epiphany
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Trauma is like a foul tasting fondue. When you're stuck in that space all life events or experiences are ran through the trauma fondue.
Dripping with horror, tremor, fear, and angst.
That was the first time I didn't want to runThe first time I wanted to live it through,But I was caught up in my wishes and went blindThat I could no longer see the truth.
brilliant and inflaming
a pyro’s plastic milk container
is wafting at the peak of fire
the sunlight dripping makes a hinge
and rainbows start their leaking in
Epiphany
I wasn’t sure if it was there
But it was
Way down in the pit of me
Lives my epiphany
The sun just rose in lost connection,
Please undo the times we have held onto believe,
False hope, dreams, and expectation.
I'm just glad those two came out alive,
In due time, it's overwhelming inside.
Wear my heart on my sleeves
I tend to get my arms cut off.
Take my kindness for weakness
They see me as soft.
A fish radiating off the moon
Like the summer's light.
Blazing hot as day on the coldest night.
Blended in with the ocean blue.
Picture perfect, what a view.
Only one of its kind yet was considered stupid.
Two years ago, poetry
was a writer pleasuring themselves over a page
a perverse smile on their faces
as they worked the pen, worked the pen.
Or perhaps one so overtaken by, enveloped in their feelings
He was tall, handsome and had the mindset of a 5th grader whose favorite book was Dr.Seuss Green Eggs and ham.
i've already been where you're going
and I had forgotten about that place
until you came into my life
and I saw your sunkissed face
I want to tell you slow down
but I don't want to seem tame
Bounded lovers grow apart by the tongue of deceit
Surrounded by the foggy fate that neither one could see
Collections of their accolades wither on the ground
As they lie in cold defeat, within their lust was bound
I would say I’m more cynical than original
However pastels have always been more true to my insides
Even though my past lovers would disagree and train me to believe the same
“X” Marks The Spot
I wandered
aimlessly
lost
at
sea...
This jungle of a world has mislead me like a hex.
The key to life
Is a curious thing
Some may describe in as embroidered in gold
and flowing with satin ribbons that cascade down its side.
Every minute of every day of every year
I live in a glass house
My only companion, silence,
As it follows me from room to room.
It has always been with me
And though I enjoy its company
Surround by color once a son
Interactions with white are with ones that held chalk
Teachers as inspiring as the one from Woodrow Wilson
Leaving for adventure after summer seemed fun
A year is enough time to look back and wonder why
Things happened the way they did.
Why didn’t you say the things you should have said?
Every year it’s the same again.
January, February were the months of good packing snow,
packing snow on my crippled carcass
in cumbersome coats.
I lay there and let your bitter cover me.
Recently, I was lucky enough to experience a moment of epiphany that changed the way I viewed my life
When I was younger, life meant forever.
Forever was an orange.
Lingering pith strands
stuck beneath nail beds.
Palms faintly yellowed
from the mist
which clung to clothes like a child.
I figured out why I feel I don't have real friends
So no matter who I'm with I feel lonely in the end
It's because I don't live with love in my heart
The distance between I and my true feelings keeps me apart
Fuck.
... ... ...
Might as well start this
With my best foot forward.
Do you want the story?
Emotional exploring?
A lot has happened
In the last 20 years.
... ... ...
Relatively so.
This road of turns and bridges took me to a cliff
I went off my cliff
I am alive
My road is now dark and uncertain
I reach for light but then stop myself
We're all just fucked up, living in a fucked up world.
I go out drinking to forget my boyfriend.
I find myself with an epiphany, I am more important.
I sigh and I sit on this pavement that is cold.
I’ve come to realize, i’ve been living in my own lies.
Fully submerged, head beneath the surface
living my daily life without a purpose
i was a hypocrite to my own speech
“chin up buttercup” i’d always preach
When I think about it all, it really brings tears to my eyes
The relief of no longer hearing my soul cry.
For once, I feel as though the burdens of life have lifted
and my destiny and dreams have once shifted.
It has taken mea very long timeto come to this point,but I’m realizing nowafter eighteen yearsof my lifethat it is okay to feel.I spent so many monthsof my life
I hate myself
But the saddest thing is
I hate myself because you told me to
Because you told me I wasn't good enough
Because you screamed at me
I don’t like poetry.
I know, it sounds like blasphemy to an English teacher’s ears but
I just don’t like it.
I know, I sound like a six year old
Here lies the woman of dreams who escaped turmoil on the high of laughter, plummeted into the stories sung by written words and tears, and danced in imaginary lands while cowering from the sun.
The sun rises rises in my soul. The rays dance and explodelike lyrics hitting the ear. I am the song. Illusionsshatter like glass. I morph into a dazzling tapestry of shadow and light. Thesetting sun no longer reminds me of death.
The cave fish swim
Round and round
Going nowhere
Blind in the dark
Most have no eyes
But one fish sees
Sees the blackness
Feels the hopelessness
The fish with eyes
The sounds of a sweet bird; lively, buoyant, and free,
The sounds of a bitter bird; bleak, melancholy, and confined.
Life is the frail branch of an Oak
Dangling above a voracious flame
Time is its only companion
CRACK
And biggest tormenter
The occasional gentle breeze pacifies the branch's paranoia
Temporarily
I sit inthe dark of my roomand contemplateall the thoughtsof you
they are sunlightgold and earth-warmgone coldin my arms and inmy mind’s eye
"You make me feel, You make me feel, You make me feel.."Perfect.And if I'm perfectly honest I can't help it.All my attempts at being disaffectedAre utterly demolished,When faced with your affection.
The reason you exist, is because you were the first sperm to reach the egg.
The reason you were born, is because you fought your way out of your mother’s womb.
Sitting at home on a hot summer's day,
A pen in my hand,
What in my poem could I possibly say?
There on the balcony the blue jay sits,
His feathers shining beneath Nature's light,
My heart skips every time I see you.
My pulse races when you’re in my presence.
I feel like my love for you is so true.
I think of you even in your absence.
Imagination takes us wondrous placesWho would believe I miss theeThy resilience of hopeI can’t say you’re quite optimistic of lateRespond to me, perhaps, with verity of heart?Rancorous thou art
Poetry is pointless.
I mean, if I can get my point across frankly and succinctly, why bother with form and rhythm. Time is scarce.
That used to be my view.
That was before I met you.
Fair Maiden, Could This Be
“I come from a battle,” He started
“It is far from this land
I fought valiantly but it was in vane
For I had lost, I had to give my love to the victor
Her rays dance to warm the Earth, swerving and dodging in and out playing hide and seek with the clouds. Her eyes scan the room, bobbing and weaving playing peek-a-boo with the crowds.
The worst feeling in the the world Is feeling like you're being forgotten, Like you're love is not enough, Like you're not needed. But worst than that Is feeling like there's nothing you can do to change it.
... they say love heals all wounds..i say it hurts .. i've seen proof that it works.. they say love is blind... but i see it all the time.. no need to wonder she says love has made us stronger.. the more we love the more we hurt ...
As a young boy when I first got a glimpse of thee
I felt as if I had an epiphany.
You gleamed and shined
As if you were of something divine.
I spent much time with thee-
The first time she tells me,
I stand at the baker’s table,
wrist deep in flour,
water, and cultures of yeast.
“Good job.”
My startled hazel lifts
to meet her calmer brown
and my eyebrows rise.
Step by step she takes
Holding her breath
all of the way
“She knows what everything’s about”
they say
Not a single hair
out
of
place
Her words are precious because
You must be cool and composed
You must- even when all are opposed
You must deny your morals and speak tact
You must unite your comrades, you have a pact
