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