Free as a bird, I move like the wind
gliding whenever, wherever
my spirit moves me
ruling over myself
beholden to no one
or so I think
there is the knower and the known
where the known would know the knower
to which end he does then atone
by making all movements slower
the knower is wherefrom flows will
so how is the urge to know born
that seeming voids within may fill
when through cessation ego’s shorn
borrowed is creative instinct
though not quite choice not to react
whence bliss vibrance in the void inked
forges then with God a firm pact
no one ascends though it seems so ~
this truth is known in stillness slow
People admire the spotlight,
but they rarely see the mornings that created it.
While the world is still asleep,
every sunrise becomes a silent investment in the future.
Those quiet hours, where no applause exists and no one is watching,
are where discipline is forged and character is built.
Success is not born in moments of glory.
It is born in ordinary mornings,
when you choose purpose over comfort,
vision over excuses.
The alarm at 5 A.M. isn't just asking whether you can wake up.
It is asking who you are becoming.
Every time you rise while others remain comfortable,
you strengthen a version of yourself
that motivation alone could never create.
One day, people will call you lucky, gifted, or extraordinary,
but they will never see the countless mornings that shaped you.
Legends are not made in front of crowds.
They are built in the silence of mornings
that most people never have the courage to face.
there is always one
who does not want to get along
who takes the other side
who keeps things stirred up
one in every office
every school
every family
every neighborhood
every church
I could easily become that one
But I don’t want to
so I keep my opinions to myself
because I trust no one
except me
There is a Poe and raven no one knew
They were deeply in cahoots, these two
Telltale heart was unknown by Poe
But raven had a mind of glow
His ideas were stolen by his master
Poe’s mind was slick like alabaster
In the night he would urge raven awake
For his own sake, for his own sake
For raven was the brilliant poet in fact
Few know this, but I found an artifact
A diary of raven that holds the truth of this
Poe stole raven’s ideas, knowing they were bliss
what no one sees in the darkness are my tears
it was third platoon’s turn to leave
the safety of the wire
our platoon’s mission
search and destroy
the air was like a sauna with no relief
the jungle closed in on us
blocked out the sun
our packs weighed on us
as we humped twenty klicks
without a break
our jungle fatigues
hung heavy on us
failed to wick sweat away
from our bodies
we felt as though a
salty monsoon had soaked us
Johnson, on point, was
out in front probing
for the enemy
we all hoped the day
would end peacefully
we spread out
to lesson our chances
of mass casualties
we reached the village
mid afternoon
it was deserted
even the water buffalo was gone
we ripped up the floors
in each hootch looking for
the hidden enemy-but found none
when we finished searching
we pulled our Zippos from
our pockets and lit
the dry straw that served as
a roof on each one
and watched as the hootches roared up
in flames like a Roman candle on July 4
our lieutenant signaled for us to
take a break and we sat among
the debris some smoking
cigarettes others catching some zees
no one was
going home in a body bag
our day was a success
.No one has ever died in my family, Ted said
his wife’s cheeks turned a teensy bit red
Ask Jodi, he said, referring to his wife
Jodi was deceased, his once-upon-a-time life
The next thing Ted did was throw the TV
It broke the window! He yelped out with glee
His wife Nancy was never the same after this.
Alzheimer’s had claimed her husband and her bliss.
NO ONE KNOWS THE PAIN I AM IN
OR SEES THE TEARS IN MY EYES
THAT DO NOT SHED
EVER SINCE YOU LEFT
NO ONE KNOWS HOW I CRY
IN MY SLEEP SINCE MY ARMS
NO LONGER HOLD YOU
NO ONE KNOWS HOW I
LONG TO HEAR YOUR VOICE OR
HOLD YOUR HAND WHEN I WALK
NO ONE KNOWS THAT WHEN I TURN TO
TELL YOU SOMETHING HOW MY HEART
BREAKS ALL OVER AGAIN
NO ONE KNOWS THAT
MY SMILES ARE FAKE OR
MY SOUL IS AN EMPTY SHELL
NO ONE KNOWS YOU WERE MY WORLD
THAT LIGHT THAT MADE
MY SOUL SHINE OR THAT
OUR SOULS WERE ONE
NO ONE KNOWS
THE PAIN MY SOUL FEELS
SINCE YOU ARE GONE
NO ONE KNOWS……………..
I loved sharing happiness with you,
every time I absorbed your sadness,
as my chest absorbed your tears,
while you cried in my arms,
because of the past that still hurt you.
You know...
I miss those mornings when you are still sleeping,
and I get up and already start making breakfast,
you wake up right before the end
and spoil my surprise.
And you know...
I miss making plans
where we would travel and what we would do,
even though you would always bail on me
and say you really wanted to,
but...
And you know what...
It is hard for me that I have no one to share victories with,
I have learned to keep defeats to myself anyway.
I fear these words will be the Achilles’ heel to our psyche,
To write slow allows truth.
Caught in someone’s fabric, a changed perspective.
To love real is to accept pain.
Memories racing to be the first to make me smile,
To remember shows your story was always interesting.
Why do we do what causes hurt?
For the longing of someone.
Why is life intertwined?
The variety of colors can make even a poor quilt desirable.
There lies a dark journey before us all,
What we find will be scornful words and actions
Cast upon you by me,
And me upon you.
When settled dust comes to rest,
Standing will be something that will stand forever for no one to see.
An effigy to our existence,
Could not care less if built like an eye in the woods or for all to see like Lady
Liberty.
Stood proud, built through conflict and turmoil alike.
A statue — what the plaque will read, haven’t a clue.
Stop pretending to be something that you are not
be someone that you are dreaming of
stop stealing my poetry or someone's life story
come up with your own find the experience
stop kissing ass because you believe it might change
your life or put food on the table just starve be real
look for food in containers and behind closed restaurants
see the disrespect that these people u rub on every day
in the subway on the way to work they don't see you
or your pain, the only thing is money that counts
your home isn't yours but banks till you die
your land your children's playground sits on
will never be yours because government owns you
eat that food from the dumpsters, it might cure your brain
bring sense of reality into your life, nothing is real
but what you believe it to be, nothing moves
but your life before your eyes, you are gone
after you there is only your clothes, and your bills
wake up and don't fall asleep, but if you do
no one will believe you existed.
Love’s overstated tales richly woven
To a wet hind the ears green pod by far,
For long I thought, love was a gift given,
Raw fantasies fallen as if from star,
I wasted all my youthful early age--
The fairy years of wide-eyed boyish life
That fostered further this impish image--
That love flowed but from alien breasts, blesst rife.
Yet, every breast with such belief is blest
And given time I grew up, chastened wise
That love's no one-way street, nor Cupid's heist--
A truth too late to ferret from raw lies.
A confluence love be of two rivers,
Both gift takers and both no less givers.
________________________________
Sonnet | 01.02.2010 | art, heart, love, river
I've been depressed lately and that's not really how I do things.
I try to be happy I try to be brave I try to be dependent.
hears what I really am,
I'm depressed/ sad, weak, unreliable.
I try to appear strong but all I am is broken.
I smile through the hard times because I wasn't tough it was okay to cry I thought you had to be strong so I masked everything for so long and its finally came out.
I feel like a baby when I'm almost 18 I don't feel validated and that's fine right?
I'm not okay and I'm learning slowly that's okay.
but I'm not okay and I want it to go away all the pain I hide under my smile I want it all to disappear....
is that's so bad to wish something could no longer be part of you I want my emotions gone then I wouldn't have the problems I have now.
I just feel pain all the time I don't really want to die but it sounds like the best option sometimes, I've asked to be put with a professional experience to help me but I just got pushed to the side.
I've got mommy and daddy problem I'm messed up in the head and just don't understand why anyone would care about me.
Search to forgive this ground
birth given to be forgiven
somewhere in this parody of life
you stand, unforgiven and ruthless
untouched your words will heal
someones heart in despair.
Will you be the hero without the story
or a soldier paid in gold undiscovered,
own your pride and wear your shame
spare those that are rich of their money
sacrifice you must to protect all the rest,
tomorrow will come for all the rest,
chosen are happy with their pills
and forever in pain and poems written
In their blood on cheap paper
will be sold across the world,
who will buy into these lies
those who paid have no shame
books will take all the blame
history will teach no one will listen
tragedy for all, glory for few
isnt that the truth.
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