was trying to do something I
am writing it now
so I
can make myself heard.
Herd
live politics.
my life seems rich and unhappy
for a reason.

I’m El. so I paid
and I’m here.
Gigi Hadid analogy
with curves.

An image stuffed with birds.
Flying. Eating. Flamingo.
Wow.
I share memories.
Of my life. I
live from my memories. I
eat them. Insights
that become reality
thanks to people
they get a super network,
with generosity.
I work.
Tragedy happened.

Sold out
I support
victims of ‬fire.
There will be no fish in the ocean
in less than 40 years.
What is in essence
the difference between
the USSR
and
Germany during World War II
As a very witty response
to popular safety myths.
I should let my kid do at least 5
dangerous things.
Hopper.
I see pictures of
overpopulation and overconsumption
Tamara in Beverly Hills
advertising herself and her paintings
in black and white.

I’m new Y. I paid to be here.
Like me.
Subscribe and
get 12 weeks for just $12.
Plus, get a free tote bag.

Happiness is
reading a book
Drinking tea
I acknowledge somebody wrote
something about
what I imagine I successfully perform
so I’m writing
something about
making a popcorn live show.
Artists. Celebrities.
Love. Amazing.
It’s so great these people exist
so I can share
words of wisdom and beauty
A selfie of
my mom.
I put flowers in her hair.
Kids are educated in centers
meanwhile
Somebody important with
a name
we all know
once said
something
significant
so
I’m posting it here.

A stunning morning.
Sunshine decking the glory filled lawn.
Night's swept away on the brush of a fox.

Lamenting my flowers.
They have passed.
A natural tragedy.
They have withered and died.
Disappeared, in what seemed like the blink of an eye.
They shall be retained.
Deep in the brain.
The brain of the lady.
Work is bereft.

Final recollection, that all things must pass.
Their beauty shall not be ashes,but scrunched up dry dust.
I shall find a spot in the garden.
Where I shall lay memories of my friends to rest.
And hence I explain my flowers away.
So precious were these flowers.
Burnings' so final you know.
Once they were beauteous.
Once so was I.
A bouquet of beauty.
Sadly they've died.
True beauty lives in the beholders eye.
(c) Livvi

When they'll write a ballad about us
Won't be a love story for we had none
Maybe they'll see how u played me for fun
And it'll be a tragedy n u'll be Brutus.

Maybe we were meant to be a tragedy.
Maybe nothing is really meant to be.
Maybe it doesn't matter.
Not anymore.

Sometimes
tragedy
can be a kind of
twisted beauty
making us crave pain.
Don’t let that take away
from the beauty you can find
in good fortune.

Deep within this enmity
Holding onto equanimity
I've wandered off, a bit you see
my search for truths from history
Cloaked so deep in mystery
Oh, this pursuit, does call to me
As if this task was set to be
An ever worthy inquiry
that I would truly set them free.
I would do it purpose'fully
And clasp on to my destiny
Which I seem, to have been assigned
Nothing else that I have seen,
Could ever enrapture fully
The shambles of my mind,
I take this course on scholarly
And will stand, you all will see,
Upon the the name and mockery
Of my brothers honestly
Who have been berated, woefully
By those base and dastardly,
(And it has been a tragedy)
For this one gift used solely,
mind.

So the one you loved
died And now comes
the tragedy: The
Endless eternal
Lines of those who
Wish to give you
Their sympathy.
In plain words:
Your loved one
is dead
And all you get
in return
Are hollow words.
Mom tells you that
They mean well, but
they don't know
what to say.
Most don't know
The way you feel,
The way you want
To rip apart the
Foundations of this World.
Others do know
The utter feeling of
Loss and emptiness,
But they can't put
Their thoughts to
Words so they just
Get in line.
They ask if you
Want to "talk"
And the answer is
Always no;
You don't want
To talk. You
Want your loved one
Back, but that can't
Happen. They expect
You to know that,
So they're always
surprised by that
Desperate wish.
It's great for them
To know that the
Dead are in a better place,
But you don't care
at that moment because
you just want them back.
Denial, bargaining, anger,
Guilt, acceptance;
If you hear those words
one more time,
You might snap.
How dare there be
A "process" to
A state so raw and
So devastating?
Simultaneously wanting
To destroy everything
In your path and cry
In some forgotten corner,
Both such utter forms
Of loneliness.
In a way, it is all beautiful,
If beauty is defined by
Heartbreak and chaos.

May I ask you just this:
Did you wonder what would have happened,
if you didn't say goodbye?
I may have lost you, and it was painful;
But you have lost me and it is a tragedy.
I always loved you, but I never did.

They are always bearers words of love I will not know,
poems in the secret chamber of my heart,
each beat uneven but electrical.
Percussion playing at life's rhythm
tragedy and sorrow heartbreak and forgiveness.
Though I live in this reality
I still feel their fingers clutch the core of me.
Separately we are time and distance apart
In words we are married to such sweet shared meaning.
My veins run with their blood
unfinished photos, moving still life portraits.
I am unintentionally discarded by the hearts
I treasure most.
Still, they're always just
one page of prose and poetry away from me.

we search for saving in every little crevice
of our lonesome existence
we yearn for release
and for whoever may be generous enough to grant it

it is comforting to believe in a savior
because we crave the idea of rescue
a moment of peace in this endless cycle of suffering
as if redemption could befall on us from the sky
as if there was a miracle crafted from the heavens above
just for our sake
selflessly gifted and waiting to be found

to live one's life in the hope of saving
is the most poetic tragedy ever written by man

I have come to understand the charm of religion
and those who seek to pursue its principles
for if I were certain that someone out there cared enough to save me
I'd get on my knees too

>>> This is more "NoPo@HePo" (Non-poetry at Hello Poetry). It is a new way to share your writings here, Fiction or non. I hope you enjoy it.<<<
                                                          

________________

" ... Only time will tell ... ya think you're in heaven, but you're living in hell."
                                                          ­ -Traditional Jamaican Folk Song



  Funny, rain never depressed me before. It's pouring outside and normally I would be elated. I love it when it rains ... Everything gets watered ... The water table gets replenished ... The dust gets washed away, making everything shiny clean ... I love it ...

  But, not today. I've never felt like this, not that I can remember.

  I don't deal well with depression ... in fact; I don't deal with it at all.
Therefore, I'm usually always happy-go-lucky. Not much bothers me, and when it does, I head-**** it like the Ram that I am. I don't fear much of anything.

  But, as I watched the rain come down today, I almost began to cry. Again ... not like me. As of late, I feel like I'm being tested. I've never been so filled with anguish and anxiety. I've never felt so hopeless, not even years ago, when I lived in my car. At this moment, it seems, all that I touch turns to dust, not rust ... dust.
          
  I feel like everything that I attempt ... gets thwarted. I also feel like every time I have a dream about to be realized, it vanishes right in my hands. It's even worse than not having it ... I get to see it, even think I'm gonna realize it ... and then ... ****! The dream is just gone.

  All I've ever wanted was to be successful and have the love of a good woman. I know that I'm no angel, but I try to be. I'm most always genuinely concerned for others. I am always trying to make my situation better. I never wrong people intentionally, and above all, my heart is huge and full of lots of wonderful things. I've seen them all. Sometimes they pop out of me and surprise me with the way they make me act and react. I didn't know I could so easily feel and exercise such emotions; Compassion, unmeasurable patience and understanding of others pain. But the thing that it's filled with most of all is ... Love.  A passionate love that can't be measured. Like a Bald Eagle, my devotion can be never ending.
  
  I’ve always felt like I was a little selfish, I still think I am, a little. Aren't we all? But today, as I stared into the hard falling rain, instead of taking a deep breath through my nose and loving the smell ... I stared into the quickly amassing puddle in front of the apartment and felt the tightness in my chest and jaw. Tears tried to well up in my eyes, but, with a long deep sigh, I wouldn't let them. I'm not a quitter; I never have been.  

  I've deemed a name to this condition I've been afflicted with most all my life. I call it Charlie Brown Syndrome.
  It seems sometimes, that no matter how good my intentions, no matter how hard I try, in an attempt to do something positive, it almost always blows up in my face and, more often than not, I end up looking like the bad guy on top of it!

  In almost every situation, I also feel like the things that undo my efforts are both unforeseen and out of my control. I always end up feeling frustrated and helpless to remedy the situation. And, as if that wasn't enough, it almost always looks like it was my fault ... Or, if I hadn't tried to do what I had done ... then none of the unasked for trouble would have occurred. Like I said before, I look like the bad guy ... almost every time.

  My luck with women could be written into a comedy somewhere ... though; it feels more like a tragedy to me. I have no problem finding them, whatsoever. It just seems that I can't find the right one, or if I do think she might be her, then you can almost certainly guarantee that she either has a boyfriend/husband/fiancée, or she's just plain not interested in me. If she is interested in me, then she almost always turns out to be a liar/cheater/Fruit Loop ... with a drama card ten miles long. Eight out of ten times, I don't find this out until I'm head over heals crazy about her. And moreover, I never see it coming, Because like I said, I'm usually always a very positive type of person.

  So my heart, or what's left of it, gets smashed up again and I'm left to stand there, with my good intentions and my need to love and be loved ... bewildered and alone.
My buds tease me that I have a tattoo on my forehead that reads: "****** Chicks Line Up Here" ... I look for it every morning in the mirror.
            
  In my search for thee ever elusive “Little Red Haired Girl”, I've told every girl I've ever been with; “If you don't lie or cheat on me, you will have all my trust and faith. But, the first time you do, I'll take it away and then you'll have to earn it.” Not only have I never met one who could keep up her end of the bargain, I've never met one willing to try and put forth the effort to earn it, once they had lost it.

  Most of the close friends I once had are now off on their own adventures and, for one reason or another, I'm without them. Most of the friends I have now are, in a more realistic sense, acquaintances that I can run with and have a good time with. It's kind of unnerving ... to realize that some of the people you call friends, make faces or talk to others in whisper campaigns behind your back. Or, they stand back there, behind you, and roll their eyes every time you make a statement. All in the name of making themselves look better, by making them look like they think you're a fool to someone else. It kind of gives you a conspiracy complex.

  It's really strange though, that they are always there as your friend and they include you in all of their plans ... Seems like that would eventually make them look stupid, doesn't it? Stranger still, is the fact that they think that you don't know they do it, because you don't say anything about it so you can avoid the conflict.
  
  I just don't feel the bond with them that I felt with others in my youth ... Maybe that’s how it is when you get older ... I'm a hopeless romantic and I'd like to think that it's just not so.
  At this moment, I have never felt so alone and without direction in my whole life. I don't have a feeling to compare it to. One step forward, two steps back ... More like fifty steps back.

  " ... And then one day you find ten years have gotten behind you. No one told you when to run; you've missed the starting gun ..."
            
  I never dreamed that those words would mean to me what they mean to me now.  I remember reading them more than twenty years ago, the day my friend, Randy Reed, brought Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon” album over to my house for the first time. I had a turntable ... He didn't.

  I remember reading those words and thinking that the poor soul who had wrote them was feeling bad because he'd missed out on a part of his life.  I was maybe 13 or 14 at the time ... I couldn't fathom such a loss. Besides, in my youthful world, I was assured I could be anything I want to be, have anything I want to have, or go anywhere I wanted to go. Nice myths our parents' parents told them. I never dreamed I would someday look back and question what I had done, or where and most of all, who, I had been.

  I don't really regret my past. I've had an incredible life so far. I've seen, done and experienced things that people have, and will continue to, dream about doing all their lives. But somehow, I feel empty at the moment. Somehow I feel alone. Mostly though ... I feel almost helpless. Like a tiny raft in a vast, stormy sea ...

      You can't fight, you must relent ... It will only make it more painful to fight ...

  My question is this ...

  Who is it more painful for?      

  ME?  

  Or the vast stormy sea?

      Again ... I'm not a quitter.
    It's going to take a mighty big wave to sneak up and make me go under.  
  
  But lately, I feel like I don't have much besides my nose sticking out of the water. I'm terrified that the wave is headed my way. I worry I won't have the strength to endure it. I've been told that God, or the universe, depending on your view, will never give you more than you can bear and that through adversity comes strength. If this is my lesson, then I'm one strong soul. But I'd much prefer a lesson in how well I handle success or the love of a wonderful woman. That, it would seem, is never to be our choice to make. We are eternally the pupils and God , or the universe, our teacher. I love to learn, always have. It’s just that I’ve never found it so heart wrenching before.  

  The only thing that I feel like I might truly regret in my life is not having a family. I love children. So much so, that I didn't just go out and recklessly have some ... I’ve always felt that If I couldn't give them the life that they needed and deserved, then I'd have no children at all ... and that's just what I've done. I see my friend’s children and I die a little inside knowing that those kids are the age that my children should be. I feel like I'm missing out on a joy that may never cross my face ... or my heart. It seems to slip further away every day, each time I think about it, I feel like I sink a little deeper into the dark, stormy water ...

  It is probably my biggest unrealized dream ... The only football I seem to keep failing to kick.
  
  I can think of only one other thing that approaches a feeling of regret for me: my health. I'm not ugly, but I'm not the hottest guy on the planet either. I’ve been told on many occasions that I’m quite handsome. Countless women have told me that my eyes and my confidence are the sexiest they've ever seen. Still, I wish I had took better care of myself as I've grown older.  

  Make no bones about it, I am thee most cocky, confident, egotist you have ever met. But, even though I’m pretty sure some of it is an eminence front, I’ve never been one to be insecure. Like I said before, I’m usually pretty fearless. It doesn’t feel like a reckless fearless; it feels like confidence fearless. But even so, I’m usually alone.

  Not lonely …

  Alone.

  For a while, I thought that maybe it was something about me. A bit of insecurity trying to sneak up on me … but now I’m beginning to think that it’s simply an issue of fate ...

  Perhaps, I’ve just never found my “Little Red Haired Girl” ... regardless of my looks.  

  Before, my attitude has always been: "Hey, If they don't like the way I look, then why would I want them?" Typical for my normal, “Joe Cool” attitude …

  I think that arrogance, much like justice, is blind.

  I was so blind it seems, that I failed to ever notice that I usually only take interest in beautiful women. By the same token, so, so many have taken interest in me as well. But being with women is not the same as being in love with one.

  I can be such a fool sometimes ...

  But ...

  I've always had really nice looking girlfriends ...

  I guess no matter how you look at things ...
In the end ... you bring it on yourself ... mostly.
  Sometimes ... you let others bring it on you too.

     Aw hell, sometimes they bring it even when you DON'T let them!

  And sometimes ...

  It just falls right out of the sky ...

  C’est La Vie!

  Mi Vida Loca!

  Oh, good grief!

  I'm gonna go back outside ...

  I can be such a blockhead sometimes ...

  Who am I kidding anyway?

      I love the rain!




Jeff Gaines


Monday, August 23rd, 1999

There’s a house Anne built
with a crumbling frame,
she’d eat the paint chips
off the wood and dream
of a sun set she’d parallel
as an identical being.
A life cycle of  dissolving
lithium batteries in *****,
chasing doctor death
by staying still. Carbon
monoxide filled the cavities
in her brain and her corpse,
a beautiful foundation
destroyed in broad daylight,
do loved ones say goodbye
over the remains.

And in blood visions I see
the home I’ll put together
and tear apart. Is what’s
inevitable a tragedy?
If I stay in the garage
and let the car run,
the wood in the floorboards
would still be fresh. Anne,
my future is in all the
architecture I’ve admired.
If they’re all delusions,
then reality’s a great
impressionist and I’ve
been picking off all
of the yellow paint.

I will set with the sun,
I will set with the sun

when day time comes
to an end. and over
what’s left standing,

say goodnight rather
than goodbye.

I shower but stil I
Feel so *****
I've accomplished nothing
and I'm almost 30

Lost in panic and worry
Not worthy of much
And depression has left
Me so out of touch

With happiness and love
That I envy in others
And i hate family if
We're all sister and brother

Not even my mother
Can stand what I have
Become as I run from
Problems I never had

Making no sense of it
As it don't comply
With logics realm but still
Is real if my cries

Are a result tasting salt
Roll to my lip
Wanting to **** eve and
Give back Adam his rib

I wanna **** Romeo and
Juliette So they can forever
Be together and maybe
Ill be ****** up forever

Finding how clever
I can be with the new ways
I creatively find to
**** up everyday

Like innovation was
Making tragedy easier
Til the miracle constructed
Was What dinosaurs in a meteor

Saw when extinction
Broke the prison of birth
Like I hope soon will
Happen to humans on earth

And sickening it maybe
So hate me like those
Who know me have slowly
And heaven only will know

What heaven holds
Cause I never will so
Why bother keeping high
Hopes when I know

Life is what happens
When ur busy making Plans
And no shower can clean
dirt collected by man

In this world of quicksand
That hands me a promise
That I will be pulled under
Never to get what is wanted

So I give up and give in
On anything I dream
Cause hope is like dope
It brings the belief

That all is ok when it's
Not and never has been
So intoxication and
Desperation is all that's seen

And disgusting it is
But definitive it stands
So hideous I pity this
insidious to man

What idiots would plan
While causing destruction
Self calamity so damaging
It's ravaging til nothing

Is left but the memory's
We share of what was
Life granted on a planet
We Managed to **** up

Cause Where a beautiful tender
Smiling little girl
So pretty will grow into
A deceptive **** cause the world

Can make an innocent
boy so happy to become
A ****** who hate this
World where he's from

And that is just one
Or two ways how
This sick ****** up hell
Can bring the greyest clouds

Over the beauty to
Rain on a ******* parade
Of purity's perfections
So celebrations were made

a funeral where layed
Is all our hopes dreamed
All the visions of playing
Children who's laughter seems

To change into cries
And sad questions of why
That are rhetorical it's
Horrible but still we deny

The Steps to collect
And connect the depth
Cause the love we kept
In our hearts all that's left

To ***** and correct
What we need to accept
Or victims of our own
demons well be in regret......

Four cycles I neither nourished nor idled
As I pondered the sameness of it all.
Heard Solomon’s voice.
Shrewd as ever, but varnished with sorrow
Like mine.
Could it be?
That once that filmy overlay,
So seemingly inane,
Has been pulled back — the vacuum seal breached.
No longer sustenance in enterprise?
But in repetition one must sate?
No!
The story of man is not a tragedy!
Of shackled ankles and nine to fives.
But a dialogue with God!
Where the audience jests and heckles.
But is moved again
And again to silence
By a mere visceral soliloquy.

Today,
From our cells of subjectivity
We shout and dance for progress.
But is there a better way
To breach the barriers between spirits
Than by rediscovery of the known,
But ignored,
Forgotten,
The pathway to our wholes?
Are we then just fools
Wandering eternally through a mist?
Have we once again shed
What’s most precious?
To reveal what?
But our shameful nakedness.
For what Solomon knew is lost today
When I interact with the world.
All is vain but the path.
Till full circle our story begins anew.

beautifully sad woman,
city trees ***** mimicry,
that mean sick friendship changes,
but the blue eyes unhesitating, large,
a thunderbolt for someone,
fires of passion and caresses,
have tragedy, have disorder,
get us two confined,
now the imagines marry
a look will torment,
the dark velvet for witches,
led wolves,
each ache crackle that couldnt feel,
slowly flexes from sorrows,
and because the electrified spiderwebs,
have a small current,
an illusion that to have brightness there,
not when blinding them,
even if the sun heavens dreamed lover Greeks,
a thousand tears breathe songs.

Tragedy begets normality, lost in the darkness, till your brought back to the light. Failures and guilt will surpass I promise, I wasn't always there, but I'm here now. Life is cruel but you  can fight it because your a fighter, legend or fact it doesn't matter because we are free. Twists and turns to wind up here today, it's weird that it is so clear here but was blurry yesterday. It's funny how time goes by so fast when you really look at it. It feels like a unreal dream but yet it is reality, family and friends till the end, stories to tell for generations till we meet our end.