| the heart weeps, a child dies, darkness that crept. |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|08:02 pm] |
Moon-turned prophet,
why do you visit me so?
though as happy as I may be,
hurts the sting of your blow.
You crept through my covers
and through my sheets and my clothes,
then took hold when my lover grew cold.
What a burden in my pores to be who I am,
though sweet honey glaze may be
devoured by time it can..
outward and bright did my imperfections stand
And so I try a thousand ways
to bury a familiar past,
but she demands I change my path;
an unworthy man deemed to be,
what became of what was once happy?
Late as it is, I grow ill,
thus the loneliness is still,
only to be remedied by her touch
and neither material or luck,
but by the power harvested in love. |
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| coup d'etat |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:57 pm] |
One of us had to give in,
whats another word for bitter?
exasterbate the truth
and dress it up as a lie
the bonds we shared exist,
where the past now resides.
And from there bloomed a dream,
through errourness the truth is now seen,
in french or any language spoke,
the destruction from the root.
I will rise from the ashes,
destroy the moon and drink your wine
I am the monster that you will speak of
to your friends every night.
And when all is said and missed,
you will wish,
a moment in times past of a dreamers kiss. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:49 pm] |
the city that sleeps,
sleeps with out me
there is no room for dreams.
I, the dreamer
spiral down into destruction. |
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| you will sink |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:47 pm] |
self-medicate, for all eyes to fixate..
on his failure, on his status, on destruction;
lively words from a comatose function
she was the tourniquet,
he was the patient,
where patience made no sense
and everything burned.
former comrade, later rival;
birth of apathy and distant irony.
an eye for an eye!
though absent was my mind,
of that moment in time..
the fool was I !
trivial time; insignificant gestures,
long breaths in short measures,
take my former lover,
set fire to the bridge,
a helping hand watches
as a former friend sinks. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:43 pm] |
Late at night I wait for the 749
the light on my dresser reflects the time,
it's luminous glow harms my eyes.
It happens like this,
I lay in bed and then I stretch,
to let the chemicals make its effect
while my soul wakes, and my body rests.
A manifestation of reality occurs,
the boy is not sure which one he prefers,
so in his sleep he shakes and stirs
and hypocritically hopes he wakes
I wake and discover, I am me and not another. |
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| my first child |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:33 pm] |
My soul is deteriorating,
"lost at sea," I stated
life knocked on my door complaining
as I sat by the porch and waited.
bombardment of bad thoughts...
so I kept my fingers crossed,
all the while anxiety makes words lost,
my heart speeds, while the nightmare cannot
So I sit and wait.
for a new life to start, or mine to end
discovering; fear breaks the strongest of men |
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| king |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:28 pm] |
She brings out the monster in me
plain in sight for all to see,
and erases all traces.
the salvo of emotions
make haste to newer faces,
profound love; indifferent places
I, a man who is torn
flinch from the scar that is born
and never less alone,
bound to the conflicts of his home,
I am teething!
sinking such as a stone.
hundreds of miles stands the woman I adore,
but closer could my heart not be anymore,
tainted, as though love caused languor.
I sit on my throne,
destined for broken hearts alone. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:22 pm] |
ominous lamp, ticking clock,
one man dreams what another cannot.
afflicted rheumatism led by a romantic fiction |
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| sashiburi |
[Nov. 25th, 2009|07:21 pm] |
I am lost.
lost in a sea of identity.
I have no face,
I have no name,
there is no age.
an untimely universe with no parallels.
can you define the term life?
you can, but to explain your own is difficult.
When do you take notice of the shape of your face?
can shapes be explained? (this paradox)
the collision of a kiss..
the kiss.
The fruit God said not to take.
"...thou shall not take fruit.
....thou shall not take (kiss)"
confusion.
Get lost.
They need a rehab for love.
You find true love through being humble to yourself and others. This is how you "exist"
and find identity. Be true. Nothing matters. To get lost and be nothing is to be everything. So be nothing. Be. Just be and live humble. |
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| vultures vulfutures vultures |
[Nov. 28th, 2007|11:29 pm] |
holding onto their photographs like a golden compass,
they were nice but gave no sense of direction,
serving more as a wooden crutch.
so they smiled,
with teeth like wolves
and their chests' swelled,
as if they understood.
and they are starving,
hungry for a spotlight,
and remembering and marking
every single friend
they had to abandon
to be a something
or rather, a nothing?
so hollow an expenditure,
a fancy fueled trivial, an accidental contigency
a step towards progression?
or a spiral into regression?
they could not choose
a life less,
and the sorrow they sing
is another cry for attention.
But I am deaf to the song,
and cut bonds like strings,
because they will never touch me,
for as long as they artificially live |
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| story of winter love |
[Nov. 4th, 2007|04:49 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  apathetic | ] |
she wanted someone to love,
she desired to create the perfect boy,
one that would kiss her and steal her away
so she collected a pair of emeralds, hair, and clay
mixed them together with her sadness and her pain
and watched the boy come to life
they would kiss every morning
and love every night
sing songs in the evening
and argue when the time was right.
But one day she became aloof to perfection,
she detached herself from the world in her hands
and set foot to the bar to meet another man
later that night she came home with lips full of smoke
and her newly striped torn shirt
but nowhere was the boy that was perfected since birth
a noose hung from the ceiling
and the emerald eyes returned to the earth
so she cried until she can no longer cry anymore
and the monster in her reflection smiled,
because she realize the fault was in herself and no one else
and anyone she met
whether breathtaking or imperfect
would just be another book collecting dust on her shelf.
she died alone, like we all will
when winter turns the heart cold. |
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| one out of a thousand this year |
[Oct. 14th, 2007|11:34 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  confused | ] |
"boy, you ask too many questions,
and I just can't stand them"
she said.
her hollow beat,
the antithesis to my flux
o, I'd pay my ten hearts for two deaf ears
flash the teeth on my face to spite my tears
when was curiosity synonymous to obscurity?
do you expect me to love in such secrecy?
she's fatigued from the ghost of the past,
the one I first kissed by the lake in the grass.
she scoffs.
woe me,
naysayer I am, who am I to make such demands?
"I am a woman with no vices and a plan!"
such a tender voice makes a mess of a man,
scourged I am,
she spreads like a cancer,
still, I love her body, soul, and hand
but only a fool would love someone blindly without answers |
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| fake world |
[Oct. 14th, 2007|10:31 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | blah | ] |
one thing I will tell you is that,
there are things that you discover
between the time you live and die,
and its that the whole world
is enveloped in a clever disguise.
and then there are the things
from which we must recover,
such as heart break and pride.
he said,
these are a few of the secrets
to the meaning of life.
lets set free our dormant originality
not a world where platform shoes etch identity |
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| twin butterflies |
[Sep. 16th, 2007|05:05 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  exhausted | ] |
I fiercely craved for someone to love
for our hands and lips to meet,
and our souls to touch.
Somewhere in the vastness there must be,
another to adore,
who is just for me.
The remedy to my woe;
chemical to my addiction,
so lusciously persistent,
who like water stirs inside me,
and speaks of love precisely.
When will the perfect spring arrive?
to open the door to my heart and release whats inside,
and when open, escapes the butterfly that resides;
seeking so strongly to find its match,
taking air and soaring through the obscure sky
vulnerable to the malice that plagues the night.
Still though in fear I wait;
swift does not a man make,
nor for heaven or any to take,
the muse and richness of a mate |
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| fisherman of people |
[Sep. 2nd, 2007|07:47 pm] |
"become a fisherman", my father said
make me proud and become a man,
plague society of televised scandal
use the hands that were destined for agony
feed the children sympathetically
more kids alone than there are stars in astronomy
apology;
trick the nation of disaster
fake tears hide the laughter
politicians from texas producing a false pride
the weak minded enlisting to lose their lives
meanwhile;
safe, but we all break our backs to survive
bloodstained hands from bombs our taxes buy
a democracy in which everyone must abide
forget the people, forget the lives,
"for the greater good" carved in our mind
but the truth we'll never know when we die |
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| photographic purgatory |
[Sep. 2nd, 2007|07:07 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  rushed | ] |
thirsty go our mouths from lack of conversation
hollow grows the heart from the souls dissipitation
one thousand shattered pieces of my fragmented whole;
a face forgotten
with such experience this weary heart bears a mind of its own;
no such love exists
as quickly as they came, do they go.
and as time goes the seasons change,
yet we rage against our will,
and our bodies remain the same,
what will become of this realistic humour?
the pawns of such a dark reality;
more harmful are the murmurs of the hearts tremor
only do fools carry their keepsake,
a badge to vouch against their loneliness;
you are diseased, do not associate me to weakness,
nor shall my fancy shift,
beg mercy to the being in sky
to rid me of the 'truth' that she supplies |
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| self-medicated führer |
[Jul. 20th, 2007|02:16 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | blah | ] |
from beneath the covers came the tale
of the optomistic pessimist
self-medicated by the thoughts
that haunted him. "Oh how frustrating!"
he yelled as he coughed out his intestine
porecelain teeth laid like tracks in a station
tongue holding back evaporated words
before their heard
and o!
the ghost of love chirped like a bird
from where it came from, I did not know
but deaf went my ears before it spoke
temporarily
overlooking the absconded tragedy
staring into the face of a newfound rivalry
only when free of such fantasy,
is when the house echoed quietly |
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| enjoy your sadness |
[Jun. 4th, 2007|12:33 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  nostalgic | ] |
I took a trip to the city
to find out who I am
but I packed no clothing
just my notebook and pen
used the dispassionate hands god
provided for men
and i found out how miniscule
I truly am, and how happiness
was discovered in the emptiest men
and I grew wings in the dark
when solitude reflected it's honesty
and I embraced it in the form that came to me
because before I die, I want to exist |
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| death by satire |
[Jun. 4th, 2007|12:27 pm] |
poor green eyed soul
everyone loved him but he felt alone
and faster did he crumble than stones |
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