Tide

As a body of water pulled by the moon,

my mind races back and forth like a tide.

I observe and discern,

but seeing is not believing.

People rush by as I wait patiently,

not knowing exactly where I'm headed.

Where AM I headed?

I'm going the wrong way,

but why is it wrong?

It could be right, couldn't it?

All paths lead to the same place,

eventually.

It's an episode of inner battle, 

replaying over in my thoughts.

Daily I ponder,

yet never decide...

What the hell am I doing?

Today's poem, a brand new one made just for you!! When I have time, I'll go through my notebooks and find some awesome poems from my earlier days of writing, just until i get enough oomph and take a leaping stride into writing at least one new poem every day.

Enjoy!

Beginning of the End

In a dark corner of life

Children run about

Thinking not of jobs or taxes

Curiosity (who is that?) that killed the cat

Hands so tiny yet always busy

Feet so precious always scuttling

Never managing to keep things clean

Always claiming it’s not their fault

If we could remember the tiny things

Who’s to say we can’t be children again?

Once in a while people needs breaks

To jump in the leaves your cousin rakes

To run about bare hands and feet

Not thinking about time at all

Not in an office with four white walls

Vague are the memories we have of childhood

Boring are the years of adulthood

In between adolescence remains

Alone confused, never the same

Child and adulthood rolled into one

These are the last years of true fun

I wrote this ~2001.

Four sizes too small

Midnight is approaching, but I’m just crawling in my bed, I’m thinking how my future will turn out, no I’m not, I’m thinking of tomorrow and now I know that something will go wrong, too bad, what will happen next, I wonder, boredom, yelling, tiredness, yes, now I must sleep, but it is beyond me, I shall sleep no more, think no more, become no more, for I am stuck in the past, clutching the few picturesque moments my life beholds, upon me many windows have shattered, and still I bear the scars, a new window breaks day by day, the past remembered, the present forgotten, and the future remains unwanted, I am vanished, yet my shell hath stain, brain processing, but I, I am not this, I do not wish to live in a shell that produces pain, absorbs discomfort, and feels like a shoe four sizes too small. Adolescence is below my capabilities, yet I am now retiring childhood, and birthing adulthood, my thoughts process on a different level than yours, my friend, as naïve as I may seem, I shall not be left blind to reality. I am real, this is real, yet tangibility cannot truly produce reality, for in dreams the senses are at work feeling, hearing, smelling, seeing, and it all seems so real… so magical, and impossible, why cannot dreams be real? Why cannot our bodies fly amongst the clouds, swim alongside the fishes, and explore the unexplored? I have done this and still my shell seems four sizes too small.  


This poem has no format at all, and can be hard to read. What do you expect though? I wrote it when i was 12ish.

Thoughtful Bleeding

Would you walk around in circles with nowhere to go?

Would you stare down at your feet as you walk so slow

And on this night when you lose your love

Will you ask for advice from far, far up above?

Would you take the soulful advice of a kind old stranger?

If ever, oh if ever he could sense your inner danger

Would you stand up for someone, and give up your seat

If the game meant everything to your opponent, would you rather be beat

But now the light in the hall stands off kilter

Do you remember the first night you ever felt her?

As you lay now, in your bed, do you ever wonder?

Why time passes by so fast when you’re with her

Or why her dark blue eyes wash over your soul like water

Or how she truly looks to you when your blood gets hotter

Can you feel it, can you feel her body up against yours

And when she looks at you, with eyes filled with recourse

Will you grant her every wish and request

Will you promise to love her, hold her, and treat her your best?

Could you ever give in to your want of euthanasia?

Could you ever kill her and feel as if you’d saved her?

I ask you now, as the inflicting pain you’re readying to endure

Did you ever, truly ever really love her?

This is one of my all-time favorites. I wrote it in 2005 [i think] One of my few rhyming poems. Enjoy!

Ugly

We watch as beauty passes us,

Barely aware, un-amazed.

Masses of souls, together

Yet apart in more ways than one.

We look to the skies for answers,

Only finding more questions.

Insecurities carving lines,

Thoughts a mess.

Ugly sights haunting dreams,

Our awakened senses fail.

We are what we think we're not,

And because, will never really be.

Imagine

This blog is all about poetry. Not your average poetry with iambic pentameter and a set amount of lines and rhymes, more like a freehand "i don't care what it looks like" poetry. Packed with tons of feeling and meaning. My goal with this blog is to see how people view my poetry. I want your biased and unbiased opinions... not on my grammar, spelling, lack of form in my poetry, but what it makes you feel, think, imagine. Leave as many comments as you like, and take from this what you will. I just ask that if you like my poetry, and wish to share it- please cite me.