3/14/10

Love Hate Letter


My heart ached
The tears burned
The sleepless nights
when my entire being yearned
for you to comfort me
for the day I would finally be
able to sincerely say
"I'm okay."

I was under the microscope
Available for all the world to view
Susceptible to all of the pain
that broke my spirit and murdered hope
I wondered when
I would no longer pretend
when I'd reply
"I"m perfectly fine."

Fractured wings cannot fly
Walking down the street
I could feel all the eyes
and sneering lips of the passer-byes

The rain poured
when I cut the cord
that held myself together
I went out to face the weather.

It's been almost a month
but not much has changed
Seeing couples makes me sick
because deep in my heart I feel
the familiar emotions prick
as sharp as a thorn.
Some days I wish I'd never been born.

Some moments I feel strong enough to stand
because when you're at the lowest of lows
you'll find out who you really are
and that everyone else blows.

It'll take strength
And it'll take courage
to get up time after time
step by step
length by legngth.

But I'll make it
I will succeed
I won't again
make the mistake
of trusting so easily.

I'm taking each day as it passes
I am a Phoenix, rising from the ashes.

3/11/10

Life is like photography, we develop from the negatives

If love were instant and ready-made, life would be worth the effort we put into it. But life is like a polaroid and a photographer. The photographer captures a beautiful moment, admires it and cherishes it for sometime, even shows it off. But then bigger and better things to photograph come along and the photographer continues on their journey, forgetting completely of that beautiful moment they were so fond of such a short time ago. Now they've forgotten about the image, left it sitting on the edge of a desk carved with impressions of the many love notes and tear stained pages that you wrote, bearing down with every flash of pain that ripped your being in two and the soothing needle and thread that mended it one day at a time.Soon the summer breeze's delicate fingers, that consist of change and salt, will gently lift the forgotten picture off of the table, curiously admire it, then float it to someone else in the world who will accept it and maybe, hopefully hide it between the pages of their journal to mingle with the words inked on their heart. Or perhaps tack it to a bulletin board among many other memories, that when no one is looking, come alive and fellowship together, dancing in the sunlight, jumping in the chilly, emerald depths of the sea, or holding your best friend's hand. One cloudy day, with a lot weighing on your mind, you will remember the beauty of that picture you took long ago and search for it at first half-heartedly and then your heart will pound with the new concept of loss. You become frantic, tearing your room apart, scattering polaroids across the floor under your bare feet, digging through desk drawers, in old school notebooks.The memories you traded for the old are no longer your priority; you have no idea what's happening, what's been happening all along. Then you sit on your bed and realize the precious memories are lost. She is gone, gone forever. And you sit there alone in your remorse.

Soloman


Time has proved you've grown
Alone

The mirror reflects a man
Golden, weathered, and tan

Art is his name
passion his game

He left behind
All that is mine

I want to know him
I want to show him

Someone can care
A love we might share

Smoke and mirrors
Any clearer?

Smile
Stay awhile?

Soft eyes
Hypnotize

You've been wrong
Fighting too long

Release the pain
Peace to gain

Hold me
Love me
Push me
Shove me

Love written on their arms
so many enticing charms

Turn the other cheek
wait another week
I just want to speak
to you.

3/8/10

Sleepyhead

Sleepyhead
pocket full of lead
techno dreams
in your eyes a gleam
dragging feet as you tread

Indie clothes
moth-eaten pantyhose
newspaper fingertips
sunshine yellows
crumpled tardy slips

Remixes
quick fixes
dirty fingernails
hung up on the details
longing for a love lost
wants to meet you
whatever the cost

Abandoned park benches
back alley stenches
trying to gain a name
who are you and
why don't you feel the same?

Moo cow eyes
endless skies
relying on nothing
counting on everything
secret blushes
silver thrushes
find a reason to sing

No gimmicks
No surprises
Just limericks
And sunrises

Hidden treasure
undermeasured
feeling worth it
never foreit

Inches from heaven
but tripped up on hell
seven eleven
under a spell

His good looks
make the record books

I'm through with the past
but the past isn't through
with me
I'll finally see
this has gotta be
the good life
Could this really be
the good life?

Or am I just asleep?

3/3/10

BENJAMINS



Money, currency.
 The addiction it evokes from all people.
tears families apart and ruins lives.
there's never enough
to go around.
 Half the people
who don't deserve a cent 
 possess the greatest sums of it 
while those who should have riches untold
live like beggars
because they give it all away.
The materialistic and appearence-oriented lives
 we all have fallen in place to lead.

At one time,
life used to be about
people,
love,
friendship,
company.
Now it's about fast cars, 
bigger and better tv sets,
houses with a personal movie theater
so you can show off
all your goodies
to all of your shallow friends.

People can be bought.

They can be bought for sex.
They can be bought just to stand next to you
and make you feel good about yourself.
They can be bought to turn a blind eye
on all the crimes you have committed
and return a
 murderer,
rapist,
thief,
to the same
dirty streets they came from.
This monster
called Hollywood
coats our dreams
with stick-thin siloeuttes
donning a second pair of insect eyes
 with a fistful of money
and a heart full of selfishness.
 Bigger and better,
all we want is
 more, more, more.

When and where does it end?

Maybe we are all
in need of some change
but not the kind
that jingles in a pocket.
Everything
is easier said
than done, but we're
still tongue-tied.
Lost  in a world of idolatry.

Hopefully, one day
we will realize our mistakes.
We will pick up all of those we have
Stepped on
in order to get to
where we are today and
a p o l o g i z e.
Remember who we love
and why we love them.
And then the whole world,
no matter how great a sum
of riches,
fame.
& glory,
it may offer,
could ever
tear us away
from them again.

3/2/10

What is a woman?

Exotic and Confident.
Beautiful and Independent.
Loving and Trustworthy.
Your Other Half.
An Artist.
Your Sister. Your Aunt.
Your Mother.
Your Best Friend.
The Best Manager you've ever had.
A shoulder to cry on.
The only thing to turn you on.
A Scholar.
Someone to hold.
Someone to hold you.
Someone to prove you wrong.
Someone you will never understand,
but are perfectly okay with it.
Someone to kiss your forehead, your cheek.
Someone to make you dinner when you've been on your feet.
Someone to laugh with.
Someone to cry with.
Someone to die with.
A musican, a Dancer.
Someone you can hurt without regretting.
Someone you could kill yourself for hurting.
An athlete, a math whiz.
Bottom line,
he is hers and she is his.

Artistic > Eccentric

Eccentricity, the greatest simplicity.
to an easily solveable problem.
Hiding behind the mask, not an easy task.
flower with no supporting stem.
Turn the tables, hide behind the fables,
Standing out with everyone else.
Crying as your facade melts.

Skinny Jeans, ripped up seams,
Thrift store frequency.
Short hair, gender scare
Empty pocket shopping spree.
Romance, perchance,
Handsome and too good to be true.
Why is he wasting his time on you?

Artistic, simplistic.
Blue eyes and Brown hair.
Plays guitar, gonna go far,
You don't want to share.
It won't matter, stop the chatter
You weren't the best that he could get.
You were right, I was a threat.

Truly Artistic over False Eccentric.
Any day.