Stolen
My childhood sentiments
Are filled with perfect filth.
My wisened mind resents
Remembering them still
As my life’s better half.
December 4, 2011 at 1:35 pm | Poetry | No comments
Light
I looked into the light,
And saw the abyss.
It was not dark
and did not look
at me.
It was only
empty abyss
to me.
It was only
this apathy
of me.
Not sadness,
Not cruelty,
Not pain,
Nor suffering,
Nor bliss.
The apathy
that is
nothingness
.
November 27, 2011 at 8:36 pm | Poetry | No comments
Facsimile
I have trodden every familiar step
Traced the paths thus gone by,
Cut across discovered sky,
Acquainted myself with
Intimate friends.
I have dusted every nostalgia kept
Lived the past far gone by,
Rehearsed a script of old supply,
Perfected my life into
A facsimile,
A strange facsimile,
Inked upon foreign ground,
Born into strange airs abound,
Copied cold into
An alien time.
I have denied every logical truth
Jumped into conquered streams,
Hoped to find forgotten dreams,
Forgot that never
Is any stream same.
November 25, 2011 at 4:08 pm | Poetry | No comments
Only Mine
Let me live in my past
For my past is mine alone,
Shared by only me
And me alone.
The glory days I once did live
That none knows but only I
And I could show to all who was
Only I.
For no approximation of the past
Of only yours,
No matter how
Fine-tailored and cut
To suit your image of
What my past was
Will ever truly be aligned
With the golden past of my mind.
November 25, 2011 at 3:11 pm | Poetry | No comments
Colors
How many colors does a rainbow hold?
Surely more than seven –
For, red to violet is spectrums apart
From red to blue.
If I am the 201st tint of green,
Then you are the 37th shade of red,
And altogether we are
6 billion blends
Of every hue we’ve ever touched,
Hence united by
Fate’s whimsical brush
Into the chromatic passions of time,
Each imperially unique amongst
The combinatorial infinity that
Diversity is.
October 20, 2011 at 5:15 pm | Poetry | No comments
The Deer
In my dreams, the deer appear to me.
From the woods, they leap and jump
To the city where they play and romp
Across deserted alleys and bustling streets.
To our busy lives, they interlope and greet.
In my dreams, the deer return to me.
They take me to a simpler time
When skies were scraped by marvelous trees
And nature’s debris caressed our feet
And the greatest worries came with living free.
And the greatest worries came with just being be.
In my dreams, the deer are calling me
To visions of paradise, the Eden that we lost.
To that humble utopia that I long to see.
October 20, 2011 at 5:14 pm | Poetry | No comments
Nameless Boy
I remember a nameless boy.
I noticed him those times when
I was walking through
That lonelier path.
He’d sit and stare
Up at the sky each passing day.
I wondered if he ever noticed me
As I noticed him.
I wondered if I should join him in
That lonely place.
And learn the reason for
His gentle longing gaze.
But I never did.
And still he continued
To gaze towards space.
Then one day he disappeared.
And time erased all traces
That he was ever there.
Even in my memories where
Nameless Boy
Became Faceless Boy.
And time took me away from
That lonelier path.
Until someday it brought me back
To show me this place was now
A different kind of lonely
Filled full with
Nameless strangers.
I do not remember those
Faceless strangers.
But I remember a nameless boy.
October 20, 2011 at 5:14 pm | Poetry | No comments
Flower
Flower–
True nature
Perfect beauty
Petals entangled
Among the day
And meadow.
Flower–
Straight in sight
Beauty now seen
Nature once
To nature none.
Plucked away.
Flower–
Petals torn
Beauty broken
Withered into
Black memory
Of greed.
July 7, 2011 at 2:41 pm | Poetry | No comments
The Judge
I’d write my life through the eyes of a god,
A being who sees only the truth,
To show the power of
The vindictive nature.
The desire to make oneself the judge
That only a god could ever be.
The pride to stubborn contempt
That shall ever fail to see
The untold life that eyes exempt.
If a god could write my life for me
To the truest a story could be
And of this piece you were aware,
I’d call your justices all fair.
But instead your eyes have jaded bent,
And so do mine, to the same extent,
For I am not a god who sees only truth,
And neither are you,
So only a god will have the proof
That my story is honest and true.
July 5, 2011 at 6:09 pm | Poetry | No comments
Troubles
What are my troubles to the world’s?
I’d count them as a grain of sand,
Amongst the vast of all of space.
And! I’ve lived so seldom on this land
That all the woes my life has traced
Could by another’s troubles grand
Be petty, foolish, and misplaced.
And yet instead by all my selfish mind,
I find it’s others troubles I leave behind.
May 18, 2011 at 9:25 pm | Poetry | No comments