What is a poem?
Perhaps a free thought, Just floating in the air?
Maybe a feeling, A mix of many different emotions?
What is a poem?
It is what ever you make it.
That's what a poem is.
A poem is me.
They are the only images I see when I shut my eyes. I tried closing them tighter, to get rid of the gruesome memories, but they just become more vivid and alive. Somehow they've made me numb and frozen. I guess I am thankful. If I were to constantly break down every time I thought of those memories I'd surely lose my mind. Not that I haven't, at least not much.
I stare out of my cracked window. The rain is really coming down. The sun has almost vanished and I know I should be getting up soon. If I don't then there will be consequences. Not severe, but consequences nonetheless.
As I'm dressing in all skin tight black there's a shift in the air. Niki materializes in my peripheral, dressed in the same attire. Her black streaked bangs are messy in her face. If ever I could have a best friend, she'd be the one.
"I see you're ready," she says.
"Don't we have to be," I tell her.
She half shrugs and pulls her short, blonde, and black hair in a tight pony tail. I p
Sky and Earth
I asked you what it must be like
To see everything,
To feel everything.
Of course, I never did get an answer from you.
So I guess I'll never know.
I can wonder,
I can assume,
I can even conjure up some incredible explanation!
I can let be what is.
But then again, if I were to do so, you would surely be gone forever
Dead to the world,
Lost to me
So many times I thought of joining you,
But I suppose I'm too selfish.
I want to stay attached.
My earth, a solid surface.
If ever I fall I can get back up.
I wanted to ask why you wished to fly all the time,
But it was too late.
I never got around to it.
I decided to lie down,
On my earth,
And just stare above.
Oh how vast!
You smiled upon me then.
And I received all of the answers.
One of us had to stay rooted,
Or the other would surely drift away.
We finally intertwined our fingers.
This is a poem to my mommy, Natasha, who will never know my true thoughts and feelings.
Underneath my cold, rough, and seemingly flawless surface,
you've left my insides tattered, in shambles, shattered.
All because of YOUR failures and hardships.
All because of YOUR shame.
My face left stinging from your anger fueled lashes,
I swore I were an unwanted stepchild.
I thought you purely despised me..
I thought you had no real need for me..
I thought it was I who just failed you....
But I know now that it's just in your nature.
You have no control of your own life,
So you take mine.
You try to live through me.
I wrote this poem because I will always have something inside me that despises you too.
I wrote this for my own comfort.
I wrote this to ful
Can't believe that I feel good enough.
It's been a long time coming,
but I feel good.
Doesn't really matter how I feel inside.
lonely little life.
You're pushing and pulling me down.
I can't say no to you.
It was always you
falling for me,
but I don't know what I want.
Because I've never felt like this before.
I hate this.
I hate this.
For The No Ones
To those who have been branded and bashed from society.
Those who've found comfort and refuge within the shadows
To the ones who put up with the harsh slanders from supposed peers.
For those who wait for the sun to disappear.
To those whose hearts and minds work together as one.
Those who fear the thought of being afraid.
To those whose vast minds are kept concealed.
For those who lose every battle but are victors in the war.
To those you must get to know before you permanently label.
Those who don't know the value of their own worth.
To those who are never sure of who or what they really are.
For those who only have themselves to love;
Like stars that are only appreciated in the night sky.
Not realizing that the sun itself is the biggest star.
They are one with the night,
Soaking up the beautiful darkness.
Remind us all that before the day, darkness was the only light.
Darkness was, and still is, all around us.
So embrace it.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
Is It Love?If I hugged you,
would you never let go?
If I kissed you,
would you cherish that moment?
If I reached for your hand,
would you take mine gently?
If I needed a shoulder,
would you let me cry on yours?
If I needed to talk,
would you really listen?
If I needed to scream,
would you do it with me?
If I needed to go,
would you come with me?
If I fell for you,
would you catch me?
or just let me hit the pavement?
CultistOne day, we’ll worship rust
and marvel how it claimed
the world of industrious metal,
leaving nothing but slowing
reddening struts, half-hearted
angles reaching outward.
We’ll dive into the wrecks
looking for half-sparking wonders
that, when properly restored, gleam
into sputtering song or splitting
pictures of different worlds
and the faces of old Gods.
TapestryThe morning is a tapestry...
tripping over last night's grace,
I watch you weave your skin
and shake out your hair -
soft teal and jonquil
shadowing your cheek
as the curtains part between your hands.
Threads tangle as you turn,
dawn is a gentle lover,
and the tumble of birds
plaiting their soft notes
lingers on the pillows
where your smile is my undoing.
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
Uh oh Annie--- It was a beautiful outside. The sun was shining, the trees were painted with brilliant shades of yellow and orange. It made John wonder why he had to waste his day sitting in a class with cranky teachers, stupid classmates, and ass-loads of work. The only saving grace throughout his day was being able to walk between buildings with Annie before third hour. Second hour ended in 2 minutes. Even though he saw her every day, he was exited every time he heard the bell ring. He loved to just talk to her, and tried more then anything to make her laugh. If only she felt the same way about him. She didn't hate him, but she saw John as just a friend. He wanted to be more then just friends, but couldn't express how he felt. Some day.
Finally. Class was over. John was pleasantly surprised to find Annie waiting for him right outside the building.
"Ready?" She asked, her smile brightening up his day. She was wearing a skin-tight green tank top, with even tighter skin-tight yoga