PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I'm never seen much to the idle known
The empty hanger ons turn into remnants of sand
The area where the water used to flow
My soul will reside under the grass.

I don't know anyone who can take themselves
So seriously.

I don't know anyone.

Who truly doesn't love another at first sight anyhow?
One another, the other in opposition
Can leave the other
This is the tired doubt.

We become different people to meet different people

Only to find ourselves in other people.

The trick, resist instictive compassion, for anyone
Or anything, avoiding the chance that
It will emerge at all which insists upon
An already natural compassion for all
That is found again in the instance of
Avoiding compassion.

Is it really so strange?
These dimensions
Which bind and hold
Misconceived directions

Justified actions.
 

So much time but yet when the senses are ready
So little time to celebrate
So you hold tiny moments of grandeur
As giant moments that define.

If you can trace your movements
How far have you really seen?
That sinking feeling, it's all a joke.

Depression takes hold and only somewhat gives
It may take weeks or sometimes months to
Receive two nights of freedom.

The scale in which we measure our presense by
Has run out of perception and thus we only live
To walk uphill always trying to claim that space
Inbetween.

Are you disoriented or is your heart full?
It doesn't matter, it will never matter
Because nobody can do anything to stop it.

You will die when you die

Why tell yourself a lie?

This cosmic consciousness
That we're all connected to
Expands beyond Earth's galaxy
Into the universe which transfers
In man the God like creations
Either in text, art and stone
But these lost souls go about
Preparing for the emptiness
That awaits their extracted state.

Sometimes you receive little scraps
Of brightness to deceive your mind
Into thinking this is all worth anything.