personal

Vision

There is only one friend

Who can heal every wound,

He lies under the pain,

Of one's darkness and gloom,

He is forthright and fair,

And all hurdles he'll jump,

If only he could see past his personal dump,

The mirror is fogged with his personal junk.

 

 

© 2013

 

 

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Fairy Tale Love Of A One Track Mind

Folder: 
In Love

I love to shower you with kisses
Loving you to pieces every second
Everyday you are that I am missing
Expressing romance as it is still glistening
Shining like a star as it is shooting
Along that black cloudy sky
No need for dreaming
I am truly love the feeling of exploration

Dark love I do appreciate
In an oath sealed with a drop of blood
I still see you smiling if thing's are rough
We're just happy being together
And we're driven to be loved

Followed my heart
And I followed my brain

To know that it was for sure
For certain
That I was not dreaming
Of only picturing this reality
Not Disney
As a fairy tale
On a one track mind

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My Desire of another Fairy Tale Love. That's already come True and these are the Words I've Expressed over the Amount of Love I have.

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Verbally Opinionated

Folder: 
Personal

Function properly
Not proving anyone
A point, a theory
Whether written in a song
Written in a poem
To get a voice across
Considered a crime
To be honest
To be truthful
To be serious

Misunderstood
Appealed useless
Not properly written
Properly discussed
Properly voted
Politics will not cut it
To assure an artists view
To publish
To critique
To comment lies

Verbally opinionated
So what? Who do I impress?
Only myself
No one else
Approving from my satisfaction
From success
From fame
From going up
Too fail
And start over again

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My Personal Thought may not Verbal. But its Written as a Function of Communication. My thoughts exactly.

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Told Me To Think Of You

Folder: 
In Love

Told me to think of you
When I no longer think straight
My brain begins to hurt to the point it burns
Without hesitating I jump your body to the floor
After opening the front door

Told me to think of you
All day my brain has been sore
Leaving you in the center of my brain
Still I fantasized a lot more
And never going to erase you from memory

Still you told me to think of you
Yet I never have to ponder too
You are naturally there
Stuck in a picture image
My personal movies played constantly

Fast forward when it ends
Rewind to get rid of the already known credits
Always a picture perfect person rolling
In and out of my head

Told me to think of you
Forever in my memory
After you had told me too
While closing our door

Author's Notes/Comments: 

One day; my partner said this line which inspired the Poem. So, I did. And still thought about them.

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Far Away

 

Soul wracked with love

Pure pain of apart

Cool serene darkness hides

My expression from me

 

Great distance separates us

Two forever as one

Longing divides my soul

Passion tears my chest

 

Time stretches to forever

Can’t see next dawning

Mind plays out images

Fades out with reality

 

Expectation of reunion nears

Her love approaches invisible

Touches my saddened heart

Memory of past passion

 

Moment of reliving arrives

Soul’s blackness washed clean

Newborn love fills void

Her cradled loving embrace

 

Feel her pain dispersing

Eyes swimming with tenderness

Souls rebond to one

Till the next separation

 

What is this force?

Power supreme yet unmeasurable

Desired by all living

Created by so few

 

This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process, nor may any other exclusive right be exercised, without the permission of Neville John Gourley, 2 Sarah Court, Capalaba, Queensland 4157, and dated 04-05-2013.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For my Wife.

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What I am. What You see. What I want.

Folder: 
Pain and Heartache

Worthless

Is what I am.

No matter how I try to deny it.

I feel nothing.

I see nothing.

I am nothing.

Do not try to argue

for it is the truth.

I am Worthless.

Empty

Is what I am

No matter what I try to say.

I feel nothing.

I see nothing.
I am nothing.

Do not try to argue

for it is the truth.

I am Empty.

 

Carefree

Is what you see.

Someone who oozes content

You see my smile

You see my mask

You see a lie.

But I do not correct you

because I know you would leave

If you knew the truth

Happiness

Is what you see.

An emotion that I don't often feel

You see my smile

You see my mask

You see a lie.

But I do not correct you

because I know you would leave

If you know the truth.

 

Acceptance

Is what I want

Despite how depressed I may seem.

I want to change

I want to be different

I want to feel.... needed

But I don't dare ask

because I fear you may say no

That I am asking too much.

Love

Is what I want.

To feel as though someone cares

I want to change

I want to be different

I want to feel.... needed

But I don't dare ask

because I fear you may say no

That I am asking too much.

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"Haunting Illumination"

Fluorescent time brings night like a forest fire, 
A night bathed in dried ash, vapored smoke. 
My vehicle becomes an aircraft, freefalling from stars, 
Cutting through backroads, hovering above concrete scars. 
  
I race across highways, by rivers reflecting twilight, 
My engine roaring electric, humming, breathing. 
My flight takes me beyond a dangerous path, 
Floating in waters of probabilty, wrath. 
  
I'm blinded with light rays, a haunting illumination, 
Headlights approaching, accelerating, collision. 
Tearing like hollow points, metal ripped metal, 
My breathing stopped, my foot left the pedal. 
  
Seconds passed like moon cycles,  
The stars watching from an airless space.  
My transporter crumbled, leaving the ground, 
My body was floating, in deafening sound. 
  
The lights around me died out, as my vehicle lay still, 
Moonlight encasing a cave of mangled steel. 
Sirens in the distance, jetting alone,  
I could hear Heaven opening, calling me home. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a poem about a car accident I got into in July 2012 that almost took my life.

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Something

Folder: 
In Love

Love is not everything
Something mutual, something pure
A relation never losing a connection
A feeling felt so sure

Love was not the only fool
Lied to a friend who was close
Cared less for the unwanted individual
And turned to darkness bearing the noose

Love stood in front of my eyes
No innocence but grit of truth stood at the bus stop
Shocked over the intention of a date was a surprise
Now my love has become something I would not take advantage of

Love sunk deep lost all regret
Ex relationships had been forgotten
Still what has been revealed was not told yet
That they love one another, knew it was for certain

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Finding and realizing my True Love.

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Zen

Folder: 
Diagon Ellie

Here's another point of view of what he does now/He went from full blown Spartan to samurai lifestyle/And he still has his demons, they're rampant and they run wild/But he knows his actions needs to be dumbed down/I can condense his life into a weekend just to narrow it down/Friday he wakes up, brushes his teeth and puts a blunt in his mouth/Gets dressed and finds a way to get out of the house/Just a group of young niggas lurking in the gulch/Got into it with a hipster, put his sword to his throat/Just a scare tactic so he can blow off steam/But the stroke of his blade so quick it can clip the cherry off ya nicotine/Another young kid with a backpack and a dream/And a skateboarding group of Ronin that know no peace/Each lived by the blade, it was something like a piece/To a mobster, taking out his enemies and some monsters/His conscience grew eerie when the night fell/Eyes heavy, they couldn't adjust to the light well/But the ride with his niggas kept going like a Duracell/And they had to reach a place for a grip to sell/But that grip would flip into something tragic/Stars fly like wishes and blades got to slashing/They robbed a caravan so they could sell a habit/Walked away with an ounce of some Blue Magic/A nigga stepped up, he drug a blade through his guts/Now he's in the backseat/He likes his drugs like his girls, tucked under his nuts/And they reach the hang spot, they stash half and smoke the rest of it up/He pops a Xanax and goes to sleep wishing he'd never get up/Please don't give up

 
Saturday is a happy day/He puts his nigga's bong away/They made it out of a Grape crush bottle and jug they used to use for Kool-Aid/He fills a solo cup up with Cognac/And searches for the ice that he lacks but the other half of the fridge is broken/He shrugs and knocks it back/Let's party with the rich kids, it can get insane/We can make $800 each by selling a little cocaine/They arrive at the party showing up fashionably late/And they look like them cool niggas, rocking cologne scented of dank/He takes a few girls to the back room to give em bumps/Down they spine when they toot and get asked if they wanna fuck/2 stay in the room that roo works magic on sluts/And they make out with his dick while they're looking up/And he reaches into his pocket and hits a friend or two/One he tells his issues to, the other he puts his dick into/He met the second hoe selling Oxys to Trisha's crew/The other one he truly loved but it always fell through/He would hit his first option but he knew they were confused/Cuz they'd still hook up but there was a nigga she was talking to/He seemed like shogun material whenever he came through/But she always told him his stroke was below an inch or two/So it's the second bitch, she always into some shit/Face painted like a Geisha, his personal Sake waitress/he left his wallet in the car, she could jack him out his last paycheck/But it's cool because the bitch had her own sets of latex/They bust a blunt after a fuck, yeah the usual/Then he plays her a piano tune or two/And she sings along to it, yeah it's beautiful/She wants to be a singer but she's stuck inside a cubicle/And it gets him the words she says sticks him/To the point where his mind gets repaired like stitches/That's a comedown/Yeah his high is over now/It's 3AM Sunday, he should be going home clown/But he with a bitch that don't really love him/She just wants to get fingered and cuddled under the covers to Step Brothers/Normally it didn't bother but now it kinda disgusts him/Because that other bitch is on his head and the other could never cover her
 
He made it home Sunday, between the hours of 11 or 2/He puts his keys on the stand in his mother's spotless vestibule/He hates this fucking place/His mother always complains about the constant residue/Of blood and his favorite fruit and he's close to committing seppuku/He walks into the den where he can watch pre-recorded pay-per-view/Smackdown baby lets see a slam or two/But his father still lingers his mind/Telling him it's a career he needs to find/Get off ya ass and stop getting high to Sublime/You're good at what you do but you're terrible with the time/And he used to have a room/But now it's filled with toy trucks to the roof/And race car beds for his young nephews/He tells them everyday that he loves em/No one is above them but his brother has it fucked up he should probably correct ya mother/And his mom tells him to chill/They aren't at the age to know the deal/Don't break the oath or ya feelings will get killed/Maybe he should enroll in college, seek knowledge instead of homage/But his lack of motivation and authority problems hold him hostage/He had a weird dream and he wrote a poem/That poem became rap and he made a few songs/And people really seem to love him and that burned in his soul/So hopefully that passion could break him of the insecurities that he holds/He lays on the couch, not looking at TV/Headphones in watching anime on his iPhone screen/And he studies his moves from Hiei and has his nephews to teach/They join him for some ice cream after a victory speech/"One day, my little geeks, you'll see me on the screen/Being the best at my craft and making sure that you eat"/He'll buy himself a Beamer, His nephews their own TV's/And finally see his father smile while he's screaming "can you see me?"/
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Eh.

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