Are you insecure?
Do you ever feel alone?
What about when their eyes
Seem to see into your bones?
Are you overconfident?
Do you wish you were?
Stop pretending, people can
See through the lies
Here I am, the biggest
Hypocrite of them all
Playing it cool,
Saying, "those fools,"
While inside, I'm nothing
Here I sit, the biggest
Pessimist of them all
Playing the cards,
Saying, "they're not dealt right,"
When before, I was
Who mixed them
My insides
Betray my eyes
And my wants only speak
Infidelities to my thoughts
My legs take me
To places I don't
Want to go
While my mind tells me
It knows where it's going
It knows...
Here I write, the biggest
Dreamer of them all
Wishing I was
The cool guy, strutting down
All those eyes following him
Like flies on a summer day
And like flies,
They'll only bother
But I can't help wanting
What is there
And like irony,
My mind smothers
What remains in my heart
And says it wants
Something else
--------------------------------------------------
I was listening to Jimmy Eat World's song "Always Be," and seeing the music video at the same time. There was a comment that was talking about the main guy character of the video, and that he was a nerd or something. I could relate. This poem is pretty obvious. I know that the popular, gorgeous people have problems of their own and I probably shouldn't want to be them, but I can't help it. Every teenager can't help it, I think. Unless they're a popular, gorgeous person. I don't know why, but I already make a heirarchy in my mind of the people at school- the coolest on top. And it's apparent that I don't feel I'm near the top, according to this. Oh, the "insides betray my eyes" part is just saying that what I want changes, because I know I shouldn't want to be what I see and sometimes I don't, but most of the time I do.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Trapped in Shadow
I looked above
Saw a baby in my head,
And I tried to tell it
To come outside.
But in this mystery
I'm not sure
Where that path resides.
Because the shadows
On the endless walls
That are my forever thoughts
Only show the truth;
That the light is casting
My mind in dreams,
And there I get lost.
Forever unconscious,
I wait for the time
When my soul gives birth.
In that momet,
Emotions will fly.
In that time,
I will die.
And in my place,
I'll see a face
And paint it in colors
Before unseen.
In the space
That was my grace,
Greater beauty
Will be made.
Bodies will burn
Then swim, intact
To show the world
They're more than matter.
Eyes will make
Thoughts before undreamed
To show professors
There is more to be seen.
More to be heard,
To be smelt and touched.
More to be made,
To weld, so much
More.
Release my mind
From this dream.
Or let me already
Be born into it.
--------------------------------------------------
This poem was written when I had my art brain on. It is about art. The baby in the beginning is me expressing art; later when I say "when my soul gives birth," I mean when I express myself fully with art. And in pure art, amazing things can happen. I am saying, "when I express myself in art, emotions will fly in it and I will die because in my place, a creator is made." Sort of. But see, the walls are my thoughts. And the shadows on them are reflections of the light (art). My thought has shadows of it, and I can't fully bring it out. Which is why I'm calling the baby, asking myself to be born into creating something new. I think I wanted to paint.
Side note: I said "endless walls" and "forever thoughts" to say that the walls are my thoughts. The sentence doesnt make it clear if the shadows are my thoughts, of if the walls are. So I put in "endless" and "forever" to try to make it clearer and put a tie inbetween those things.
Saw a baby in my head,
And I tried to tell it
To come outside.
But in this mystery
I'm not sure
Where that path resides.
Because the shadows
On the endless walls
That are my forever thoughts
Only show the truth;
That the light is casting
My mind in dreams,
And there I get lost.
Forever unconscious,
I wait for the time
When my soul gives birth.
In that momet,
Emotions will fly.
In that time,
I will die.
And in my place,
I'll see a face
And paint it in colors
Before unseen.
In the space
That was my grace,
Greater beauty
Will be made.
Bodies will burn
Then swim, intact
To show the world
They're more than matter.
Eyes will make
Thoughts before undreamed
To show professors
There is more to be seen.
More to be heard,
To be smelt and touched.
More to be made,
To weld, so much
More.
Release my mind
From this dream.
Or let me already
Be born into it.
--------------------------------------------------
This poem was written when I had my art brain on. It is about art. The baby in the beginning is me expressing art; later when I say "when my soul gives birth," I mean when I express myself fully with art. And in pure art, amazing things can happen. I am saying, "when I express myself in art, emotions will fly in it and I will die because in my place, a creator is made." Sort of. But see, the walls are my thoughts. And the shadows on them are reflections of the light (art). My thought has shadows of it, and I can't fully bring it out. Which is why I'm calling the baby, asking myself to be born into creating something new. I think I wanted to paint.
Side note: I said "endless walls" and "forever thoughts" to say that the walls are my thoughts. The sentence doesnt make it clear if the shadows are my thoughts, of if the walls are. So I put in "endless" and "forever" to try to make it clearer and put a tie inbetween those things.
Is There a Grey?
Your paper trails of sadness
Have led you up to here
Now, stuck in your mind,
Your thoughts show only fear
Fear that you won't grow
Won't know how to live
Fear that you will run
From what should be done
Afraid of the dark, held inside
Only to find light is there too
Afraid maybe that the light will die
And you'll be left in black
Afraid of yourself.
Find someone else
--------------------------------------------------
This was another "identity crisis" poem. It's just me, wondering if I'll never be someone 'good,' whatever that is. Afraid that I won't live a good life because of things I could do. The paper trails are poems, by the way.
Have led you up to here
Now, stuck in your mind,
Your thoughts show only fear
Fear that you won't grow
Won't know how to live
Fear that you will run
From what should be done
Afraid of the dark, held inside
Only to find light is there too
Afraid maybe that the light will die
And you'll be left in black
Afraid of yourself.
Find someone else
--------------------------------------------------
This was another "identity crisis" poem. It's just me, wondering if I'll never be someone 'good,' whatever that is. Afraid that I won't live a good life because of things I could do. The paper trails are poems, by the way.
Inbetween
My mind runs, but
Runs with no meaning
Except to find
Deluded seaming
Of the holes in my soul
My heart skips,
But only so lightly
As to not care
Where it plods
My soul flies
From guilt to glee
From Father to God
And back to mutilation
Why can we think
Thoughts so light that
They can be bounced,
But so heavy that
They should be renounced?
Why must we feel
Emotions so deceiving?
Implications, desires
Thought of the mind
But of the fire
Live for fire,
For that kiss?
Or live for thought,
The two-faced bliss?
Maybe neither,
But for a purpose.
One greater than my
Comprehension
Maybe both and the last,
Jumping inbetween,
Only waiting for someone
To tear at your seams
And cast you
Into
Truth
--------------------------------------------------
It's an inner struggle. I wrote it on a night when I couldn't sleep. I remembered a poem I wrote that started like this, "my mind runs but runs with no meaning" or something like that. So I decided to write another version, with another message. Well it might actually be the same, but anyways. The heart skipping part is saying that I feel things I shouldn't. I go from one emotion to another, not caring- even though I should. Bouncing thoughts = jumping from one thought to another. That's pretty easy to figure out. The desire thing... well you get the picture, I think. It's my problem, always, thought in the mind but of the fire. The fire that is passion. That's a wayyyy too used up metaphor, but who cares? I'm 15, I can write what I want. Oh, and thought is the two-faced bliss because there's never just one side in arguments. There's never just "This is right and not that." Also, if you think too much, that's a problem- because although you're sort of smart-ish, more creative or at least more something than people who don't think as much, you still might not relate to people as others will. Different views on the world don't help in making friendships, but you can't think too little either. The "purpose" I talked about is the one God has for all of us, which is why it's greater than comprehension. And the last stanza speaks of my situation. In the beginning of the poem, I said I find deluded seaming in my soul. So "Tear at your seams" in the end was a clue that this is the situation I'm in. I did that in another poem, where the relative word (in this case "seam" or "seaming") was "corner." Anyways, that's all I'm doing- waiting for someone to throw me into some sort of truth. I'm just making up my own truths, saying this is ok for now and saying it's wrong later. I'm waiting for judgment, almost begging for it in this teeter-totter that is... well everything about me.
Runs with no meaning
Except to find
Deluded seaming
Of the holes in my soul
My heart skips,
But only so lightly
As to not care
Where it plods
My soul flies
From guilt to glee
From Father to God
And back to mutilation
Why can we think
Thoughts so light that
They can be bounced,
But so heavy that
They should be renounced?
Why must we feel
Emotions so deceiving?
Implications, desires
Thought of the mind
But of the fire
Live for fire,
For that kiss?
Or live for thought,
The two-faced bliss?
Maybe neither,
But for a purpose.
One greater than my
Comprehension
Maybe both and the last,
Jumping inbetween,
Only waiting for someone
To tear at your seams
And cast you
Into
Truth
--------------------------------------------------
It's an inner struggle. I wrote it on a night when I couldn't sleep. I remembered a poem I wrote that started like this, "my mind runs but runs with no meaning" or something like that. So I decided to write another version, with another message. Well it might actually be the same, but anyways. The heart skipping part is saying that I feel things I shouldn't. I go from one emotion to another, not caring- even though I should. Bouncing thoughts = jumping from one thought to another. That's pretty easy to figure out. The desire thing... well you get the picture, I think. It's my problem, always, thought in the mind but of the fire. The fire that is passion. That's a wayyyy too used up metaphor, but who cares? I'm 15, I can write what I want. Oh, and thought is the two-faced bliss because there's never just one side in arguments. There's never just "This is right and not that." Also, if you think too much, that's a problem- because although you're sort of smart-ish, more creative or at least more something than people who don't think as much, you still might not relate to people as others will. Different views on the world don't help in making friendships, but you can't think too little either. The "purpose" I talked about is the one God has for all of us, which is why it's greater than comprehension. And the last stanza speaks of my situation. In the beginning of the poem, I said I find deluded seaming in my soul. So "Tear at your seams" in the end was a clue that this is the situation I'm in. I did that in another poem, where the relative word (in this case "seam" or "seaming") was "corner." Anyways, that's all I'm doing- waiting for someone to throw me into some sort of truth. I'm just making up my own truths, saying this is ok for now and saying it's wrong later. I'm waiting for judgment, almost begging for it in this teeter-totter that is... well everything about me.
Alone in a Pain Unseen
Thunder strikes
And limbs crack
The heart explodes
In defeat
The things wanted
Are worthless
People looked at
Are longed for
Why do I want
That which I condemn?
Why do I make
Me hate myself?
What keeps me drawn
To this sadistic addiction?
Why do I see temptations
All around me?
What can I do?
I don't want this
What can I say?
No one understands
I see their eyes
Their arms, everything
I see temptation
Only masochistic
For it destroys me
I writhe in seeing.
I know I can't have
What is before me
I know they aren't like me
I know I'm not to be this way
I know I'm wrong
But it never stops
I never stop, they never stop
I always look, they always don't
I always hope, they never know
I kill myself this way
Eternally... for a hope
And only one so sadistic
As to wish for someone else
To suddenly have it too
And only one so masochistic
As to have it destroy me
Every single time
--------------------------------------------------
This is just about my spiritual struggle and, obviously, temptation. The "eternally..." part is hinting towards the price of sin, hell. This poem was inspired by a day waiting at church and it was cloudy. I looked up at a tree, after being sad about temptation and things, and imagined a thunder-bolt hitting the tree, as a metaphor for what I feel.
And limbs crack
The heart explodes
In defeat
The things wanted
Are worthless
People looked at
Are longed for
Why do I want
That which I condemn?
Why do I make
Me hate myself?
What keeps me drawn
To this sadistic addiction?
Why do I see temptations
All around me?
What can I do?
I don't want this
What can I say?
No one understands
I see their eyes
Their arms, everything
I see temptation
Only masochistic
For it destroys me
I writhe in seeing.
I know I can't have
What is before me
I know they aren't like me
I know I'm not to be this way
I know I'm wrong
But it never stops
I never stop, they never stop
I always look, they always don't
I always hope, they never know
I kill myself this way
Eternally... for a hope
And only one so sadistic
As to wish for someone else
To suddenly have it too
And only one so masochistic
As to have it destroy me
Every single time
--------------------------------------------------
This is just about my spiritual struggle and, obviously, temptation. The "eternally..." part is hinting towards the price of sin, hell. This poem was inspired by a day waiting at church and it was cloudy. I looked up at a tree, after being sad about temptation and things, and imagined a thunder-bolt hitting the tree, as a metaphor for what I feel.
Learn to Fly
Stuck in the window
Thought rushing
In the wind
This window is me
But should I step
Into another reality?
Feel another breath,
Hear another wind.
Find more than myself
In this passing life
I wonder if people
Share my stares
I ponder if
They even care
They sit in their worlds
And I want to get in
I blink, not understanding
All coherency in the wind
Their looks are different
Their interests, not the same
I long to find a same breath
That makes me fly, untamed
But maybe that's the point:
Fly in the other wind.
For flight in our own
Will only ever be a glide
Constant and unchanging
Are the thoughts of self.
New and lifting
Are the ponderances of many
I don't make sense here
Because I'm stuck in a glide
I need to free myself
Breathe a breath not mine
--------------------------------------------------
This is the complete opposite of the poem called Sanctuary, two posts down. This is saying that you should read out to people instead of being closed off inside yourself all the time. Sometimes I do feel that my thoughts just keep repeating in this glide that never ends. You know what's funny? The poem inbetween this one and Sanctuary is the one that says how my mind contradicts itself all the time. Talk about coincidence.
Thought rushing
In the wind
This window is me
But should I step
Into another reality?
Feel another breath,
Hear another wind.
Find more than myself
In this passing life
I wonder if people
Share my stares
I ponder if
They even care
They sit in their worlds
And I want to get in
I blink, not understanding
All coherency in the wind
Their looks are different
Their interests, not the same
I long to find a same breath
That makes me fly, untamed
But maybe that's the point:
Fly in the other wind.
For flight in our own
Will only ever be a glide
Constant and unchanging
Are the thoughts of self.
New and lifting
Are the ponderances of many
I don't make sense here
Because I'm stuck in a glide
I need to free myself
Breathe a breath not mine
--------------------------------------------------
This is the complete opposite of the poem called Sanctuary, two posts down. This is saying that you should read out to people instead of being closed off inside yourself all the time. Sometimes I do feel that my thoughts just keep repeating in this glide that never ends. You know what's funny? The poem inbetween this one and Sanctuary is the one that says how my mind contradicts itself all the time. Talk about coincidence.
A Constant Battle
It's all so pointless
No, don't think like that
I just want to surrender
No, you can keep going
I want the strings to bury me
No, they don't need to
The orchestra will play my last breath
You'll speak it to those you love
I want the people to see
They do
I want them to go away
That only hurts them
Stop speaking
No, I'm always here
Stop breathing
I'm always near
Give me my peace
I won't leave you
I just need space
I love you too
Go
No more fighting
Just go
--------------------------------------------------
This is the discussion that goes on in my head. There are many times when I think something, and my head retorts with something that contradicts it. Or that says I'm wrong. So I'm telling myself I'm wrong. Anyways, it's really annoying and sometimes gives me headaches, so I decided to write about it one day.
No, don't think like that
I just want to surrender
No, you can keep going
I want the strings to bury me
No, they don't need to
The orchestra will play my last breath
You'll speak it to those you love
I want the people to see
They do
I want them to go away
That only hurts them
Stop speaking
No, I'm always here
Stop breathing
I'm always near
Give me my peace
I won't leave you
I just need space
I love you too
Go
No more fighting
Just go
--------------------------------------------------
This is the discussion that goes on in my head. There are many times when I think something, and my head retorts with something that contradicts it. Or that says I'm wrong. So I'm telling myself I'm wrong. Anyways, it's really annoying and sometimes gives me headaches, so I decided to write about it one day.
Sanctuary
Old and old
Getting older
Shining
In glory
The walls have done their job
The roof, a warning to rain
Outside, the elements rage
Much to their disdain
Inside the fire curls
While the air breeds warmth.
Prolific paintings
Show their all-being
The mirrors playfully mock
Their intent gazers.
The curtains expertly stop
Hate from entering
Inside, feelings breed
Emotions of dread
Outside, demons feed
On glee of the wed
Hide yourself inside
Let no one see you.
Make yourself within
A wall no one sees through
They'll eat you up, they will
Their claws and their hate
They'll kill creativitiy
Make your fear their bait
The fire's warm
And curtains rustle
In the inner breeze
Of peace
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the few poems that weren't stirred by some random emotion. I went on a trip to a city sort of near Maceió in Brazil and went into the hotel. I went into the room I was to share, and saw a drawing. It was of a house, and there was no background. Around it, there was just the white of paper, unwritten on. The house stood there so... peacefully, I guess. And I remember that a friend of mine asked me to write a poem when I'm happy, but since I wasn't exactly happy, I settled for the feeling "inspired." And I wrote this poem, about how peace is found inside yourself, where other people can't hurt you. If you give yourself to others, they can drop it and break you for all you know. Inside, things grow and live.
Getting older
Shining
In glory
The walls have done their job
The roof, a warning to rain
Outside, the elements rage
Much to their disdain
Inside the fire curls
While the air breeds warmth.
Prolific paintings
Show their all-being
The mirrors playfully mock
Their intent gazers.
The curtains expertly stop
Hate from entering
Inside, feelings breed
Emotions of dread
Outside, demons feed
On glee of the wed
Hide yourself inside
Let no one see you.
Make yourself within
A wall no one sees through
They'll eat you up, they will
Their claws and their hate
They'll kill creativitiy
Make your fear their bait
The fire's warm
And curtains rustle
In the inner breeze
Of peace
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the few poems that weren't stirred by some random emotion. I went on a trip to a city sort of near Maceió in Brazil and went into the hotel. I went into the room I was to share, and saw a drawing. It was of a house, and there was no background. Around it, there was just the white of paper, unwritten on. The house stood there so... peacefully, I guess. And I remember that a friend of mine asked me to write a poem when I'm happy, but since I wasn't exactly happy, I settled for the feeling "inspired." And I wrote this poem, about how peace is found inside yourself, where other people can't hurt you. If you give yourself to others, they can drop it and break you for all you know. Inside, things grow and live.
Realization of Truth
It's funny how four words
Can change your life
How they can enter your mind
And multiply your strife
Things seemed like velvet
Pointless, but enjoyable.
With just a tear at the seams,
I am broken from my dreams
I am ripped
You've cut right through me
The sad thing is
It's the best, truly
I always said you deserved better
But I never wanted to believe it
And your words of emotion
Always proved me right
Now your voice of reason
Multiplies my strife
I am ripped
You gnawed at my bones
The sad thing is
I have to let you go
Maybe I'm too sensitive
Perhaps you're too angry
Mayhap it shouldn't matter
I want you to be with me
So different, life with you
I don't want it another way
So strange, the words so new
They turned skies blue into deep gray
The best that is with me
Is never known as good
Until I feel life without it
Until I know I should
Shoulda known I wasn't good enough
Not to make you stay
Known that in some odd way,
You'd fly from whence you came
And keep running away
--------------------------------------------------
This is a poem about relationship problems. The second-to-last stanza is basically reiterating that famous saying that you don't know what you have until you lose it. OH, and mayhap ACTUALLY IS A WORD. I used it to combine the anger and sadness of the two people in the poem (to say anger and sadness together isn't a problem, the two people should be together). I wrote "maybe I'm too sensisitive / Perhaps you're too angry." And then I combined the two, to try to say something inbetween the lines, and didn't realize mayhaps is actually a word. But it is!
Can change your life
How they can enter your mind
And multiply your strife
Things seemed like velvet
Pointless, but enjoyable.
With just a tear at the seams,
I am broken from my dreams
I am ripped
You've cut right through me
The sad thing is
It's the best, truly
I always said you deserved better
But I never wanted to believe it
And your words of emotion
Always proved me right
Now your voice of reason
Multiplies my strife
I am ripped
You gnawed at my bones
The sad thing is
I have to let you go
Maybe I'm too sensitive
Perhaps you're too angry
Mayhap it shouldn't matter
I want you to be with me
So different, life with you
I don't want it another way
So strange, the words so new
They turned skies blue into deep gray
The best that is with me
Is never known as good
Until I feel life without it
Until I know I should
Shoulda known I wasn't good enough
Not to make you stay
Known that in some odd way,
You'd fly from whence you came
And keep running away
--------------------------------------------------
This is a poem about relationship problems. The second-to-last stanza is basically reiterating that famous saying that you don't know what you have until you lose it. OH, and mayhap ACTUALLY IS A WORD. I used it to combine the anger and sadness of the two people in the poem (to say anger and sadness together isn't a problem, the two people should be together). I wrote "maybe I'm too sensisitive / Perhaps you're too angry." And then I combined the two, to try to say something inbetween the lines, and didn't realize mayhaps is actually a word. But it is!
Journey Inside Myself
Running through
Turning corners.
Racing again
Trying to find you
Stuck like glue
Seeing actions
Gaping in horror
Trying to find you
Looking through
Here and there
Finding things
But looking for you
The perfect me
The real me
Are you out there,
Hiding in the corners
Of my mind?
Playing with the tide
All games, no threat
But I wonder,
Would you fret?
Singing songs not mine,
Crying tears not true,
Wondering if I'm happy.
What if this is you?
Maybe in pages,
Where emotions play free,
I'll find pieces and make
The only true me
Lost in the nothingness
That is myself
A conundrum, only amplified
By the constant searching
Are you out there?
When will you take my soul?
I'm tired of being
Who I only might be
Why don't you show yourself?
I'll then see me
Give me the real mirror
I keep seeing the ones on-screen
Solve the never-ending quest
Of meeting a me unseen
--------------------------------------------------
The beginning is saying that I'm inside myself, but I act like I'm someone else. I'm seeing things (my actions, my life), being stuck like glue (nervous), gaping in horror (well, that speaks for itself), having all these things happen to me but I'm not really part of it. It feels like it's someone else doing all that, and I get to live their lives. So then the search for myself begins. The "corners of my mind" part in the fourth stanza was a clue that in the beginning, I'm "turning corners" in my head, in myself. This whole poem is a plea for identity. Maybe I'm sort of strong like that guy on tv, but still sensitive like this guy in that book. That sort of thing. I don't think like that, but I am desperate to just be myself at times. And most of the time, I don't know who that is.
Side note: None of this is exagerated (except maybe the 'taking my soul' part... and calling myself 'nothingness').
Turning corners.
Racing again
Trying to find you
Stuck like glue
Seeing actions
Gaping in horror
Trying to find you
Looking through
Here and there
Finding things
But looking for you
The perfect me
The real me
Are you out there,
Hiding in the corners
Of my mind?
Playing with the tide
All games, no threat
But I wonder,
Would you fret?
Singing songs not mine,
Crying tears not true,
Wondering if I'm happy.
What if this is you?
Maybe in pages,
Where emotions play free,
I'll find pieces and make
The only true me
Lost in the nothingness
That is myself
A conundrum, only amplified
By the constant searching
Are you out there?
When will you take my soul?
I'm tired of being
Who I only might be
Why don't you show yourself?
I'll then see me
Give me the real mirror
I keep seeing the ones on-screen
Solve the never-ending quest
Of meeting a me unseen
--------------------------------------------------
The beginning is saying that I'm inside myself, but I act like I'm someone else. I'm seeing things (my actions, my life), being stuck like glue (nervous), gaping in horror (well, that speaks for itself), having all these things happen to me but I'm not really part of it. It feels like it's someone else doing all that, and I get to live their lives. So then the search for myself begins. The "corners of my mind" part in the fourth stanza was a clue that in the beginning, I'm "turning corners" in my head, in myself. This whole poem is a plea for identity. Maybe I'm sort of strong like that guy on tv, but still sensitive like this guy in that book. That sort of thing. I don't think like that, but I am desperate to just be myself at times. And most of the time, I don't know who that is.
Side note: None of this is exagerated (except maybe the 'taking my soul' part... and calling myself 'nothingness').
Feeding Chains of Thorns
Death
Take this side
That makes me care
For the hopeless
That makes me want
The immoral
That makes me cry
From hypocrisy
That makes me hope
That there's more
That makes me rebel
From the rules
That kills my whole
While only being part
That decides actions
For me
That I feed
That I hate
That I hope for
That I berate
That I miss,
Waiting for its kiss.
That I want to wither
And come back never
Help me.
Keep me
From making
It flower
--------------------------------------------------
This is a poem that talks about my spiritual struggle. I think that's all I'm gonna say, besides a little explanation about something. There's a tie between the wither in the second-to-last stanza and the flower in the last line, just in case you didn't catch that. It seems clear to me, but I'm the one who wrote it, so I'm just saying. Hope you enjoyed.
Take this side
That makes me care
For the hopeless
That makes me want
The immoral
That makes me cry
From hypocrisy
That makes me hope
That there's more
That makes me rebel
From the rules
That kills my whole
While only being part
That decides actions
For me
That I feed
That I hate
That I hope for
That I berate
That I miss,
Waiting for its kiss.
That I want to wither
And come back never
Help me.
Keep me
From making
It flower
--------------------------------------------------
This is a poem that talks about my spiritual struggle. I think that's all I'm gonna say, besides a little explanation about something. There's a tie between the wither in the second-to-last stanza and the flower in the last line, just in case you didn't catch that. It seems clear to me, but I'm the one who wrote it, so I'm just saying. Hope you enjoyed.
A Debt Unpaid
This is death
It must be death
I feel it
In corner of my mind
It grows inside
I feel myself living
But only dying on the way
Seeking self-pleasure
Getting nowhere
I feel myself breathing
But only taking in knives
They cut my whole
They erupt my life
Why am I cursed
With an addiction so wrong?
Who likes to feel
Tears of mourning?
Who lives to feel rivers
Flow and fall over pink hills?
Who dreams of losing the precious
Because they feel they deserve it?
When I cry, there is sadness
But only one so pure
When I cry, there is payment
For a life, impure
--------------------------------------------------
This was written on the dreaded plane ride to Brazil. I was so miserable. But not THIS miserable. Please understand that I exagerate in my poetry. But I did cry for basically no reason. What I learned from this poem, though, is that maybe I like sadness because it's a way to pay for what I think I did wrong. I know I like sadness, but I never understood, and am still in the process of figuring out, why. Oh, and the rivers are tears, the pink hills are cheeks. Just a little metaphor there for you.
It must be death
I feel it
In corner of my mind
It grows inside
I feel myself living
But only dying on the way
Seeking self-pleasure
Getting nowhere
I feel myself breathing
But only taking in knives
They cut my whole
They erupt my life
Why am I cursed
With an addiction so wrong?
Who likes to feel
Tears of mourning?
Who lives to feel rivers
Flow and fall over pink hills?
Who dreams of losing the precious
Because they feel they deserve it?
When I cry, there is sadness
But only one so pure
When I cry, there is payment
For a life, impure
--------------------------------------------------
This was written on the dreaded plane ride to Brazil. I was so miserable. But not THIS miserable. Please understand that I exagerate in my poetry. But I did cry for basically no reason. What I learned from this poem, though, is that maybe I like sadness because it's a way to pay for what I think I did wrong. I know I like sadness, but I never understood, and am still in the process of figuring out, why. Oh, and the rivers are tears, the pink hills are cheeks. Just a little metaphor there for you.
Treated as if Invisible
I just want someone to care
That's all the tears run for
I just want someone to dare
To lend a hand
Dare it, be brave
Show them you know
They exist
Don't be blind, reach out
See the pain behind
The blank stares
--------------------------------------------------
This is a message to all people who ignore others or anything. This was also made on the plane, when I was sad or something. The poem is telling people to lend a hand to the shy ones or the people who are picked on. I guess I felt that the plane was taunting me since I couldn't sleep for almost 24 hours. =P
That's all the tears run for
I just want someone to dare
To lend a hand
Dare it, be brave
Show them you know
They exist
Don't be blind, reach out
See the pain behind
The blank stares
--------------------------------------------------
This is a message to all people who ignore others or anything. This was also made on the plane, when I was sad or something. The poem is telling people to lend a hand to the shy ones or the people who are picked on. I guess I felt that the plane was taunting me since I couldn't sleep for almost 24 hours. =P
Jealousy Turns to Self-Pity
No one notices when you cry
No one cares if you die
No one knows the pain you feel
Maybe they don't feel anything
They're in their own worlds
In their lives, I can't exist
I can't want to know them
I can't want to be happy
To them, I don't matter
I don't notice
When they push away
When they dislike me
When I die
They know nothing
--------------------------------------------------
This was written at Spanish Conference, a trip that certain students take to compete in the spanish language. It was so annoying, because the division was clear. And I had no idea where I was to fit in. There were the junior girls who were always laughing. And then the two wanna-be-frat boys who paraded around them. And the other two, who were typical Pine View kids, and got along with everyone I guess. Then there were two other juniors (not part of the little girly group), who I was closest to. But I longed so much to be included in that other, "always laughing" crowd. What was it about me that repelled them? One night, this girl was telling a joke, and another girl of their little group asked if they should tell me. And she said I wasn't important enough or something. Honestly, I can't remember, but whatever she said was incredibly rude and I was not even three feet away from her. And she said it out loud. So I went outside, cried, came inside and wrote this. Jealousy is a cruel thing.
No one cares if you die
No one knows the pain you feel
Maybe they don't feel anything
They're in their own worlds
In their lives, I can't exist
I can't want to know them
I can't want to be happy
To them, I don't matter
I don't notice
When they push away
When they dislike me
When I die
They know nothing
--------------------------------------------------
This was written at Spanish Conference, a trip that certain students take to compete in the spanish language. It was so annoying, because the division was clear. And I had no idea where I was to fit in. There were the junior girls who were always laughing. And then the two wanna-be-frat boys who paraded around them. And the other two, who were typical Pine View kids, and got along with everyone I guess. Then there were two other juniors (not part of the little girly group), who I was closest to. But I longed so much to be included in that other, "always laughing" crowd. What was it about me that repelled them? One night, this girl was telling a joke, and another girl of their little group asked if they should tell me. And she said I wasn't important enough or something. Honestly, I can't remember, but whatever she said was incredibly rude and I was not even three feet away from her. And she said it out loud. So I went outside, cried, came inside and wrote this. Jealousy is a cruel thing.
Abuse for Personal Use
Pour salt in my wounds
Pour blood in my eyes
Show me this pain of yours
And leave me just to die
Hurt me, writhing pain
Again fills my soul
Not just my body, but
My emotional whole
Tell me why,
Please show me how
You do this
Let me go now
Are you badly hurt?
Poor baby, my child
Are you now crying?
You were tough for awhile
Be free of me,
Now I break the chain
That binds your heart
To my bloody pain
--------------------------------------------------
This is a message to all the people who use others. Sometimes people use their friends and don't realize that they shouldn't. It's not what I felt, but I've seen people be completely spent in many ways while trying to help their friends. Oh, and I think the word bloody is perfect for the end because hearts are worthless without blood. So the user is using the writer's pain to keep them going. Get it?
Pour blood in my eyes
Show me this pain of yours
And leave me just to die
Hurt me, writhing pain
Again fills my soul
Not just my body, but
My emotional whole
Tell me why,
Please show me how
You do this
Let me go now
Are you badly hurt?
Poor baby, my child
Are you now crying?
You were tough for awhile
Be free of me,
Now I break the chain
That binds your heart
To my bloody pain
--------------------------------------------------
This is a message to all the people who use others. Sometimes people use their friends and don't realize that they shouldn't. It's not what I felt, but I've seen people be completely spent in many ways while trying to help their friends. Oh, and I think the word bloody is perfect for the end because hearts are worthless without blood. So the user is using the writer's pain to keep them going. Get it?
A Hopeless World
There's something but it's only nothing
There's liquid but there's only ever blood.
In all that I thought was reality,
There was only ever a different truth
There's only rage in tears
Only death in this life
Only clouds inhabit the skies forever
The life in flight only lives a little while
Only deception in all we know
Only fake smiles in all the loud laughs
Only cries in the indifference
And tears in the endless ocean
Of painful
Sadistic
Emotion
--------------------------------------------------
The second stanza is trying to say that everything dies. Clouds will always be flying, but not birds. Or insects or planes or anything. We all die. And in the short time that we live, we only hurt everything around us.
There's liquid but there's only ever blood.
In all that I thought was reality,
There was only ever a different truth
There's only rage in tears
Only death in this life
Only clouds inhabit the skies forever
The life in flight only lives a little while
Only deception in all we know
Only fake smiles in all the loud laughs
Only cries in the indifference
And tears in the endless ocean
Of painful
Sadistic
Emotion
--------------------------------------------------
The second stanza is trying to say that everything dies. Clouds will always be flying, but not birds. Or insects or planes or anything. We all die. And in the short time that we live, we only hurt everything around us.
Rebirth
Pandemonium
Strikes the mind
The heart, the eyes
The light that blinds
The colors flash
The darkness fades
And life goes on
Somehow
It just came to my head and I thought it was really pretty, not to mention that you can interpret it in many, very different ways. What do you think it means?
Strikes the mind
The heart, the eyes
The light that blinds
The colors flash
The darkness fades
And life goes on
Somehow
It just came to my head and I thought it was really pretty, not to mention that you can interpret it in many, very different ways. What do you think it means?
A Plea for More
You wake me up, you know
Your eyes keep me locked
I'll never let you go
Your arms keep it blocked
The pain in my heart...
It goes away
The falling tears
Dried yesterday
Let's leave the future to decide
We don't need to die
For now just please stand by my side
Starting now, we won't cry
Stare at the stars
Hidden in my eyes
They're just reflections
Of the real ones
In yours
Never forget
That I'm much less
Without you
--------------------------------------------------
This is saying that the writer is much happier with that other person, and only wants that other person to be happy, together. It's asking the other person to take a chance, to risk being the writer's happiness. And sorry about the confusion with "writer" and "other person." It's just that usually I write poetry that is an exageration of what I feel. So I can't say that the poem is me speaking.
Your eyes keep me locked
I'll never let you go
Your arms keep it blocked
The pain in my heart...
It goes away
The falling tears
Dried yesterday
Let's leave the future to decide
We don't need to die
For now just please stand by my side
Starting now, we won't cry
Stare at the stars
Hidden in my eyes
They're just reflections
Of the real ones
In yours
Never forget
That I'm much less
Without you
--------------------------------------------------
This is saying that the writer is much happier with that other person, and only wants that other person to be happy, together. It's asking the other person to take a chance, to risk being the writer's happiness. And sorry about the confusion with "writer" and "other person." It's just that usually I write poetry that is an exageration of what I feel. So I can't say that the poem is me speaking.
Trapped with a Predetermined Ending
I don't belong here
With all these people in my head
I don't want to live here
Ever anymore
With all of their words
All their pointless laughter
Let me be free
Keep me from captivity
Let me escape
From what makes us smile
From what makes us cry
From that which leads to death
Let me escape from the inevitable
Or let me not be able to escape
Perhaps not being anything
Nothing
--------------------------------------------------
This poem is basically saying "I want to die, but I don't want to kill myself." There were many times when I just don't want to exist. I don't want to die, but I just wish I was nothing. I wished I had never been created into the prison called life.
With all these people in my head
I don't want to live here
Ever anymore
With all of their words
All their pointless laughter
Let me be free
Keep me from captivity
Let me escape
From what makes us smile
From what makes us cry
From that which leads to death
Let me escape from the inevitable
Or let me not be able to escape
Perhaps not being anything
Nothing
--------------------------------------------------
This poem is basically saying "I want to die, but I don't want to kill myself." There were many times when I just don't want to exist. I don't want to die, but I just wish I was nothing. I wished I had never been created into the prison called life.
Alone and Cripple
I'm merely man
I'm merely me
I'm merely broken
Beyond repair
Bleeding
Cracked
Burning
Beyond saving
Falling and dying
Into nothing
Into disgrace
Into myself
Won't someone listen?
Doesn't anyone care?
No, they've left
I am wandering nowhere
They are deaf to my cries
Blind to my fake smiles
Mute to speak comfort.
Yet I am paralyzed
I want to be ok
Set everything right
But now it's too late
When is refuge arriving?
Someone tell me
Hear me, hold me
Someone punish me
I'm always wrong now
--------------------------------------------------
I love the last stanza in this poem, which makes me like the whole poem. I mostly love that stanza because of the irony, of course.
I'm merely me
I'm merely broken
Beyond repair
Bleeding
Cracked
Burning
Beyond saving
Falling and dying
Into nothing
Into disgrace
Into myself
Won't someone listen?
Doesn't anyone care?
No, they've left
I am wandering nowhere
They are deaf to my cries
Blind to my fake smiles
Mute to speak comfort.
Yet I am paralyzed
I want to be ok
Set everything right
But now it's too late
When is refuge arriving?
Someone tell me
Hear me, hold me
Someone punish me
I'm always wrong now
--------------------------------------------------
I love the last stanza in this poem, which makes me like the whole poem. I mostly love that stanza because of the irony, of course.
A Waiting Dream
Rememeber when you were three
And you believed in
The tooth fairy?
She never came
But I'll give her your name
And she'll come running
Remember when you were seven
And you parents couldn't stop yelling?
I'll cover your ears
And make you forget
Remember the other night
When you were crying
About your future love?
I'm whatever you want me to be
I'll give you your dreams,
Just be with me
All your wishes
Will come true
I'll make them all happen
So smile, why don't you?
It's been so long
That you've been all wrong
Messed up, dressed up
So that you can hide.
Come out of the inside
I'm right outside the door
Even walking by the shore with you
Staring at the stars
And driving fancy cars for you
I am and will be
Whatever you want
--------------------------------------------------
This is a really REALLY old poem. And it's kind of sucks. I'm just putting it here because, well, I wrote it. And it's a poem, so I should put it here. Definitely not my best work though. The last line is the message of the whole poem.
And you believed in
The tooth fairy?
She never came
But I'll give her your name
And she'll come running
Remember when you were seven
And you parents couldn't stop yelling?
I'll cover your ears
And make you forget
Remember the other night
When you were crying
About your future love?
I'm whatever you want me to be
I'll give you your dreams,
Just be with me
All your wishes
Will come true
I'll make them all happen
So smile, why don't you?
It's been so long
That you've been all wrong
Messed up, dressed up
So that you can hide.
Come out of the inside
I'm right outside the door
Even walking by the shore with you
Staring at the stars
And driving fancy cars for you
I am and will be
Whatever you want
--------------------------------------------------
This is a really REALLY old poem. And it's kind of sucks. I'm just putting it here because, well, I wrote it. And it's a poem, so I should put it here. Definitely not my best work though. The last line is the message of the whole poem.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Hmmmm
I've written a lot of poems in the past couple months and haven't been posting. Sorry. I guess I just get too lazy to retype it all from my iTouch to here. I'll post some when I have the time inbetween homework and downloading new music and talking to people on aim. Again, sorry. =]
If you REALLY REALLY wanna read one of my poems, then scroll down and read those... What, you've read them already? Well, there's no harm in re-reading them. =]
If you REALLY REALLY wanna read one of my poems, then scroll down and read those... What, you've read them already? Well, there's no harm in re-reading them. =]
Monday, March 23, 2009
The Inner Deep
The silent ongoing of people
Everywhere
Is so irritating, insistive
Pointless
I just wanna be nowhere
Be nothing today
I just wanna be nowhen
Especially back then
Be a light
Perhaps dark
Liquid
No life
Liquid
It's too late
The waterfall is here
And light now
Has made it's way out
I am here: prison
Liquid cage
Envelop, transform
Make me another
Make me again
Someone else
The same
Both
Neither
Nothing
Liquid nothing
--------------------------------------------------
This poem is so weird. I love it. I think I was listening to "Be ok" by Ingrid Michaelson when I wrote it. The waterfall is me, or rather a part of me that keeps me so different from people, isolated. And I don't want it, because it's so dark. But I want to be myself at the same time. Ultimately, I want this part of me to go away, to just die. It's a poem for the confused. And yes, I did make up the word "nowhen." If Shakespeare could make up words, so can I =]
Everywhere
Is so irritating, insistive
Pointless
I just wanna be nowhere
Be nothing today
I just wanna be nowhen
Especially back then
Be a light
Perhaps dark
Liquid
No life
Liquid
It's too late
The waterfall is here
And light now
Has made it's way out
I am here: prison
Liquid cage
Envelop, transform
Make me another
Make me again
Someone else
The same
Both
Neither
Nothing
Liquid nothing
--------------------------------------------------
This poem is so weird. I love it. I think I was listening to "Be ok" by Ingrid Michaelson when I wrote it. The waterfall is me, or rather a part of me that keeps me so different from people, isolated. And I don't want it, because it's so dark. But I want to be myself at the same time. Ultimately, I want this part of me to go away, to just die. It's a poem for the confused. And yes, I did make up the word "nowhen." If Shakespeare could make up words, so can I =]
Dead Faith in Deadly Chains
My life is but a dream
An interstellar mirage
Mirrors, smoke, and seams
Dressed up to fool me
Nothing is real
Nothing absolute
All is dead
All irresolute
I am not myself
You are not human
We live a dead life
Walking the dead plain
There's no freedom,
Is there?
There's no escape
Only the imprisonment
Of life
--------------------------------------------------
This is a poem I wrote just to say how life feels like a trap. Like a prison. You have nowhere to go... And when you think all is fine, it just seems like a lie or a fake. A dead hope.
An interstellar mirage
Mirrors, smoke, and seams
Dressed up to fool me
Nothing is real
Nothing absolute
All is dead
All irresolute
I am not myself
You are not human
We live a dead life
Walking the dead plain
There's no freedom,
Is there?
There's no escape
Only the imprisonment
Of life
--------------------------------------------------
This is a poem I wrote just to say how life feels like a trap. Like a prison. You have nowhere to go... And when you think all is fine, it just seems like a lie or a fake. A dead hope.
Why Can't Life Leave?
What do you do
When you don't know
What's wrong with you?
What do you say
When they ask, "What's wrong,"
Every single day?
How do I die
If I want to live?
How can I smile
When I want to cry?
Someone show me
Someone change me
Kill me now
I can't do it myself
Hurt me now
So I can hurt forever
Flames around...
What a life I lead
What a lie I live
What smiles we fake
What depression life makes
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. The stanza that starts with "hurt me now" basically says 'kill me so I can rot in hell.'
When you don't know
What's wrong with you?
What do you say
When they ask, "What's wrong,"
Every single day?
How do I die
If I want to live?
How can I smile
When I want to cry?
Someone show me
Someone change me
Kill me now
I can't do it myself
Hurt me now
So I can hurt forever
Flames around...
What a life I lead
What a lie I live
What smiles we fake
What depression life makes
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. The stanza that starts with "hurt me now" basically says 'kill me so I can rot in hell.'
Remake My World
I wish I could say
What is in my heart
I wish I could tear
My whole life apart
Kill it to mend it
Burn to relieve
I just want to hurt
So I can believe
Believe in the sadness
Believe in the minds
No, believe that all is dead
All is so blind
Idiotic, pointless
That's all life is
Lifeless, lazy
Is conformism
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. The beginning states how I want to just re-do my whole life. Examine it piece by piece and right my wrongs. The second-to-last stanza states that I want to believe in people and their intelligence, but that would be believing in lies.
What is in my heart
I wish I could tear
My whole life apart
Kill it to mend it
Burn to relieve
I just want to hurt
So I can believe
Believe in the sadness
Believe in the minds
No, believe that all is dead
All is so blind
Idiotic, pointless
That's all life is
Lifeless, lazy
Is conformism
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. The beginning states how I want to just re-do my whole life. Examine it piece by piece and right my wrongs. The second-to-last stanza states that I want to believe in people and their intelligence, but that would be believing in lies.
Scream Sadness
I'm sick of reading
Of writing, of breathing
Of eating and speaking
Of pretending to love
Of wanting, of hating
Of hearing and tasting
Of seeing and feeling
I wish I could feel
Feel sadness, only sadness
For all of my life
Pure sadness, impure
Give me my strife
For I have sinned
Done my deed
I cannot win
Make me bleed
Bleed sadness, only sadness
Red and maybe blue
Cry sadness, liquid sadness
In the sky, it falls so true
Die in sadness
Help me move
Through life
Without you
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. This has a bit of irony around it. "Pure sadness, impure," "sick of feeling... I wish I could feel." And I make sadness not only symbolizing blood but tears. The ending isn't saying that I want to live life without sadness; the whole poem is asking for it, so why would I do that? I want to live life without the struggle... I wanted sadness and nothing else; no conflict or guilt or anything. Anyways, I like this one.
Of writing, of breathing
Of eating and speaking
Of pretending to love
Of wanting, of hating
Of hearing and tasting
Of seeing and feeling
I wish I could feel
Feel sadness, only sadness
For all of my life
Pure sadness, impure
Give me my strife
For I have sinned
Done my deed
I cannot win
Make me bleed
Bleed sadness, only sadness
Red and maybe blue
Cry sadness, liquid sadness
In the sky, it falls so true
Die in sadness
Help me move
Through life
Without you
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. This has a bit of irony around it. "Pure sadness, impure," "sick of feeling... I wish I could feel." And I make sadness not only symbolizing blood but tears. The ending isn't saying that I want to live life without sadness; the whole poem is asking for it, so why would I do that? I want to live life without the struggle... I wanted sadness and nothing else; no conflict or guilt or anything. Anyways, I like this one.
Save Me, Leave Me
Words hurt my head
People break my bed
Down, I try to lay
Run, reach me today
Help me
Leave me to fend
For myself
Amend
Give me your heart
Then leave me alive
Leave me alone with
My reality contrived
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. It's not really my style... It's different than what I usually write. And when I say "Leave me alive," it's sort of saying... Let me live off you and your help but let me still have my own space and with my own world, my own 'reality.' Oh, and notice irony in the second stanza. I love irony.
People break my bed
Down, I try to lay
Run, reach me today
Help me
Leave me to fend
For myself
Amend
Give me your heart
Then leave me alive
Leave me alone with
My reality contrived
--------------------------------------------------
This is one of the four poems I wrote on a sad day. It's not really my style... It's different than what I usually write. And when I say "Leave me alive," it's sort of saying... Let me live off you and your help but let me still have my own space and with my own world, my own 'reality.' Oh, and notice irony in the second stanza. I love irony.
Invisible Ink
All these pieces of me
Are falling
I don't want to write poetry
I'm dying
No one cares
Until the tears fall
And then, they speak
It's too late, imbecile
I'm an open book by day
But when it rains
The words are wiped off
The page
I run away...
And I'll always run
Until that day when
They care without end
Not just when tears fall
Not just when smiles break
But when everything is ok
Whena ll is good
No one knows
Can anyone read?
--------------------------------------------------
I wrote this at school, just like most of my poems. After writing those last two lines, I thought that people might not get that by "can anyone even read," I meant "do people know when there's something wrong with someone?" So I added the "open book by day" stanza. It makes it clear that I am the book. And my tears are the rain that wipe my words off the page. It's just saying how I seclude myself when I'm sad or something.
Are falling
I don't want to write poetry
I'm dying
No one cares
Until the tears fall
And then, they speak
It's too late, imbecile
I'm an open book by day
But when it rains
The words are wiped off
The page
I run away...
And I'll always run
Until that day when
They care without end
Not just when tears fall
Not just when smiles break
But when everything is ok
Whena ll is good
No one knows
Can anyone read?
--------------------------------------------------
I wrote this at school, just like most of my poems. After writing those last two lines, I thought that people might not get that by "can anyone even read," I meant "do people know when there's something wrong with someone?" So I added the "open book by day" stanza. It makes it clear that I am the book. And my tears are the rain that wipe my words off the page. It's just saying how I seclude myself when I'm sad or something.
Waterfall Mirage
I'm focused ahead, alone
Wait
Someone's to my left
No, disappointment fills me
And my reflection cracks
I don't want to be here
Where no one shows they care
I don't want to know them
Take me to where people amend
I don't want to live here
Where no one understands
Take me to the place
Where everyone knows everything
Take me to rest
Then take me back one day
When the world has had enough
Of every feeling
For with love comes pain
And with the sun comes rain
Aren't smiles just frowns
Turned upside-down?
No one dares to run
In the clouds' tears
I bask in it
And wish the sun
To come again
No one dares to
Lend a hand
I always do
And wish they
Would lend one too
--------------------------------------------------
I saw water falling to my left one day and thought it was someone, but turned to see that no one was there. I thought it was pretty sad how I could even think that. I even made a poem out of it (apparently). In the first stanza, when I say my reflection cracks, I mean to say that my reflection is the person I "saw."
Wait
Someone's to my left
No, disappointment fills me
And my reflection cracks
I don't want to be here
Where no one shows they care
I don't want to know them
Take me to where people amend
I don't want to live here
Where no one understands
Take me to the place
Where everyone knows everything
Take me to rest
Then take me back one day
When the world has had enough
Of every feeling
For with love comes pain
And with the sun comes rain
Aren't smiles just frowns
Turned upside-down?
No one dares to run
In the clouds' tears
I bask in it
And wish the sun
To come again
No one dares to
Lend a hand
I always do
And wish they
Would lend one too
--------------------------------------------------
I saw water falling to my left one day and thought it was someone, but turned to see that no one was there. I thought it was pretty sad how I could even think that. I even made a poem out of it (apparently). In the first stanza, when I say my reflection cracks, I mean to say that my reflection is the person I "saw."
Friday, March 13, 2009
Without Faith
Never knowing
Never going
Anything
Anywhere
The world is lost
Deprived of a future
Exhausted we are,
Say the old
Exhausted we are,
Say the working young
Tired are we,
Say the leaders
Dead is the hope
And the spirit of faith
Alone are the happy
Many are the weak
Alive are the strong
For dead are the meek
--------------------------------------------------
I added the last stanza way later after reviewing the poem and reading it again. I wrote it while on campus, just thinking about how pointless everything is. It's different than what I usually write, and I like it.
Never going
Anything
Anywhere
The world is lost
Deprived of a future
Exhausted we are,
Say the old
Exhausted we are,
Say the working young
Tired are we,
Say the leaders
Dead is the hope
And the spirit of faith
Alone are the happy
Many are the weak
Alive are the strong
For dead are the meek
--------------------------------------------------
I added the last stanza way later after reviewing the poem and reading it again. I wrote it while on campus, just thinking about how pointless everything is. It's different than what I usually write, and I like it.
Tell Me Forever
What about me?
What about when I need you?
What about when I'm alone?
What about you?
When will you get here?
Right before I'm about to jump?
Or when I am crying?
Or are you never coming home?
Listen to me
I have my friends,
But they're not the ones I need
Pay attention
I see you and long for the day
When you will see me too
In the way that I see you
Turn around and never turn away
Why won't you listen?
Shut up and hear me
Shut up and tell me it's alright
Shut up and hold me
Shut up, shut up
Just shut up, world
--------------------------------------------------
I have no idea what was going through my head... I think part of it had to do with social rejection and part with just sadness over everything. This is truly just one of those poems that were just emotional and sort of don't make sense.
What about when I need you?
What about when I'm alone?
What about you?
When will you get here?
Right before I'm about to jump?
Or when I am crying?
Or are you never coming home?
Listen to me
I have my friends,
But they're not the ones I need
Pay attention
I see you and long for the day
When you will see me too
In the way that I see you
Turn around and never turn away
Why won't you listen?
Shut up and hear me
Shut up and tell me it's alright
Shut up and hold me
Shut up, shut up
Just shut up, world
--------------------------------------------------
I have no idea what was going through my head... I think part of it had to do with social rejection and part with just sadness over everything. This is truly just one of those poems that were just emotional and sort of don't make sense.
Inanimate Beauty
I wish I was a windchime
Over the dead in a cemetary
Played by the wind,
Giving songs with no meaning
To those who feel meaningless
I wish I was a balloon
Flying higher and higher,
No need would confound me
I know only of flight
I wish I was a leaf
Growing and changing
And suddenly falling
In the middle of winter
To meet with all my comrades
I wish I was a raindrop
Pushed down by gravity
With the only purpose of landing
Touched by the wind,
I would inevitably descend
With my family and friends
Lifeless and beautiful
Meaningless and purposeful
I wish my life was like
A ray of sunshine
--------------------------------------------------
This poem is one of my favorite poems. Maybe even my all-time favorite. I was riding home one day from school, and my dad was talking to me about something. I was sad (shocker). And so I looked out the window and saw all these things, just inanimate and swaying and... being. A windchime, a balloon, a leaf, a raindrop; all of them had no worries, no troubles. All they have to do is do what nature intended them to do. They just ARE, and nothing gets in the way of that, and nothing gets in the way of what they do every day. And I wish I just did something constant every day, had a life as simple as an inanimate beauty.
Over the dead in a cemetary
Played by the wind,
Giving songs with no meaning
To those who feel meaningless
I wish I was a balloon
Flying higher and higher,
No need would confound me
I know only of flight
I wish I was a leaf
Growing and changing
And suddenly falling
In the middle of winter
To meet with all my comrades
I wish I was a raindrop
Pushed down by gravity
With the only purpose of landing
Touched by the wind,
I would inevitably descend
With my family and friends
Lifeless and beautiful
Meaningless and purposeful
I wish my life was like
A ray of sunshine
--------------------------------------------------
This poem is one of my favorite poems. Maybe even my all-time favorite. I was riding home one day from school, and my dad was talking to me about something. I was sad (shocker). And so I looked out the window and saw all these things, just inanimate and swaying and... being. A windchime, a balloon, a leaf, a raindrop; all of them had no worries, no troubles. All they have to do is do what nature intended them to do. They just ARE, and nothing gets in the way of that, and nothing gets in the way of what they do every day. And I wish I just did something constant every day, had a life as simple as an inanimate beauty.
Do You Fear?
Words like honey
Flow from the lips
Those which say
Many things
Words of joy
Of sadness
Words of faith
Of mistrust
How many lies
Will flow?
Have you hurt
The ones you know?
Or have you
Love unconditionally?
Do you give
To those who trust they'll see?
People never know
But some believe
--------------------------------------------------
I wrote this poem in church. Actually, while my dad was preaching. I was just questioning what was real and if what was being said is the truth. I stopped writing the poem and finished it later, after service was done.
Flow from the lips
Those which say
Many things
Words of joy
Of sadness
Words of faith
Of mistrust
How many lies
Will flow?
Have you hurt
The ones you know?
Or have you
Love unconditionally?
Do you give
To those who trust they'll see?
People never know
But some believe
--------------------------------------------------
I wrote this poem in church. Actually, while my dad was preaching. I was just questioning what was real and if what was being said is the truth. I stopped writing the poem and finished it later, after service was done.
You, Me, and a Future
You
So soon you came
And yet it felt like forever
Me
What an idiot I've been
I should have been there
But I'm here now
I can't believe we're here
Waiting and still enjoying the moment
I can't believe we have a future together
I can't wait until we fill our lives
With smiles
I'll let you know with every word
Every breath, every day, every move
That I'm completely into you
Let this never be over
Hold me, kiss me
Maybe just gaze
So I can feel
What I know is real
What I know you feel
But for now suffice it to say
I want you at the end of the day
And I want you here through it all
My triumphs, rises, and falls
We'll do this like no one else
Our story will be epic
Our lives will be woven
Our hearts will be one
Your smile shines away the sorrows
And those laughs seem to pass the time
If we live in this future,
Maybe I can make your wrong days
Seem right and we will climb
They'll all wish they were us
But we don't care
We'll never dare
To leave the other there
--------------------------------------------------
Inspired by me and Amanda, but I sort of exagerated a bit and made it like a head-over-heels sort of thing.
So soon you came
And yet it felt like forever
Me
What an idiot I've been
I should have been there
But I'm here now
I can't believe we're here
Waiting and still enjoying the moment
I can't believe we have a future together
I can't wait until we fill our lives
With smiles
I'll let you know with every word
Every breath, every day, every move
That I'm completely into you
Let this never be over
Hold me, kiss me
Maybe just gaze
So I can feel
What I know is real
What I know you feel
But for now suffice it to say
I want you at the end of the day
And I want you here through it all
My triumphs, rises, and falls
We'll do this like no one else
Our story will be epic
Our lives will be woven
Our hearts will be one
Your smile shines away the sorrows
And those laughs seem to pass the time
If we live in this future,
Maybe I can make your wrong days
Seem right and we will climb
They'll all wish they were us
But we don't care
We'll never dare
To leave the other there
--------------------------------------------------
Inspired by me and Amanda, but I sort of exagerated a bit and made it like a head-over-heels sort of thing.
Meeting a Star
Emotions
That I never knew
Are brewing
What are you doing?
I'm a little confused
I don't know what to do
But I know I'm fine
With my arms around you
I'm completely ok
With those words you say,
The ones that don't matter,
They make my day
My mind has changed
I can't forget you
So come fly with me
In the skies so blue
We'll shine like the sun
And be as beautiful as the moon
Our hearts will guide us like stars
And we'll sing our own tune
I used to hurt,
To worry, to cry
But then I saw
A star in the sky
It came down to greet me
It told me I'm amazing
But I couldn't form words
I just kept on gazing
The person inside you
Is who I want to meet
Let it out, show me
And make me complete
--------------------------------------------------
This was written in the beginning of my relationship with Amanda. Just to explain a part of the poem, she told me I was amazing one day.
That I never knew
Are brewing
What are you doing?
I'm a little confused
I don't know what to do
But I know I'm fine
With my arms around you
I'm completely ok
With those words you say,
The ones that don't matter,
They make my day
My mind has changed
I can't forget you
So come fly with me
In the skies so blue
We'll shine like the sun
And be as beautiful as the moon
Our hearts will guide us like stars
And we'll sing our own tune
I used to hurt,
To worry, to cry
But then I saw
A star in the sky
It came down to greet me
It told me I'm amazing
But I couldn't form words
I just kept on gazing
The person inside you
Is who I want to meet
Let it out, show me
And make me complete
--------------------------------------------------
This was written in the beginning of my relationship with Amanda. Just to explain a part of the poem, she told me I was amazing one day.
Deluded by the Self-Centered
Those up-turned glasses
See-through, glorious, and shining
All those demented cups
In the middle,
Or the outside, in actuality,
Lies the down-turned glass
Centered on itself
It needs neither companion nor foe
It has everything it requires
She sees them all
Those exuberant pieces of glass
And chooses the self-centered
In all these choices
She chooses the one who is
The worst intentioned
Her special glass
She doesn't let anyone near it
Only she may drink
She takes pride in her choice
And wants it to be proud
Of her choosing of him
Did she not see?
The glass was a selfish entity
He would not give her pride
She delighted in him
While he forgot she chose him
She shouldn't have picked him
He should have stayed empty
But she desired past the expected
And received only pain
--------------------------------------------------
This was just inspired by one glass. It was just upside down, and I went to get a cup and then I thought that it was kind of cool. I just made this poem into something about a girl who likes a guy that doesn't like her back. A guy that doesn't really care about anyone than himself, really.
See-through, glorious, and shining
All those demented cups
In the middle,
Or the outside, in actuality,
Lies the down-turned glass
Centered on itself
It needs neither companion nor foe
It has everything it requires
She sees them all
Those exuberant pieces of glass
And chooses the self-centered
In all these choices
She chooses the one who is
The worst intentioned
Her special glass
She doesn't let anyone near it
Only she may drink
She takes pride in her choice
And wants it to be proud
Of her choosing of him
Did she not see?
The glass was a selfish entity
He would not give her pride
She delighted in him
While he forgot she chose him
She shouldn't have picked him
He should have stayed empty
But she desired past the expected
And received only pain
--------------------------------------------------
This was just inspired by one glass. It was just upside down, and I went to get a cup and then I thought that it was kind of cool. I just made this poem into something about a girl who likes a guy that doesn't like her back. A guy that doesn't really care about anyone than himself, really.
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