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Blaze Beaty Poem
Solid roots buried deep within the earth
Though a chimera
Far above the dense ground
High high above
Where there is no one else around
But down down below
To a place rarely talked about
Where everybody goes
To confront the darkness that lies within
Slowly eating away at our soul
Slowly devouring us all
A species as a whole
Will things ever change?
yes
For better or worse
The answer is unknown
Whether or not we choose to live life recklessly
We all endure our own kind of legacy
Whether or not we choose to be seen
Is irrelative to our destiny
Run from Fame
Ego
Arrogance
Radicalism
Carrying the restricted hatred of shame
With nothing of any true value to gain
Chasing satisfaction
In an immoral domain
Having the power to enthrall the criminally insane
Having to always pretend to play this game
Hoping that it’s all a game
All from the same death set aflame
Burning ghosts of an iridescent pain
Praying that some sense of morality still remains
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2019
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Blaze Beaty Poem
She lost her brain long ago
Sanity vanished along with the ghost of time
Calloused bones reach from the ground
No sound
Just shallow breath
That breathes
And snarls a nasty smoke that suffocates my lungs
Oh how it used to tease
But now bleeds uncertainty
And that's why I feel so free
A sacrifice to the goddess of slavery
Searching for beauty
A long echo that calls to me
I know its name
It knows my name
We seem to be kind of one in the same
Torment casting its shadow
Pointing fingers
Trying to place the blame
But I've paid my fees
Scuffed up by the blood of my knees
Here to say the things meant to be left in need
Like the rustle of the wind in the trees
Raising the undead
Carried along with the last few waves of smoke
Too many thoughts
Try not to choke
Caught in the back of another's throat
Get my blood pressure up
And I might have a stroke
Where do I go when my spirit is broke
Floating through space time
Nowhere to go but to slowly get lost
Let’s just go ahead and smoke more pot
Sometimes I like the way my brain feels when it rots
It hits the spot
Numbs the
Pain
Pain
Pain
The ticking tock of the clock bring the pressure to my brain
But what really would happen if were to go insane?
Too late
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2019
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Blaze Beaty Poem
Dear sissy,
Do you remember that time when we had that tire rope swing in our grandparents backyard?
Where every time we got on it, or in it, we had traces of black dust covering our hands and knees
Like every time we played we were marked by the residue of innocence
Our grandmother getting mad that we were so filthy
But either way we still swung free as the breeze.
Especially you
See I always wanted to go slow
Cause you always wanted to go fast
And see you always wanted me to push you
And I always did
But now see
Things have changed
re-arranged themselves
Like when you say you’re lonely and afraid
But I had always been the one was afraid
To go fast
Because I never liked to play
That rough
And now its hard
Because we’re passed the age
Where we can play dirty
And all I want
Is for that stain to be smeared
Over my body
I want to be baptized in brake pad dust
So I can tell you that I love you
And that i'm still here if you need that extra push
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2019
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Blaze Beaty Poem
The wind sits steady as the leaves begin to change
Cigarette buts on the ground
While there's puke stains
on the walls
From mixing two different types of alcohol
Beer cans sit in the sink to think
Tearing away your feet from this sticky ground
Made by some type of substance
That got spilt but never found
But somehow things just keep turning back around
With no way to tell your ups from your downs
With no A/C in the summer
It almost made you hell-bound
No hot water in the winter
Made you feel like a hound
Tied up in the yard
Or the street
Broken glass at your feet
With a chain tightly wrapped around your neck
You open the fridge
Nothing left to eat
So you decide to munch on the bricks till your gums begin to bleed
Although it wasn't too bad
You still had your weed
You were still able to get high
The lights still worked
You were able to get by
Ate your moldy slices of bread
Making enemies with the flies
As the dishes piled high
And your friends they think their sly with their pin-point lies
Trying to disguise the pain that was soon to arise
But they don't know what it means to truly be alive
So obsessed with reaching the thrills of the divine
How 'bout you go and snort another line
Maybe that will help you stare at the sky
trying to hide the red in your eyes
Expression sometimes can feel like a crime
The joy in being able to free your mind
Maybe that will help keep you steady on the days
when you see your mom cry
and you just want to hit something
And you don't know why
And sometimes you don't know where to go
Because you're half-blind
some days being able to find solace in the rhymes
You keep telling yourself that you are one of a kind
But as the leaves begin to change
Although the ideas can't be swayed
Your meaning begins to fade
with the last rays of sunshine
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2019
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Blaze Beaty Poem
Ratify Femininity to the nation grown from women
Women born and bred yet they still deny
How many would it take to rectify?
Maybe a man not given equal pay
When labor was the same that day
Or maybe if our society were to decay
Then what do you think they would say?
Flowers in the world not given recognition
How all of congress is filled with superstition
Is that what we call the christian vision?
Though some say it may be too late
Too late to ignore or to open the gate?
Sitting in their highchairs “trying” to relate
The past is long overdue for reason to allocate
Great endeavors faced yet still unable obtain liberty
With a veil of shame we are forced to hide our dignity
Shoved into the darkness to wait out our captivity
Prosperous light uproot this harsh mentality
Lead the way to a brighter ultimate reality
She’s bearing the very precious life
Meanwhile enduring stress and strife
Left stored away to be an intolerable wife
But for our strength we know the destination
Tracing the stars with a beautiful constellation
We must be able come to the realization
That exists as a signature of tribulation
Trying to acquire the expired restitution
Rights long disregarded in the constitution
Implications shamefully created like pollution
For the arrogance of humanity to remain
Inequality needs to be seen the same
Voices in the outreach heard in vain
It’s not easy to break the chain
Trying to pursue the right ongoing route
Progression beginning to suddenly reach out
Inspiration and ability consuming anything with doubt
Aiming for the constant infinity with passion and nobility
Feeling empowered to relinquish possession of the hostility
Making efforts to transcend the dialogue of hate into tranquility
we may disagree but I respect that you see things differently
Tangibility can be a tedious thing when it comes to activism
There needs to be inadvertent changes within this system
Or else we may have to experience a genuine cataclysm
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2019
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Blaze Beaty Poem
Passion
Enveloping the evolution of eternity as she radiates dark hues of red and violet, swaying through the hidden passageways of the soul.
She loves to travel, finding enrichment in the beauty of life, gently shaping the world with her searing touch.
She loves learning languages from foreign lands of ancient descent connecting to the roots of the written and spoken word.
She cares deeply about the world, wondering whether or not it cares for her, though bearing the disappointment of it all the same.
Passion engages in an on and off relationship with Desire, giving into the temptation that he incessantly needs, feening for his presence, though utterly left disappointed at his lack of dependability. This causes her love life to suffer greatly, always longing for something more, frequently scouring the realms of Intelligence’s mind for the answers. Though his pragmatic cognition dwells upon her free spirit. At least Intelligence is smart enough to never expect anything more from her. Unlike the reign of Ambition, who yields the same constricting grasp as Intelligence, though whose raw impulses mimic those of Desire’s lustful eye. He conjures strength from her essence and she tends to idolize him for his intense willpower. Devaluing herself as just another showpiece of his greed. At the end of the day, mourning the losses of power hungry motives and accepting the fact that not even she could save him from himself.
Most times Passion feels as though Inspiration is the only loyal companion she has left to bare her sufferings. Helping build her into something real and beautiful when persuaded by the illusions of deceit. Showing her the mass expanse of creativity and adventure. leading her to gain individualism in her own unique form of quintessential growth. And in the end guiding her transcendence towards an all encompassing freedom, ultimately giving into the power of love.
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2019
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Blaze Beaty Poem
I see you hipsters in rustic coffee shops with pictures of Marlyn Monroe and contemporary art,
the girl in all black with a black beret to make her look more avant-garde and red colored hair that was obviously bought from a drugstore. Strolling through the downtown streets wearing swedish backpacks that are a statement piece for impracticality for they are not large enough to hold textbooks but are meant only for small sentiments of music and poetry. Their fishnet stockings that only go up a little past the ankles to be seen out of the tops of Doc Martens shining against the sips of a blue moon witbier brew. Drinking lacroix which in my opinion tastes like a substitute for watered down alka-seltzer or more like sprite without flavor. Listening to their radiohead and pink floyd and nirvana in a fervorous rage against conformity or simply riding a chill wave through the early 2000’s. The boy with his colorful button downs buttoned all the way to the very top- which is somewhat strangulation because I have tried it myself. Where they occupy their bookshelves with paperbacks of Jack kerouac and John Green while looking for Alaska on the road travelling through paper towns. I see you modern day rebels wearing your frown with a fedora or newsboy cap which never looks as good as you think they might because newsboys no longer exist like that. Beanies that hang off the back of your heads while you wait in line for your frappuccino to condense. Hanging from the ceiling are small cactuses and crystals among bouquets of dried roses and daisies. Flowers and succulents are to be cherished like baby from dirty dancing who never gets put in the corner along with the Buddha and Billie Eilish although no one ever really went through with the eightfold path because it took too damn long and besides Kurt kobain turned out to be a saint anyway.
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2020
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Blaze Beaty Poem
A little friction
Placed on our mind
Shared by the place and time
Beating against the grind
Willing ourselves to find
What's making us feel insane
What's coursing through our veins
Poisoning ourselves
Trying to ease the pain
Inducing trauma to the brain
Even though it still remains
It's the only thing we praise
We choose to be Castaway
From a world led astray
Too stuck in our ways
In a paralyzing daze
Over and over again
Making the same mistakes
How long will it take
Till we learn how to cope
To reach the peak
Of a slippery slope
Hard to climb
As drug rates increase
And mental health declines
Soon to be deceased
In a race against the time
Too late to go back to before
Looking towards the future
Or maybe the next score
But what's it all for?
Closing the door
But what's it all for?
Searching for more
Trying release the tension
But that's the thing about depression
It goes against convention
We need help to understand
Time for an intervention
To build a smarter plan
Free from constriction
Take my hand
To the Promised Land
Against the barriers of restriction
Finding the answers beyond infliction
Make a stand
In the fight against ADDICTION
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2019
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Blaze Beaty Poem
I think my dorm room may have a ladybug infestation. You know why I think this? Because I am usually, when in my dorm room, surrounded by ladybugs. I go to sleep with them. I wake up with them. And at this point, they are basically a part of my daily life. Now some people- normal people, would have filed a maintenance request to get them all vacuumed up, but of course, me being a writer, I've begun to feel pity for them. When I wake up I often look under my pillow and hope I haven't rolled over and crushed any of the poor creatures in my sleep. Honestly I know how all of this may sound, but I often think “aren't they just as alive as you and I?” I sometimes wonder if that's why I feel sort of connected to the little guys- they're my friends, my companions, sometimes even my confidantes. When I see them walk across my tiny desk-globe I more often than not, pretend they're walking across the world and I think of what it would be like to be a giant ladybug myself- travelling to delft or Milan or Paris- scaring the out of people. The sad part is I often have to play the role of a ladybug grim reaper. I mean some of them have to die, which I have to kill, or else they’d probably eat me alive. Although most seem to be attracted to the overhead light which simply instigates their acts of mass suicide. Occasionally I’ll take the courtesy of moving them aside, although when I roll up the blinds I inadvertently seem to kill seven or eight at a time. Often with feelings of remorse I try to think of them as martyrs for an open window. I feel so bad I often think back to my pillow and wonder if that would have been a better way to go and ask myself is it fair for me to even have to breathe? My dorm room may accumulate heat but they were simply just trying to live their lives, never asking for any trouble. Even now as I write this they scamper and scuddle on my cup of ink pens as if they're the ones trying to scribble this drawn-out message to defend and contend with how they never had wanted to be my friends in the first place. To say “although we may be killed by LED lights, ultimately we are the purest form of life. You are merely human and one day we will eat you alive.” to which i'd reply “Is this really about the blinds?”
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2020
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Blaze Beaty Poem
formed from the hot magma of the earth
Tectonic plates that collided long ago
Although like the himalayas my heart still grows
Where the creeks still flow like a warm bloodstream
Blue light shattered in an atmospheric gleam
Tall granite walls built to protect me
This is how the world has always existed
An attempt of salvation held far in the distance
A crease
A crevasse
A crack to solidify
The rigid rocks cut deep
Rising to new heights
A barrier meant to be freed by sky
the ground is held steady as the mountain stretches high
Into the abyss
Perpetually motionless
The glare of the girl left to bear witness
-to the sight Of God.
Copyright © Blaze Beaty | Year Posted 2020
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