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Best Poems Written by Michael Cordeiro

Below are the all-time best Michael Cordeiro poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Nervous Breakdown

Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
quick depression into slow anxiety.
Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
swallowing pity of yourself.
Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
cold heat shaking your bones.
Heres comes the nervous breakdown,
aching brain, twitching veins.
It's the nervous breakdown
with explosive results.
Why the nervous breakdown?
Because too much knowledge provokes me.
Bring the nervous breakdown,
sadistic, painful enticing.
Stop the nervous breakdown,
I cant find my purity.
Hopeless enemies
of ones self slipping
into my mind of cleanliness,
polluting my being, turning
it into an everlasting jungle of mazes
containing horrible truth of
my family, my friends, my country.
I want it back.

I want it back.
I want it back.
My original self,
my starting line,
my old life.
Why has the essence of family tainted
what is theirs to enhance?
My head hurts,
it bubbles with the 
honest to god reality
that is my creation.
Still the nervous breakdown,
here only minutes but already
it is acquainted with me.
Now I shall begin life anew
into an anxious depressed, shiny and new.
Old self being.
But if I'm finally used to my new attachment
then
why
does
my
head still hurt?

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Fatherless

Every time we end a fight
you plead for one last try.
You sit and talk of doing things right
while I just sit and cry.

But where were you when times were tough,
when I felt like giving in,
when all I needed out of life
was for you to think of your kin?

You'd demand that I'd tell you my past,
my life, the good and bad.
But, my friend, let me tell you, experience is great.
You could have been a dad.

But where were you when times were good,
first kisses, A plusses and such?
How did it look on your long to-do list
that your son needs you so much?

I want to forgive you and let this pass,
forget the entire deal,
but, the prints on my neck have far from vanished,
My fatherless life has been sealed.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Any Memorable Experience

I can remember a past
seething with the ones I hurt,
with the ones whom my hurt came
and with my regret I can see
that hindsight is so much more than a number.

I can remember a past
flowing with the thanks of many
for the help I've blessed they're life
and the debt I feel toward others
for the care they've shown myself
and with my pride I can tell,
we are capable of such potential.

Though different these two may seem,
what we feel is what we live.
And if what we live is what we feel,
then may I live to feel grateful,
grateful in all life's experience,
whether life gives its negative tests
or grants its positive bliss.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

The Drawing Board

Breathe,
stop for a moment
the hectic day,
cleanse the mind
of worried fear,
release the stress
from latent time,
and write another
passion rhyme.

Reverse the step,
remember new,
learn again,
make it true,
redefine
common day,
don't be haste
right away,
all's not gray.

Another you,
another me,
only just
a place to be,
take a walk,
turn a page,
live a life,
never age,
some who walk across the stage
feel the strife
not the rage.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Forgetting Forgiveness

A concept assumed unattainable,
pushed away in effort without notice.
How unfortunate our views of an answer.
How sad our lack of faith.

Forgiveness, viewed upon by man
to be seen instead as cowardice,
when all along its strength alone
waits as the key to victory.
How long must it lie in disuse,
to remember its former command?
The rescue of life from an ending,
now traded for quicker destruction.

Though left in unbound isolation,
alone we cannot say it slept.
Together it waits with solution.
The remembrance of the divine to forget.

Forgetting, seen by the many,
as ignorance put in its stead.
How sorry I feel for the people,
blind with revenge, bound to they're hate,
teaching others to waste they're care.

And though they share this total contempt,
its history has had a ceasing.
Once, the formula was given to grow.
And how could we have thrown this lesson away?
Can we again see its answer?

To forgive and forget.

A plan reserved not only for the few,
those above, those in power, those with wisdom,
but residing within us all.
Waiting patiently to be used again,
to heal this broken existence,
and once again bring peace and understanding
to a once peacefully understood world.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

From Now Till Then

I've learned so much by your mere presence.

You stood alone in the beginning
with an unbreakable, yet so frail, smile upon your face.
I was searching for you, yet in the end you found me.
I'm convinced our friendship was forever meant to be.

You've taught me love, hate, and unsustainable friendship.

Tonight and forever we will fly together above all in our way.
We will close our eyes and reminisce upon lessons learned in our past.
You changed me, for the better I know, this proven by wisdom obtained.
You stayed with me, side by side, taking lessons which still remained.

My hope, for you and me, from now till then,
is that our circle will repeat itself, once again.
Our destinies, though seperate,
intwined by everlasting understanding.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Is It the Old Dog Or the New Tricks?

Ashes on a Thursday morning
riddle my once clean surroundings
and throughout I can't help but think
that all I'm good for
finds comfort in this porcelain cup.

Yet even with my mind filled
with this problematic condensation,
hazing a good, normal frame of thought,
I find peace with my gray brothers,
floating through the heat of a sun ray
shot through my open window.

But is all this complexity truly needed?
Must I sugar coat the bare act?

I ashed a cigarette in a dirty cup
and a piece of my screen on my window
is broken and ripped letting light.

Simpicity can be an amazing tool
when expanded to give the most primitive acts
a higher purpose toward mankind.
Oh, there I go again, I'll bet you're confused
and if not, well, I am.
Talent or habit. . .you decide, I'm spent.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Everything Is Destined

Slowly, reluctantly released by unforgiving fingertips
out of its cold, square prison, to which it had grown so fond of,
gladly giving its deadly, masked white being
to whom ever resides anxiously above.

Finally after completing its journey to its ever obvious destination
it hangs in the faithful balance of its own fiery misuse.
It stands brittle, yet strong, prepared for its famous destiny,
which may very well possibly lead to the end of another.

Many cringe at its unholy, disgusting effect,
while others appreciate its calming remedy.
Some degrade themselves for merely a taste of the control,
while others are made into kings by its disguising abilities.

Suddenly the trumpets blow and the thunder triumphantly crashes
as the embers flare to create a mighty flame.
This flame draws nearer and nearer,
counting down the exact seconds left before chaos arrives
and another is burned down by mortal satisfactions.

They finally touch as one is burned by another,
but not without leaving its signals,
driving all other would be predators far from this murder.
And the cigarette is lit.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Lesson To My First Son

Whatever comes our way is the thought of the many, but stop,
don't let admiration be a wasted tool given.
Express appreciation for the senses inside you,
a gift well deserving of the upmost praise.
Taste the bittersweet tinge of a lesson lived,
slowly adding to who you once were.
And savor the flavor of its brutal truth
as it causes the mind to confer.
Feel the vibration coursing among you
as the physical touch echos through.
And give with your hands what the world granted first,
one of many a task overdue.
Inhale the smell of a flower,
the scent of a faith carried dream.
Treasure the soul of creation,
make of it what it may seem.
Listen to words of the untold
from the mouth of the experienced one.
And from what you may hear live through all of your fear
for the battle has barely begun.
Observe with the sharpest of eyes,
to know without slightest of doubt,
that even though hardships can fill up a life
we'd be weak and defenseless without.
Surrender can never be chosen,
unless one choses for it to be,
but remember, my son, that through all of your travels
your senses will ever guide thee.

Details | Michael Cordeiro Poem

Siren's Siren

Like tinted glass you emerge,
influential to both you and I,
thought to give an otherworldly shade
while keeping the dark colorlessness close.

But, oh, how from humble acceptance
can you invert this shadeless mirage,
unknowingly, unwillingly coloring this world.
Teasing those of us undeniably foolish enough,
filled with a black, deafening silence of our own,
to yearn steadfast, in pursuit of naught but illusion.

To reach and run further.
To scream and plea greater.
To deny the aforementioned hope
that so defines the base purpose of illusion.

And as those of us waste away in wonder,
contemplating the causes of our ceaseless action
or the precursors to our lack thereof,
who ponders the fate of the siren?

Where is the internal color for the sought after?
When will their plea for completion be heard?
Unbound by ulterior motive,
how can they ever truly be seen as humbled?

Or in retrospect were they ever so different?
Can our desire and the desired live on common ground?
Playing opposing roles in the mind of one another,
each reaching, each running, both hoping.
And is the solution, to be put simply, misunderstood?

Maybe love is the greatest hoax of all.
But then again, maybe seeing color
and hoping fully, and constantly seeing more
is the love this collective people need
or ever wish will keep us true
and grant us motive to continue.