A (Post-)College Kid

“I also realize that success doesn’t have to involve many goals – what matters is the clarity and heart we bring to a task” – Mahatma Ghandi (Ecstasy of Surrender, Judith Orloff)

please save us

these disillusioned

college kids

what my parents told me

(implicitly or explicitly)

i did.

and here’s another

rant of sorts

about life

and growing up for kicks

it’s not quite fun

as some songwriters say

it’s part independence

stepping your foot out into the fray

taking a breath

resetting one’s mind in the beginning

and end of the day

and (to be honest)

a few upstarts, snorts,

chuckles and tears

when things don’t quite go

that way

but it’s not my song

nor Whitman’s “Song of Myself”

on display; it’s just –

little writhing

leaves of grass;

can you hear the thrumming?

a carpet, each blade independent

from the rest?

all together, woven creates

a flowing tide of green

resplendent with sunrise and sunset;

moreover, to each strand

is his or her destiny

who am i

to so set it?

who are you

to proclaim what’s best?

who are we to argue

and lord over

opinions and subsets

of things like pride and ego

arguments that keep us beset?

(against one another)

just thank you

instead, for what is and has been.

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A Conversation (Brick and Mortar)

A Conversation

If it’s to ask for a call

If anything at all

It’s about offensive, the defensive, and the defenseless

My opinions and feelings don’t seem to have defenses when it comes to you

Only a wall brought down by brick and mortar, brick and mortar

So when I ask about a call

And you say

That there’s probably someone else I’d rather call

It makes me think of a huge sign

That says: “Stay the fuck away from me”

You’re not wanted here

You never were

Not your presence

Your messages are tolerated

But your actual presence, nah

Can’t take it.

Don’t want it.

But I guess that’s why I lean towards you

Your disappearance techniques make me

Overly curious, like

I can’t seem to get enough
can’t seem to get the message

Wanna relay something more than passivity in my oneword doubledouble repeated answers:

Gotchagotcha.

Because that’s what you inspire in me,

A drawing to

And a pushing away from brick and mortar

Brick by brick you built me up,

But in the cracks the mortar, you seared me

And chilled me to the bone

And soon enough

There was no shield,

No defense

No wall

To withstand the weight of your backhanded No’s.

Apologies

Apologies for the belated post; so instead of one post today it’ll be two. Got caught up yesterday, but I’m here now. Hope you all are having a good weekend.

Untitled

Are we allowed to fail

To fall

To fly

 

To consider the height

And the depths

Of not just the sky

But the lows

The furthest lows of humanity

The ugliness and depravity

But more than that

Consider the insanity

If in the wrong side you find the right

 

That sometimes it’s in the upending that we find the light

Ah, but damn.

That’s cheesy.

 

dramatic monologue #1

Here’s a drabble from an antagonist’s mind when I was reading a story off of fictionpress. At least, I think that’s where I based these thoughts. https://www.fictionpress.com/s/1908130/1/Interrogame Unfortunately, the story was removed due to plagiarism, but there’s a partial story up.

I’m not desperate, I swear, I just want another reason, instead of believing like some of you do. I’m closing up; stop staring, nothing’s wrong; it’s just you. You must love watching boring things, aren’t I right? Do you?

Whatever, you’re wasting your time. I’m not artwork on display; I’m not to be observed, why do you keep gazing, AM I THAT INTERESTING TO LOOK AT? What’s wrong, stop saying its me; I’m tired of you lying, being skeptical about things. I’m increasing my sanity, you’re the cause of my problems, although my problems aren’t that strong.

I’m creating a blockade in my mind; this spacious room, so white, I can picture these screams. Then all of these flowers try to kill me, blinding me, blurry ashes of red, all so satisfying, something’s feeding my need. Tempting me; I start to crave for earlier feelings, wanting other things abnormal to my theme.

A new color scheme sets over my mind, all I hear or see is gyrating heat; I only have these inner needs, I want to…There it goes again, I can’t grasp the entity. The ‘not’ to my identity, I, personally think this is a curse, an outside from my in. I love the insecure feelings, I hear the insides of their feeble minds, bent on lust, the modern feeling of humanity. Their being, so weak, they only act on a whim. The perfect prey for my self-induced pain; one won’t notice another missing, answers to the devil himself. Let’s begin the game.

 

All I

Could there be any room in your heart for me?

All I long is to

Belong to you

Say words that no one else could ever speak

All I am is

A servant being

Do I have the courage to kneel at your feet?

All I offer

Is the good

And ugly

May I reside in you and you in me?

Maybe then we’ll

Find a makeshift peace

Poem heavily inspired by the song “Yours Again” on the CD Truest Things by Taylor Leonhardt. That song in particular stuck out to me. I’d like to share the song but it’s not on YouTube, so I’ll settle for sharing her website here: http://www.taylorleonhardt.com/music.html

Snippets & A Poem

Confession time. A good portion of the poems I’ve posted thus far were written either in elementary, middle, high school and/or college. Back then I tended towards the dark and dramatic, so the older poems will reflect that. I plan to post 50 older poems and will tag them as #poem.

So I like writing snippets too:

I’m bored, let’s tumble backwards.
I’ll choke on laughter, molten memories.

The grin you hide, bloodshot eyes, scars that mend, the truths you bend.

Take the bait,
That’s your cue,
Cry like a weakling,
And die like humans do.

Dead
I’m choking on my misery
My entire fault we’re both…
Now lace my heart with venom…
Cut my soul with grief
I’m thinking the best way,
How this all could end.
Either you stab me,
Or I stab back.
Cock a barrel,
Don’t worry I’ll shoot your head fast.
Anything to end the torture,
I’m chained, bound, and gagged.
So please my darling, let’s continue the fad.
I’ll absorb the misery,
We’ll both be the shock pads.

Written a while ago, apparently when I was around 12? See kiddos, this is what happens when you’re raised on the Internet and too much fictionpress.com (haha).