Extraordinary, I am
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding the gift I shouldn't fought
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
The food of my soul
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart
Up into the sky
like an Angel
at Soupland, watching him as he soared
like an Angel;
a strong love he had, sharing it till the end, yet
could not resist the resounding call
and he left,
Leaving us his poetry, for
when great storms come in, his laughter
will dry our tears like rain.
for Tom Bell, a great poet who taught us all--
to laugh and to smile…to learn… and to give.
Wordings from the heart
That I’m trying to use
To cover this scented stationery
With my ball point scribbler, I’m proud
To match the sensual scent
Of your lovely and fiery lips
With crimson thoughts, but as I finally come
To end my writings, after so many pages
Hooked thrown into a silent bin
I begin to wonder if it’s better to recite
My love notes to you in person
For this way you would feel
Much, much better…
The bubbling rhythm
Of my heart
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
Don't look this way
For I have been burned in the face.
Defeat and captured
Only released by the sound of my breathing.
From dust till dawn
I say look away for I no longer wish for you to see me.
Released the blood from my eyes.
Look away for I have you placed in my heart
I wish you not to see me this way.
Though I be burn ,torn,tattered and fatal wounded
Shall my breathing keep me sane.
May you memory keep me warm
See these words I speak,hear me breathing so shallow.
Feel the darkness that formed in my eyes
Since this is my mind I may be released.
But forever trapped in a maze that brings
Me up to drag me down.
Look away for I am burned in the face
As long as you remember your in my heart,
And memory I shall be in yours.
So I shall say look away
For I am burned tattered and torn inside my mind.
Just look away
A Dark Fairytale
As I was chained, I breathe in.
As I was burned, I breathe out.
As I was cut, I looked down.
As I was broken, I looked up.
As I was destroyed, I closed away.
I had killed myself damaging beyond any repair.
To keep myself closed I chain, cut, burned, and destroyed what was within me, isolation my fear around me. But suddenly as I had nearly been kindled to a shivering light, something braver and stronger then I appeared and took me and held me and once again I was fixed and this is what happened;
Suddenly I breathed in as I was unchained.
Suddenly I breathed out as my burns disappeared.
Suddenly I looked up as my broken body mended.
Suddenly I looked down as my cuts faded.
Suddenly I was opened up and my destruction was nothing more then a dream
As my knight, you entered that shadow and held me now I grow with a unprofaned radiance.
I was held once more, and my soul emerged.
I was spoken to once more, and my mind went blank.
I was kissed and my body reacted without a second hesitation.
And before I could run away once more, I was trapped.
Unlike my prison I lived in a fairytale, in were I don’t want to live this place anytime soon. What happened then and what happening now are so fair apart it hilarious.
I’ve forgiven the past, not forgotten it. Prove never to make the same mistakes or else be locked back inside that tower I call my mind.
Let me in brave knight, into your mysterious ways.
Let me in brave knight let me have secret passages into that world of yours.
Let me in brave knight so I can truly capture you.
I was as cold as ice even more then winters hail, but you with a ridged past that icier then I could have imagined is as warm as the summer sun and sweet like spring air.
For saving me, for taking my heart, for releasing me, I’ll become everything you want and then more, I’ll stand by your side and hold you like you held me and I shall be everything you need.
My sweet Knight.
Bound by my hands
Bound by my legs
Bound by my waist
Bound by my neck
I can't hear
I can't smell
I can't taste
I can't see
I put everything away and only thought of
What brought me joy.Nor do I want to
Cry leaving my captures to smile about
To gloat,to have that unknown brutal power
Over me which is held in one tear.
My body numb,my heart is stopped,my mind is blank
Is this dying? Why am I paralyzed? Could it be falling a sleep?
These chains are cold but everything is hot.What feeling beside
Pity would become of me?..Be it not grief not sadness not even remorse.
But as I stand up from this seat,I am nothing more then a well mannered
Pup on a tight leash.
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
I stood by the periphery…
gracelessly doling derivative remarks
(all that is rhetorical in rhetoric and blatant in denial)
upon my comrades, the dust shot Sandinistas of midsummer masochism,
the caliphs of ‘Baltic Bay’.
“The armistice laid flowers upon
the salt seasoned lip of the hatch-backed hawk…”
Blood fell passively between his heartbroken legs,
siphoned from each and every available pore;
the oxygenated irony of pneumatic Gnosticism:
“The desert was a beach.”
They say that war is a catalytic catharsis, a palatial reprieve,
without languid logic or porous rationality,
the emancipation of masculinity,
castrated by the wire…
I thought it was hell… I was taught to think otherwise…
The torrential shards of verbal promiscuity
stole light unto the fore,
the parochial labyrinth of incandescent egotism,
Rare, poached howitzers… laden with anxiety
bore slight from the barbed-wire battalion
of ill-fitting idiots,
shuffling their feet, settling their nerves,
sealing their fate with
slack pot meandering midst snip sniped surprise.
“The technicality of principalities, dukedoms and deceit,
tune the tuneless melody and save your soul from hate. “
Their calibre unknown, their reasons unfounded…
the calypso calling cantaloupes of entrepreneurial acumen
shot black with dusk… slid unto the night.
Corporal rationale: “Half an hour of ambiguity…”
Lieutenant liquidation: “Twenty minutes of woe…”
Collective privacy: “Ten minutes of philistine philanthropy…”
Collective piracy: “Five minutes of... … ….”
Towel clenched soviets, eager and resentful,
scape-goaded the photographic horde into meagre submission…
subverting the course of justice.
Rented Kalashnikovs rattled ravenous replies…
once, twice, three times a corpse…
“Androgyny and xenophiles, the pasteurised provocateur…
draped in Prada propped dynamics, mechanically aware…”
Desiccant faeces flew five feet into the air;
the aluminium gilded lavatories received the short end of the stick,
literally liquidated within (without) the… humdrum humidity.
Gabriel dictated the proceedings.
The abortive restraint of sycophantic silencers
and Hassidic hallucinations,
graced by a political patriarchy…
urinating upon the synthetic soil.
If written by God,
Why lost rhyme, measure?
Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp
See this not as a flattery
Thou, we both know that
We met, only, yesterday
But truth is I am missing
You, every night and day
You and only you
I think of no other, as
I spell out
These words of mine
My arts, from the heart
You told me
To gaze the stars
Whilst I begged you
To ask the birds
How to fly
I remember that night
It’s something, I’ll not forget
The scent of a Korean tea
Brewed, delicately, with love
To sanctify me
It was already two a. m. when I
Walked home, from your place
Guided by the sleepy moon
I found out, we passionately speak
Nature’s own language
laboured unto birth…
the mythic glance
of gentile gratification;
the populist pariah
sheathed sternly under glass…
exhibited ad nauseam;
pardoned upon the
midst the callous cyclic queue…
from father to son…
they eolith dualist monopolies all too sudden…
a true contradition; sentries of,
as already sated…
senseless sensibility… municipally…
you-will-seize… day after deign…
night after umberellian echoes…
for if the wakean lent voice o’er hop itself,
dost veer cane tray nether realm as well?
Neigh… endomorphic; anthropaedophilic lust…
steadily endures romantic inflammations…
a rash once fought…
until the moral ambiguity slides back
unto tenuous tense and marathon…
as if the end was already soon, or had passed…?
For that as it seems is all too rhetorical in rhetoric,
and misconstrued by puncture floundered fallacappy…
gently top-plead due to intrinsartistic licensing…
twenty four hour raffles, tambala sable…
twenty four hours O’raisin deter…:
I feel like sl-lit,
i wanna flip.
Let my words rip,
come take a sip.
My phone keeps on ringing,
its chesney hawkins singing.
I get this scary feeling,
she's gönnä nail me for stealing.
I look at the sealing,
wish i knew what was the meaning.
I must start to pray,
every single day.
I'm smoking myself to death,
i need to take a deep breath.
Please don't make me fall,
i don't wanna end it all.
The monster became a living, walking nightmare
my dive into insanity, no longer perfect, containing a blank stare
I should resist, the monster will find me, run away with me
Pretend to hear my meager complaints, force me to see what I'm afraid to see
Blame and guilt, volleying right and left, up and down
It's crashing me closer, with every step, I'm falling to the ground
It's all a game, just play along, play the game, play it well
Brimming confidence, dissolved in thoughts, of what? I won’t tell
Demons, devil born souls, run quick, run fast, stand my ground
No sense of fear, n sense of foreboding, not even a slight sound
High speed, pursuit of hell, bent on going, bent on crashing
Giving into the power, life's faster, lights flashing
Crash and torment me again, my eyes close after all
The beginning of the end for me, feeling numb after the fall
Is there a way out? I'm different, distant and moved on
Listen to the water, calling, coaxing into death, I'm gone
Endless, empty cloud; dreamless oblivion; oxygen, exhalation
Am I dead? Still alive? Broken into pieces, I need motivation
Reality closes in, walls me in; until there’s nothing there
Death comes behind me, containing a blank stare.
You’re the dawn of despair and gloominess
You’re the sunset that discards my gladness
You deceived me…you made me trek the road of calamity
You grieve for me…you yearn for my sympathy… but I overlook your pity
Horror strikes me, scorching away my destiny
My confidence has slowly departed from me…so what should I do?
Terror swallows me alive, now I’m begging to flee!
My self-reliance has disregarded and fled from thee…now I’m crammed with woe
Digest the emptiness that I feel deep inside
Heed to what I’m about to announce to you…
Digest the affliction that I brushed aside
Hear what I’m about to warn you about…it’s all true
You deserted me…melt the isolation that has filled us with woe
You brainwashed me…you tarnished my bliss
You captivated me…now I have nowhere to go
You terrorized me…you singed up my happiness
You’re the dawn of anguish and shame
You’re the midnight stars that burn with fame
You betrayed me…you made me cut down my garden…shedding fertility
You mourn for me…you long for my forgiveness… so I’m ready to accept your plea
What is the code that will animate your presence?
What is the code that will liquefy the ice of silence?
Walking away might be the most hardest things for a man to do,
you cant even imagine what that feeling can do to you.
Falling flat on your face would be better than to look shameful,
even walking around naked around the streets would be cool.
But like any story in life goes, there is always that one person that will help you get back on your feet and walk again.
No matter how much you fall, no matter how much you stumble upon a struggle, that person will be there with you till the end.
Give love and thanks to this person who never leaves your side and helps you put a smile on your face everyday.
When the day comes to an end and you know that the person has to go, all you can wish is for your special person to stay.
Mine has walked away on me,
I was so blind that i couldn't see.
She wanted everything for her self, for me to change and be what she wanted me to be,
but i had to let her go and never see this person again, cause it would only be worse in the end.
Writing this is more painful than getting your body tattooed,
writing this is more painful than getting over screwed.
Writing this is more painful than words,
writing this is more painful than razor sharp swords.
No matter how much you try to let it out it just wouldn't come out,
the pain is way to deep and its almost like its tattooed on your bodies gout.
haven't i been hurt enough in this world, i just don't understand why i am being treated like this,
is it cause i am better than you and have nothing to look forward too but my blue and black handkerchief?
The cut was way to deep my dear, you just cant imagine,
i have been cut and bruised for the last time, i can promise you that.
No one will ever touch this body or hurt this soul ever again,
if you wish to try so, go ahead and check it, but before that go ahead and get yourself a casket.
Not fake acting feeling from my part
But, true wording singing of my heart
Nothing left to say;
journey has been completed,
all is finished now.
Life is a right, to which everyone should have,
Independently it is the most valuable possession of each living being
Verifying the fact that we only have one chance in this world to make a difference
Even if we see ourselves as a sap that can’t change the mood in our area and that we
Lower our standards to say that even dirt is too good for us
Irrationally stating that we have a miserable life and we need to change it
Forgetting the blessings and the joy that God gave us in our current life
Eventually with remorse he’ll forget all of these things and start over again
To test his strength and will power to continue so that he can
Overcome the odds to achieve a pleasant life
This just states that if we work hard we might have a better chance of being content
However living with this in mind we might think that life is about work.
Everything in this world should be earned by working but what is work compared to
Fun, having fun always makes our work more worthwhile because we now
Use our energy to enjoy ourselves while working and earning things that we desire and
Losing the old gloomy feeling about work and the world
Letting new and much more pleasant things happen to us and letting us
Escape to the happiness that we might have missed when we’re not content in our life
Surprisingly this is the most common problem in the world today so keep this as a
Thought in mind live everything in a way you might be pleased life is precious
A Page of apology
A Cake or chocolate
A Poetry of smiles
A Bouquet of flowers
A Shower of reminders
Or just a thought that
I remembered You
What may it take to reply
Far away in a little town tucked in the corner of a map
Lives the girl who ruined his heart
And broke his life
While with him she would smile and laugh so sweet
Tender as only she could be
In his heart she lit even the corners so deep
With time she became his definition of life
In all he did he had her in mind
Life wasn’t life without him seeing her smile
As moments grew into weeks
The flower of his heart started to reveal its wilt
In her eyes no longer was the sparkle he was used to seeing
Winds carried awful odour of their disorder
Tales went round of her illicit exploits behind the counter
The man with the shop at the corner savoured all the honey she offered
At first he dismissed the whispers with laughter
But soon he discovered he was the only one on the other side of reality’s border
Yes indeed, another prince had taken over
Trouble was how sincerely he loved her
Problem was that even she had only love to offer
Issue was he hadn’t yet sold a dime of the books he authored
Is there a purpose for struggling,
enduring trails that could be been avoided?
What motivates an individual to surpass
any conceivable limit...to build a concept?
A normal person has less cares than a genius;
no passion for art or interest in science,
so aimless is that existence...
resembling a shadow passing.
A philosopher once said that
legends are made by dreams,
by each stage as they are woven,
but their inner voices are as faint
and distant as raging waterfalls
descending steeply, to splash in rivers below;
and to hear them, you must get closer enough,
until their loud sound can deafen
the ears and astonish the eyes...
Oh, I have contemplated them in sheer surprise!
Nobody ever sees a thinker's curved back
posing on the water-splashed, cracked rock;
if civilization has betrayed his idealistic thoughts,
accusing him of insanity and prejudice...
how can dark minds be lucid enough to discern
what he sees in images of true perfection?
And he will be another outcast detested by society...
for having demonstrated a superior mentality?
Go to the highest hill, amid the rugged mountains of the South,
and find him in the same spot meditating
over a glorious view that the very learned once admired;
go and comfort him with a friendly hand-shake,
and amply confirm that his action wasn't a mistake,
but a challenge and a cause worth-taking!
And his testimony, that all legends are made by dreams,
is found in his prophetic and exquisite writings.
We hoped without knowledge
that this too would pass
(For somewhere a rainbow
whispers your words
Bending and stretching
to hear and be heard)
Candle in wisps
Breath to the sky
in a circling kiss
(Shadows were heavy
and troubles were nigh,
and now, without knowledge,
we tenderly cry...)
This is for Brandon Basson, who, I have learned, passed away the morning of June 20th.
I'm the sonneteer of another era,
Struggling for fame and dreaming of glories...
Living free in prosperous America,
Where there's hunger for interesting stories.
Invite me to share yours as thrills resume;
I will give my opinion anytime,
But perfect syllables count and strict rhyme scheme
Are required for rhythm to happily chime.
Petrarch and Shakespeare were the greatest
Poets who created remarkable sonnets;
Read their works with unquenchable zest:
You'll discover they wrote them in the hundreds!
Study the unique forms of each sonnet;
Model yours on them with true interest!
Turmoil Of A Sleepless Night
The days are tiring I feel but the night will set me free,
I fall on my bed unfold my legs and again you haunt me!
It’s the end of the month I thought you would speak,
But you didn’t, so my pen, your might I must seek!
I lie on my bed my mind so full of thoughts,
I try to avoid as I remember the words of Frost,
But futile it runs because he spoke in happy verses,
And my heart bleeds in tears - serving as curses!
Your sweet smiling face haunts me here,
I am sleepless, you must be sleeping, I wonder!
The lights have been put off, its devilish dark around,
and my life with my dead hopes mewling on the ground!
My eyes are shut but I see you stand,
Between your hands you hold my hand,
And pressing my little finger again you repeat ‘great’,
Your eyes were the same I inhaled a sighful breath!
You were happy-happy as earlier,
We were together and between us no barrier,
again you talked and smiled like before,
We talked and we read and again talked more!
Just when my life was back like a ray of sunbeam,
My sleep broke and found out it was just another dream,
and again the struggle is starting inside my mind,
I wish I had no dream-I wish I were blind!
And so I sit writing this when my mind is at a civil fight,
to find little fragments of peace in this sleepless night!
To You, My Dear John
I am sending you, this epistle, through the wind
Passing, quietly, across the gentle seas of the gods.
I am a poet, not ‘cause I was born a poet, but I am
A poet by sole virtue of what my aging brain sees.
And it controls me more often, than my contrite heart.
Is it pretty good or not, the mind first before the heart?
I have been sitting on this board for a year or two
And I have laid my emotions on forms: if not all,
On some of them. Oh by the way, I mastered none.
I managed though, to stand on the first step of the ladder
Of poetry, yet still, I err musing on foreign tongue I loved:
The wording, the punctuation, the grammar, to list a few.
As you read this, my contrite heart bleeds---
For I will never make it to the pinnacle of my passion.
Surely, I wrote to you, not because I am whining
Or maybe I am, but one thing I do certainly know
Is that I am sending you, this epistle, through the wind
Passing, quietly, across the seas of the gentle gods
To ask you, Sir John, the kind-hearted god of soup whisperers
Am I doing the right thing or I am just wasting my time?
Lastly, do you think to have come this far is an achievement?
Your avid fan, across the gentle seas of the gods
I do not know?
Someone to run to,
Whenever I fall.
Someone who loves me,
Knowing nothing at all.
Abusive and know it's not right but you refuse to believe it is not your fault,
you stay with him when he has beat you worst than a treat you less than a
human; do you not realize it matters to your child and do you not see if you
do not get away the cycle of violence will continue? Bitter hatred towards you
he take out because he left his anger ball up, death soon will be your friend.
I don't see how you can stay and you know he has become a threat to you and your
child, no one knows but and the abuser; will you be happy when you are a morgue
will you never realize what type of affect it will cause?