I
saw her again
She was less angelic than I remember
Her
She was human
Flawed
Like me
Reminded me of what used to be
But not of what usually
Her eyes haven't changed a bit
They hold me within
I'm forever trapped and I'm okay
I don't want, I don't need
Rescue
Her hands are different
She doesn't hold
She lets go
I wonder why I never did
Then I remember
Her
She talks the same
She thinks the same
She's so different
She's a foreign country I've seen in photographs
She's that one song I know all the lyrics to but not the name of
She's forever trapped in my head, and it's okay
I've learned to make room, I
Saved her a spot
She doesn't believe in love or in people
Or in people in love
Or in loving people
Or that out of all of the people in love that are out there loving people, that someone loves her
She's not always right
She's flawed
Human
Like me
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Old Feelings
Writing to my lonely self on this lonely page.
My life's a monologue on this empty stage.
Thought I'd found love, but I found hate.
Hate you, almost as much as I hate myself.
nonsensicalogistics
dreams held in an envelope
so volatile
and dangerous
faces
that a man kills for
faces
that kill men
faces
and all for what?
dreams
so...
so volatile
and dangerous
faces
that a man kills for
faces
that kill men
faces
and all for what?
dreams
so...
How could I forget?
i remember you now...
as the stranger does the poet
in the musky dim den
spilling ink on parchment
and other skins
your hand feverishly holding
quill
the terrene scent of tobacco permeates the air
a masterpiece
a second hand
coffee table book
as the stranger does the poet
in the musky dim den
spilling ink on parchment
and other skins
your hand feverishly holding
quill
the terrene scent of tobacco permeates the air
a masterpiece
a second hand
coffee table book
i remember you now...
dog eared and frayed at the sides
a good companion in solitude, if there ever was one
I remember you now.
I wish I didn't.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Reflections
I've heard enough noise in my life
I'd rather sit in silence.
Take my time like leaves falling in November.
Everything has the same beginning.
But not the same ending.
I'd rather sit in silence.
Take my time like leaves falling in November.
Everything has the same beginning.
But not the same ending.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
breathe
Stress is a precursor
to disease
flowing
through our bodies
like poltergeists in crowded streets.
So I say call the priest,
and exorcise my body,
leave it mangled and crippled
if need be,
as long as mind is allowed to love,
and heart remains the same.
to disease
flowing
through our bodies
like poltergeists in crowded streets.
So I say call the priest,
and exorcise my body,
leave it mangled and crippled
if need be,
as long as mind is allowed to love,
and heart remains the same.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
cautiousbutnotso
old tattered hole riddled wings
need but a stitch
a push
shove
in the right direction
but don't prick your finger!
im seeing new things in
an old way
and
i feel like
home is
where the heart is
and my heart
is
with
you.
dont forget
to
lock the
door.
its not safe out there.
need but a stitch
a push
shove
in the right direction
but don't prick your finger!
im seeing new things in
an old way
and
i feel like
home is
where the heart is
and my heart
is
with
you.
dont forget
to
lock the
door.
its not safe out there.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Just ranting about KONY, slavery and life.
Well, personally. What I appreciate about this whole Kony thing.. is people coming together and actually feeling enough emotion to feel like they have to do something. What we have to do, as a people.. is not forget this. Not forget, what it is to feel. Not forget, what it is to care for your fellow human. Not forget, what it is to love unconditionally. Love your life, as much as that of your fellow man. Everyone's life is worthwhile. Everyone deserves to live the life they want to live. We need to take a stand as a people, and start living life as a people. It has gone on for far too long is this country and many others, where competition is the main drive. People strive to have the nicer car, or bigger house. All of these ideals and morals implanted into their heads through being conditioned by school... but think about it... Who do you benefit by having a nicer car or a bigger house? Who do you benefit by working harder and slaving away just to get that bigger house? Of course you benefit yourself.. thats a given. But do you really need such opulence? Especially when there are people on this earth that have but a bite to eat. No.. such opulence is not necessary. Such waste is not necessary. Such splurging on material things is not necessary. You are benefiting the 1%.. you are benefiting those who want you to put in all that extra overtime, just so you make more money, so they can take our more taxes. "Oh but look at the amount of money, versus the taxes I make... that is nothing." Multiply that by millions upon millions. We. Are. Being. Farmed. What must we do? We must love unconditionally. Love our neighbors as much as our earth. We keep stealing bits and pieces of our beautiful planet. One can only take so much, until the holes and blemishes become apparent. We must start to repair all of the damage done. We must start to all enforce the movement and progression of our race, the human race. We all have to acknowledge the necessary shift in consciousness and accept that a change must be made. Also, you can never forget... that anything is possible. The only thing stopping you from doing something, is merely the act of actually doing it. Where there is a will, there is a way. If there isn't a way to do something, a way will be made. If there isn't a way to make it, then a way to figure out how to make it will come about.
TL;DR: Open your eyes.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Dead in heaven, or alive in hell?
poetry
is not about
eloquence.
its about
the
presence
of
essence.
then again,
what do
i
know?
if eloquence
were
a wall;
it would be
6 feet tall
and I
6 feet deep.
Now if only
there
were one more
6, to rouse up
all the
christian kids.
Id come back from
the grave and
spray paint
"FUCK YOUR gOD"
on that wall
and
then, probably
have to run
from the law.
Recede right
back
to that ol'
familiar crawl.
(you know it all too well)
And join the rest
of you:
fucking fleas,
blood sucking tics,
parasites.
Disease.
ShearedSheep.
Brainwashed with ease.
(you all know it too well
ZzZzz
I lay here.
Where we both have before.
I miss your presence,
your essence and scent,
And the way you present,
Yourself when coming in my door.
Honestly, I've always thought about life,
as being such a bore.
"Oh what a fucking chore, to get up and live some more..."
But now,
I'm able to get up,wakeup.
And, smile...
Because I have you?
Feelings like this are some sort of a lore.
Aren't they?
At least thats what we've been told.
Guess? I have been wrong?
All of this along.
All of this alone.
Never-more, Forever-more.
I lay here.
Where we both have before.
Waiting for
You.
But,
I'm falling
asleep..
wakeup.
Where we both have before.
I miss your presence,
your essence and scent,
And the way you present,
Yourself when coming in my door.
Honestly, I've always thought about life,
as being such a bore.
"Oh what a fucking chore, to get up and live some more..."
But now,
I'm able to get up,wakeup.
And, smile...
Because I have you?
Feelings like this are some sort of a lore.
Aren't they?
At least thats what we've been told.
Guess? I have been wrong?
All of this along.
All of this alone.
Never-more, Forever-more.
I lay here.
Where we both have before.
Waiting for
You.
But,
I'm falling
asleep..
wakeup.
lips, hips, and spilled drinks
Kindred spirits,
Lovedrunklove
I
Sip sip sip.
Until you're empty.
Consequently;
I'm at the brim...
Looks like,
Its your turn to sin.
cliches
My heart always springs
And s k i p s, , ,,,
rocks and beats,
When our hands meet.
I consistently
tend to find
my head,
Somewhere over
my cleats.
I'm running
after
you.
I cannot-willnot
be discrete,
It would be,
utterly obsolete!
But sometimes...
telling
you
Is such a feat...
So,
I write to express,
How much you mean to me.
I write to confess:
That:
I never want to be without you.
I write all this,
but not for you to read.
Because they say;
actions speak,
Louder than words.
So,
I'll simply loan
you a kiss,
And leave the interpretation
of my
obvious intentions,
to your
lips.
And s k i p s, , ,,,
rocks and beats,
When our hands meet.
I consistently
tend to find
my head,
Somewhere over
my cleats.
I'm running
after
you.
I cannot-willnot
be discrete,
It would be,
utterly obsolete!
But sometimes...
telling
you
Is such a feat...
So,
I write to express,
How much you mean to me.
I write to confess:
That:
I never want to be without you.
I write all this,
but not for you to read.
Because they say;
actions speak,
Louder than words.
So,
I'll simply loan
you a kiss,
And leave the interpretation
of my
obvious intentions,
to your
lips.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
wait for it... wait for it...
Always waiting for something.
It's always something.
Be it:
the bus, the cab, or the train.
a love, partner, or relationship.
material or not.
Always waiting.
For a:
chance, opportunity,
moment.
What the fuck is the point?
Make things happen.
It's always something.
Be it:
the bus, the cab, or the train.
a love, partner, or relationship.
material or not.
Always waiting.
For a:
chance, opportunity,
moment.
What the fuck is the point?
Make things happen.
Walk into the middle of the street.
Stop that yellowyellow Cabus.
Rip open,
the door.
Tell her you love her.
Tell her how she
x is the o
x only o
x one o
for
you.
And, that she could:
be your, life partner,
in a life long,
relationship.
You know.
The Usual.
Bullshit.
Take that chance.
Make that opportunity yours, and turn it into a moment you won't ever forget. Much like that one day...
Your first day of High school.
Running after the bus.
You'll never forget.
It sure didn't wait for you.
So,
So,
why wait for it?
Lose your train of thought?
Take the bus.
Miss the bus?
You better,
You better,
run after it..
Noise.
As I lay here,
I think.
Mute.
Life needs, a mute button.
For those,
Rallying cries of agony.
As the crowds gather,
For sunday mAss.
Those,
screeches of pain.
As the drones
March on by,
singlefile.
With nothing but
Empty debt, $$$
And their, ninetofive,
Mentality.
Those,
Childish howls.
Of innocent bliss.
As red
Suits
Are burnt.
And white beards
Put away.
Cries of desperation,
As,
Trucks crashing,
Over imperfections in,
asphalt,
asphalt,
being.
Created. Organized.
Molded.
Mute.
Life needs a mute button.
For all this,
Fucking
Noise.
shadows
I regret not closing the blinds.
The sun keeps getting in my eyes.
A story to remain untold.
H2O seeping into cushions
As if it owed the fabric payment.
For deeds done upon.
Refreshments.
SweatBloodTears.
All,
seeping in.
as if owed.
SECRETS;
disarranged and dismantled,
a disassociated disarray.
2Peasinapod.
Laying intertwined.
As if,
one in the same.
Moments,
quaintest of quaints.
As if,
Piloting a submarine.
Deep sea.
10,000 leagues,
Of, extraordinary gentlemen.
And they're all outside.
I regret not closing the blinds.
Tantalizing eyes,
Staring into
Untold secrets.
At least,
they're blocking out the sun.
The sun keeps getting in my eyes.
A story to remain untold.
H2O seeping into cushions
As if it owed the fabric payment.
For deeds done upon.
Refreshments.
SweatBloodTears.
All,
seeping in.
as if owed.
SECRETS;
disarranged and dismantled,
a disassociated disarray.
2Peasinapod.
Laying intertwined.
As if,
one in the same.
Moments,
quaintest of quaints.
As if,
Piloting a submarine.
Deep sea.
10,000 leagues,
Of, extraordinary gentlemen.
And they're all outside.
I regret not closing the blinds.
Tantalizing eyes,
Staring into
Untold secrets.
At least,
they're blocking out the sun.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
frequencies
there are so many words
to
describe
so
many things
every thing
is
a symbol
for something
every thing
has
its own purpose
even if that
purpose
is to have no purpose
but such things
do not exist
every thing
has
a
purpose
for if there
was no dust
gravity wouldnt
be
so
pulling
if there was no
grass
the winds
would
tempest
singly
if no people
the
rivers
of creation
would
run dry
beauty would
turn
monochromatic
in a wild,,
greenblue,
and
your
occassionalbrown,
earth.
we are
all
receptors
for these
symbols&signals
you
get out
what you
put in
everything
matters.
what if
i am
a
hopeless
romantic
in the sense
that
i have romantic
feelings
inspired by you
but in having
these
i feel hopeless
inspired by you
i guess:: every
coin
has a
second face.
you just
gotta
get
lucky,
every dog
has their
day.
and
people
people,
but
thats
just life.
careless
the road
behind me
has
had its
bouts
but the path
ahead?
oh the path
ahead
who knows
what it
might shroud
for anything can happen
of
that
there is
no doubt
so i walk
ahead
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