Bear with me, melody, don't die
Like long years that struggle slow and doubt that
Any new feeling falls in
The well - when water rises, remake
A story so gray-glossed
That time may no longer tell teal
From blue, best melody, yes you.
EveningThe capillary rasp of tongues,
I know nothing but chattering
As warm air trades its place with young;
A shiver starts resurfacing
Within the walls of little lungs.
I know nothing but chattering,
Wintery gust I taste your braid;
A shiver starts resurfacing
As degrees fall in centigrade,
The weaving wind is circling.
Wintery gust I taste your braid
Within the walls of little lungs,
As degrees fall in centigrade
The capillary rasp of tongues
Will end all things that I have said.
Bad ConnectionUploading the art, in stops and starts, my patience departs
Like fractured quartz; these megabytes fail, and derail,
And e-mail never arrives. The Internet barely survives,
And gives little when it does, signals caught in the throes
Of unseen static. The hairline havoc and passive panic
Inside, an automatic trigger blown, the seed is grown
In my own anger; but soon the connection cocoon
Will balloon, and new wings this miracle brings.
SubsistenceWhy is it hard to admit you can't?
Can't live here, or you can't go back.
Can't carry the parable's lesson.
Why is it easy to be scant?
Eyes blink open the morning after
The thicket landscape of failures
Is set, yet admission cannot hold
The weight; no truths are a rafter.
Why is it hard to observe and decide?
Can't lay down, or you might lose sight.
Can't sustain like you want to or need.
Why is it so easy to hide?
Pried loose from the soil, small pebbles
Tossed aside; there is no end to
Labor, all is but sown or destroyed.
All green growth is born from troubles.
Genus BetulaLike quarter notes between the solemn face
Recorded there (the birch bark pulled away)
I scratched their names like tendrils carved from lace
The leaves will strut and curl this final day.
The cuffed, loquacious wind has naught to say
Of pink horizons purpling their hues;
The blaze replaced by melancholy blues.
The world already ended (is it known?)
The trees have gone with tempests in the news
Without a sound, eternal flat and brown.
ForensicsIt's maneuvered geometry,
The processes that machines see;
Where years inch by and fluids fall
From invisible anchor, all that mystery.
The thrust out scaffolds and tongues move,
Tidily performing a trove
Of objectives, but none can say
Shadows leave footprints here today, nor can they prove
A careful pandemonium.
The ruby of aluminum
Washed away, but the garments claim
The cluttered pitch of one stain's name will make the sum.
IntolerancePale gray, thinning and thickening,
Your upsurge and subduction sting.
Tectonic plates, your fresh cut
Motion, creases in the rut;
A hollow lava will clash,
Soon to speak to future ash.
Pale gray, thinning and thickening,
Your upsurge and subduction sting.
PhotoshopThe words returned, "not perfect yet",
On my aching eyes it
Highlights, needs less tonal width) "set
the contrast low" the lit
Enough now to meet the edge "no
But I'm not sure...(Undo, undo)
Each pixel can be more
House Of MirrorsA cutting gaze, the self-portrait's stare
Practices mimicry to fool the eyes;
The parts where light plays with air
A sputtering maze of lens and lies.
The foolish guise
Of glass, a lair.
Some are sneaky and stricken with lines
Of deformities, other strangers
Surely surprised; they sway like serpentines
On the run from hidden dangers.
Of see-through signs.
All these eyes, the self portrait's trap,
To see oneself in such ways, a mess
Of oddities within the mind that snap
When revealed; a game of chess
Cruelly skewed, less
Shards through the gap.
Something in the faces, the idealized
Distorted; and someone golden, gleaming,
Their smile leaving something to be surmised.
What is this place? This thing?
I am the changeling,
Twenty-SomethingNo one hand could guide me,
So I searched for several.
Each touch from a new person,
Some hurtful, some gentle.
I am shaped by all I know.
No one standing beside me,
So I looked for shelter.
Than dying out there.
No one thought inside me,
So many at once racing.
I am shaped by all I think.
I am shaped by everything.
I must see the meaning that
No one can, besides me.
self-harm is for attention?If self harm is for attention,
then why the scars we conceal,
why feel the guilt with every cut,
why know that within you will never truly heal,
if merely for attention,
the scars would be for all to see,
you'd want all to know what you do,
not be hating what you know you'll always be,
you'd cut and burn in front of others,
not forever behind closed doors,
feel accepted by all around,
not as if you're breaking some social law,
"self harm is for attention",
the words of an ignorant fool,
who think that we crave sympathy,
thing that having scars makes us feel "cool",
they don't think about what they are saying,
look for the logic in the lies,
all they see is attention seekers,
through their uneducated eyes,
maybe one day they'll know the truth,
maybe they will feel the pain,
then with their new found knowledge,
I hope they hear the lies again,
feel the unacceptable,
the hatred these lies create,
be on the receiving end for once,
and forever curse cruel fate,
if self harming was for atten
Slowly at first.
Shoulders slouch and mind clouds.
Further and further you fall in.
MonsterThat bony smile across his face
a sight to take your breath away
as time erupts and slips its pace
a noose of stars that went astray
slips down the sky to find its place.
He said he roamed too far afield
that all his pleas were spurned and shunned
the hands of god refused to yield
They only left him dazed and stunned
with fleshy wounds that never healed.
So now he haunts the fields and fens
and calls the narrow ways his home.
The secrets that no man can ken,
the buzzards bleat a wretched drone
and turn their backs on drowning men.
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nib
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.
I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;
I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.
Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.
I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So words can't tell you how I love you -
I hope my silence will tell you instead.
Dreams you have are always there
Dreams you have are never there
Dreams you have you feel alive
Dreams you have do not arrive
Dreams you have you scare the clown
Dreams you have you are still alone
Dreams you have you win the game
Dreams you have you hide your name
Dreams you have you are free again
Dreams you have you feel the pain
Dreams you have you change the past
Dreams you have you're running fast
Dreams you have you feel the Light
Dreams you have it's dark tonight
Dreams you have you ride the wind
Dreams you have a broken wing
Dreams you have are always there
Dreams you have are never there.
I'll be the tight, faded T-shirt's you wear
Each random logo changing each year
Messenger bag covered in patches and pins
Slightly greased black hair and blackened rims
depressionDepression through my eyes
I'm running through the streets again
the streets I know so well
there's a thick and cloudy ceiling
keeping me trapped in eternal hell
I cant seem to break it
I just keep running along
its playing on repeat again
what is that dreadful song?
My body finds this torture
living in pain and hate
knowing I cant escape it
for me its grown too late
I see your happy up there
surrounded by people and love
I often think while I'm running
of ways to escape above
there is no way to smash it
its made of extra strong stuff
stuck hear running alone
I really have had enough
but still I keep on running
it really seems unfair
I keep looking to see somebody
but you are never there
I am so sad an angry
that I took the stairs below
but know I'm stuck here forever
and no one wants to know.
AbortionTheres something inside of me,
Its growing too fast.
A parasite feeding off of me,
Its taking over my life.
I made the mistake,
The consequences are too much.
Theres a choice and its my only way out,
Termination, not murder,
Theyre not the same thing.
I dont think too hard,
Its not alive yet so why be sad for it?
Im not ready to deal with a child,
So Im not going to.
How could a mother think that of her own baby?
How could a mother choose death over life?
How can a child be tossed aside like its nothing?
How could mother make the decision to kill the thing she gave life?
Abortion is murder,
Theres no way around it.
Trick yourself into justifying it all you want,
Its still a life youre choosing to end.
Believe in choices but not choices that go to far,
Not choices that hurt others.
You say the circumstances arent good and adoptions so bad,
But it is it worse than ending a life before it begin
CuttingWhy Do You Do It?
Leaving Those Scars There,
With Every Single Slit,
On Your Skin So Bare.
Does It Make You Feel Good?
Something That Makes You Smile,
Would You Stop If You Could?
Or Live The Rest Of Your Life In Denial.
Do You Wish To Forget Those Times?
Does It Remind You Of Times To Reminise On?
With Every New Slit Creating New Lines,
Always There Never To Soon Be Gone!
Surely You Must Hate That Reminder,
When You Did That All That Self Pain,
Everyday You Become More Blinder,
With Nothing More To Ever Gain.
Are You Suffering In Silence Alone?
Or Just Scared People Will Think Less?
There's Ways To Stop, You Need To Be Shown,
Sort Your Life Out From This Awful Mess.
So Give Me One Good Reason Why,
You Should Continue Doing It,
Speak Loud And Don't Be Shy,
I'll Hear Out Every Last Bit.
You Are My Friend, One I Love,
I'm Here To Help You All The Way,
In The Right Direction I Will Shove,
Until Our Last Breath And Dying Day!