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Rambling on LossI know not what drives me to define
In such a manner to see her again
Nor to find myself refined,
Different at next meeting, no longer a boy
No longer in pain
But I fear that this love chased is not to be
In the wake of which I linger and cry
May not be the path I see
Inked on parchment before my eyes
That I love her, I know, not as and idea
But as an individual, forgotten sometimes,
But always remembered in futuristic fears
And typcasted in remiss and broken rymes
In these words, here.
in the silent darkness
of the inner mind.
As the path wanders on
through the twisting branches
of the tree of life.
And so the intertwined wicker bows
percieve the meaning of each
Each pad of callused feet
like a drumbeat,
silent, and unheard.
Despite the shaking
of the branches, quivering
in aprehension, and sorrow.
DesperationThe abandoned, recanted, re-broken
Bleeds its intellectual lies into the tears
Of its shattered spirit
Slipping slimy fingernails of weathered, bottled
Sliding from the scream-hole, the dripping
Punctured throat of integrity
Scratching the forever blind, child-eyes
Rolling languidly away from
The forgotten truthThe solid-built fortes of social constraint,
morally crumbling under the weight
of it’s own academic constipation
Built on the backs of invisibly-chained
slave-minds, subject to the whims of the
two-tone breaker of old men.
Reeking of rubberized meals
and immaturity’s poison barb
sets in the stagnant air.
The wandering refugees of intelligence
only, can understand the watchfulness,
of illogical reason.
Shadows of the pastI rewind my blindness
to forget and to remember.
The past blunders
the forever blank
In The PresentI found it in this moment
I found it in the shattered remains
Past shrouded in watery smoke.
Future sifted, in fate’s
heartwood dream catcher
and I stood, in reverence, of
the glass shell that somehow,
keeps our beauty at bay.
And wept that so little,
can bind the free.
So rise now, from the colorless pool
of the daily stress.
That morass that made laughter hide.
And rub your weary bones clean
with the scraps of ashen canvas
that belongs to what has been, only.
And throw that stress-worn, weary cloth
Yup, the world we live in is...A broken hypocrisy
stands before me.
Leaking forgotten laughter
from it’s body politic,
Outcast and outlasted
by the financial choke-chain
of the flamboyantly forgetful
and corrupted human notation.
Vocational notation such corrupt
forgotten in our vexed fixation on
our entertainment supplication.
We the re-vexed reflection of medieval
and our subconscious connection
to the publicly and punitively perceived,
truth story of our own faults.
Hold in our grimy, sausage fingers,
a perceived reflection of preempted
Such truth reflected, simultaneously
by the remaining few who can sustain,
to get out of
of their parents-
I'm here trying
to get out of
For There Is A Girl...There is a girl who does not fit in.
She couldn't be more different
In the society she was raised in;
She thinks the exact opposite.
She finds it odd that two girls
Cannot dance the way a man and
She finds it odd that those being
Accused of horrible acts are being
Accused by people who have done worse.
She finds it odd that there are
Signs and campaigns for allowing
She finds it odd that being a
Woman means you are weak
And it is an insult to be called
In the society she is in,
She is different.
For there is a girl who does not
Why two people of the same
Cannot marry. Why one group of people
By another that is far worse.
There is a girl that cannot
Why words are offensive or
People use them. She cannot
Why, as a woman, she is not
To wear what she wants without being
If she is white, then she is racist.
If she is black, then she is a criminal.
If she is straight, then she is homophobic.
Path of lifeLife is a dangerous path
Full of twists and traps
A path we're forced to walk
Without turning back
We may regret the past
We may regret the mistakes
But we must learn from them
And keep moving on
We may predict the future
And even fear it
But we never know
What happens next
The only thing we have
Is the present, here and now
So let's live it
And forget about the rest
The mistakes of the past
The mysteries of the future
All part of life
This path we all walk
wordless they succumbAnd they fell -
just like that.
Just like the act of breathing;
soundless and inevitable.
Like an eager girl slipping
straps from her shoulders,
the soft crush of silk at her feet.
We Have No TimeAll we have
Is a sliver
Everything we will
Do in life
We all die before we know it
Its a fact of life
And I am already dying
A slow painful death
One year at a time
One month at a time
One week at a time
One day at a time
Then we flatline
On a metal sheet
Buried in the dirt
To think we were born yesterday
Only to die tomorrow
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