(Source: icanread)
a plain ol' poet
plain & simple poetry.
personal: amidsummernightmare.tumblr.com
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Theme by Andrew
plain & simple poetry.
personal: amidsummernightmare.tumblr.com
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Theme by Andrew
(Source: icanread)
The free bird is captured under a blue sky;
I, that bird, am trapped in life;
Co existing with other creatures in a magical journey
Destination:(know-wear.)
Knowing my destination
Wearing nothing but hidden messages in my muscles
Straining the fine fragments of my thoughts
Threats to my existence
my sore fatigued eyes
look upon that metal monster,
upset
they don’t see beauty
tight at the corners
of the mirrors to my world.
for
in that swift physical moment, Living raped my ambience
whored my optimist outlook
and broke me in half
struggling in a meta-existence
with side effects of:
hands steaming slight odors from sweaty pores
tastes of iron,
like swallowing copper coins,
scaled skin
fingers limp,
and filth
from my dark insides.
my brain misplaced
my sanity
allowing feelings to rule,
foolishly dictate over dictating my life.
no, I’m not proud at all
of the moments in bed with
my enemy, the wry lust that turns me away from the innocent treasures of my mind.
I’m not proud of the moments of nagging neediness for touches, kisses, embraces
or that hunger for edginess I can’t seem to escape.
Internally the amber color of my thoughts
drip into a moist concoctor of menacing methods.
putrid and brown my skin was once thought to be a fortnight ago
masked in uncertainty, Conscious self mutilation.
now accepted and embraced,
Or so I’d like to think.
The scars on my back from biological blunders
taint those sweet amber thoughts,
attempting to reflect a luxurious beauty
but drip short of the norm.
Flawed, as I should be, as a human.
This night, this day refuses me
in the slightest pestering
unforgivable ways
I allow myself to free indecisiveness
in such limited space
such limited time
to rip out the hairs and nails holding logic firm.
and birthing blisters on the heels of my journey
to finding myself.
internal pains
like hooks carved out my problems,
and truths I let loose,
only created serious lies,
to myself, to my loved ones.
because the truth isn’t even right
I want to bury it under my foot, and let its poisons
curtle the soil
so the trees can wilt, can cry for me.
because I can’t do it anymore…
the mirror melts before me,
and sharp glances cut my skin,
not deep enough for blood to spew
but enough to sting, to remind me of my imperfections.
why do I want to be perfect so badly?
today is a sad day
for the witty spirits and puppy lovers
the Mary virgins, the lucky good Chucks.
because time’s evils whispered into their ears
and cause the tides to split legs and minds and hearts in two.
lies salivate our mouths, tears moisten our eyes
and sleep is the only comfort…
besides the dreams.
bring me flowers and talk for hours
in my dreams, where you lay so silently sound
sweet lips I forbid myself from
but theyre are right there
and I’m right here, holding you in your sleep
in my sleep
my unsound slumber that cowers and perverts itself to
touching you
caressing you
making unsoundly love to you
but in the solidified truth, reality’s bitch slap was never so fresh.
I would never taint your body with mine
but how I feel like a satanic worshiper
overly sexual and lust-filled
toward a gentle giant, with ebony leathered skin
loving and sensible far beyond my reach.
I am the shameless, shameful lioness
and you are the little lamb behind a fence
deemed “Respect, Trust and Friendship”
so all I can do is count your fuzzy counterparts in different positions
to lie solemnly, impatiently
til elephants sit on my eyelids,
and the morning rudely awakes the predator.
Poems on bus rides
Are bumpy, choppy
But the views of pewtered windows
I see imaginary music notes
Bounding off miles of electric lining
Cutting the clouds in half, in forths
Into pink pillowy slices
Letting my eyes sink into slumber
Reflection of light flows on superfluous waves
In geese flight patterns
pitter-patter the rain calls to windows and wains for sunrise,
but the sunset quiets the earth, and the rhythms of the road lay busy heads to rest, calm hearts to soft slow beats, like the songs of rain.
the songs of rain follow those light formations along an invisible musical score, rising and falling heavy on eyelids and limbs.
all this effort just to rock the world to rest…
drunken nights
under teary aspirations and confusions
liquid convidence poured over consious insecurities
hatred for actually loving myself
and only letting it show through substance abuse
waiting for the day I could walk on plain grass
and bless the earth with my smile, my aura
bringing happiness through not just my actions of kindness, my unfailing devotions to peoples of the dirt, but just walking in a room
as a privilege for others to see
how amazing the physical can really speak louder than my words.
