exploration of that one neighborhood

the first thing i think of when i round that one bend
is how a world starts where this one just ends
the magic, the quiet, the shock and surprise
the ebb and the flow, the fall and the rise
where once there was shadow, a light can be seen
that minuscule sliver of charming moon beam
the certain uncertainty keeps up the ruse
that entrances my eyes and besieges my muse

time to [stop] pretending

the straightening of shoulders
the upward tilt of the chin
the solid, steady stance
all speaking loudly
trying to drown out the
whispers
that quietly scream



just because you're pretending
doesn't make the
truth

not



true

sometimes i hear improbable dramatizations of life

listen to all these pretend people
listen to them talking
laughing
wishing

listen to them trying to breathe meaning into their lives
but they can't quite.......
do it


listen to all these pretend people
listen to their stories
jokes
complaints

listen to them trying to impress you with their lives
but they can't quite.....

do it

listen to all these pretend people
listen to their embellished lies
exaggerated exploits
inconceivable experiences

listen to them trying make up utterly unique, distinguished lives
but they can't


quite...



do it

hast thou no scar?
no hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
i hear thee sung as might in the land,
i hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star,
has thou no scar?

has thou no wound?
yet i was wounded by the archers, spent,
leaned Me against a tree to die; and rent
by ravening beast that compassed Me, i swooned;
hast thou no wound?

no wound? no scar?
yet, as the Mater shall the servant be,
and pierced are the feet that follow Me;
but thine are whole: can he have followed far
who has nor wound nor scar?
-amy carmichael

won't

sometimes i want to feel
special
so i do things to impress
sometimes i want to feel
priceless
so i look at my great worth
sometimes i want to feel
significant
so i see my own distinction
sometimes i want to feel
unique
so i go against the grain
sometimes i want to feel
something
then i remember that i won't

so when does real life start?

there are nights when i can't sleep
and nights when i just don't
i'm just saving my sleep for real life

sometimes i try hard to think
and it doesn't always work
i'm saving my thoughts for real life

the moments i breathe are fixed
and they're short-lived and sweet
i'm saving my breath for real life

i gravitate towards living
and it's harder than it looks
i'm saving my life for real life

concerning how to read a book without words

there's something you don't know about me

it's...complicated

sometimes i think you know

sometimes i think you don't

there's something else you don't know about me

it's...confusing

sometimes i almost tell you

sometime i think you'd care



what else don't you know about me?



i'm an open book

with a thousand empty pages



do you have the perseverance

to flip page



after page





after page











after page























until you find the words

i'm too afraid to speak







?

taint

i've suppressed my emotions for so long
i've forgotten what it's like to feel
if i can't be hurt, it can't be wrong
all my affections to repeal
and if perchance the mood is right
and little deeper i shall dig
till from the nothing, in plain sight
what had been tiny seems repulsively big
so i quickly try to bury my hole
and the imperfections hidden therein
for in that grave, my immortal soul
again is tainted with what might have been

care too much

it only hurts when you care too much
but it's so hard to learn not to trust
so you bend till you break
and you cry till you shake
and you lean on your feelings like a weak,
wooden crutch

so simple, so easy to put your heart out
to let it go frolicking, traipsing about
like a magnet, it's drawn
but too often it's wrong
and the case it gets wrapped in is mistrust
and doubt

you're only hit when you drop your shield
though it sometimes seems so hard to wield
if it falls, you will too
when what's false becomes true
and the wound you sustained shows it never
has healed

EMOTION

that feeling
that feeling that you feel
or felt
or almost felt
or wish you felt
that thought
that thought that you think
or thought
or almost thought
or wish you thought
that wish
that wish that you wish
or wished
or almost wished
or wish you wished


why is it so hard?


that love
that love that you love
or loved
or almost loved
or wish you loved



or wish you didn't.

stop

turieb

it's half past 1
i saw the sun
till there was none
there was none
and in my brain
a noisy pain
like i was sane
but quite insane
and then i watched
the bubbles froth
and race moths
they raced like moths
the level's down
it hits the ground
and goes around
without a sound
till half past 2
when i see you
and then i knew
and now i'm new

hands

some people use hands to hold
some people use hands to hit
some people use hands to write
i use my hands to remember things
some people use hands to carve
some people use hands to cook
some people use hands to create
i use my hands to remember things
some people use hands to caress
some people use hands to explain
some people use hands to wipe
i use my hands to remember things

look around and see familiar faces
no eye contact, don't interact
they look down and count their measured paces
they ignore me, invisibility
stay wrapped up in their own private lifestyle
don't ask questions, don't seek answers
tell themselves they're going to run this mile
they can do it, they'll get through it

they don't seem to understand
that sometimes things go hand in hand
what's the point in climbing high
cuz you'll never reach the sky
don't tell people you need help
never tell them you need help

sit in a hallway full of silent pictures
give me glances, no second chances
the space between is filled with haughty bickers
soundless fighting, callous biting
denial in the form of pure ignorance
is it bliss, is it worth this
too proud to frown and too hard wince
feelings buried, worries buried

it's

it's the difference between an acquaintance and friend
it's the change in the path with it rounds a small bend
it's the feeling you get when a small baby cries
it's the lump in your throat when your household pet dies
it's the doing of something you'll never regret
it's the promise to someone you'll never forget
it's the hug that you give to someone you don't know
as they cling to you tight, like they'll never let go
it's that tear in your eye when there's nothing to say
it's the light in their smile when you point them the way
it's the service you render, with naught in return
it's the gift that you're given you never could earn
it's all that and so much more

falling

coming
it's coming
i can see it
so fast
like a blur
why?
why here?
why now?
everything was working out
perfectly
did this have to be?
it mattered
for the first time
it never had before
it seemed so real
it wasn't
it was a dream
this is reality
coming
reality is coming
in the form of a plane
speeding for me
speeding at me
to take me away
to steal life from me
when it was finally working
i guess the fates knew
i wasn't needed anymore
i did my job
my turn was done
but i would have liked to see
the results
the love
the family
now it's just her
i'm gone
he's gone
she's all that's left
for them
will they love her?
will they take care of her?
it's his job now
i can't
i'm gone
the plane took me
and now
now


now
it's over

for me

now
it's starting

for him

he has her
she is his now
i wanted this
and now i'm gone
because i wanted this


now
he cares

he likes her
he always loved her
but now he likes her
now he's ready
now he can care for her
she's in good hands
i leave her in good hands
but now i go
the plane is taking me
it's falling
falling
falling into



me

i was tired. so i wrote poetry.

i feel this pressure in my head
Hypothetical
like stress emitting in small waves
Metaphorical
some person screaming in my brain
Theoretical
falling
dropping
sinking
slowly
into oblivion


why? because
does anyone know?
yes & no
a few maybes
some live
some cope
some suffer
all die
why?
it happens
what did you do today?

You're not dead until you've died

the little girl sat in her yard
and played with her balloon
she laughed, and jumped and whirled around
until the Winds of Doom
approached her from the northeast west
and stole away her toy
but up she jumped and off she ran
to divert the evil ploy
along the curb she made her way
as fast as she could go
hither and thither, thus she went
she neither stopped, nor did she slow
until there entered in her gaze
a man with hair of white
a brown hat and jacket did he wear
they overcame her sight
"My pretty child," did he say
his teeth missing and yellow
"stop a while and talk to me,
there's a lovely fellow."
he grabbed her arm and sat her down
his weak looking hands were strong
"Now listen to my ghastly tale.
I promise it won't take long."
so down he sat, his wat'ry eyes looked far
and in a twinkling his voice changed
going from old-man-kind to hard
"There i was," the old man said
"sitting there alone.
and lo, he came, the master sir
chewing on his bone.
i said to him, good day! says i
and then he turns his head and says
'i can't imagine why.
the sky is blue, the trees is green
and everything's abloom.
if you're asking me, and though you're not
i'd say a bad day looms'
and off he walked, his small head down
the bone still in his mouth
i wondered what his trouble was
to make him go thus about
a noise i heard so i looked up
and right there in a tree
was the prettiest bird there ever was
if i'd been a bird, i'd be he
and such a pretty song he sang
i thought that i should die
for the music that had hit my hears
was for those worthier than i
but i listened, for i could
to the wond'rously pretty bird
and as i did, i closed my eyes
and spoke ne'ery a word
and suddenly, there flashed to mind
the image of a rose
different from others i'd seen
for it wasn't poetry, but prose
and though 'twas prose and therefore plain
it was as pretty as a paintin
like i'd looked for it my whole dern life
but it was worth the waitin
but then my rose started to wilt
and i just couldn't stop it
i tried and tried and tried again
but down it fell, bit by little bit.
now this whole time the bird had sung
his song of cheery life
but when my rose started to die
he sang a tune of strife
and yet again his song did change
and also did my picture
for in my mind's eye i did see
a wide and long and healthy pasture
full of horses was this field
all of different size and shape
mothers with their little foals
and at those ones i did gape
for there sat one who'd just been born
a brand new life, a miracle
but as i looked, he trembled so
and his tiny legs gave out
he fell to earth with a soft moan
which left room for little doubt
now all the while the bird had sung
his good and awful song
changing pictures in my head
making right things wrong
and as he started the third verse
an idea came to my mind
i opened up my eyes and said
'You've got me in a bind.
i've no idea what you can do
besides this picture thing
why, all i know about you
is you're a bird and you can sing.
you're songs hold power
i know not how
but i want you to stop,
stop this madness now.'
he stopped his song and looked at me
his eyes were bright and smart
'i see you've learned of my strange craft
is it not an art?
for with it, i can bend your will
to any way i want it
i can subdue your every thought
isn't it just marvelous?'
'No,' i said, with hidden rage
'your craft is bad, it's awful.
what you take's not yours to have
people's minds are full.
and here you are, destroying peace,
disrupting happiness
and you think you have the right?
killing what is hapless?
'Ahh, you see it's not like that
it's not like that at all
i like to lift things up so high
so i can see them fall
you see, so many think this world
the one that's all around
is something that they can control
and they lift off the ground
they fly away on pathetic dreams
and lofty hopes of things to come
they think they have the hang of it
until the clock strikes one
though cinderella's dream ends at 12
for an hour, she still believes
she hopes and prays it might come true
but when one comes, she sees
and then she drops, a glorious fall
her dreams all crash into pieces
and for next 100 years
no one knows what peace is.
and simply put, that's what i do
i break the dreams of dreamers
i give them pain and misery
and take their happy streamers;
for all must learn the lesson
to all it must be taught
you never can find joy in life
it neither can be given nor bought.
so mark your lesson well young man
for i'll tell you this one time
your path is wrought with sadness
and you never will be fine.'
and off that horrid bird did fly
into the bright blue sky
i never saw that bird again
and i know the reason why.
now listen well, my little girl,
for this next part is key
if you remember nothing else,
remember this of me
my whole existence was full of pain
i hated more then loved
i saw no hope, nor joy nor light
for i never looked above
but then one day, i saw the sun
hiding behind a cloud
and in that moment, i realized
the light i'd finally found
there's always joy, there's always hope
if you're willing to seek it
and sometimes if you're lucky,
why you might even be it"
and then the old man slowly stood
leaned on his cane and sighed
"live your life and don't forget,
you're not dead until you've died."