poetry

It can happen to me?

I just don’t think anybody could be this wrong and still think it’s so right. Surely there has to be something there that can be real? Surely if I hold on it will eventually reveal?

But wow, it’s actually me whom the tables have turned against. I guess you can only make Art out of it for so long until it overpowers your Heart, until you have to play the part, giving up a life of reason to follow your gut.

But how? Did we swear to our promises too soon? Is it God or karma, or whatever it is out there that’s such a sucker for drama. That made me a dreamer, got me on the roller-coaster of life and damn I’m a screamer, I’m having a good time, scared, hopeful and pushing adrenaline so that when I die and they ask me what I took from life, I’ll show them more than a handful.

But I’m going out to see the sun, hopefully fear will see me coming and run. I hate always being reminded that this thing called life ain’t fun, as if I haven’t already been burned by that flame. It’s such a shame, so much beauty and mystery left untouched, it’s actually so beautiful that such a life is as pure as the morning dew giving life to the ignored blades of the grass and all her dependents… Could it be that I too am as precious as the morning dew? Only to be enjoyed by the willing few? Of course it would be better if the world knew, but the world is often blinded to anything true.

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art, poetry

Make some time to Mourn.

Controversy follows me like Fall after Summer. My tongue runs out of Truth and all I’m left with are yesterday’s Lies looking for back up in today’s battles.

When we were younger it was nothing but protocol to drink some fake alcohol, pretending to be drunk as we wobbled our way onto the floor with jeers and laughs, it was all in good cheer.

Now it’s protocol, pretending to laugh while we wobble towards the alcohol in the cabinet, or maybe the refrigerator, or possibly my desk where I had a few sips for inspiration when last night I had the urge to call up some friends and forget about the missus, thinking, one last time and I swear I won’t miss this.

Oh now Thomas has got a new mistress and we’re gonna have to keep the secret from Betty, what a pity – but remember that one time she was being super petty, wouldn’t let us use the computer as if her last name was Qwerty.

Well what goes around comes around, I hope I can convince myself that I made the right choice when considering everything that I could lose, your love was never an option. I mean your love was ever on auction, I simply tried to take action, almost followed my passion but they told me I’d lose my pension… Oh what a lesson, I hope my children will pay attention when I warn them that before daylight there is dawn, which comes after the darkness of the night when each of us has to make some time just to mourn all the dreams that we didn’t close our eyes to see, all the lips we didn’t move in to kiss and all the ignorance that made life so bliss.

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money, peace, poetry, self acceptance

I Love Cheap Thrills!

I’m spoilt for choice really on the type of person I can choose to be in this life. You saw that film about that bloke who had multiple personalities, well I’ve got multiple casualties that have left me with a choice: revenge like a savage or avenge and salvage an entire generation.

I love cheap thrills but such ain’t really cheap because they come from expensive hearts – no let me rephrase that – they come from priceless hearts that aren’t afraid to skip a beat or two and donate love for the sake of our humanity, now that’s humility. In today’s world it’s become a calamity to give up one’s self for the sake of the community.

Quick recap: snap- crackle and POP, that’s memories from my childhood I’m wondering where I went wrong from that innocent youth, I’m going into beast mode…

Sugar, Spice and everything nice, I’m rolling dice in street corners now because I’ve got to get that ice. Blood diamonds light up my brand new watch and I spray imported cologne just to dream of a trip to Germany with all the mindless pretty girls that made the mistake of looking at my glitters and thinking I’d make them rich.

I’d feel bad for them, but they’re better off than all the mindful girls who made the mistake of looking into my sparkling eyes and getting lost in my lies when I promised that I would care beyond this light filled night when really I would never dare to reveal even a peace of my heart just to start, because once I get to that part where I’ve got what I wanted I begin to amaze you by turning my back and running off into the wilderness with no love in my chest, but with your heart in a chest, along with all the other goodies and souvenirs that I keep as trophies – for this one I conquered like this, and that one like that, and these two I stole from here and I threw them there.

I treat these memories as a reminder that this life ain’t fair – if I couldn’t have peace then neither should my enemies. And everybody who got tangled in between has to understand that it was a necessary evil, a work hazard, and if you really where smart enough then you should have seen the warning signs and if you didn’t then you simply weren’t good enough and that’s why you should have encouraged me when I told you that I love cheap thrills, but instead you called me a bore and laughed it all off in my face, testing my patience and misusing my kindness, well tell me now…am I interesting enough? Has my head proven itself worthy of your expensive standards, or do I need to go on and come up with a nice ending for the sake of Art? Well what about my heart, do you think it goes unbruised every time I have to put it through this raging?

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art, poetry, Uncategorized, words

Contentment

Contentment…I treat this word with contempt. Trying to pay attention to only the positive content but something always wants to tempt.

Resentment is an overwhelming feeling I have to admit. Trying to stay optimistic under the pressure to submit.

I have this head that feels like it’s not connected to a neck. It sounds weird to say but it is even more weird to live with it.

In this head I live most of my life while my body operates on auto. Sometimes my head wanders off into the distance, chasing the horizon and when it does this I don’t even notice until I find myself examining hieroglyphics in Cairo.

I stand in the shower looking over at your life – I see your kids, your street and the rat poison in your kitchen corners and the luck in between that’s keeping your toddler from eating the tainted cheese.

I ask my head, why are you so messed up? What did I do to make you like this? How can I ever become a better person when you always say that isn’t enough? And why do you even bother to make me think this way if you won’t give me the answers?

My head never answers and I’m left with the blame. I’m trying to focus like all the other robots in my class but you want to make me feel special. You tell me there’s something better to do and distract me from reality…

O’ yes, I know there isn’t any better. I don’t know why you lie to me.

Discipline Discipline blah-blah-blah, if I don’t control you, I might go tah-tah-tah. Label me lazy for a daydream that never seems to end. This is how it always goes, I get a nice thought and begin to write about it and it starts off well until I get to this point and my head gets out of it and all I’m left with are fingers picking letters composing words, makes sense or not doesn’t really matter coz IDGAF, I’m a Millennial so you already know my problem…

I’m lazy and entitled is what they say. I’m crazy and delusional to think the world revolves around me. But you told me I could be anything from President to astronaut, you put no limits. But now I’m here to claim it and you resist, so I persist in my head to imagine – to dream of me on mars bearing Columbus’ scars! I heard that history repeats itself so I wanna be on the front line when she comes, not stuck in a cubical surrounded with pastings of motivational quotes from people who beat the system only to become the system and take turns on our lives, dopamine dopamine dopamine – I’m a junky, you’re my hit, I feel all fuzzy inside…Roses are red but I’m pansy inside.

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blogging, inspiration, life choices, money, poetry, reason, secrets

Stop Writing.

I need to stop writing because I might just be good at it. Okay maybe that’s too extreme, maybe I can just stop publishing my blog posts – they might be better off as drafts.

Yes maybe drafts are better, I can pile up all my thoughts and they will never be seen and I would never revisit them just in case I get tempted to post them and let the whole world see.

I’m surely no Shakespeare, my English is far too simple – but oh how convenient, people cannot handle complicated, they don’t even understand my previous post.

Oh snap I need to stop writing. I might just be good at it and I’ll get what I wish for; write some books and get rich and famous – then my biggest fears will come true and I’ll end up like my beloved Avicii.

Many times I never stopped to think what the consequences of success could be. Everyone who’s holding my secrets might just come and spill the beans just to get their name on the community mop and wipe away all my innocence and privacy – I don’t want to be rich and famous.

So maybe I should stop writing or maybe I can just stop making sense, I can never try being boring so I’ll start now with the mathematics that birds don’t dwell on and neither did I when I passed through the tunnel and became man and then boy and then faded into thinking – yes surely I’ve lost them and they’ll never read me again…I can continue writing never to be famous today.

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