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Looking at Us – my first real poem

I look at Us – Us as in a unit of measurement, unused to anything less than surface level attachments.

We who share a meaningless experience every year and call it bonding, as though bonds were only material.

As though DNA, and being raised, are debts to be re-payed, and anything less is nonsensical to communicate.

I need depth – as in more space with which to relate. I can’t create attachment within surface level space.

Understand this – I know why this lack of space exists. I’ve analyzed and think I’ve diagnosed our neurosis.

We’ve existed for years un-acknowledging each other’s existence. We’re well practiced in pretending we have no inner substance.

Unless of course we’re mad – that’s when we feel comfortable right? And free enough to express our discontent with life.

Sensitive as we are, we could easily arrange a fight. Perhaps we need the chance to strike each other with our spite,

But I’m not even angry, I just think that if we’re joined, we should make some space between us or there isn’t any point.

 

In A Fantasy World

The stress and drudgery of the waking world

Draining life from the body as time depletes

Constant demands for more money and labor

Driving the cycle of efforts to bleed

And bodies that strain to maintain their position

Hold minds that are pining to wander as they please

In the confines of those physical prisons

Are dreams and fantasies burning for release

She imagines castles carved into mountainsides

In a majestic woodland with enchanted streams

With friends of all kinds, shapes, sizes, and genders

In renaissance dresses, residing at ease

Magical flowers in their abundant gardens

Crystal clear water in natural shallow pools

Adventures every morning and parties in the night

Never needing, never bleeding, never forced to be a fool

The time never passes and their beauty never dims

Their bodies never tire and they’re never out of love

The characters inspire and are always entertaining

And life is but a dream from which they’re never waking up

She imagines all of this, as the world demands some more

As she struggles through the constant fatigue that is her life

Spending her strength while her muscles bruise and sore

And the body is used and exploited without respite

The hours burn away the flesh until expired

Without any comfort in those promising words

With only one desire, to die one day in misery

And wake to be free in her fantasy world.

 

Troubling

Troubling signs

Finger-pointing, recklessness, and lies

Contradictory perceptions abound

Niceties as discrimination in disguise

Hollow words drowned out in the sound

Troubling signs

Bad arguments, old fallacies, and fears

Paranoid daydreams spreading thick

Dysfunctional allegiances adhered

The hierarchs appear to be sick

Troubling signs

Dogma, propaganda, and pomp

Countless irrationally vain expressions

Too much invested to be stopped

Stakes too personal for discretion

Troubling signs

Regression, obsession, and pride

Paranoid realities asserted

Religion and neurosis coincide

Hope, love, and life inverted

 

Still carrying on

Trouble and tumult breed excellence

Sagas of struggle must always be told

When death and injustice are eminent

Ideas and ideals are all that one can hold.

 

 

Fragile Fragments Of Tender Hearts

Tender hearts wash ashore

New arrivals in our play

Unashamed and unaware

Drying on the gentle beach

Looking backwards and ahead

Forming bonds and memories

Unafraid to be betrayed

Loving, hating, carelessly

 

Time a most patient teacher

Humans, the most untamable beasts

Tender hearts encased in glass

Shattered, battered, then repeat

Chances taken turn to naught

Trusted loves will turn away

Fragments of a fragile heart

Burn and bruise and then decay

Deepest wounds we hold inside

Scarier than the loss of blood

Guarded hearts in metal boxes

Too dangerous to open up

 

Battered hearts all locked away

Sick, imprisioned, they will stay

Escaping is the only way

To love and hurt again someday.

 

Wake Me Up

Musings

Half remembered, half wandering day dreams

Hours at a time suspended

Consciously awakening as I’m nearly asleep

 

A small flame burns

A brilliant candle in a chaotic void

Somehow still clinging to life

After all these years of neglect

 

Sensations dim, emotions encroach

Repressed dimensions of personality re-surface

Alive at last, gasping on that first breathe

Frightened, ashamed, too much too fast

 

A wandering mind asleep

Dreaming of lives it wished it lived

In worlds where every chance was fair

And supreme comfort was attainable

 

Lift me up

Cradle me gently in arms of flowers

Safe from threat of injury and distress

Convince me that it isn’t just a dream

I Wish It Would Rain

I wish it would rain

Bittersweet tears from a crying sky

As midnight’s chill air envelops us

With cascading droplets of emotion

Expressing my emotions for me

 

Ominous thunder like an angry God

Bellowing passionately into the dark

And lightening for sudden illumination

Brilliant supernovas of distress

Etching my sentiments into the clouds

 

A microcosmic apocalypse just for me

A turbulent release to set me free

A tantrum, a meltdown, a melodramatic wailing

Goetia, an epic symphony of lament

Just to ease me

 

Settle my repressed distress

And cleanse these unrelenting thoughts

Express this damn chaos for me, please

I wish the sky would cry

Its tears lulling me to sleep

 

Cruelty

Breathless, vacant, fresh but fading

Faint warmth rapidly depleting

Energy released, never to be recaptured

A mind, a pattern, never to be replaced

Cautious footsteps, stepped once too far

One sideways glance that saw too much

An instant, a flash, a rush of violence

Stillness, silence, a brief candle snuffed

No laughter, no tears, just reflection

A warmth-less acknowledgement it was done

Sleepless cruelty doesn’t stop to see

Erase, acquire, and then move along

Wide staring eyes, dry, still, and dead

Mouth agape and hands at her side

Trickling blood, from where I won’t say

Bruised broken skin and one blunted spade

Human, heart-beat, hushed little love

Disappear, decay, and evaporate

Leave us, leave them, loose all your time

Humans, horrors, eat, kill, and desecrate.

Beautiful Things

Such lovely stories from the eyes of your mind.

Such touching expressions you stain into my heart.

Your passions, confessions, fantasies, and fears

Like tender glances from your innermost thought.

It’s hard not to love these glimpses at your soul,

To empathize with all your pains and projections.

That you could expose them to such a cruel world

and they could reach someone like me, is precious.

Too much do I wander through days, uninspired.

Savoring what little beauty I can find,

So writers and artists like you are a pleasure

For animating those fragments of your creative mind.

As long as we suffer, we can always bleed beauty.

As long as we love, we can always paint hearts.

Whatever we see, our minds will never cease,

To transform our perceptions into pieces of art.

I’ve always been enamored with beautiful things,

Things that stir passions, provoke emotion, and inspire.

An open heart creates, and whispers words into another.

Connections are created from those loves and desires.

Together we transcend the confines of physicality,

Imaginative souls carrying worlds to explore.

To be honest, this intimacy is simply described,

It’s the beautiful things of your mind I adore.