In feebelness of a poet I sit in rage,
Sick of blind freedoms and realitys cage.
Grabbing me with reaching fingers,
Trapped, but the lies linger.
Robbing me of the ink I have paid in thought,
Beathing my mind, the hope of anything naught.
Sometimes i wonder why I restrain,
As all my attempts are in vain.
To help or improve my fellow man,
Because you can't finish what you never begain.
So I just say fuck it,
Ill load the chamber with wit.
And pull the trigger without regret,
And hold you free of your debt.
Because the chamber didn't step with death,
Love cant exist without the motion of breath.
But I loaded it with the hope of tommorow,
And not the reality of our everday sorrow.
But believe and take it slow,
Or not, fuck it, this is only a flow.
Too many moons have fallen
In your absence.
Too many hours have not come to bloom,
In time measured in seconds,
With anguish in full awareness.
And a tongue in struggle.
In a rooted December,
Watching snowflakes fall,
Screaming down to oblivion,
And whispering into heaven.
In a solice, broken sky,
Cold by its own independence.
Free of attachments.
Secluded from a star once loved,
But never spoken to.
Never known if loved in return.
Too many moons have fallen,
Watching hands mock me,
Chillen, Illen, Killing, Blowing, & Flowing.
I got the pen in my head so ill start rowing.
Into the creek,past the river, and into the ocean.
I can add like I can write cause i got the the quotient.
Numbers and words dance as one in my head,
But im more than im a poet, I can grip with lead.
I got the fist of a fighter,
But the wrist of a writer.
My mind dances from A to Z.
Faster than Bruce Lee.
In ways you can never see,
Cause thoughts are the true key.
So this is my message, simple and plain,
Keep your head pure, without stain.
Sitting in sunlight,
And living in shadows.
Dancing around time,
With broken time,
Living inside thoughts,
But trully with desires.
Wanted like a need,
And loved like lost.
With breath as acid,
And thoughts as poison,
I suffer alone.
On the Sun
Once, I sat next to the sun,
With its violent explosions and wraithful storms.
I sat quietly in the only garden in the sun.
I asked the sun,
"Why is it that which we love,
Is not always that which loves us?"
So cooly and slowly the sun answered,
"You see all those stars which collide more than waves?"
So I stated of course, I have the best view mans eyes have taken.
"Well," the sun said,
"I know the name of every star that lingers,
And yet, only one of those star's knows mine."
So I sat quietly in the garden in the sun,
The garden that was so green it was blue,
And yellow and red and white and colors only the blind have seen.
With flowers that would make roses cry in vanity.
And I thought slowly upon what the sun said,
As we both looked upon the stars,
Both of us with a sorrow's double and whispering,
Ohhhh how I wish you were here
Remebering my past is like looking through the eyes of a broken happiness.
Days slipping through the fingers of time,
only to return in the form of repition.
Bitter dreams of falling stars that wounded space by longing.
The sun that set only because it was all that we knew.
Back then, time seemed to never die.
Night seemed to come only because i wanted it to.
I never realized that my happines lied in your eyes,
Or that someday I would lose them.
Shakespeare said that the world is a stage,
That the days we live are but a page
In a book so short it hasnt been written,
Because while we should be running were sitting,
On accomplishments that yesterday already stole,
And anaylze a fraction instead of the whole,
To see the shades of grees and not blues,
To explot truth for that which we can use,
To put the I even farther from the U,
And to still only from your view,
But these words burned they will soon be,
For righteous minds only produce prophets.