PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I love to write, I believe I discovered my passion in the 7th grade. Probably when I was around 15 years old, before I ever really got into computers which is probably why, my prefrence is freehand writing, my more favorable methods of writing.

For me to be able to express my thoughts and feelings though words on paper has always been far easier than trying to speak in person. With writing I can slow down my already accelerated mind allowing me to get these letters to form the words I really want them to say. yet when I speak even stoned off the beautiful herb my mind shoots out words and speeches before I am even able to study them. For the most part that does not bother me as I tend to speak my mind anyway, yet the draw back would be spewing out something I should have known better to begin with. Even if it was just a fleeting thought or image that had caused such a lapse in my own logical judgement to begin with.



I often wonder, if I die without so much as selling or publishing a single work of my art, Will I not be recognized for my efforts? or will I become one of the few lucky dead poets of the world? only to be discovered long after my death, and just how grand does my death need to be to attract such a crowd of interest in what I have to say about our world and the brothers and sisters we ultimately have to share it in. The more I ponder on this subject the more I question the very nature of my death, will I go out quietly under the moonlight or dancing with the long lost spirit's of the shamons of old? following a tricky path riddled with snares and traps, maybe a path no traveled where brush has grown like wild fire, hacking with a machette of insight.



'I should be depressed

my thoughts once again have regressed

and a mantality left obsessed

yet its like looking through the window

that feeling of hopless dispare put on hold'









Will I be able to even connect with my inner-self? or have I acomplished a past mission and polluted it to the point of being sold, a Comatosed Slave?

Death has always been my one true passion in life, apart from writing. My eye's had opened towards the notion of death at an early age, my grandmother's funeral. I remember it the most out of all my childhood memories, I believe I was 5 or around that age When I learned for the first time of Death really means, and its affects on people. The only question I remember really ever having was why was everyone who was there upset? and crying? mourning the loss of a great woman who at the time I really only thought was sleeping, until I was told later. When I had looked down into my grandmother's casket held in my mother's arms while she turned to greet some quests. I must have saw something no one else saw, a completely different perspective on the whole situation. She looked peaceful, rested, no care to the wind as her 'spirit' moved on as my mother had later told me. It was as if a feeling of euphoria sweapt across my entire body my eyes had opened, and opened wide that day.



This was the death I saw, the swift release of years of pain and suffering, The final stage of life. If there is a heaven, even a Hell only those who have gone before us truely know. Ever since then my fascination with death only seemed to grow. The older I got and the older I became the more I have come to realize my obssesion to this truely great and ultimately last known mystery of this life, However just because it hold's a strange yet perverted desire over me does not mean I am wanting to die, There was once a period in my life when that was the case. Anymore I feel it as a preperation to death, Not ever soul is fortunate enough to die within their sleep with no pain, no suffering, it's a long lost secret to want to die in peace, rather than suffer the pro-longing pain that is the death of Cancer.





Everyone Falls down

Everyone sooner or later hits the ground

how will you handle the impact?

coming down from a high, how will you react?

the reality of it all seaps back in

I have lived a life of damnable sins



'I am lost, don't know where I've been going

the drugs, cause my mind to work slowly

will I smile before I die?

did I live a good life, even if I was high?

Living in a world thats just one big lie'



Holding onto old dreams and ideals

first night I've been clean of them damn pills

looking around, no where left to wonder

A deep spiritual insight left to ponder

A last dance with a religon, my last chance

with a long burried love, hate romance

I smile when I see the seedling

I know I should do alot more reading



'one foot before the last

eye's to the future, forget the past

struggling to keep afloat

fighting it just to cope

In a world headed for distruction

A morbid desire becomes an obession'



Filling the void to write

even if the words don't come out right

spelling and grammar I've always had to fight

bloody and brused, dirty and used

defaced and in so many ways disgraced

harboring an ill will

my Suicidal Sin that could kill