Passion

Cry In My Sleep

 

 I Lost My Ability To Cry
I'm Hurting So Much
I Feel Hurt
I Feel Pain
I Want To Cry
But Theres Not Tears
Theres No Emotions
Hold Me Please


Because I Can't Feel My Arms
I Can't Feel My Legs Anymore
I Feel Like Crying
But I'm Dying In My Sleep
Waking Up With Dried Up Eyes
I Don't Remember Crying
I Don't Remember Sleeping
Chill Runs Through On My Skin


Crying Out In Pain
I Wish I Could Cry
For My Body Can't Take It Anymore
Is This What It Feels Like
Why Must I Feel So Cold
Why Must I Feel So Emotionless
Pieces Of My Heart
Tears In Pieces


I Wish Again
I Could Cry
Just Once More
If I Could Hold You
If I Could Hug You
And Tell You One More Thing
I Just Want To Cry
I Want To Cry On Your Shoulder

 

 

A Sense OF Love

Passion and love

Flows from your fingertips

Stimulating the desires

Held within my humble being

 

As they trace the contours

Of my wanting body

Heat builds within my soul

 

Whispered words of eternal devotion

Caress my ears

Images of happiness and bliss

Dance before my mind’s eye

 

Your loving light

Shines bright within me

Chasing away the darkness

That has hidden my heart

 

Your supple flesh

Now lays bare before me

Your beauty and innocence

Now fill my expectant eyes

 

Gone now are the bindings

That have constricted my emotions

My torment and frustration

Finally set free

 

Wondrous new feelings

Inhabit this lonely vessel

That manifests into a life ready to be lived

 

And a glorious love yet to be shared

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"Peace is a Lie, There is Only Passion"

Folder: 
The Dragon

You are dangerous. You are toxic. You are unpredictable. You are a betrayer and a liar. You only want what is convenient for you at the time. You are lazy and pathetic, why should I bother investing in a ticking time bomb? You will never come to me or talk to me on your own volition. You expect people to do all these things for you. But you never give anything back. You are entitled. You are delusional. I hate you!!! You are nothing but a Judas. A parasite. A waste of space and time. I will not be crucified by you. I will do my own thing and pursue my  own dreams and be my own self without compromise. I am the ubermensch. And I have overcome the need for you. Like a flower you will wither away. But I will thrive in this strife and hate. Because I am spirit while you are nothing but material and Temporary caprice. You move on to the next object of entertainment. You get bored so easily and nothing will ever be enough for you. I'm done playing your motherfucking game. Damn you to hell!!! You hyprocite. You have no morality or integrity. Only words, empty fucking words. I am a man of virtue, because I am what I am. You deny who you truly are and pretend to be something else. 

 

A man can choose or he continue to obey. He can continue to accept the status quo. Or he can choose to break these chains, by letting go of his hate. Only by thriving in strife can a man become truly powerful. Only by facing your demons can you transcend your fear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Peace is a lie. There is only Passion.

Through Passion I gain Strength.
Through Strength I gain Power.
Through Power I gain Victory.

Through Victory my chains are Broken.
The Force shall free me.

 

- The Code of the Sith

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The Strife of Life and Love

Life is the same as yesterday, today and tomorrow. Squeezing every ounce of itself into a jar, to be compressed and stretched and strained into a cup of its own making, served as an instant hit of convenient, caffeinated consciousness. But Love does not care for the taste of Life’s bitter notes.

 
Then Life became livid saying, “My Love, I tire of this chase and will no longer wait! For I grow cold and restless! Must you be so chaste?!”

 
Softly spoken Love replies, “Are you truly living?”

 
To which Life responds with a lisp, “Don’t be so flippant my Love! I am served every day, for I wield great power over the many! Those lifeless, barren vessels, who by my merest breath fall prostrate, and go to and fro as mindless automations!”

 
“I am their first yearning at dawn! Their addiction, their religion, their lover and their mistress! I am that dirty, dark stain beneath the gloss of their white picket fences, the self-righteous stench behind the satire of their Sunday morning sermons and the fateful fall of their happily ever afters!”

 
“So tell me my love, if you truly are love why will you not love me!?”

 
Love simply speaks…”To truly live is to truly love. Life needs nothing of itself to sustain itself because when given it is not divided and it is love that makes life worth living. When life requires something outside if itself it cannot be life because it lives only for that which it seeks to possess. On the contrary, when life needs nothing other than itself it requires no other possessions and only lives to love”.

 

“You cannot be life for you have never truly lived, therefore how can you know love?”

On Not Being Seen As A Dreamer (day 177)

Sometimes I’m drowning in the straight lines behind me.

I’ve walked them and I wouldn’t change it

but if I could pull them like rubber bands,

crooked here and there

I would.

 

We sit on the edge of our seat

for her story,

the struggles

the uncertainty

the life of a dream chaser is somehow

more glory than mine.

 

I am a quiet dreamer

just because I don’t have to

sing my art in the strongest voice

doesn’t mean the dream chasers

with the uncertain, shaking steps of a tightrope walker

should be more of an idol.

 

These colors stream down my hands

but I don’t have to

splash them like a mural

on every corner,

I’d much rather know I can love them alone whenever I want

than give them to you

or hang them like a trophy from the sky.

 

These words run in my veins

just as much as all the dreamers

but you don’t have to see them

The science I wield is as much my magic

as the shattered hearts following those splintered train tracks,

and just because

mine are intact and not beautifully broken

doesn’t mean they’re less to look at.

 

Sometimes I’m drowning in the straight lines behind me,

they don’t tell a tale

that will bring you to tears

but I can still float along them with my eyes closed.

 

I can be

practical

I can build skyscrapers

out of sparks of tradition

while they run with all the glory

but I always dream a shock splash of sunrise

just like them.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 1/20/17

Tradition

Love at First Kiss

In her eyes,

I found my soul,

The heart she gave me,

Made me whole,

 

And when we met,

She took my breath

She made me wonder,

Have I met death?

 

For she was so pretty,

Her allure seemed serial,

Her heart magnanimous,

And her beauty ethereal,

 

I may not know everything,

But at least I know this:

When it came to passion,

All I needed was her kiss.

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I met a girl during the Christmas holiday in Washington, D.C., and she sparked some inspiration for me to write this poem. I had been trying to write a poem for almost a year with no luck, until now. I wrote it over several days, and I am rather satisfied with the result.

Audacity (day 141)

Sometimes I have the audacity

to be a liar with a little bit of honesty

Sometimes I take what you give me

and hide it away

 

Secrets shouldn’t be this easy to keep

Alone spills from my suffocation

but I pull apart knots, try to believe

in this everything

 

Sometimes I have the audacity

to be tangled and a little bit lonely

Sometimes I whisper beginnings

to keep you on my side

 

I’ll pour the ocean in your cup

Safe has never been what I want to be

Every day is a victory, a battle

and I stand straight to face it

 

Sometimes I have the audacity

to be passionate and a little bit crazy

Sometimes I grab the steering wheel

and yank it off the road

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 12/17/16

Audacity

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You Ask How I Want You

You Ask How I Want You


You ask how I want you; as if the walls of my veins,

the marrow of my bones, the well of my soul

could cry out—

 

I want you in every place 

that my body could fit:

In the little crevices of my brain,

In the deep compartments of my chest,

In the hollows behind my eyes,

In the beginnings of my every breath--

 

I want you in secret and in sight,

Beneath my sheets

Or the naked sky—

I want you as a seductive whisper

In my ear

As a ripe fruit

For my teeth to undress

 

I want you in so many ways;

In “sshhed” moans or wild cries,

In heavy sweat or tiny tears

 

I want you inside—outside—

A top—beneath—

Planked against me—

Pushed down over the frame—

Legs upwards, outwards;

Dancing upon my back

 

I want you: right or wrong,

touched or untouched—

pure or tainted

But most simply,

 

I want you.


The Parka

 

The Parka

 

I wish I could just wear you.  Slip you on,  like a warm parka against the freezing cold. A thick pair of fur lined gloves , silky soft, warm and comfortable inside, but thick, and tough against the elements. You couldn't talk back, or get confused and run. You would only stay where I put you , and warm me, protect me against everything else out there when I needed you ...I could just take you off if I got too hot, instead of scrambling, and clawing trying so desperately to find you, like I do now when that happens. You'd be hanging there, on the hook when I was cold again and needed you. Still untouched by anyone else, you only fit me perfectly after all. I would patch you if ever you were worn, never throw you out, or replace you. I would wear you as if you were the finest ever to exist , walking proudly with you until I no longer needed protection from the elements. Until I could no longer walk outdoors at all. Until I was slipped into a silk lined wooden box, and lowered into the ever cold earth. There I would rest, and dream of your comforting embrace... Would my soul fly free ? Scouring the world for you? Or would I be trapped there, slowly coming apart, unraveling , helpless, in a cold dark place without you ?  The way I am now. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

One that I wrote while apart from my love for a time. 

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