I sat confidentially, privately in the same spot where I had nourished my own arms by withholding her in them for so many nights, pondering the many paths I'd taken with her, the path that had one too many turns that had led to our demise. I retraveled the footsteps we'd taken, together and apart, the many years we'd spent in the same bed. The many smiles she'd sent me, the dinners we'd dined on, and the colloquies we'd shared. The night before she left me, I had slept so well, and when morning painted my bed, she was gone. Suddenly, at one night at moonlit season for slumber, I slept alone for the first time since her. The sheets we'd entangled ourselves up in so many nights, remained in their crisp ordnance, and slumber didn't come to me that night, or for many others. Chronologically speaking, exhaustion did subdue me, on an oft occasion, but rarely was it ever at a prime moment. I spent many nights in our bed, and very few in that bed, did I seek and successfully find rest.
The chariot that life raced on had long ago ceased carrying me, my years of this were long gone, and in so I had much time to ponder my thoughts, and dwell on the pains that haunted me, internally.
The ache that never ceased was civil, this night, and not one bit of me yearned for her more than another bit might've. I sat, my hands that were once filled with her smaller ones were clasped in themselves, withered and tired. I sat, my head retracing my steps. What was it that made her leave, that I had done. Certainly no one leaves a lover of their own accord, and we were never enlightened with visitors. There was something that remained unspoken, and in her intellect she managed to persuade me otherwise.
And as I pondered, the fire crackled, and the tips waved about, licking the brick and flinching away from it's musty taste. The way it swayed, so smoothly, brought me back to her, just like everything eventually did.
Everything brought me back to her, and nothing could ever bring her back to me.
The selfish audacity she had to have had to leave me here without a second glance just graced me with a touch of my old temper. How dare she promise me a life time, when by leaving me like this, mine seemed cut so short. It's not as if she warned me she was leaving, I suppose I was supposed to take note of her strange behavior on my own. Sneaking off in the middle of the night, while I lay peacefully in naive slumber. It happens more than we'd like to admit, with women of her stature, in all reality. I never would've guessed she'd leave me like that. Not a word, no parting kiss, no slam of our screen door as she made her way to the car, not a single inquery of advice from me. She had me fooled, this love of mine. I'd never guess that she'd lie to me the way she did.
In my frustrations, I'd clenched my hands so tightly that they began to ache, the same ache I felt inside me ribs when I found out she wasn't returning.
She never sent me anything from where she was, I have no idea where she might be now. She might've headed North, I assume that's where she went, or perhaps she's closer than that, just waiting for me to find her. That's blasphemous, I agree, but withered hearts must have hope. There's no doubt in my mind that she wouldn't have gone to the south, she was much too proper for that. She hated the very idea of it. As do we all, in some respect.
She never sent me anything, telling me she was waiting, or even if she still loved me. She never bothered to send me anything. Much too busy I suppose. Had I left her, before she left me, I'd send her anything to let her know how I felt. But I had no reason to leave! What was hers? What was going on in her tired mind that gave her reason to just go? Did she lose her love for me? Her faith in me? Did I change, or did something in her change, where she no longer was willing to keep up with the effort it took to love me, to live with me.
I was always under the influence that the man left the woman, unless the man hit her, then by all means she had every right to leave. But with her, there was no fight, there was no abuse, there was only cherishment, there was only routine, and love. The pain in her eyes was replaced by love, every time I sought it out.
And now I sit in this chair, where I held her so many times, and she drempt aloud with me, she dined with me in this room. What was it that I had done, that made her give in to that call, so easily? What went on behind those eyes I'd peered into so many times? What had I said to make her so frustrated that she couldn't even tell me she was going?
She just gave in. She gave up. Something had become too much for her, and after one more night, without one final parting kiss, she was gone.
Now, I wonder if she's waiting for me, or if in this unknown place she's found, that she's moved on. Because there is no pain, there, and if it's anything like what I'm drowning in, she'll never feel it.
And even now, everything brings me back to her, and nothing could ever bring her back to me.
This story was inspired by poetry written by Joe Trock. All my love and gratitude for his unknowingly inspirational thoughts.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Envy of the Solar Deity
She rises with jealousy,
so beautifully envious.
She reaches out and touches
the edges of the indigo fluff,
placed delicately in the sky
by the anonymous, mysterious artist's hands.
Her rosy fingertips brush over the tallest trees,
the smallest houses,
and the entire eastern sky.
She arches her back, and the valley walls are drenched
in gold paint.
Stretching each limb basks tree trunks and bushes in paints of yellow.
She climbs higher through the east,
and her arrogance glimpses
the grass,
brushing highlights on the dew.
She smiles,
(radiantly, of course)
And the parting of her lips
creates shadows of the unfortunate who lie in her wake.
The lush greens stretch in hopes of her warming caress.
She kisses her sky
and bathes everything in yellow
and gold.
Illuminating life below her with her jealousy.
so beautifully envious.
She reaches out and touches
the edges of the indigo fluff,
placed delicately in the sky
by the anonymous, mysterious artist's hands.
Her rosy fingertips brush over the tallest trees,
the smallest houses,
and the entire eastern sky.
She arches her back, and the valley walls are drenched
in gold paint.
Stretching each limb basks tree trunks and bushes in paints of yellow.
She climbs higher through the east,
and her arrogance glimpses
the grass,
brushing highlights on the dew.
She smiles,
(radiantly, of course)
And the parting of her lips
creates shadows of the unfortunate who lie in her wake.
The lush greens stretch in hopes of her warming caress.
She kisses her sky
and bathes everything in yellow
and gold.
Illuminating life below her with her jealousy.
Inspired by "The Ministers Black Veil" Nathan Hawthorne
The most beautiful masquerade
the most incredulous lie.
"This dismal mask must separate
me,
from the world."
The countenance portrayed
is not always the truth,
the intestinal heart exposed.
Individually,
matching the paint we wear.
Not only in the form of running mascara
or gloss on the lips
of the feminine,
but the painted smiles
on the masculine.
"It is but a mortal veil,
it is not with me for eternity."
Eventually the chemicals will fade:
At the end of the day,
and the end of our lives.
Moricians may place
our faces in a pleasant disposition
but deceit lasts for only so long.
We waken with none to forcibly bear our truths to,
physically - the phenotype.
Wee paint this mask for societal acceptance,
and acceptance of ourself.
This lie we dress in,
might convince us to
"never pass by a mirror
nor still water
lest it's peaceful bosom affrighten"
yourself by your appearance
denying and versus your emotions.
We wear the shameless beauty as an exoskeleton -
never to give a taste of the beauty inside.
Painted smiles are equivalent to, not a product of
lipstick.
But is mortal.
Your soul knows no mask.
Never dresses for your masquerades.
the most incredulous lie.
"This dismal mask must separate
me,
from the world."
The countenance portrayed
is not always the truth,
the intestinal heart exposed.
Individually,
matching the paint we wear.
Not only in the form of running mascara
or gloss on the lips
of the feminine,
but the painted smiles
on the masculine.
"It is but a mortal veil,
it is not with me for eternity."
Eventually the chemicals will fade:
At the end of the day,
and the end of our lives.
Moricians may place
our faces in a pleasant disposition
but deceit lasts for only so long.
We waken with none to forcibly bear our truths to,
physically - the phenotype.
Wee paint this mask for societal acceptance,
and acceptance of ourself.
This lie we dress in,
might convince us to
"never pass by a mirror
nor still water
lest it's peaceful bosom affrighten"
yourself by your appearance
denying and versus your emotions.
We wear the shameless beauty as an exoskeleton -
never to give a taste of the beauty inside.
Painted smiles are equivalent to, not a product of
lipstick.
But is mortal.
Your soul knows no mask.
Never dresses for your masquerades.
Among the People
Among those you walk with
are someone's pride and joy,
some one's true love,
some one's hero, an ambassador,
the next Van Goh, Da Vinci, and Poe.
Among the people with whom you walk,
strides some one who has loved,
lost,
gained,
some one who has lost all hope,
and some one who fears they have nothing left to live for,
and nothing to lose.
Among these are also
the underestimated.
The talented.
The royal.
The misunderstood.
The intelligent.
Some one with a hidden intellect,
the world may never comprehend.
A child who will one day discover
how to save Earth from her creations,
or the prophet who can change the way we see.
On any given day,
are any number of people,
walking down any given street.
People made of unimaginable,
honesty,
and destiny.
Who's walking beside you?
are someone's pride and joy,
some one's true love,
some one's hero, an ambassador,
the next Van Goh, Da Vinci, and Poe.
Among the people with whom you walk,
strides some one who has loved,
lost,
gained,
some one who has lost all hope,
and some one who fears they have nothing left to live for,
and nothing to lose.
Among these are also
the underestimated.
The talented.
The royal.
The misunderstood.
The intelligent.
Some one with a hidden intellect,
the world may never comprehend.
A child who will one day discover
how to save Earth from her creations,
or the prophet who can change the way we see.
On any given day,
are any number of people,
walking down any given street.
People made of unimaginable,
honesty,
and destiny.
Who's walking beside you?
Binary Soul Mates
A single light illuminates the nights,
one spot of white, lost in the darkness.
Amid the clouds it hides, covered in the untouchable.
Light, stolen by cloud-cover.
It fights the blue-end black,
striving to shine through this night.
A period at the end of the sentence -
as a beacon of hope it shines, a dot of this darkness ending.
It peaks through it's shrouds,
it's light is the only found.
One, battling for good, for sight.
When suddenly appears another,
just as bright as its' predecessor,
two: side-by-side struggle in strife,
fight the darkness,
and two stars illuminate the night.
one spot of white, lost in the darkness.
Amid the clouds it hides, covered in the untouchable.
Light, stolen by cloud-cover.
It fights the blue-end black,
striving to shine through this night.
A period at the end of the sentence -
as a beacon of hope it shines, a dot of this darkness ending.
It peaks through it's shrouds,
it's light is the only found.
One, battling for good, for sight.
When suddenly appears another,
just as bright as its' predecessor,
two: side-by-side struggle in strife,
fight the darkness,
and two stars illuminate the night.
The Womens' Shelter
The hardest of all hearts shatters with the most ease.
The one who gets nothing is easiest to please.
Take her hand and guide her through.
There's nothing as wonderous as this shade of blue.
No matter how far she runs, there isn't an escape.
The only thing that matters to them is her face's new shape.
With every glance that passes, the fire buns with greater heat.
Every day is a struggle, every conversation a new feat.
Years will pass, under the skin the bruises fade
But she'll recognize this bed she lays in, as one she has made.
No one will ever understand the reasons it happened
And every time, each smile is saddened.
There's nothing stronger than a woman who's made it through
All the heart ache and punches love conquers and subdues.
The one who gets nothing is easiest to please.
Take her hand and guide her through.
There's nothing as wonderous as this shade of blue.
No matter how far she runs, there isn't an escape.
The only thing that matters to them is her face's new shape.
With every glance that passes, the fire buns with greater heat.
Every day is a struggle, every conversation a new feat.
Years will pass, under the skin the bruises fade
But she'll recognize this bed she lays in, as one she has made.
No one will ever understand the reasons it happened
And every time, each smile is saddened.
There's nothing stronger than a woman who's made it through
All the heart ache and punches love conquers and subdues.
Interview Between the Dead and the Living
A spirit about life.
And death.
Versus.
Together.
In the absense of verbal emotion -
our ever-present accomodation,
I shook with this cadaver.
And in this interview
between the dead and the living,
the corpse shuddered
with overwhelming propriety.
Highest of all hopes of finding new intelligence
through inquery of the dead
and advice it has to offer.
The corpse shuddered.
The more arrogance exited,
the more knowledge I gained,
the less education
I felt had preceded.
The more the hands ticked by
the more the interrogation
of the dead
performed by the living
seemed reverse.
Perversely disected and observed
by Death, The Reaper and your god,
in the form of a cadaver.
A corpse that shudders.
And death.
Versus.
Together.
In the absense of verbal emotion -
our ever-present accomodation,
I shook with this cadaver.
And in this interview
between the dead and the living,
the corpse shuddered
with overwhelming propriety.
Highest of all hopes of finding new intelligence
through inquery of the dead
and advice it has to offer.
The corpse shuddered.
The more arrogance exited,
the more knowledge I gained,
the less education
I felt had preceded.
The more the hands ticked by
the more the interrogation
of the dead
performed by the living
seemed reverse.
Perversely disected and observed
by Death, The Reaper and your god,
in the form of a cadaver.
A corpse that shudders.
For Tyler: The Soldier
And in the quiet when all is calm
and nothing stirs but the light of eyes
with each breath they hold dear
you think of love
and beheld within the only arms you hold
you think of love.
And on the battlefield when nothing lay still
but the lifeless corpse of those who once loved
and you once loved
you think of love
and the soil holds him with arms so cold
so empty that you think of death
and the one with loss who loved that cadaver
you think of love.
And when the firing is at a standstill
and a call is recieved,
it's over,
you hold on to what you know now
and what you knew then.
Do you think of love?
What you knew and what you know are not alike
when worlds collide and soldiers fall
The ones who loved lose,
and those who lose no longer love.
People love
and people do not last forever.
Upon his face the taste of death corodes his paling lips
and in his arms he holds Nothing
and Nothing holds his cold hands.
And now the quiet sweeps over, and all is calm
and nothing stirs but the light of his eyes
with each breath he must hold dear
He thinks of love
and when he beheld his loves.
And all is calm and nothing stirs
as the light of his eyes fade,
and the love he had to give fades, too
and the love he recieves lives on.
and nothing stirs but the light of eyes
with each breath they hold dear
you think of love
and beheld within the only arms you hold
you think of love.
And on the battlefield when nothing lay still
but the lifeless corpse of those who once loved
and you once loved
you think of love
and the soil holds him with arms so cold
so empty that you think of death
and the one with loss who loved that cadaver
you think of love.
And when the firing is at a standstill
and a call is recieved,
it's over,
you hold on to what you know now
and what you knew then.
Do you think of love?
What you knew and what you know are not alike
when worlds collide and soldiers fall
The ones who loved lose,
and those who lose no longer love.
People love
and people do not last forever.
Upon his face the taste of death corodes his paling lips
and in his arms he holds Nothing
and Nothing holds his cold hands.
And now the quiet sweeps over, and all is calm
and nothing stirs but the light of his eyes
with each breath he must hold dear
He thinks of love
and when he beheld his loves.
And all is calm and nothing stirs
as the light of his eyes fade,
and the love he had to give fades, too
and the love he recieves lives on.
Dreams and Daylight
Disfigure ideality,
Determine what is real
and what is dream.
Decide between two worlds,
slumber and awake.
Reality comes shining through your daydreams
and has it's declines above all.
Dreams may be pleasant,
but are doomed to abrupt halt.
Daylight doth waken the slumbering,
but daylight, soon enough, ends again.
An andless cirlce,
'til death knocks a place
where slumber and wake
mean nothing,
and decisions dampen no doors.
Determine what is real
and what is dream.
Decide between two worlds,
slumber and awake.
Reality comes shining through your daydreams
and has it's declines above all.
Dreams may be pleasant,
but are doomed to abrupt halt.
Daylight doth waken the slumbering,
but daylight, soon enough, ends again.
An andless cirlce,
'til death knocks a place
where slumber and wake
mean nothing,
and decisions dampen no doors.
Insicion
Your time darkens my door
without my permission.
Leave your broken heart at home.
Show me your colors no more.
I don't care about your strife,
don't care about your aspirations.
Leave me to my troubles,
just get on with your life.
Your kisses taste like death to me,
Insicion on the table - slice, inspect, disect,
Formaldehyde.
Your kisses taste like death to me.
Just leave me,
with the time we had.
Not interested
in your walk through life.
Your embraces strangle me.
Your kisses taste like death to me,
Insicion on the table - slice, inspect, disect,
Formaldehyde.
Your kisses taste like death to me.
I guess I killed you
By taking back my time.
Promises were meant to be broken,
just like mine
if I had a heart,
I should've felt it's beating stop
when your kisses killed me.
without my permission.
Leave your broken heart at home.
Show me your colors no more.
I don't care about your strife,
don't care about your aspirations.
Leave me to my troubles,
just get on with your life.
Your kisses taste like death to me,
Insicion on the table - slice, inspect, disect,
Formaldehyde.
Your kisses taste like death to me.
Just leave me,
with the time we had.
Not interested
in your walk through life.
Your embraces strangle me.
Your kisses taste like death to me,
Insicion on the table - slice, inspect, disect,
Formaldehyde.
Your kisses taste like death to me.
I guess I killed you
By taking back my time.
Promises were meant to be broken,
just like mine
if I had a heart,
I should've felt it's beating stop
when your kisses killed me.
Remember November
Remember November?
It went by so fast
I can't see beyond the conclusions we've drawn
from time in the past.
Remember November, it went by so fast
that we barely had the time
to live in the relapse.
Remember November?
It went by so fast.
I can't recall who's name you were screaming
but I know the nightmares I had.
Remember November, it went by so fast.
Like welcoming the speedy dream
that comes so eagerly
after nightmare's task.
Remember November?
It went by so fast.
It took us less than thirty days
to get over something once unsurpassed.
Remember November, it went by so fast
that I never even noticed
if my heart seemed miscast.
Remember November?
It went by so fast,
I didn't even notice the absense
of emotions' regular lambaste.
Remember November?
It went by so fast,
that I didn't even notice the absense
of emotions' regular harrassed.
Remember November, it went by so fast
I didn't bother to hold you up
when you cried, begged, and pleaded.
I had my own unsteady easiness to cast.
Remember November?
It went by so fast.
It was all that you needed
To move on from our past.
Remember November.
It went by so fast.
The time was well spent without you
Opportunities are vast.
It went by so fast
I can't see beyond the conclusions we've drawn
from time in the past.
Remember November, it went by so fast
that we barely had the time
to live in the relapse.
Remember November?
It went by so fast.
I can't recall who's name you were screaming
but I know the nightmares I had.
Remember November, it went by so fast.
Like welcoming the speedy dream
that comes so eagerly
after nightmare's task.
Remember November?
It went by so fast.
It took us less than thirty days
to get over something once unsurpassed.
Remember November, it went by so fast
that I never even noticed
if my heart seemed miscast.
Remember November?
It went by so fast,
I didn't even notice the absense
of emotions' regular lambaste.
Remember November?
It went by so fast,
that I didn't even notice the absense
of emotions' regular harrassed.
Remember November, it went by so fast
I didn't bother to hold you up
when you cried, begged, and pleaded.
I had my own unsteady easiness to cast.
Remember November?
It went by so fast.
It was all that you needed
To move on from our past.
Remember November.
It went by so fast.
The time was well spent without you
Opportunities are vast.
Weeping Willow
Wallow weeping willow;
Wallow 'til day break.
Jewels will thrust morning upon you with dew and glares
You refuse to let it get to you,
as you dance within hatred's hands
Once the fire is aglow, the stars above will watch with tears in their eyes.
Unfortunately you will not be heard,
your whispers are useless
Hopefully you will not be rescued for the lack of roses you've killed
Your roots hold a secret, bind it and keep it safe from wanderers
Willow, you are in need of better stimulation
We beg of you, stop eating hearts.
Wallow 'til day break.
Jewels will thrust morning upon you with dew and glares
You refuse to let it get to you,
as you dance within hatred's hands
Once the fire is aglow, the stars above will watch with tears in their eyes.
Unfortunately you will not be heard,
your whispers are useless
Hopefully you will not be rescued for the lack of roses you've killed
Your roots hold a secret, bind it and keep it safe from wanderers
Willow, you are in need of better stimulation
We beg of you, stop eating hearts.
Heroes are Dancers
Touch your toes
Touch the sky,
Dance while
There's no music
No melody.
Heroes in a graceful pose
Neck, shoulder, fingers, toes.
Her feet float
carried by what moves her.
Subtle steps, poise - precise
So consuming.
An artist, sensitive
Demanding that every emotion
seep through her skin
to her body
to our soul.
What she carries on her shoulder,
She bears no weight now.
Through reckless transparency, opacity,
she stands in her glory
as the average corner of our existance
grows weaker, less glorified.
We catch glimpses of the sun,
of soul
of emotion,
as fluidly as she reaches hights
that not even stars dare to grasp.
Balancing, hurdling, leaping
from one emotion to the other
As we grasp for strength in just this one.
Carrying our weight upon a weightless grace
she carries us all
under cyclinical tensing
of muscular movements, we can't even see.
Heroes are dancers.
Grace among the blundering.
Martyers of the soul.
Inspired by my very own ballerinas. (:
Touch the sky,
Dance while
There's no music
No melody.
Heroes in a graceful pose
Neck, shoulder, fingers, toes.
Her feet float
carried by what moves her.
Subtle steps, poise - precise
So consuming.
An artist, sensitive
Demanding that every emotion
seep through her skin
to her body
to our soul.
What she carries on her shoulder,
She bears no weight now.
Through reckless transparency, opacity,
she stands in her glory
as the average corner of our existance
grows weaker, less glorified.
We catch glimpses of the sun,
of soul
of emotion,
as fluidly as she reaches hights
that not even stars dare to grasp.
Balancing, hurdling, leaping
from one emotion to the other
As we grasp for strength in just this one.
Carrying our weight upon a weightless grace
she carries us all
under cyclinical tensing
of muscular movements, we can't even see.
Heroes are dancers.
Grace among the blundering.
Martyers of the soul.
Inspired by my very own ballerinas. (:
Insanity and Happiness
Her only secrets splash gray around
Forming clouds; their tears disrupting life.
Alone is sadness-pleading to be found
Another soul running from life’s sharp knife.
Insanity - disconnected from her mind.
Can any one feel her deathly shaking?
If we continue, what are we to find?
What’s the purpose of this world we’re making?
Light slowly creeping over the horizon
Hope is arisen once more from her soul.
With the night gone, her horror has risen.
She sees the strength to rise from her black hole.
Not one corner will hide darkness or pain
Not one more cloud will cry a tear of rain
She sees the light, why no one else?
She knows its hope, it's warm embrace
Her mind has cracked, she knows not of her hells.
A sudden smile cracks upon her face,
happiness from once a crimson race.
With her secrets gone, the world is fading
She sees no need for old masquerading
Insanity - disconnected from her mind.
Can no one hear her deathly shaking?
She no longer knows horrors and night bind,
but that her smiles are no longer faking.
Forming clouds; their tears disrupting life.
Alone is sadness-pleading to be found
Another soul running from life’s sharp knife.
Insanity - disconnected from her mind.
Can any one feel her deathly shaking?
If we continue, what are we to find?
What’s the purpose of this world we’re making?
Light slowly creeping over the horizon
Hope is arisen once more from her soul.
With the night gone, her horror has risen.
She sees the strength to rise from her black hole.
Not one corner will hide darkness or pain
Not one more cloud will cry a tear of rain
She sees the light, why no one else?
She knows its hope, it's warm embrace
Her mind has cracked, she knows not of her hells.
A sudden smile cracks upon her face,
happiness from once a crimson race.
With her secrets gone, the world is fading
She sees no need for old masquerading
Insanity - disconnected from her mind.
Can no one hear her deathly shaking?
She no longer knows horrors and night bind,
but that her smiles are no longer faking.
The Last
You want one more
one more kiss
one more time
one more chance
one more LIE
Rip out this pain
The pointless naming is too much
the thorns are unbearable,
they burn at your touch.
I'm seeping out anger
seeking crimson trails
I won't give you that satisfaction
Because my pride prevails
I'll rip you to shreds
if that's what it takes
I'll take back my soul
and too many mistakes.
If we ever lock eyes,
you better be look away
I'm dominating here
My heart, my soul is mine, without fear.
I'm taking control
and unlocking my cages
I'm moving on past hate, jealousy
and stupid worthless stages
Back off from me
keep your distance, step back
I'll prove that I'm happy
Without your pointless attack
I won't let you get to me
I swear I'm not bitter
Feel free to hate
call me a liar, and a quitter.
I'm past your second chances
your begging and trials
I'm past the point of hatred
and petty denials.
I thought I stabbed you
clean, and quick
I thought I'd feel remorse,
but it's just a trick.
You use my mistakes against me,
Take another shot at my soul
you monster,
You'll find a gaping hole.
You consumed me,
you decieved me,
you killed me,
you captivate and bleed me.
You kept me in your grasp
To beat my mind senseless
To capture my soul
and murder it, confess
You hate me,
you have to
there's no way you could treat me like this
with any other feeling in the way.
You can't tell me you love me,
as you stab me again
you can't tell me you need me
and pound in the pain.
You can't tell me your sorrow
when you're pushing me off the edge
you can't tell me I'm happy
My tears are alleged.
I want one more
one last cry
one last scream
one last good bye.
one more kiss
one more time
one more chance
one more LIE
Rip out this pain
The pointless naming is too much
the thorns are unbearable,
they burn at your touch.
I'm seeping out anger
seeking crimson trails
I won't give you that satisfaction
Because my pride prevails
I'll rip you to shreds
if that's what it takes
I'll take back my soul
and too many mistakes.
If we ever lock eyes,
you better be look away
I'm dominating here
My heart, my soul is mine, without fear.
I'm taking control
and unlocking my cages
I'm moving on past hate, jealousy
and stupid worthless stages
Back off from me
keep your distance, step back
I'll prove that I'm happy
Without your pointless attack
I won't let you get to me
I swear I'm not bitter
Feel free to hate
call me a liar, and a quitter.
I'm past your second chances
your begging and trials
I'm past the point of hatred
and petty denials.
I thought I stabbed you
clean, and quick
I thought I'd feel remorse,
but it's just a trick.
You use my mistakes against me,
Take another shot at my soul
you monster,
You'll find a gaping hole.
You consumed me,
you decieved me,
you killed me,
you captivate and bleed me.
You kept me in your grasp
To beat my mind senseless
To capture my soul
and murder it, confess
You hate me,
you have to
there's no way you could treat me like this
with any other feeling in the way.
You can't tell me you love me,
as you stab me again
you can't tell me you need me
and pound in the pain.
You can't tell me your sorrow
when you're pushing me off the edge
you can't tell me I'm happy
My tears are alleged.
I want one more
one last cry
one last scream
one last good bye.
Above the Storm
Nothing is what it was.
Sky is down.
The clouds accumulate
below my feet.
The thunder keeps rolling,
trying to shake my soul.
I hear it, I feel it
bring cold to my bones.
The rain falls, up,
sticking to my toes,
dragging me down.
I dry my feet on sunshine
that pushes off the cloud.
The thunder rolls too far away,
a distant echo.
I won't let it get me
not again, not this time.
The sun will beam upon my face,
warm my bones, soak my skin, my soul.
I'd do anything to know
that I
always stand above the storm.
Sky is down.
The clouds accumulate
below my feet.
The thunder keeps rolling,
trying to shake my soul.
I hear it, I feel it
bring cold to my bones.
The rain falls, up,
sticking to my toes,
dragging me down.
I dry my feet on sunshine
that pushes off the cloud.
The thunder rolls too far away,
a distant echo.
I won't let it get me
not again, not this time.
The sun will beam upon my face,
warm my bones, soak my skin, my soul.
I'd do anything to know
that I
always stand above the storm.
And Very Close Friends
When you hope for something
and it turns out wrong
you'll find you knew it
all along.
When you depend on some one
any one, at all,
you'll find they left you,
up against a wall.
The only person you can depend on
is the person you know best
and least, is you,
so here's what I suggest.
Take your heart
and break it
before any one, ever
decides to take it.
Put faith in your self
and confidence in your body.
Judge no one by their face
or by varady.
For you can trust no one fully,
when you make the mistake
no one's there to pull you up
when you're so upset, your hands shake.
Take pride in your talents
place all trophies on a shelf
Take pride in your knowledge
and trust no one but yourself.
and it turns out wrong
you'll find you knew it
all along.
When you depend on some one
any one, at all,
you'll find they left you,
up against a wall.
The only person you can depend on
is the person you know best
and least, is you,
so here's what I suggest.
Take your heart
and break it
before any one, ever
decides to take it.
Put faith in your self
and confidence in your body.
Judge no one by their face
or by varady.
For you can trust no one fully,
when you make the mistake
no one's there to pull you up
when you're so upset, your hands shake.
Take pride in your talents
place all trophies on a shelf
Take pride in your knowledge
and trust no one but yourself.
She was Beautiful
Hands that feel as cold as porcelain,
flawless beauty.
Hair crackling like dry leaves,
perfect kisses that taste like cadavers,
rotting underground.
Teardrops fall like the ice and snow
that crash upon her grave.
She's beautiful.
Her heart stops beating,
her lungs not breathing
but the ache still lives on.
There's nothing as lovely
as the knife in her back,
reflective stainless steel.
The pain in her eyes,
remind her of the one she loved
before he killed her;
she was beautiful.
flawless beauty.
Hair crackling like dry leaves,
perfect kisses that taste like cadavers,
rotting underground.
Teardrops fall like the ice and snow
that crash upon her grave.
She's beautiful.
Her heart stops beating,
her lungs not breathing
but the ache still lives on.
There's nothing as lovely
as the knife in her back,
reflective stainless steel.
The pain in her eyes,
remind her of the one she loved
before he killed her;
she was beautiful.
Bear Me Peace
Times of trial pervade my spirit,
even after an inordinately vivacious hour,
When time reaches me of their palpable sadness.
Upon their countenance which oft bears a shade of
low cunning, boasted wisdom and profuse perplexity,
now an impromtus melancholy veil.
Times of trial pervade my spirit,
after attempts of distempered ideality, successed.
A happines so sulfureously strived.
A disease of settled apathy contains them,
and pricks me with emaciated hands,
once accompanied by my affection now
bear the hollow irons,
quickly manipulated by the right blade.
Times of trial pervade my spirit
even after successed happiness is evident.
They must
Cut their chains
Break the bonds,
Bear me peace,
Leave me free.
even after an inordinately vivacious hour,
When time reaches me of their palpable sadness.
Upon their countenance which oft bears a shade of
low cunning, boasted wisdom and profuse perplexity,
now an impromtus melancholy veil.
Times of trial pervade my spirit,
after attempts of distempered ideality, successed.
A happines so sulfureously strived.
A disease of settled apathy contains them,
and pricks me with emaciated hands,
once accompanied by my affection now
bear the hollow irons,
quickly manipulated by the right blade.
Times of trial pervade my spirit
even after successed happiness is evident.
They must
Cut their chains
Break the bonds,
Bear me peace,
Leave me free.
One Foot
I remember being small.
I remember my brother and sister were my best friends.
I remember when lego animals were talented works of art.
I remember blowing my first bubble, all alone on my back porch.
I remember how I thought having a crush on a boy made me grown up.
I remember standing in a corner, for hours on end.
Picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember long lectures, spit flying from her mouth.
I remember picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember being pushed down, after backtalking, sliding on the grass, and falling.
I remember picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember crawling behind furniture, to get away.
I remember getting away.
I remember picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember when I let myself fall,
and now I just have to remember how
to pick up one foot
and then the other.
I remember my brother and sister were my best friends.
I remember when lego animals were talented works of art.
I remember blowing my first bubble, all alone on my back porch.
I remember how I thought having a crush on a boy made me grown up.
I remember standing in a corner, for hours on end.
Picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember long lectures, spit flying from her mouth.
I remember picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember being pushed down, after backtalking, sliding on the grass, and falling.
I remember picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember crawling behind furniture, to get away.
I remember getting away.
I remember picking up one foot, and then the other.
I remember when I let myself fall,
and now I just have to remember how
to pick up one foot
and then the other.
The Butterflies
We all live our lives.
We slink along, waiting for something to change.
Then we become trapped.
Encased
in our misery.
We stay there, trapped, for ages.
Until the right ray of personality touches us,
just right.
And we burst free.
Hearts unfolded from their cages,
now flutter in delight.
In a wide array of colors,
unfold, flutter
smiles, bright.
Hearts once caged
inside themselves
find the sun
flutter
and take flight.
We slink along, waiting for something to change.
Then we become trapped.
Encased
in our misery.
We stay there, trapped, for ages.
Until the right ray of personality touches us,
just right.
And we burst free.
Hearts unfolded from their cages,
now flutter in delight.
In a wide array of colors,
unfold, flutter
smiles, bright.
Hearts once caged
inside themselves
find the sun
flutter
and take flight.
Precipice of Worlds
Stuck on shores of racing tides,
ahead lay crystal waters,
with skies clouded with probable storms; unseen.
But when the waters are at ease,
life passes, gently, caresses, harmonic, all is at peace.
If a hurricane barrels through,
somewhere, there is promise of calmer waters.
Sailing out and away from the angry sea, may, will
cause damage to the maiden,
the ship; but, elsewhere is calmer waters.
Should you, as captain, choose to ride out and fight
the stormy weather, eventually
storms do pass,
ship and sea will sail on, swim or sink,
together.
Behind you, what is closer,
you stand upon a sanded beach.
It lays calm, steady, reliable, never changing.
A constant.
But the sun rises, and sand heats quickly,
burning your toes.
Along the stretch of bay, all the sand is hot,
there is no relief, until
you step on shore, onto the sand, cooled and wet from the tide
of that beckoning sea.
The sea changes the edge of the shore,
rushing against it, then easing away,
leaving its familiar patterns,
erasing past footprints.
The sand calls for you, to lay with it.
Calm, forget anything else, just lay.
It is lonely, warm and bare from tourists.
No one knows it's beauty and serenity,
apart from you.
It belongs to you alone.
A comforting thought.
Should you choose this sandy haven,
and ever change your mind,
climbing, barefoot, up hot sands,
each step inclines, and your feet sink, slightly.
The sand is dragging you back,
begging.
Causing more effort to climb from its sandy clutch,
and it is easier, to just stay behind.
Attempt failed, effort forgotten.
So for now, take off your sandals.
Walk along the wetted sand, between worlds.
The sea may have a high tide, now and then,
and wash away your path,
but you won't be caught up in hurricanes,
and your feet are sweetly cool.
It may not be beautiful,
but perhaps it is best, for now,
to be indecisive.
ahead lay crystal waters,
with skies clouded with probable storms; unseen.
But when the waters are at ease,
life passes, gently, caresses, harmonic, all is at peace.
If a hurricane barrels through,
somewhere, there is promise of calmer waters.
Sailing out and away from the angry sea, may, will
cause damage to the maiden,
the ship; but, elsewhere is calmer waters.
Should you, as captain, choose to ride out and fight
the stormy weather, eventually
storms do pass,
ship and sea will sail on, swim or sink,
together.
Behind you, what is closer,
you stand upon a sanded beach.
It lays calm, steady, reliable, never changing.
A constant.
But the sun rises, and sand heats quickly,
burning your toes.
Along the stretch of bay, all the sand is hot,
there is no relief, until
you step on shore, onto the sand, cooled and wet from the tide
of that beckoning sea.
The sea changes the edge of the shore,
rushing against it, then easing away,
leaving its familiar patterns,
erasing past footprints.
The sand calls for you, to lay with it.
Calm, forget anything else, just lay.
It is lonely, warm and bare from tourists.
No one knows it's beauty and serenity,
apart from you.
It belongs to you alone.
A comforting thought.
Should you choose this sandy haven,
and ever change your mind,
climbing, barefoot, up hot sands,
each step inclines, and your feet sink, slightly.
The sand is dragging you back,
begging.
Causing more effort to climb from its sandy clutch,
and it is easier, to just stay behind.
Attempt failed, effort forgotten.
So for now, take off your sandals.
Walk along the wetted sand, between worlds.
The sea may have a high tide, now and then,
and wash away your path,
but you won't be caught up in hurricanes,
and your feet are sweetly cool.
It may not be beautiful,
but perhaps it is best, for now,
to be indecisive.
I am the Monster
I am the monster.
Infecting all those I touch.
I'll break you
or save you.
The monster in your nightmares
I am the monster
that just won’t die.
I know how you would
just love to hate me.
Love to break me.
Twisted and sick
we both lie in wait
one to strike
and the other to die.
I won't die.
I won't quit.
I'll haunt your nightmares.
I'll shake up your world.
Cause incessant insanity.
Infecting you with doubt
about everything you know.
I am the monster
that just won't die.
Infecting all those I touch.
I'll break you
or save you.
The monster in your nightmares
I am the monster
that just won’t die.
I know how you would
just love to hate me.
Love to break me.
Twisted and sick
we both lie in wait
one to strike
and the other to die.
I won't die.
I won't quit.
I'll haunt your nightmares.
I'll shake up your world.
Cause incessant insanity.
Infecting you with doubt
about everything you know.
I am the monster
that just won't die.
My Artist
Pencil in hand
he creates our future
in broad strokes.
An abstract image in mind,
he designs our bedsheets
with each touch.
Lead to paper
each hush of the lines
is him saying "I love you"
too much.
One design on white
are his eyes meeting mine
each morning.
His palm resting briefly
on the page, to gather ideas
is every embrace I'll live
in his arms.
Fingers aching for a pencil
are each moment he'll never have
to miss me.
Every turn of his page
to reach a blank canvas
is me reminding him
"I love you, too."
he creates our future
in broad strokes.
An abstract image in mind,
he designs our bedsheets
with each touch.
Lead to paper
each hush of the lines
is him saying "I love you"
too much.
One design on white
are his eyes meeting mine
each morning.
His palm resting briefly
on the page, to gather ideas
is every embrace I'll live
in his arms.
Fingers aching for a pencil
are each moment he'll never have
to miss me.
Every turn of his page
to reach a blank canvas
is me reminding him
"I love you, too."
Vincent Van Gogh
Pinned by worry.
Squirming under the weight of doubt.
Guilt.
Fear.
The walls remain white.
Mona Lisa smiles.
Squirming under the weight of doubt.
Guilt.
Fear.
The walls remain white.
Mona Lisa smiles.
Stars Cry
July 20th, 2009
Fade and glimmer, shining lights
soundless as peace.
Wishes falling down
Silent tears and screaming fears
white and omnipresent is hope
Music without rythm
Eternal insignia
Seemingly still
Colliding dark, with light
Yin and Yang
Billions represent one
Peace and anger
Opposites attract.
Never ceases
sky of tears
moon crying.
Rain.
Rain.
Crying moon
Tears of sky
ceases, never.
Attract opposites,
anger and peace
one represent billions
yang and yin.
Light and dark colliding
Still, seemingly
insignia eternal
rythm without music
Hope is omnipresent and white.
Fears screaming, and tears silent.
Down falling whishes
Peace as soundless
Lights shinging, glimmer and fade.
Fade and glimmer, shining lights
soundless as peace.
Wishes falling down
Silent tears and screaming fears
white and omnipresent is hope
Music without rythm
Eternal insignia
Seemingly still
Colliding dark, with light
Yin and Yang
Billions represent one
Peace and anger
Opposites attract.
Never ceases
sky of tears
moon crying.
Rain.
Rain.
Crying moon
Tears of sky
ceases, never.
Attract opposites,
anger and peace
one represent billions
yang and yin.
Light and dark colliding
Still, seemingly
insignia eternal
rythm without music
Hope is omnipresent and white.
Fears screaming, and tears silent.
Down falling whishes
Peace as soundless
Lights shinging, glimmer and fade.
Crush Me
A hand ever so sweetly
wraps me in warmth:
an immediate embrace.
A smile ever so brightly
basks me in light:
and I'm covered in compassion.
A glance ever so swiftly
runs goosebumps down my arms
and shivers down my spine.
A word, spoken ever so softly
crushes me with hope
and envelopes me in ecstasy.
wraps me in warmth:
an immediate embrace.
A smile ever so brightly
basks me in light:
and I'm covered in compassion.
A glance ever so swiftly
runs goosebumps down my arms
and shivers down my spine.
A word, spoken ever so softly
crushes me with hope
and envelopes me in ecstasy.
Earth's Soul
Earth has a Soul
Winds blow
a child giggles
grasses rustle.
tree leaves hush
when it stops.
Birds caw,
hidden, unseen
singing to
the unsteady rythm
the soft beat
of tiny feet
hitting compacted dirt.
Imprints left on the soil
barely disturbing
some tiny creature.
And the wind picks up
smiles remain
grasses rustle and stain.
Leaves fall, drifting
slowly. A whirl
of earthen color
slipping through, around
the earth's unseen soul
that whispers through the branches,
messes with your hair,
calls out to you at night, and
softly settles, nestles beside
toes
imprinted on the dampened moist soil.
barely disturbing a tiny
unseen
microscopic creature.
Winds blow
a child giggles
grasses rustle.
tree leaves hush
when it stops.
Birds caw,
hidden, unseen
singing to
the unsteady rythm
the soft beat
of tiny feet
hitting compacted dirt.
Imprints left on the soil
barely disturbing
some tiny creature.
And the wind picks up
smiles remain
grasses rustle and stain.
Leaves fall, drifting
slowly. A whirl
of earthen color
slipping through, around
the earth's unseen soul
that whispers through the branches,
messes with your hair,
calls out to you at night, and
softly settles, nestles beside
toes
imprinted on the dampened moist soil.
barely disturbing a tiny
unseen
microscopic creature.
Little Girls Grow Up into Little Women
We all want to be perfect, from ages as young as we remember. We go from wanting to be a princess, wanting to please our parents, to knowing that we can't please anyone, and then we move wanting to show the world how miserable we really are.
Because that's what we see, everywhere.
Today, I've seen little girls calling themselves nimphomaniacs, do they even know what it means?
How far have they even gone? With some one who didn't know what they were doing, or what it feels like, or how life changing things can be?
Little girls want to be JUST like their moms. They see their mommy smoking a cigarette. That smell becomes familiar on their breath, the smoke fills their lungs, and as long as they're near their mom, they don't mind. They might want their mom to stop smoking, so that the mom can live longer, but they never think about it fully.
Smoking is bad for you. We all know that. Even a parent coughing can be a comforting sound, because you've grown up with it, and you know they're close by.
I know this from experience.
They see their sisters, mothers, aunts, cousins, wearing makeup, like it's a right of passage. They think it makes them grown up, and beautiful. Why can't we accept what we look like without dressing it up?
Dressing as scantily as they can possibly get away with, telling every one how 'hardcore' they are, and how much sex they're having. What do they think 'hardcore' means? What does sex mean to them? Why does it appeal to them? Because that makes them grown up, because those of us who appear grown up are doing it.
We think that teens make the fashion trends, then follow it, but that's not how I see it.
They see the older girls, or even boys, chasing eachother, and they want to be it. They want everything that's supposed to come with time.
Sometimes, they push it too far, or some one takes it to the next step, when they're not ready. Then something terrible happens. Some one they trust ruins them. What they're supposed to have in time comes in when they're not ready.
I know that part from experience.
Little girls see things, and take them into account.
They think that it makes them fit in, which means to stand out. All it does is steal their identity, which at this point in time they haven't even found yet.
They think bikinis are what makes a girl beautiful, because older girls feel beautiful if they fit into one. How many times she's had a different boyfriend, how much skin is showing, because society tells them they're pretty.
They think that thin is what's beautiful because when we're thin we feel beautiful. And that thought grows and grows until it's a fear that they aren't thin enough, that they'll never have that boy, that they're not cool enough, unless they're having sex, or acting like it.
They're not cool enough, unless they're posting pictures of drugs on their myspaces, facebooks.
Why can't we just grow up with out the stereotyping, without that fear, without the sense of judgement, and without knowing that perfect doesn't exist?
Because that's what we see, everywhere.
Today, I've seen little girls calling themselves nimphomaniacs, do they even know what it means?
How far have they even gone? With some one who didn't know what they were doing, or what it feels like, or how life changing things can be?
Little girls want to be JUST like their moms. They see their mommy smoking a cigarette. That smell becomes familiar on their breath, the smoke fills their lungs, and as long as they're near their mom, they don't mind. They might want their mom to stop smoking, so that the mom can live longer, but they never think about it fully.
Smoking is bad for you. We all know that. Even a parent coughing can be a comforting sound, because you've grown up with it, and you know they're close by.
I know this from experience.
They see their sisters, mothers, aunts, cousins, wearing makeup, like it's a right of passage. They think it makes them grown up, and beautiful. Why can't we accept what we look like without dressing it up?
Dressing as scantily as they can possibly get away with, telling every one how 'hardcore' they are, and how much sex they're having. What do they think 'hardcore' means? What does sex mean to them? Why does it appeal to them? Because that makes them grown up, because those of us who appear grown up are doing it.
We think that teens make the fashion trends, then follow it, but that's not how I see it.
They see the older girls, or even boys, chasing eachother, and they want to be it. They want everything that's supposed to come with time.
Sometimes, they push it too far, or some one takes it to the next step, when they're not ready. Then something terrible happens. Some one they trust ruins them. What they're supposed to have in time comes in when they're not ready.
I know that part from experience.
Little girls see things, and take them into account.
They think that it makes them fit in, which means to stand out. All it does is steal their identity, which at this point in time they haven't even found yet.
They think bikinis are what makes a girl beautiful, because older girls feel beautiful if they fit into one. How many times she's had a different boyfriend, how much skin is showing, because society tells them they're pretty.
They think that thin is what's beautiful because when we're thin we feel beautiful. And that thought grows and grows until it's a fear that they aren't thin enough, that they'll never have that boy, that they're not cool enough, unless they're having sex, or acting like it.
They're not cool enough, unless they're posting pictures of drugs on their myspaces, facebooks.
Why can't we just grow up with out the stereotyping, without that fear, without the sense of judgement, and without knowing that perfect doesn't exist?
This Will Be My Epitaph
EPITAPH
»an inscription on a tombstone or monument in memory of the person buried there
»a summary statement of commemoration for a dead person
Each day I die to you.
You go home, I go home. We forget that the other exists.
So I make it now, my personal goal to make each day, the last day of my life, to you.
I have few talents, and none of them are commemorable. None of them stand out, I'm better than very few, and worse than very many.
So I blog, when I can't find my talents. When my fingers ache to draw, but I don't have the correct materials, I either write about my vision of the world, or I make my corrupted thoughts into mediocre poetry.
I take pride in most of my word works. I try to put messages we can all use in them, like an artist paints his canvas, with a message in mind, but each person who sees it, understands and sees it differently; some of you may find reasoning that I didn't even notice.
But those of you who actually READ these works, are the ones who don't need to.
The ones who feel encouraged to read the words of others, are the ones who are already wise. Those who find that their own agenda is more important than anything any one else has to say, are those I pity, because I see them as fools.
There are sayings, about how important our own agenda is, to our own person. And to me, there is very little that is more important than what I am doing at that moment.
But if I find that the person is worth listening to, I make it a habit to listen in earnest to what they might have to say.
So that is what I will do, and what I hope most of you will see from me. Hopefully, some one new has read this.
And they might feel the same way.
Passing on emotions, that society didn't teach you.
This will be my epitaph.
»an inscription on a tombstone or monument in memory of the person buried there
»a summary statement of commemoration for a dead person
Each day I die to you.
You go home, I go home. We forget that the other exists.
So I make it now, my personal goal to make each day, the last day of my life, to you.
I have few talents, and none of them are commemorable. None of them stand out, I'm better than very few, and worse than very many.
So I blog, when I can't find my talents. When my fingers ache to draw, but I don't have the correct materials, I either write about my vision of the world, or I make my corrupted thoughts into mediocre poetry.
I take pride in most of my word works. I try to put messages we can all use in them, like an artist paints his canvas, with a message in mind, but each person who sees it, understands and sees it differently; some of you may find reasoning that I didn't even notice.
But those of you who actually READ these works, are the ones who don't need to.
The ones who feel encouraged to read the words of others, are the ones who are already wise. Those who find that their own agenda is more important than anything any one else has to say, are those I pity, because I see them as fools.
There are sayings, about how important our own agenda is, to our own person. And to me, there is very little that is more important than what I am doing at that moment.
But if I find that the person is worth listening to, I make it a habit to listen in earnest to what they might have to say.
So that is what I will do, and what I hope most of you will see from me. Hopefully, some one new has read this.
And they might feel the same way.
Passing on emotions, that society didn't teach you.
This will be my epitaph.
Actions and Purpose
Speak the truth
even if your voice shakes.
Because in a world
where
Courage makes us weak
and silence makes us strong
Our thoughts will never speak louder than words
and words will never be heard
unless followed by actions.
And actions have no purpose,
if they didn't have a purpose behind them
even if your voice shakes.
Because in a world
where
Courage makes us weak
and silence makes us strong
Our thoughts will never speak louder than words
and words will never be heard
unless followed by actions.
And actions have no purpose,
if they didn't have a purpose behind them
Siren's Call
A rotting corpse
moves across the sand
with ivory legs
and graceful hands.
The voice that echoes
across the sea
is a voice that calls
to men on land.
She floats on air
and steps on wings.
When they come flocking
the smell of death clings.
She calls to them sweetly
and they catch hints of lust,
while a siren sings:
a woman of dust.
moves across the sand
with ivory legs
and graceful hands.
The voice that echoes
across the sea
is a voice that calls
to men on land.
She floats on air
and steps on wings.
When they come flocking
the smell of death clings.
She calls to them sweetly
and they catch hints of lust,
while a siren sings:
a woman of dust.
This Woman
This woman
means more to the world
than you ever will.
This woman
has done greater things
than any leader ever could.
This woman
has more knowledge
than 100 of God's wisest men.
This woman
has been more brave
than any ancient warrior.
This woman
has managed more emotional valleys
than I would wish upon an enemy.
This woman
deserves more
than anything you could offer.
This woman
will rise up
against any threat you might make.
This woman
can prove herself worthy
because you're not worthy of her.
This woman
is none other
than an icon.
And yet,
This woman
is blind
enough to not see any of this.
means more to the world
than you ever will.
This woman
has done greater things
than any leader ever could.
This woman
has more knowledge
than 100 of God's wisest men.
This woman
has been more brave
than any ancient warrior.
This woman
has managed more emotional valleys
than I would wish upon an enemy.
This woman
deserves more
than anything you could offer.
This woman
will rise up
against any threat you might make.
This woman
can prove herself worthy
because you're not worthy of her.
This woman
is none other
than an icon.
And yet,
This woman
is blind
enough to not see any of this.
Beauty from Sorrow
August 14th, 2009
Fingers slide on steel strings
the noise drowning everything.
Only one person in a crowded room
underneath calloused hands, true beauty blooms.
A melody explodes from steel
blocking out everything surreal.
The harmonies provide a soothing scene
creating from chaos, calm and serene.
One voice climbs above the din
low and thick, then high and thin.
A mouth wide open, harboring peace
the song itself, a sweet release
for anyone near to hear it's sound.
In the midst of war, love is found.
The notes float, slide, waver, soar,
collide then mesh on the echoing floor.
The sound of strings find the sound of voice,
they meet, mesh, interlace and two sounds rejoice.
Finding their soulmate at long last
they glide together to forget their somber, lonely past.
8:57 PM
Fingers slide on steel strings
the noise drowning everything.
Only one person in a crowded room
underneath calloused hands, true beauty blooms.
A melody explodes from steel
blocking out everything surreal.
The harmonies provide a soothing scene
creating from chaos, calm and serene.
One voice climbs above the din
low and thick, then high and thin.
A mouth wide open, harboring peace
the song itself, a sweet release
for anyone near to hear it's sound.
In the midst of war, love is found.
The notes float, slide, waver, soar,
collide then mesh on the echoing floor.
The sound of strings find the sound of voice,
they meet, mesh, interlace and two sounds rejoice.
Finding their soulmate at long last
they glide together to forget their somber, lonely past.
8:57 PM
Flying is like Falling
September 30, 2009 - Wednesday
Flying is like falling. Just throw yourself at the ground
...and miss.
Cry out
I'm calling.
Desperate
I'm falling.
Who said
Falling feels like
flying? And
who said
being alone
was for the best,
When being with you
is all I'm craving?
Loneliness is pain
and some people crave it
like a drug.
Desperate they're calling
envious of my
falling.
9:09 PM
Flying is like falling. Just throw yourself at the ground
...and miss.
Cry out
I'm calling.
Desperate
I'm falling.
Who said
Falling feels like
flying? And
who said
being alone
was for the best,
When being with you
is all I'm craving?
Loneliness is pain
and some people crave it
like a drug.
Desperate they're calling
envious of my
falling.
9:09 PM
For Cynthia: Our Flame
July 14, 2009 - Tuesday
Times pass and people change
I thought we'd always be the same.
Things can happen
and problems grow old.
I thought our hearts were made of gold.
Irritations grow
and hearts bicker.
The flame of our friendship flickers.
I'm standing my ground
I know I'm not going back,
I love you, but it's been cracked.
I know where you come from,
You'll always have a place in my heart
I know what plagues you, and where you start.
I know what makes you ache,
and what can make you smile
To help you, I'd still run for miles.
I still care about you,
I know you care about me
but it looks like we just aren't meant to be.
Maybe one day, we'll start anew
if you'll forgive me,
and I can forgive you.
But right now, my pride is hurt
I thought you knew me better
We should've moved past my scarlet letter.
I know what you say,
and I know what you see
But I'm going to live my life, and live it for me.
That means taking chances,
and that means getting hurt.
For once I'm going to see if I get knocked in the dirt.
I only have one life
So, I don't care if you're right,
I want to live my life, and I'll live it with a fight.
Blame me for the end of us,
hurt me with your words
Continue this pointless lie,
and let our flame simmer,
flicker
die.
Times pass and people change
I thought we'd always be the same.
Things can happen
and problems grow old.
I thought our hearts were made of gold.
Irritations grow
and hearts bicker.
The flame of our friendship flickers.
I'm standing my ground
I know I'm not going back,
I love you, but it's been cracked.
I know where you come from,
You'll always have a place in my heart
I know what plagues you, and where you start.
I know what makes you ache,
and what can make you smile
To help you, I'd still run for miles.
I still care about you,
I know you care about me
but it looks like we just aren't meant to be.
Maybe one day, we'll start anew
if you'll forgive me,
and I can forgive you.
But right now, my pride is hurt
I thought you knew me better
We should've moved past my scarlet letter.
I know what you say,
and I know what you see
But I'm going to live my life, and live it for me.
That means taking chances,
and that means getting hurt.
For once I'm going to see if I get knocked in the dirt.
I only have one life
So, I don't care if you're right,
I want to live my life, and I'll live it with a fight.
Blame me for the end of us,
hurt me with your words
Continue this pointless lie,
and let our flame simmer,
flicker
die.
Suit Yourself
September 18, 2009 - Friday
Tell me you know everything.
That I'm stupid,
and I lie.
Break my into soul,
again.
Brainwash me into submission.
Tell me that I'm terrible,
ugly, stupid, mean.
Tell me why you hate me
and this time
make me believe it.
Tear me to pieces
pick me apart.
Leave traces and scabs on my mind
and tears on my face.
Rip my opinions to shreds.
Open my heart, my mind, read what I haven't said.
There's so much there, that you'll never find.
Tell me you love me, lie to me a little more.
Tell me what society thinks.
brainwash me, scrub me of my sins.
they're still there, as scars and memories.
Tell me that I'm pitiful,
pathetic, deplorable, and stressing.
Society doesn't know me,
the public doesn't see.
If I can't figure out who I am,
then no one needs to know.
But being poignant and wretched
suits me just fine.
Tell me you know everything.
That I'm stupid,
and I lie.
Break my into soul,
again.
Brainwash me into submission.
Tell me that I'm terrible,
ugly, stupid, mean.
Tell me why you hate me
and this time
make me believe it.
Tear me to pieces
pick me apart.
Leave traces and scabs on my mind
and tears on my face.
Rip my opinions to shreds.
Open my heart, my mind, read what I haven't said.
There's so much there, that you'll never find.
Tell me you love me, lie to me a little more.
Tell me what society thinks.
brainwash me, scrub me of my sins.
they're still there, as scars and memories.
Tell me that I'm pitiful,
pathetic, deplorable, and stressing.
Society doesn't know me,
the public doesn't see.
If I can't figure out who I am,
then no one needs to know.
But being poignant and wretched
suits me just fine.
The Parade
May 24, 2009 - Sunday
The rain has finally fallen
The drops of sweet relief.
They march in my parade.
The skies are finally cloudy
and I can inhale again.
Can you hear them singing, as they fall onto the ground?
I can and hear them screaming,
Calling to us now.
They tell us how to leave our lives, the ones we've mangled and destroyed,
and how to live in peace and love
and march in their parade.
This is the new dawn for me.
This is a brand new page.
There is no wind within my reach, but I can feel the winds of change.
I remember now, the nightmares keep my lights on bright
but maybe for the raindrops sake,
I'll at least dim them tonight.
With another few last words ringing in my ears
and the fact that dad's arm around me was the same as all those years
Except this time I didnt cry when he left.
I have no more expectations.
He'll come again, when he needs me, but not before.
Maybe it's the raindrops echoing of his knuckles on my door.
Maybe they're just matching harmonics to the beating of my heart.
Irregular and heavy
it moves me to the soul.
I wonder if yours matches mine too,
and if you're willing to take the toll.
If you say you are, and if you say you're ready,
then believe me when I say the rain is marching to my parade,
for your heart too.
And together, our irregular is steady.
12:20 AM
The rain has finally fallen
The drops of sweet relief.
They march in my parade.
The skies are finally cloudy
and I can inhale again.
Can you hear them singing, as they fall onto the ground?
I can and hear them screaming,
Calling to us now.
They tell us how to leave our lives, the ones we've mangled and destroyed,
and how to live in peace and love
and march in their parade.
This is the new dawn for me.
This is a brand new page.
There is no wind within my reach, but I can feel the winds of change.
I remember now, the nightmares keep my lights on bright
but maybe for the raindrops sake,
I'll at least dim them tonight.
With another few last words ringing in my ears
and the fact that dad's arm around me was the same as all those years
Except this time I didnt cry when he left.
I have no more expectations.
He'll come again, when he needs me, but not before.
Maybe it's the raindrops echoing of his knuckles on my door.
Maybe they're just matching harmonics to the beating of my heart.
Irregular and heavy
it moves me to the soul.
I wonder if yours matches mine too,
and if you're willing to take the toll.
If you say you are, and if you say you're ready,
then believe me when I say the rain is marching to my parade,
for your heart too.
And together, our irregular is steady.
12:20 AM
Sing with Me
When things are backwards
and everything is wrong
take my hand
and watch the skies.
Take a breath
and relive the surprise.
The sun will shine again.
The clouds will render you speechless.
Revel in the beauty of how green the grass is
and how far away the stars.
When the moon is singing and you can't find the tune.
When you can't think of the words to say
and everyone else can't seem to quiet down.
Just know we hear you.
And the rivers flow,
each day has it's routine
but none of it is the same.
Your heart beat changes moment to moment
and your breathing is shallow.
The things you depend on can disprove themselves
and the people you never trusted won't.
Everything is backwards
and everything seems wrong.
It's really just another day,
where nothing is the same.
11:45 AM
and everything is wrong
take my hand
and watch the skies.
Take a breath
and relive the surprise.
The sun will shine again.
The clouds will render you speechless.
Revel in the beauty of how green the grass is
and how far away the stars.
When the moon is singing and you can't find the tune.
When you can't think of the words to say
and everyone else can't seem to quiet down.
Just know we hear you.
And the rivers flow,
each day has it's routine
but none of it is the same.
Your heart beat changes moment to moment
and your breathing is shallow.
The things you depend on can disprove themselves
and the people you never trusted won't.
Everything is backwards
and everything seems wrong.
It's really just another day,
where nothing is the same.
11:45 AM
Bones
May 2, 2009 - Saturday
And in this quiet darkness
I am not alone,
I know that you can't hear me
but I feel you in my bones.
Without you there isn't a word, silence just remains.
And in the rain that's falling
I know you feel my pain.
So, with these words you'll hear me,
and in my voice you'll know,
that in this rainy season
and when the cold wind blows
I am here,
and you are not alone.
For when the voice of treason,
calls to you, and blames my name
know that I'm not going,
because this is not a game.
I'm in it for a lifetime,
and I'll keep my chains.
Instead of cold and metal
I feel your warmth envelope me,
and nothing is the same.
When life is on the warpath
I'll heed your battlecry,
if you'll ask the questions
and listen, so will I.
When it appears that I'm alone
I just listen.
And I can feel you in my bones.
9:48 PM
And in this quiet darkness
I am not alone,
I know that you can't hear me
but I feel you in my bones.
Without you there isn't a word, silence just remains.
And in the rain that's falling
I know you feel my pain.
So, with these words you'll hear me,
and in my voice you'll know,
that in this rainy season
and when the cold wind blows
I am here,
and you are not alone.
For when the voice of treason,
calls to you, and blames my name
know that I'm not going,
because this is not a game.
I'm in it for a lifetime,
and I'll keep my chains.
Instead of cold and metal
I feel your warmth envelope me,
and nothing is the same.
When life is on the warpath
I'll heed your battlecry,
if you'll ask the questions
and listen, so will I.
When it appears that I'm alone
I just listen.
And I can feel you in my bones.
9:48 PM
The Actor
If all the world’s a stage,
I fell off and broke my heart.
If we all just take on roles,
I’m not meant to play the part.
If our words are only lines,
then where’s reality?
When do we show our colors and signs?
If we all just act as random parts,
is there true variety?
If our clothing’s just costumes,
then my heart’s not on my sleeve.
If no one really matters,
then there’s nothing to believe.
If all is written down in script,
I just forgot my line.
When my thoughts belong to someone else,
what is left as mine?
I fell off and broke my heart.
If we all just take on roles,
I’m not meant to play the part.
If our words are only lines,
then where’s reality?
When do we show our colors and signs?
If we all just act as random parts,
is there true variety?
If our clothing’s just costumes,
then my heart’s not on my sleeve.
If no one really matters,
then there’s nothing to believe.
If all is written down in script,
I just forgot my line.
When my thoughts belong to someone else,
what is left as mine?
A Reiteration
I called out for you
and you let me fall
Again And again.
And when you came to pick me back up
I took you in
AgainAnd again.
When I'd had enough
you convinced me
Again and again
That we'd make it.
That I was wrong.
Again and again.
I wasn't wrong.
I had feelings that you shoved aside.
Again and again.
And when it came down to me,
when I decided MY choice was important,
You held on
And I let go.
And this time,
there is no 'again.'
and you let me fall
Again And again.
And when you came to pick me back up
I took you in
AgainAnd again.
When I'd had enough
you convinced me
Again and again
That we'd make it.
That I was wrong.
Again and again.
I wasn't wrong.
I had feelings that you shoved aside.
Again and again.
And when it came down to me,
when I decided MY choice was important,
You held on
And I let go.
And this time,
there is no 'again.'
The Journey
They say "it’s all about the journey,"
I used to disagree.
Because I loved the destination.
But now I start to see
that when I finally get there,
I think about the times
when we outsang the radio
and thought we sounded fine.
The times we took a stop to stretch our legs, get sick, or were blinded from sunlight.
Because space is limited with a ruptured family,
yeah it can get pretty tight.
We all took the hours to close our eyes and grab a nap
or listen to whoever drives get lost and blame the others and the map.
I loved it in the car when we’re all having fun,
So how I hate when we arrive and all of that is done.
When we remember that touching arms is too close,
and that we can only handle one another in a small dose.
So Destination, here we are, but not as a family.
And as for me,
I agree,
it’s the journey.
I used to disagree.
Because I loved the destination.
But now I start to see
that when I finally get there,
I think about the times
when we outsang the radio
and thought we sounded fine.
The times we took a stop to stretch our legs, get sick, or were blinded from sunlight.
Because space is limited with a ruptured family,
yeah it can get pretty tight.
We all took the hours to close our eyes and grab a nap
or listen to whoever drives get lost and blame the others and the map.
I loved it in the car when we’re all having fun,
So how I hate when we arrive and all of that is done.
When we remember that touching arms is too close,
and that we can only handle one another in a small dose.
So Destination, here we are, but not as a family.
And as for me,
I agree,
it’s the journey.
Pent up Mistakes
Hurt me for all the times you've been hurt,
stab me for every second your heart bled.
Inflict upon me all your anger and rage,
tear me apart:
piece by piece to a single shred.
Yell at me at the top of your lungs,
say everything you've ever wanted to say,
push me down and kick me endlessly,
trust me; it'lll take the pain away.
Push me to the very edge of my life,
take out every bit of emotion you've faked.
You deserve better than any one has offered.
Punish me for all their heartbreaking mistakes.
stab me for every second your heart bled.
Inflict upon me all your anger and rage,
tear me apart:
piece by piece to a single shred.
Yell at me at the top of your lungs,
say everything you've ever wanted to say,
push me down and kick me endlessly,
trust me; it'lll take the pain away.
Push me to the very edge of my life,
take out every bit of emotion you've faked.
You deserve better than any one has offered.
Punish me for all their heartbreaking mistakes.
Ashes to Ashes
Words of love etched on stone o'er rotting flesh
decaying bone.
Tears of ice grieving charade
prayers said over a soul betrayed.
Dead eyes don't see scriptured lies
dead ears don't hear false goodbyes.
Revenge awaits with bitter sweet caress
cut out of will;
transparent actress.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
to you I bequeath my contempt and disgust.
decaying bone.
Tears of ice grieving charade
prayers said over a soul betrayed.
Dead eyes don't see scriptured lies
dead ears don't hear false goodbyes.
Revenge awaits with bitter sweet caress
cut out of will;
transparent actress.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
to you I bequeath my contempt and disgust.
Live it Slow
I guess pictures fade.
I've never seen it before.
I guess opportunities do fly out the door.
Some people regret the past.
Some feel high, low.
Maybe you should live fast, but I'll try slow.
You may have something to prove to yourself, everyone.
But I have everything to prove to none.
I guess you should give love, and in return be loved.
But I'd rather be pushed and shoved.
And love on my own terms.
Live your life
as what you may.
I'd rather live my life and not hear a word they say.
We breathe the toxins in the air.
We say we do, but we don't care.
Religion is preached.
War is a Lie.
We sit back and smile while millions die.
We love disaster.
It's a bittersweet taste.
Why approach life with such haste?
Let it flow, let it go.
Live life fast?
I'll live it slow.
I've never seen it before.
I guess opportunities do fly out the door.
Some people regret the past.
Some feel high, low.
Maybe you should live fast, but I'll try slow.
You may have something to prove to yourself, everyone.
But I have everything to prove to none.
I guess you should give love, and in return be loved.
But I'd rather be pushed and shoved.
And love on my own terms.
Live your life
as what you may.
I'd rather live my life and not hear a word they say.
We breathe the toxins in the air.
We say we do, but we don't care.
Religion is preached.
War is a Lie.
We sit back and smile while millions die.
We love disaster.
It's a bittersweet taste.
Why approach life with such haste?
Let it flow, let it go.
Live life fast?
I'll live it slow.
Fried Cat
June 7, 2008 - Saturday
Black handles, white doors
plastic shelving and drawers
What are you with holding?
something green, something molding?
Nothing edible, I find
hairy carrots all aligned.
But, alas! what is that?
It resembles fried cat.
When were you last washed?
You hold squash that's been squashed.
O, my dear! You poor thing,
your fumes make my nose sting.
I have for you a thought
many a mind has brought-
Does the light really turn off when you shut the door?
So I don't have to ponder anymore
this I've wondered many a day.
Like how to make the mold go away
You're turning green
My mean, green, moldy machine.
The fungi has spread
fuzzy bacteria covers my bed.
O! the humanity! O! the smell! Back you monstrocity!
Straight back to hell!
With thanks to mrs. melton for making me write it, and thanks to Tristan and my mom for helping me with rhyming words. And thanks to my own and cynthias fridges, for they both are quite disturbing. Please don't take this poem too seriously, I only like it 'cause it's funny.
1:27 PM
Black handles, white doors
plastic shelving and drawers
What are you with holding?
something green, something molding?
Nothing edible, I find
hairy carrots all aligned.
But, alas! what is that?
It resembles fried cat.
When were you last washed?
You hold squash that's been squashed.
O, my dear! You poor thing,
your fumes make my nose sting.
I have for you a thought
many a mind has brought-
Does the light really turn off when you shut the door?
So I don't have to ponder anymore
this I've wondered many a day.
Like how to make the mold go away
You're turning green
My mean, green, moldy machine.
The fungi has spread
fuzzy bacteria covers my bed.
O! the humanity! O! the smell! Back you monstrocity!
Straight back to hell!
With thanks to mrs. melton for making me write it, and thanks to Tristan and my mom for helping me with rhyming words. And thanks to my own and cynthias fridges, for they both are quite disturbing. Please don't take this poem too seriously, I only like it 'cause it's funny.
1:27 PM
Softer than the Softest Sigh
June 7, 2008 - Saturday
A classic sky,
no clouds in sight
except the whispy ones
that remind you of something soft.
Stretch your arms up high
you might just reach
that billowing cloud.
Step up
on the tips of your toes
in the grass beneath
your unsandled feet.
Who cares if an hour's passed
while you stretch to that cottony cloud?
You stretch
you smile
your laughter echoes
across the fields
and the sun is warm
the grass is green
and no one is calling you
to come back inside.
Home will be there
the same as when you left
when you return
to it
after you touch the sky.
Touch the cloud,
soft and warm
as the softest sigh.
Touch your toes,
feel the grass
prickly between your toes
breathe in deep.
The scent of summer
inside your nose
controls your brain.
And you stand back up
to touch that cloud
soft as a babys laugh.
Everything stops
time doesn't tick
and you stand up a little taller
you touch that cloud
and it takes your breath away.
The moment is still
and your fingers spread the billowing air.
and the wind
picks up
and rushes through your hair.
And the cloud bursts with the touch of human hand
and the clock strikes one.
And look at what you've done
the impossible
is possible
and the wind pushes hard.
Home sounds good
it is still there
nothing changed
since you left it
but now nothing is the same.
In your memory
flashes of a hand
reaching through the sky
and touching
the only thing
softer
than the softest sigh.
10:40 AM
A classic sky,
no clouds in sight
except the whispy ones
that remind you of something soft.
Stretch your arms up high
you might just reach
that billowing cloud.
Step up
on the tips of your toes
in the grass beneath
your unsandled feet.
Who cares if an hour's passed
while you stretch to that cottony cloud?
You stretch
you smile
your laughter echoes
across the fields
and the sun is warm
the grass is green
and no one is calling you
to come back inside.
Home will be there
the same as when you left
when you return
to it
after you touch the sky.
Touch the cloud,
soft and warm
as the softest sigh.
Touch your toes,
feel the grass
prickly between your toes
breathe in deep.
The scent of summer
inside your nose
controls your brain.
And you stand back up
to touch that cloud
soft as a babys laugh.
Everything stops
time doesn't tick
and you stand up a little taller
you touch that cloud
and it takes your breath away.
The moment is still
and your fingers spread the billowing air.
and the wind
picks up
and rushes through your hair.
And the cloud bursts with the touch of human hand
and the clock strikes one.
And look at what you've done
the impossible
is possible
and the wind pushes hard.
Home sounds good
it is still there
nothing changed
since you left it
but now nothing is the same.
In your memory
flashes of a hand
reaching through the sky
and touching
the only thing
softer
than the softest sigh.
10:40 AM
Untitled : Reflection
February 26, 2008 - Tuesday
Alone, tired and sick
wind rushing past, noiselessly
careless, thoughtless never noticing
how alone we are.
Rain pattering, pounding drums
quietly beating heart
faster and faster, racing
moaning skies
alone.... so alone.
Unaware, careless, thoughtless, loveless.
twinkling stars shining
moon crying
footsteps invisible now on
once imprinted sand
we are alone.
Alone, are we?
Sand once imprinted
on now invisible footsteps
crying moon
shining stars twinkling.
Loveless, thoughtless, careless, unaware
alone....so alone
skies moaning
racing faster, and faster
heart beating quietly.
Drums pounding, pattering rain.
Are we alone? how?
Noticing never, thoughtless, careless
noiselessly past rushing wind
sick and tired. Alone.
10:37 PM
Alone, tired and sick
wind rushing past, noiselessly
careless, thoughtless never noticing
how alone we are.
Rain pattering, pounding drums
quietly beating heart
faster and faster, racing
moaning skies
alone.... so alone.
Unaware, careless, thoughtless, loveless.
twinkling stars shining
moon crying
footsteps invisible now on
once imprinted sand
we are alone.
Alone, are we?
Sand once imprinted
on now invisible footsteps
crying moon
shining stars twinkling.
Loveless, thoughtless, careless, unaware
alone....so alone
skies moaning
racing faster, and faster
heart beating quietly.
Drums pounding, pattering rain.
Are we alone? how?
Noticing never, thoughtless, careless
noiselessly past rushing wind
sick and tired. Alone.
10:37 PM
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