Ramblings of a Wannabe Poet

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by B'AWWW TIME, Feb 5, 2010.

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    B'AWWW TIME Member

    Guess I'll post my poems here :coffee:

    The Mortality of Friendship

    We were the ying and yang of society.
    We were twins so cleverly designed that Phobos and Deimos beg to know our secret.
    We were the wind and the feather.
    We were the gossip and the laughter.
    We were the smile and the grace.
    We were time's envious eternal youth.
    We were the blindfold and the Justice.
    We were the angel and the demon.

    But mortality ruined our existence. Solidity and acceptance into our impish forms proved to swerve the ocean of our path. Your quest for design and beauty left you to frollic among the godly - a tougher but more promising life lay ahead of you. While I, struck by our separation has chosen to stay - like the pathetic who choose to hibernate through the cold instead of moving to warmth and promise.

    Sanctum - there will be no one to rival our connection. There will be no one strong enough to bear our burdens and emerge the same way - gleeful. And I'll never forget what you did that night - nor the way I felt only solemn. But like the path you've chosen, you've remained dreamy. How can you not predict our crashing?

    There will be no connection, and if so it will be meek.
    There will be no reunion, and if so it will be awkward.
    There will be no reminiscing, and if so it will be forgotten. And there will be no staying together, and if so it will only be an instant.
    Soon, I will be replaced.
    Soon, I will be forgotten.
    And to our attempts at keeping our ties from severing, soon that shall sever too.

    And it is my own fault - I curse my own existence. I curse the shyness in my heart and my stance against change. I angrily accept my foolish ways as they tear us apart. We could have stayed together but I cannot help but be realistic - for that world - your world - would've killed me.

    So to you, all I can think of saying is goodbye.
    Goodbye my twin.
    Goodbye my brother.
    Goodbye my yang, my wind, my smile.
    Goodbye my youth.
    Goodbye my blindfold.
    Goodbye my demon - there will be no other.

    Goodbye, my dearest friend.

    B'AWWW TIME Member


    I don't want to sleep.

    Because sleeping requires wake.

    I don't want to wake.

    Because waking requires life.

    I don't want to live.

    Because living requires love.

    I don't want to love.

    Because loving requires hurt.

    I don't want to hurt.

    Because hurt requires healing.

    I don't want to heal.

    Because healing requires sleep.

    And I don't want to sleep.

    Because I simply cannot.

    B'AWWW TIME Member

    For Sanity's Sake

    For the sake of my sanity, I must utter these words of denial over and over within my mind:

    The reason for my affection lied behind his perfect hair - streaked with shades of dark and light brown tracing down to the tips of golden strands that layered nicely upon his head. His narrow and seemingly endless green eyes always seemed to lack something crucial; it was this mysterious aura that drew me to him. No, not his presence that caused a hush amongst the room. No, not his silly antics and quick temper that caused him to try harder to be extra gentle with me. No - it was nothing like that. It isn't his obsession with blue that paints his blood stained armor, nor the low tolerance he has for felines. No - it's only the idea of him. Yes - it is his physical perfection that drew me to him and nothing more.

    Because I'm a frail flower - constantly wilting from the lack of sun; hidden from the rays of prosperity that mist over the outside world like the dew of promise. I am a wasted effort, dusted off from tiny hands that were used for holding brushes and pencils for woven pressed canvases and sticks in the sand with wireless styluses. I repeat these rituals until my mental and physical urges disappear for the day. I am the sickly child, constantly fainting and longing for tolerable weather while drinking cups of cold green tea, trying to fall asleep. No, I am only needy - perhaps even desperate due to the urgency of my starved frame. But these brown eyes can't help but trace the love-filled idea of his existence upon the lined paper meant for taking notes. These shaking hands, conquered by my constricting asthma make me only wait for death so that I can know for certain of this preposterous idea.

    And I tell myself these things over and over but rationality will continue to fall short of my heart's rapid race for my brain's approval. For he is more than good looks. He is more than the dysfunctional oaf that he makes himself out to be. He's more than the undying loyalty that keeps me going every day as I stare at his sword within his sheath and his kneeling to my fragile words. I hate this realization more than the entirety of my everlasting suffering on this plane. I curse and spite these feelings - these natural disasters of the human nature. Upon the crashing tides and falling rock, I've come to the realization that I can no longer keep to this sketchbook before me. It was destiny's hand that swatted us out from the clouds. It was fate's cold stare that frowned upon us until we found each other in such an embarrassing state. I'll utter these words in plain ear's grace now, for the sake of sanity, I must:

    "I love him".

    B'AWWW TIME Member

    Little Chaos

    Grow up, little Chaos. It won't be so bad. I promise your sword won't be used that much. And I swear that cape will only tatter slightly. I know the burden is heavy, but child it's ok.

    Turn away your tears, little Chaos. The Phoenix still flies. It's not so bad so put away your sheath. The ones at your side have left but in spirit they reside. Keep the cape close. Keep the flag flowing because honey it's a long ride.

    No time to sleep, little Chaos. The days are faster here. The Devil shouted and you shrunk back in fear. But child, the horns upon your head grow and curl with your fingers, twisting the cold steel in your hands...and I say run. Run because your feet could never move any faster. Run because you're too afraid to use your ashen wings.

    Don't tremble, little Chaos. Some day your family will return. Those who put the wounds in your back are now the ones kissing your cuts and bruises. And stay, I say, because I'll still be here. Without word; without mention. And the flag will keep flowing so grow up, little Chaos. Your red eyes fear not the loss of sight in shadow's reign.

    Keep to heart this little prose because it may leave you tomorrow. And keep your words flowing through closed mouths. Sweet little Chaos, I'll hold you dear. Now close your eyes and try to rest. A battle rumbles and you've kept your steps short. Breathe easy tonight because tomorrow...........


    Based on a fiction story I'm writing.

    B'AWWW TIME Member


    Count your fingers, bless your trees.
    Become the pathetic on their knees.

    Fling your wallets at Hell's front door.
    Put the coin in - now put some more.

    What a meaningless existence - begging for change;
    cringing at numbers until you're insane.

    Gripping the paychecks with ink stained hands.
    Pulling the lever just to understand.

    This is madness, like the framing of time
    You're like vermin on the floor just searching for dimes.

    "Its not a lucky penny but a chance to win big!"
    It's more and more apparent that you're just a pig.

    The essence of liquor, the poison of smoke -
    It'll hit you like waves until you are broke.

    And you say its ok because you'll get paid.
    I think you're just sad because you can't get laid.

    Frost that empty stare, run your hands through your hair.
    Let the worry drip down until you've wasted your pair.

    Keep the cards flipping - a blackjack or poker.
    Meaningless desperation like a screaming stockbroker.

    777, cherries - it's wild!
    No I guess it doesn't matter that I'm just a child.

    I hate this place like a greed filled mine,
    wasting your dollars and wasting your time.

    The lives it cost, the ideals and waste.
    It really is all just death with its haste.

    And you'll think and you'll wish that the jackpot will come -
    Like your prayers and charms will bring at least one.

    But I hope you lose it all - I hope you regret.
    So by the time you die, you'll have nothing left.

    B'AWWW TIME Member

    The Friend Zone

    Sorry but you're just not my type.

    You're far too nice and caring and thoughtful. You know just how to hold me and shape me to your liking. You know exactly how to make me smile and how to urge me to kiss your soft lips. We share so many experiences together, you and I. We've been through every blooper and blunder and emerged unharmed. Our emotional perils have braved the changes of the seasons, and with it the endurance of distance. We've merged our bodies to our liking and breathed this curse of our's. Your sweet and silly nature is matched only by your adorable smile and clumsy turn of tongues. It's perfect - and I couldn't ask for more. Yet, I'm sorry - that just won't do.

    You see, we haven't fought nearly enough. I don't quite remember you raising your voice until tears pour from my eyes like the regret in my heart. You haven't forgotten my birthday, or succeeded in talking about an ex far more than my own existence. You haven't taken me to a horrible place, or drown yourself in alcohol until you're swerving in my direction, tempting me with false hope and breathing down my neck with rank desire. You haven't stared at another vixen with your foxy eyes, smiling that toothy grin until you've grown numb to my angry tug. And despite your handsome face, you surely haven't laid your perfect body down with another woman - her cries drowning out the memory of my own.

    You see, we can't quite make this work until it doesn't. That is our fate - our folly, our foolish knees knelt upon with cubic zirconium hallucinations. I must find someone who will abuse me and use me until there's nothing left of my logic nor will to go on. Because that is the curse we bear, my friend. So for you I leave my mislead aspirations; my false hope and awkward moments; my empty kisses and limp held hands. And I hope to God that that'll keep you comfortable enough as you wait for me to turn back around to face you and see you for what you truly are: hope. But until then, we remain hopeless romantics, bent upon "goodbyes". So goodbye I say. And I hope your stay will be well here...

    ...in the friend zone.

    B'AWWW TIME Member

    The Meek

    There's no room for the meek

    There's no room for our shyness, for our blushing red cheeks - for our shuffling feet and half covered mouths. There's no room for our crying, our hiding and our squeeks - the hands in our pockets or unheard shouts.

    There's no room for our culture, for our neutral stands - for our misguided views, for our now taken lands. There's no room for timidity, for peace signs and letters - for "please" and "thank you", for "what could have been better".

    There's no room for the bigger man, for the wives who take a beating. For the small trembling hands - for the ones who resort to fleeting. There's no room for forgotten names - for the ones who open doors. There's no room for the kissing of feet - for those who kneel on floors.

    There's no room for nerds - for colorguard or books. There's no room for girls who don't get any looks. There's no room for "excuse me" for those who get shoved. There's no room for "love me" when there's no way to be loved.

    There's no room for the meek, society says. There's no path for us to take. There's rules that we must follow. There're rules that we can't break. There's no means for us to control time, to carve open a path - to strut down the street of carnivores with signs strapped to our backs.

    Our dead-end jobs, our fading schools; our falling trees; we're just like mules. We'll pile it on, and maybe we'll whine. We'll push it aside until we're all out of time. We'll go to that interview and not get the job. We'll get yelled at by others with our confidence robbed.

    Well I'm sick of ignorance, I'm sick of wasted time. I'm sick of letting idiots take away our dimes. I'm sick of pity and I'm sick of fake smiles. I'm sick of missed friendships based upon "styles".

    We're the worm that missed the bird - the salmon swimming upstream. We're the quiet ones waiting to achieve impossible dreams. We're the fragile blooming flowers now growing through the grass. We're the really pissed off people about to kick your ass. We're the small, the shy, the ugly and unseen. We're the ones going to war for our "kings" and our "queens".

    And maybe you'll say that we don't have any worth. But I'll stand and I'll say:

    "The meek shall inherit the earth."

    B'AWWW TIME Member


    Long before you went away,
    Long before faded smiles,
    This heart refused to go astray,
    It follows you for miles

    The straining dance,
    The falling leap
    Bloody toenails in pink shoes

    It fades like voices - broken dreams
    It rips at wings - among other things -

    The form, it breaks, like rotting trees
    Like the knots within your brow
    Your golden hair is dirty now,
    Like the heavy cape upon your shoulders

    And arms reaching out to scream and point:
    "MOVE ON!!!"

    And when eyes already dry and red force themselves un-blind,
    I'm still weeping, among the dead, refusing to unwind

    It's a dead language,
    It's a missing number,
    It's a lost verse…

    Because you're an idiot, with your yells and screams and broken dreams;
    with the things you do to forget about me

    And you made me promise to move ahead,
    But I'd rather wait to die instead

    Because you're gone and behind closed gates,
    You're struggling with a war.
    I'm forcing closed eyes to open
    I'm smiling til I'm sore.

    And I hate it. Like those fucking hands that warm themselves with their dance. Like the lips that touch and the words that sing - the things that are so foreign to me.


    I'm jealous. I'll pierce it with a dead crow's beak. I'll stare until I'm blinded by the tears upon my cheek.

    I'm a fool, you see. But until the day I die, I'll carve upon my heart this foolish little lie.

    I'll cherish the number 1 like the chalice on a platter,
    And stay,
    Like lingering light from a dying candle.

    And you can yell at me, until I'll see,
    But blindfolded as I am…

    I'll meet you there, in the Limbo of Heaven's "reject list", and together we can burn.

    Forbidden as this is, I'll wait for our "gift of phoenix", the resurrection of false ideas; of white knights and silly things.

    Finally with calloused hands, I'll hold your hand with dying breaths.

    When beeping machines and pouches with blood and a mask to help me breathe hold near for my destiny,
    It'll all come together now, soaking ideals like the roots on a weed.

    So maybe in the afterlife I'll meet with you again,
    And maybe we can even say that we are "more than friends",
    And maybe it won't be so bad and my eyes will forget to cry
    And ask me why I let my heart bleed for so many years without you by my side.

    On Earth's twisted plane I'll scream so loud you'll hear me on the other side:

    "I love you, you idiot of mine."
  9. pit

    pit Well-Known Member

    Love your stuff, especially The Meek.

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