Long Introspectionwords Poems
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I wake up in the morning and have to decide which side of the bed I will get out of today – it
doesn’t really matter, because there is no one there to block my exit on either side.
I turn on the TV, not to see what’s on, but just to hear another voice in the kitchen other than
the one’s inside my head reminding me that I am having breakfast alone once again.
I once thought that working from home, through the internet, for myself and by myself,
would be a wonderful thing – but, that was when I used to change out of my pajamas at
some time during the day.
Now the keyboard sits there mocking me in my loneliness. The monitor acts more as a
mirror to remind me I haven’t shaved in weeks than it does to display words of a manuscript
that I should be working on.
How lonely am I? I actually called my mother the other day. Rock bottom.
I watch out my window for the approaching mailman so I can open the door as he is
depositing bills I can no longer pay into the mail slot on my door. He says he likes my
Spiderman pajamas the best.
If I had a reason to do so, I would probably take a shower. But then, I have become
accustomed to my own stench and there is nobody else around to offend, save for the
mailman, who I noticed doesn’t hang around to talk much any more. Could be related, I
suppose.
I don’t even please myself any more. My imagination is not sharp enough to fantasize about
things I haven’t experienced for real in such a long time.
There was a time when I would not answer my phone when an 800 number was displayed on
the handset. Today I do. Talking to someone bemoaning that I am late with another
payment, again, is, at least, talking to someone.
Stop mocking me Qwerty!
I have given names to the inanimate objects in my apartment. At times, they talk back to
me. I think today may be my birthday; the dishwasher was smiling at me. The dirty dishes
inside now have mold on them.
The mailman didn’t come today – perhaps it is Sunday. I wore my Spiderman pajamas for
no good reason.
I didn’t write anything again today. These words are just floating around in my head. I am
pretending you are a stranger reading them to make me feel a little less lonely. You
believing you are that stranger is just further validation that I am, indeed, crazy.
Hello,
Big Man on the campus with his
team,
Popular to all who know
not the canvas of your dreams.
The screams from the crowd
match the ones inside yourself.
Unseen is your identity
because you hide yourself...
But why? Do not believe you
have to be a certain guy.
Share your words with the world
instead of trying to live a lie.
You're a writer with the spirit of a
tiger,
the brighter remnants of a lion,
but trying to be a fighter with one
face.
Please say Goodbye to all this one
way
The pigskin is going to end for you
someday,
but your pen will truly get you
someplace!
Be brave and bear what only you
know you see.
The powerful passion pending for
properly penned poetry.
The alliteration let's you know it's
me:
The you from seven years coming.
Otherwise who could surmise devices
get your heart pumping.
The literary kind that keeps your
brain stem
thumping
Jumping on your every thought while
you're on the field running.
From:
Your bestfriend drowning before your
eyes
When you were six and already had
a
growing sense of pride...
You wouldn't let them see you cry!
You wouldn't let them see you cry!
You blamed yourself, the guilt you
kept,
And never could answer why
It happened...
Which caused a snapping
You could hardly control
Two years later your mom is caged
and you were eight years old...
Your dad is hardly around
He's more whisper than sound
The only thing that keeps you sane
is the game that you found
That barely helps you ease your
mind
You're hitting people on the line
But despite allowed violence
You are angry all the time!!!...
So, please, write it now.
This is what you write about.
Because I promise somehow
this will help you fight it out.
The words will be your only help
Trust this along with something else:
Writing is Hello to your elation
And Goodbye to your former self.
12/27/2012
I boarded as a martyr,
not to play with scarlet sins
convinced my way was chartered,
I'd be safe in holy folds
but patient, pregnant umbras came,
their membranes black and blue,
all bred at sea in countless numbers
just to consecrate eternity.
Ripe thunderheads churned buttered skies
and eerie purple dragons bled.
The wise, east wind romanced my mind
with easy whispers; ghostly thin.
The whitecap rhythms preordained
that all was fair on baffled seas,
no wraiths of dry hope could be spared
amidst the love and war aboard
a lonely a ship claimed by the sea.
The captain cares not if I'm dove or gull;
a virgin or a saint, or if I've ever survived
storms before, for waves return a ship to shore,
one warped piece at a time.
Forever seemed too short to have denied
the truth of saying how "I never"
flirted with the bulwark's edge
and cast my fortune out before a pirate's eyes.
A life's too short to remain sober,
an uptight soldier minding angels
camped out upon my shoulders pitching
chaste, apocalyptic angles.
I drank forgotten ecstasy and spilled
confessions sweetly rotten,
stripped my sail and set it free
to be lapped up by sea-serf tongues
above the swells of happy-never-after
that is haunted by the humor of
a million dead men laughing.
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are: It might have been."
John Greenleaf Whittier's poem "Maud Muller" concludes: "If of all sad words of tongue or
pen, the saddest are, 'it might have been"
POWER
Dark words for me are words about fears, nightmares.
I simply don’t harbor dark thoughts towards anyone,
And my dark feelings are to do with powerful threats to me,
Often occurring when a child. As a child I was terrified
Of being abandoned by my mother, because as far as I could see
The world around her (and me) was a hostile place. I was powerless.
School of hard knocks : I have never feared abandonment
Since I was fourteen. As a teenager I was scared of being
Pursued by gangs of maurauding toughs in the inner city.
When you’ve been beaten up once you’re anxious to avoid it again.
Trained then in karate and judo, earned the power to be safe.
I am more scared now of being hurt accidentally
Because I will lose work and therefore have no income
Scary because ice and snow are more powerful than me.
Shame is a painful emotion often inflicted on powerless me at school
By holier-than-thou bigot-teachers who had not
An ounce of Christianity in their entire bone structure.
I detest their actions towards me even now.
But the motive which has driven me all my life,
And therefore my main area of dark thought is fear of failure.
This is the scariest thing to me. I hate to fail,
And I take extensive steps to avoid it, because it makes
Me seem less in my own eyes. As a result, I rarely fail;
And if do, I make absolutely sure it doesn’t happen again.
I will always want to have that power.
“You may say that I’m a dreamer”,
With bold presumption in my youth
Beyond school age, but hardly saged
Turned loose, we hoped to use our wits to change the world…
And thought we would…and thought we could…
We declared to fight, what seemed so right
Those days as we leaned so hard against the wind
The plight of man’s predicament on earth, we mused
The breeze just caught our spouted words
And tossed them where it would
We feared our crystal world would splinter
Would shatter without our spin...
"Never knowing who to cling to, when the rain set in”
But that was then…
So naively in such innocence
Thinking we could see a world at peace
Hoping to make our dreams come alive
From thoughts we shaped on winsome days
Imagining, ….if you please
"It doesn't have to be that way!"
And now with logic’s eyes, I do remember
How changeless is a planet
Glimmering in search of answers
And still not wringing answers from the slightest sound
And words we spoke, with vigorous shape
Our hopes expressed, still looks for guidance…
Are uttered yet, by other voices…
“My words like silent raindrops fell,
and echoed in the wells of silence”
Lyrics From John Lennon “Beatles”
Elton John
Jim Croce’
Simon and Garfunkle
For Chris Matt's ---'Contest Favorite Songs and Lyrics'
If God Came to Me Calling…
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
I think that if I could talk to God
And see Him face to face
As long as we were introduced,
I'd feel great joy inside.
I would tell Him that I love Him.
Then, sit in quiet peace.
And listen to the words He'd say.
Oh, that precious heavenly day.
But if He came to me calling
In the flesh out of the blue,
I know that I'd be terrified.
I wouldn't know what to do.
Frozen, words would not flow.
My mind boggled down with fears.
Even though we've talked before
Oh, prayers throughout the years.
Yes, I had a million questions
About the Universe and such.
When sitting at the throne of God
Mundane things don't matter much.
In retrospect, my life on earth
May not have been filled with cash.
But through God's love and quiet walks,
I learned of salvation well.
Perfection might have been my goal.
But disappointments crossed my way.
As decisions that were not so wise
Were made in rational disguise.
Then, I'd see my Brother
Sitting at Heavenly Father's side.
I would remember His willing sacrifice.
Oh, beloved hope, eternity with them.
So, I'd bear my heart before them,
And apologize once again.
I'd thank them for forgiveness.
Oh, the Sacrificial Lamb.
And at the very moment that
The Lord reached out His hand,
My face would flush in quiet hush
And I'd hug the both of them… Amen.
To know what you shouldn’t.
To know what’ll happen if you don’t do something.
To know you have the power in your hands.
To know you can alter reality with one word.
To know what’s going through another’s thoughts.
To know what they’re about to say,
Each and every day…
To feel the pain that shudders through one’s body.
To feel the fear from a mile away.
To feel the last breath that’s taken in.
To feel death when it’s very near.
To feel the never-ending heartache.
To feel when someone needs,
And dealing with the fact that no one cares…
To hear the cries of a dying child.
To hear the agony of a woman being raped.
To hear the spiteful words of a teenager.
To hear a riot unfold for the sake of death.
To hear someone you love say they hate you.
To hear the hurtful words that drives a man to suicide,
Screaming what it takes to not run and hide…
To change things when you had the chance.
To change a world of hate.
To change past regrets to have other consequences.
To change your heart to benefit someone else.
To change your beliefs to make you a better person.
To change when no one else wants to…
For these are what talented curses seem to do.
An old mad sitting alone
No friends or family comes to see him
He shares his space with his only true friend
A typewriter he used for so many years
Together they created
They wrote a million words
Words that came from his twisted mind
Came also from a heart long ago broken
A heart that was never repaired
Writing about love, death, war and peace
A million words that people read
Some were read and thrown away
Others were remembered and shared
Still others changed lives in ways he never knew
With all that no one knew his name
He knows that time is coming to an end
Searching his mind he tries to find the right words
Words that express just how he feels
His mind strains as his heart weakens
Key by key he strokes his friend
Letters appear on a blank white page
The old man looks at what he had written
He smiles as he takes his last breath
The typewriter seems to smile back
There are only three words written
Three words that expressed just how the old man felt
“Go to Hell,” was all he wrote
Maybe, just maybe those were the right words
Maybe they are the words that will be remembered
Now that the old man is gone
Piercing my skull, splitting my head
Louder than life, waking the dead
The incessant ramblings of men ill bred
Oblivious to the pleasure of words unsaid
Pushing through the crowds, my face so grave
Knowing in my heart that all I crave
Is a space distanced from this sea of noise
Just me, my thoughts and life's little joys
Oh, the joy of hearing pure untainted sound
Like the patter of rain on God's sweet ground
And the feel of the sand and the pebbles so smooth
Even the thunderous waves sing a lullaby to soothe
Searching far and wide for the world of my dreams
That luscious piece of land like strawberries and cream
Where I stare at the stars, drifting off to sleep
Waking up to the dew drops as the morning leaves weep
With half my life gone by so fast
Realization has finally crept in at last
That the answer I seek, what I want to see
Lives deep in me, waiting to be set free
All I need to do is to close my eyes
Just talk to myself, hear my laughs and cries
No feelings to be voiced, no sound to the words
Just silence so pure that every thought is heard
Form:
I'm a person
I have flesh upon my beating heart
that thinks of wonders then it sparks
of thought of love anew or made
I enjoy to let it stray
I'm a sound
My words are heard, but which are played
The one in mind won't slip away
but the ones I breath when I lay with you
seems to be the most important words to you
When I open up my mouth
The birds and seas fly out
they flutter in and flutter out
I make the waves so timid and large
but most ocean nights have silent stars
Theres a reason I don't win
I can't seem to know where the mirror is
so I could peer into my eyes
and ask myslef: how much I lie
but would rather wander than phase into my wise
I don't know how to begin
My eyes view so many things
and my hands have acted in many ways
but my heart waits to play the days
Of things I built inside this maze
"I'm a person
I'm a sound
When I open up my mouth
There's a reason I don't win
I don't know how to begin"
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