PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I started at the bottom 

I'm still here

Hesitant to climb the ladder

Can't conquer fear

The path to my ascension 

Remains quite clear

My clarity concedes to critics 

Thank you peers

Now the bottom slowly rises

With my tears

Floating on a fragile boat

My emotions steer

Will I sink or swim

The answer nears

Every inch I slowly rise

My insides cheer

The mask of my depression 

Now rendered sheer

Staring into the light ahead

Like blinded deer

The boat begins to rock

Nausea has appeared 

Sickness now stunts my travels

Cursed inner ear

The rocky waves crashing overhead

Drench the veneer

Tumble over the boat's edge

Tipped over steer

Mournful breaths as I descend

Curse my puppeteer

Hopelessly I drift back down

Life's discarded souvenir 

My advice for achieving happiness

I freely volunteer

Instead of holding onto rocks

Hold those dear

High and mighty I prowl.

Raining down on me is a legendary whim.

I am on to the stagnant lifestyle,

watching it like a hawk.

There is no place like enamored.

Home is where your heart is.

My pristine heart;

Sparkles and is surrounded by glims.

It's late and I need to go to sleep.
'Twas giving myself fake expectations
For the light of the moon does creep.

There isn't a secret I should keep
That would, in advance, cause excitations.
It's late and I need to go to sleep.

Wait! There are musical notes I should leap
Across the beats and instrumentations,
For the light of the moon does creep.

Do I have the energy I should reap
For holding mixtapes in glorifications?
It's late and I need to go to sleep.

There are lyrics and samples much too deep
For this outsider musicfag in great notations,
For the light of the moon does creep.

Pity. Another night lost in the jeep
Of creative ideas, going in vibrations.
It's late and I need to go to sleep
For the light of the moon does creep.

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?”

Fuck god, fuck god,

Stop,

Ugh, now you are going to lose everything,

Fuck god,

Ok dont stop, 

Fuck god, fuck god,

You gotta remember,

Fuck god,

Don't push thoughts away or they will get worse,

Fuck god, fuck god,

Freaking damn it,

Stop,

I wanna slam my head in the fucking wall,

Don't,

Don't,

He knows you don't mean it,

He knows,

They know you don't,

Nothing is going to change,

Hey,

Hey,

Listen to me,

Listen,

Nothing is going to change,

They know your heart,

Fuck god all you want to,

All you want to,

Its ocd.

The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout. 

Down came the rain and it washed the spider out.

Out came the sun and it dried up all the rain.

And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.

For as many times as I’ve heard that song that damn spider must have crawled up the water spout five-hundred-trillion times. Why even climb back up at all? Why not go find a nice little dry corner of the world to weave your web, little spider? You could just find yourself a nice little corner in an attic somewhere to live your life and you will never have to worry about inclement weather conditions. It just seems as though of all places, you are determined to place yourself in the most impractical position possible- at the top of a water spout. The glut of spiders that crowd my attic always seem to be in the most obscure corners and crevasses as if they know to prepare themselves for that one fateful December day when I make the trek up the ladder to pull down the Christmas tree. Hanging around by a water spout is just asking to be rained upon and washed out isn’t it? Nevertheless, I don’t know any songs about the hoard of attic spiders that dwell across the land far and wide; I know a song about you – the itsy bitsy spider who keeps climbing up that damn water spout.

Walking in darkness,

sometimes we forget

that light exists.

We fixate on what hurts us

deriving identity

from our pain.


We look away

from the hands

that could rescue us.


Aching

Longing

Filled with regret

Alone

Lost


Our vision blurred

our perspective limited

our views tainted


Conflict.

Contention.

Crisis.

Our constant companions.


Forgetting how to feel,

how to love.

Forgetting who we are,

letting shame define us.


Fire

Anger

Hatred

Self-loathing

Threaten to consume us

Unquenchable

Unfixable

Unrelenting


Everything we believe about ourselves

and the world

and the people around us

is a lie,

Warped by our own twisted thoughts


This is OUR world

But it is not THE world


Change is possible.

For you, for me, for all who see

through darkened eyes.


It comes in small moments of clarity,

like a single ray of sunlight

slicing through the clouds


The road to peace

can be a long one,

but the journey begins

with hope.

Lying in the darkness

My pen will find

The whiteness of the paper

With my eyes closed.

These black scribbles

Are meaningless nothings

That fill the silence of the page

With beautiful noise

A head so cloudy

Overfilled with hopes

And the worries of last night

With more to come tomorrow

Lying in plumes

Of grey smoke that float

Up to my ceiling. Like clouds

With less tears to rain

These black thoughts

Are meaningful everythings

That fill the noisiness of my mind

With beautiful distractions

A mind so heavy

Way too full with worries

And more and more that just keep on

Coming and coming. My

Heart wants to know

When it will all just

Stop.

I'm not strong enough