thought
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So... CLARITY of Mind Is Now Getting HARD To Find ...
Within Our Human Kind Because of These Strange Times... !?!
Where We Are Losing Lives Because of Virus Vibes... !?!
Now I’m A Critical Thinker So REFUSE To Wear Blinkers...
When It Comes To Things That NEED ANALYSING... !!!
Well To ME They Do But It’s Clear That Most Choose...
To Just... ACCEPT What Government Heads...
Leave a message of a whispered dream, an afterthought
In the drawer we use to exchange hellos and forget-me-nots.
Ya Know......
These Days I’m MORE Discerning....
When Studying My Learnings...
of How Some Minds Be Working...
It’s Pretty Clear That I’m LETHAL... !!!
When It Comes To My CEREBRAL.... !!!
Ya Know It's CLEAR The Subject of WISDOM...
Requires Lyricism That's Bred From THOUGHT And THINKING... !!!!!
So How Much of Our Brains Do People USE... Today... ?
I REALLY Wonder Now When Hearing The Sounds...
That Come From Some Mouths... ?!?
We've made some some good memories together,
Making them seem like they were forever,
everywhere i go reminds me of you,
Just to think it makes me blue,
As the years fade away,
nows there less time to say,
These Days It Seems Weapons Are Seen ...
NOT JUST On Screens But Now In Streets ...
Murders Here ... Murders There ... !!!
These Days It's CLEAR They FILL Nightmares ... !!!!!
These Days It's CLEAR That Mind Control Is On A Roll ... !!!
Because LOST Souls Now Live In ... "FEAR" ... !!!!!
FEAR of THIS And FEAR of THAT ... !!!
FEAR of Thinking They've Been TRAPPED ... !!!
Articulation of Thought Is A SKILL … Fa Sure … !!!!!
And A TRUE Art Form When It Is Performed … !!!
It's A Style That's Born From Taking Your Thoughts …
From A PRIVATE Place Like Say Your Brain …
Go outside and play
enjoy your day
life is mountains and boulders
so learn the game
Ride bikes on trails
live life on rails
when your time is up
you'll enjoy your tales
Tall cliffs and whale bones,
Our secret place that’s all our own.
Hands held, hearts cradled.
Eyes shut, fear of loss and pain.
It all came to head that day.
Back to the beginning,
You were my longest love.
My truest, maybe.
I think you really cared for me.
I know I did for you.
We finished each others puzzles the pieces that were missing.
You needed to be needed.
Inner folded
prematurely molded
time is tempted
to be bolded
small strokes of gentle wires to the face
The frame evokes a forecful fire
at waters pace
My eyes were opened by the lessons she revealed
My tongue was moved by her instructions
We were in a dance at every class
It never stopped
Until one day she spun me one last time
Girl you're so amazing, you're so perfect
Taking risks for your love is worth it
Your smile is radiant, it transforms me
A connection to you makes life so easy
I think I want it, I think I need it
Life can compare to that of a window sill
It’s part of a bigger picture and comes in
Various shapes, sizes, and colors.
Some are useful others just mere eye candy.
Many used to display plants and décor.
Will you be my umbrella when it rains?
My warm embrace when I'm afraid
Will you be there for my smallest victories and biggest catastrophes?
When I'm unhappy will you be my circus clown?
Turmoil in the brain
An audacious attempt to convey
The imagined, left unrealized.
But to interpret the abstract,
To navigate the storm
Involves a common talent.
One we all possess,
i awake, ready to enter again into
this poem called life.
to filter the moments,
the quivering of water’s meniscus in a plastic bottle,
how each person holds his pen differently,
Free your mind, free your mind
What does it mean, really, to "free your mind?
Is it to have a brain with no thought? Like weight with no size?
The mind is a battlefield
A realm of chaos
Thoughts fighting for dominance
To be discovered and elaborated upon
Fragments
a thought cannot be cultivated.
if, it is not planted first
in the mind - which, unsedated,
remains awake with conscious thirst.
a thought cannot grow or sprout
if, the mind does not quench it
I reluctantly set my day in motion;
A pest dawdles within my psyche;
Insignificant is the pain that alerts my being-
It's one I've known of for months;
The significance, unbeknownst to me
He who has not sipped of the wine from a glass, half-empty....shall never know the taste, of true experience!
By: Tonya Carroll
Dear 2017,
I dont hate you,
As much as I wish I could.
Dear 2017,
You have taught me many lessons,
Including how to make love, hate, despise and let go.
Dear 2017,
You brought me many joys,
Pain makes you strong,
it will be with you lifelong,
when everyone will say you are wrong,
you will stand headstrong...
Deep, Dark, Consuming,
Out of reach to others.
Thinking, searching, not finding,
the answers that are needed.
There is only one place,
trustworthy, safe, and unknown.
Your mind is yours,
Life is just…
by Vir Singh
Life is just dull,
Just lifeless
If your thought isn’t in mind.
Life is just meaningless,
Just devoid of beauty
Life is just…
by Vir Singh
Life is just dull,
Just lifeless
If your thought isn’t in mind.
Life is just meaningless,
Just devoid of beauty
I wouldn't know the world as I
If I haven't made the first cry
I wouldn't know of a elite parlance
Unless for an exquisite silence
I wouldn't know I was different
Unless all around were indifferent
Chug-a, chug-a, chug-a, chug
You fall behind, you're out of luck.
Brute mechanisms all in place
to stay on track & win the race,
They work in time and go in sync
so you'll go far, or so you think.
Listen, You're Beautiful
So why do you hurt yourself when you're dying?
You're so precious
And above this melancholy hourglass
That is your adolescence
Your mother tells you otherwise
What if all we are,
Is the product of a dream?
Some slumbering mind ranging far,
Projecting us from the stream,
Of thought and delight
As it passes through the night?
The city roads are full of potholes.
The railroads creek and squeak with the passing of heavy machinery.
I sit in the garage at my borther's home.
I am a homeless college graduate--in debt.
To be one to fear pain. To be one to feel pain. To fear the thought of fearing pain. Puts more fear in your heart. It's like stress on stress on frustration on pain. To have no release, nor escape, not only from pain but from life.
intrusive
invasive
unwanted
these thoughts that won't let me be free
They say I'm hopeless
They at I'm hated
It seems like nothing can make them stop
They say I'm a failure
They say art is feeling,Stopping the thoughts in your headLetting your words flow without filtersOr borders or caution. If art is feeling not thinking or reasonHow can I create it?My thoughts never stopNever cease never end. So art is feeling and
What do we fear the creepy crawlies under our bedor is it the wondrus voice inside our headkilling my thoughts until braindead
A Thought,
indefinite and young,
rolled among meadow grass and spring flowers,
flashing with light.
A Thought,
pooling and unwavering,
grew in lazy night and cold passion,
Living in constant fear,
When nothing else is clear,
But oh, "It's just a thought."
Living with anxiety flooding your thoughts,
And stress entering your mind,
But oh, "It's just a thought."
Make me busy.
Engorge the lazy, shiftless minutes of my waking hours with thoughtless labor.
Make me work, make me eat, make me work again, until the sun goes down.
It is my conscious will
My want to always till
A world that never stays still.
It is my conscious awareness
My life I impress
On a world ravaged with tests.
It is my conscious emotion
Darkness
Is when all your senses
Are barred behind a high stone-walled mentality
Darkness
Is when your conscience
Is unaware of reality
Darkness
5 fantasies fuel my fascination
4 familiar fears fixated on my faults
3 thoughts that thirst for thrills
2 talents taking time to transform into
1 soul that is mine to claim
He stood int he corner, observing everyone around.
Unwavering he spoke, not caring whether the listener was alive and well or in another life, he needed them to hear.
Silence.
It’s the thing you can never escape.
It’s the thing that will last forever.
When the computers stop humming,
When the clocks stop ticking,
When the cars stop beeping,
A cloud in my mind, like that you would see on a gentle summer day.
Twisting,turning,changing each moment a new thought more entrancing then the last
Simple though like the memory's of a child .
I am… not someone to be understood, an anomaly amid this universal locus.
Escape through a dark window, a reflection of the world I’m within is in and out of focus
How can one word define infinite possibility.
How can one sentence define a future. If it were up to me
I would write a book.
A feature length film.
A memoir on the lives of each of us.
Its been awhile since I’ve written anything.
You see, usually I begin with a metaphorical gesture,
Or a fragment too dramatic to be anything but the start of a stanza.
But today I write from my heart.
1
The clouds slide past
and rising, rustle against the
blank sky. Their grandeur
throws me off balance.
I wish I could throw off my clothes
What a nut
What a crazy girl
She’s lost her mind
She is lost
She has no guide
Her pain suffers
In the still of the night I cannot see,
Low as the moon appears to be sinking
Over the tall pine trees and the mountains clear.
Vacantly my poor mind avoids thinking,
Often I find myself in thought
Silent on the outside, screaming on the inside
Internally I fought
Let me slip into subconscious,
Let me disappear.
Turn me into fairy dust
So I can float on air.
Let me hide behind you,
Let me run away.
My frantic beating heart and brain,
Still left in disarray.
We are two different sides of the same soul
This I say to you, my friend
Lover’s Lane shall never end
When we are finally together again
And I’ll let you know one thing is true
Who am I? That's a loaded question.
We are all dense individuals, filled like an overflowing dam with ideas, experiences and contexts.
I'm just tired.
Can't you see?
This simply cannot be cured by sleep.
It's not that kind of tired.
It's a kind of tired that's quite at home in my bones.
A tired that says I'm tired of everything.
The more you look at life
The more you become hesitent
Why so deep in thought?
Are you scared to die?
Or are you just afraid to live?
Life has its own meaning
I'm tripping.
Below the sheath of crepescule,
the caving walls of darkness fell;
3 dmensional pen in cube;
the shaded face of pale 4 walls.
The Summit Queen, the watcher-girl,
You cannot know me,
No matter how you try,
For I am only known to me,
There is more than meets the eye.
Inside the gilded cage,
Inside the enigmic mind,
No one knows my age,
Mr. Clock, why are you so mean?
Every time I'm havin fun time flees,
Yet every time I am unhappy you won't leave.
Mr. Clock, your hands are evil,
They control me in every way.
They say that the pen is mightier than the sword;
But the only blood that can be spilled is from the writer herself,
The battles waged are those within,
And the King served is one unknown.
Shrouded and covered.
All i do is tryI try when i writeI write until i cryI write until there are mo tears left inside my eyeSo what is the real reason why people try?
Focus.
Stop.
Think.
Escape.
The World fades.
I implode.
A sensory overload, only within the mind
The place where privacy is unconditional
No cost; not a dime
My sweet escape
In the winter, she sleeps and dreams of the world, without care
in the spring, she walks the plains of this world, unknown to any responsibilities
In the summer, she plays with her children, in the trees a monster looms
Anything could spark a thought
Anything could change a perspective
Anything could alter an opinion
Anything is my catalyst of thought.
Dreams and Clock Work By Devinn LoVette
Consciously defying my sub-cognitive count down to catatonic, back-breaking autonomy
Sweat silently streaking to the hardwood floor
To change the world in the blink of an eye
In a way such that no more needlessly die
To let Nature run its course
To eliminate those who rule by force
A species capable of worldwide peace
Thoughts are as common as the world
And at the same time they shape it
Sticking to our detailed minds making them twirl
What would I change?
Some things bigger than the Earth, some things as small as a Moment,
Some things you may never have Thought of.
The smallest Moments can change the most.
What would I change?
There's a key,
that could open a lock, that could open a door
We wouldn't live feeling hate anymore
No time for ignorance
Everyone could be free
All diversity in peace and harmony
A writer’s sword is a pen
Green, blue, red, black, yellow ink
Inside a long plastic contraption
It spews words exempt for bigotry
And hatred.
A writer’s pen stops magic from happening during a
Dad, a three letter word for father.
You know, it takes a man, a an to be a father.
You say you ere just a kid, but so was she.So was mom.
With a Godly breathe
he inhales the heavy, yet
hollow whispers of the night
siphoning the miniscule remnants of assurance
loosely woven, each with its own cynical thread
How much certainty can I?
Remembering intelligence that is another.
How much pride can I?
Remaining humility that rests inside.
Am I so right
that they're so wrong?
In my mind, there's an empty room
Void of light, of sound,
Of any outside connection,
I only have the faintest memory
Of what it used to be
An echo of despair, and loneliness,
People seldom give much thought to thought
For it seems an utter waste of time
So should that make me different
For being no stranger to my mind's mind?
Our brains are naught but viruses
You can see them,
Sittng there staring at the same at the sun,
Growing old together, as if the days won't run
They enjoy each others presence.
One knows what the other is thinking.
Folds of purple satin cloth,
Swallow me.
The lancet from out of darkness,
Taunts me.
Creaking stairs choke on themselves,
begging for attention, I cannot give.
Quiet and Serene, At ease and peace, Nothing Else exists
Theres a breeze blowing through the trees
Music flowing through my ears
And sound from my mouth
I am alone but calm
Thinking flows deep
Sick of distraction and all of its tricks
concentration loses the fight again
To hone in is to believe in fairy tales
the nascar of thoughts
A marathon of thinking
I'm like a child who cries itself to sleep,
but instead of crying, what I do is think.
I think myself insane, analyzing every bit,
until my heart rate quickens and I work up a panicking fit.
Breathing hitch-hiking its way up
BPM increasing like its leading to a solo
But no words follow
How do you sing for sweet release
When fear coils like a snake in your gut
Fangs biting into your organs
Why don't we love one another?Aren't we all created equally?Why do we spit words of hate,and ask for respect in return?Why do we think we're self-righteous,but ignore our mistakes?Why do we live our lives for ourselves,but feed off of others? When
They say to write a list of what you're grateful for.They say it will make you happy.
I say there's more to it than that.I say writing isn't the answer--learning is.
Incumbent Ideas
the shapes the sounds
Twisting in the folds of my cerebrum
clenching digging poking wriggling
grey matter white matter
irritation
Swelling with
the shapes the sounds
It’s music note coming at you
Throwing these facts down so you’ll understand where I’m coming from
I mean the point of me stating these facts
Sand is sifting,
The grains of time, tumbling
Through, down to the dune of
The underworld of times past.
Moments descending upon us,
We take no notice.
Moments falling, behind and below existence,
There will come a time when I have to let youReally let you goBy that I mean you will be goneYou will no longer be in my thoughtsI have let you go beforeFor a year we didn’t talkI did not think of you
Here you’ll find an infinite script of unpragmatic thought, impulsive feeling…and unfortunately quite a bit of a discrepancy between spiritual liveliness and spiritual listlessness.
As the spring coils down
It eventually has to spring back up
From sunrise to sundown
We always hope for another sun up.
Life isnt revolved around us
But for some reason we're stuck on the bus
Why write poetry?
Why bother at all?
Now, it might seem like it's going to rhyme
like I just stepped out of a story book,
but it's not going to tinkle;
it's not going to be pretty
Why do people hope for a better tomorrow? Why do we pray that times will get better? Well the answer to those questions lies within the individual. You see, it's all about perception.
I wish I could be a teddy bear Smiling no matter what Smile never leaves its face No matter how much they're drug in the mud
My voice, the smallest in the crowd full of no one.
My voice does it tell you who i am what i go through?
Or just tell you what i need to say at that time.
My voice can you tell its me, is it really me.
A meek moth among a sea of social butterflies
Content with silent contemplation, and Saturday nights alone
Peaceful seclusion is the condition in which I thrive
Finding stimulation not primarily in the world around me,
Write.Written as the philosopher devised ways to thinkbut the thought was only told through speech.Yet speech was only allowed for those that began to speak
These words I write
Are Born from me,
I’ve given them more
Than just a sound,
I’ve given them Life,
An opportunity to Impress.
It’s passion turns to heart
and logic into mind.
There's beauty in the soul
If you gaze real deep
There's hope in the veins
That keep the hearts beat
There imagination painting
Blurred dreams behind the eyes
Flowing words of love flow like music for you
Your barbed phrases tearing my defenses
Steal my light, my hope
Take it for yourself since I wouldn't mind it since it's you
Flowing words of love flow like music for you
Your barbed phrases tearing my defenses
Steal my light, my hope
Take it for yourself since I wouldn't mind it since it's you
Nothing compares to
a crystal fleck of truth
a glimpse of the wandering soul
a relic of the misunderstood
a moiety of a single defined thought
a dream dreamt by sorrow
Is Fear the feeling that you get when you can’t stand on your own two feet when challenges comes your way?
Is Fear darkness that surround your world and make your eyes can’t see the light?
For New Year's
two years ago,
I asked for a fountain pen
instead of an iPod because
at that point, the words would
flow out of me like blood from
a fresh cut.
Many people say
What is a train if not constant and steady
Unlike my mind.
One would assume a train of thought to pursue a constant and logical track
Not fall back
On itself
Like an adolescent dog chasing its tail
love is not kind
it is not everlasting, nor unconditional
love will appear and vanish like a bolt of lightning in such a brief moment
that if not for the pain, one would question its existence
Beyond imagining the possibly perfect,
Make anything your heart will dare desire,
Let it go and run wild and watch the effect,
Make no limits: just immensely imagine and don't let it tire.
I was on my bed,
Staring at the wall.
I thought in my head,
As I lay on my shawl.
What is a thought?
I asked myself.
The question was caught
In myself.
truth, forgiveness, honesty
you forgot that it goes with loyalty
why did you screw me over this way
your promises meant nothing to me
I left you happily, without anything to say
we were never meant to be
The tick of the grandfather clock is absent.
No clicking, no sirens alerting those nearby, nothing.
Time has stopped, life ceases to continue.
A picture is worth a thousand words but a poem is priceless. Often mistaken, misconstrued, interpreted completely different from the intended, a poem is but its creator dispersing their innermost thoughts merely to descend.
My soul is river stone
And fire fed
Dragon eyed and embered
Lurking in mountain’s jeweled gold
Soaring on iron wings
Whisper, whisper in my ear.
Tell me a story no one wants to hear.
Invite my soul into yours.
Let me walk with you upon the shores.
And when I have drank the thought from your mind,
To whomever it may concern:
I wonder why the sky is blue
Or why the grass is green
I wonder why the tabloids are so mean
Or why they publish false information
Safely kept under pillow under head,
withheld from the insistent and the malleable,
deeply swallowed in depths of a diaphragm,
A Breath, willing to die in silence,
contemplates hatred and promise:
What do we have if not our minds?
Any ownership we claim is fleeting
Our possessions wither, wear, and decay
Yet, we still cling to things in this world
While our minds slip and fade.
Thought.
It's as deep as an ocean.
Blissful as the cool autumn breeze.
Frightening as the monsters of our nightmares. Mysterious as the shadows of a cave.
Without thought, we would be nothing.
lyrics to dance words running
skipping Letter to Letter inklike waterfalling
curled paper edges hinting hiding sneaky secrets scribbled
to question is it shame
periods semicolons and Why i should do
The sun rolled round the silent earth-
If every one speaks who is to be heard?
The great white doors they tower and toll,
But they are a sanctuary;
The comfort of home.
Behind the brass knob screwed on so tight
I have a thought inside my head
I part my lips
But cannot speak
It seems my thought must go unsaid
I lift my pen
But cannot write
It seems my thought must go unread
Imagine pure thought
Infinite and blissful
A single idea stretches
And fills your whole head
A natural jump and off!
Exploring possibilities and wonders
Exploring beauties and mysteries
Grammar is boring
I feel like snoring
This and that
That and this
None of it matters
Conjugate
Fuck!
Accents
Fuck!
the edge of tide,
the edge of reality.
Water is a mirror of Ourselves,
with no place to call home.
Calm or Turbulent,
we are still us.
