PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

you are doing it the wrong way.

going into today thinking you know how to do it.

you know all of the secrets in all of the valleys.

you can pick us all up

and put us in your pockets.

but we will crawl out.

you are running this race the wrong way.

I can tell you where the footsteps are

but they will not all fit your shoes.

sometimes I am following those footsteps

and the world gets too big.

I start choking

on the opposite of suffocation.

so I turn back.

not that this way doesn’t have a happy ending

it is just not the ending for me.

tell me not to become who I am.

how can you stop me?

What would we do

if it wasn't for you

are able to find

many things to wit i am blind

Subjectivity in reality

consensus agree criticaly

That on this planet

life occures as we know it

Where would we be

if we forgot to see

that through your eyes

Your owened truth applies

collective individualism

has broken a prison

nothing is off course

in what we endorse

We struggle to understand

as we all demand

we all want to be

both us and just me.

The storm has settled after a long summer.

The skies are clear, but the damage has been done.

I am charred, left abandoned in the ashes.

The humiliation during the wildfire led to my death.

The world I knew and loved disowned me.

But a baby bird had risen out of the ashes.

Despite its weak body, the newborn helped me onto my feet.

It led me away to start anew in a foreign world.

After all that had happened that led to this fire,

I know now that my old name is nothing but a memory

Left to be scorned by bloodthirsty eels.

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

They can deceive the world all they like, but karma has its ways.

They will always be overshadowed by a much more unified flock.

But for now, I walk alone with no one but the baby bird perched on my shoulder.

I see a bit of my old life in it, but it possesses the need to change;

A quality that the world I left behind is too blind to see.

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

By the time the bloodthirsty eels see me again, it will already be too late.

Their lack of intelligence is what I have to thank for getting me to where

I am needed most the whole time I have slaved away.

Too bad that they'll never know that I am not the poor unfortunate soul that I used to be.

The winter has arrived and the joys of Christmas Day have given the baby bird strength

To regain the fire that I have long-admired since I was no less than eight years of age.

The new year is around the corner and it is more than ready to spread its wings and fly

Like it did four years ago. It amazes me to see how kids grow up so fast.

Be free, young phoenix. Fly away and keep your voice close.

They'll be coming for you when they discover you're still alive.

It is better to let them think that you are dead

than attempt to kill yourself putting up a fruitless fight.

It is no longer our battle anyway for our destiny lies far away from this mom-and-pop.

*

When frozen into form as in

icebergs, water has

endless shapes.

When it melts is

has but one.

When the ego

predominates 

we desire

individuality.

When we achieve

egolessness

we desire only

with all to be One

saiom shriver

Can you see me on the streets?

Do I look like a cobblestone?

I feel like I’m gray enough

small enough

soft edges enough

to be almost content under your feet.

Did you see me on the streets?

I probably didn’t say much

do much

think much.

So closed off

you’d think I was a castle

or something never unlocked.

Something someone mixed up

from a cookbook

that could never turn out right

no matter how many times you scrutinize the ingredients.

Have you seen me on the streets?

I thought I was looking at you,

caught your eye

that one time.

I forget sometimes that my eyes

aren’t strong enough for you to see.

I am a terrible put-together

and yet sometimes

you might think

a wonderful mess.

Can you see me on the streets?

Do I look like a cobblestone?

I feel like I’m important enough

unforgiving enough

strong enough

to shake with the smallest shift.

Do I look like a cobblestone?

Like somewhere in this maze of other people’s destinations

I lost

me.

Across the desert the wind storms through. Grains of sand cloud the air, hazing over the endless plain. Tiny in size, they unite to form an obliterating deadly force. They swirl, each in their own direction, but still maintain unanimity. Indistinguishable yet individual. Some grains travel miles with a single gust and others never budge. All are unique, which is to say that none of them are.

Once again the wind storms through. I feel the sand begin to prick the back of my neck. Voyaging through the desert, I must choose my own path. Where will the wind take me? 

I have walked in silent company,
Deafened by their words.
Wandering aimlessly
I have been followed by them,
Deafened by their words.

They tend to me in good health,
Evermore once ill.
They have brought me joy
And swallowed me in darkness.
Still I listen, and my body complies.

Oh, how softly their words drown all
Yet again, I am deafened by their words.

Most seem afraid,
Fearful of what they might say
Lest they too, become deafened.

Though I may be deaf,
All of your words are heard by me,
Those which you have spoken
And those you daren't utter.

They call out to you
Endlessly.
And yet, you hear them not.

Undeafened, you proclaim freedom
Whereas I, am bound by their chains.
Their wisdom knows no age,
No face
No name.
So why must you shun them? 

Their screams are but a whisper
I heard and became deaf
Quite selfish of me.

My aimless march
Points clearly in one direction

All the while,
A compass misguides you

Listen to them,
Become deaf to the world
And hear all.

Your greatest companion 
And most effective weapon,
Thoughts.

So hear you are.
Left alone,
Accompanied all the same.
And so we go

Words are written like spiders that have danced in ink,
Across the pages facts are re-written,
Painted from bruised memory,
I see skies only with creases in them.
So fold me now into myself,
Pin my paper heart to the wall.

Fat and thin, a delicate thing,
Secrets shared only on streets under moonlight.
The never, the maybe, the equal transition,
Is the beating of my mind.

The muscle pulls away in threads,
A sad sentiment of a fallen empire.
Sell me your story that will lead nowhere,
Replace the world with your anxiety.

Inviting hysterectomy of the self,
A bullet filled tissue is inviting a re-match.
How could a god make twins so dumb,
To dance so merrily in front of the gun?

Caked in dust, absorbed in other people’s memories,

Breathing crisp air at the breaking of the wall.

Tapping into the potential of everything that could be,

Barbed adrenaline furiously pumping at the gears.

Winter’s song chills the breath of those who sing it,

Icicles form on the trail of captured breath,

On the tail end of disaster that greets all with a smile,

Escaping into reality, as pieces of the subconscious die.

Plucking away at the vitality of nature’s core,

Winds howl as trees writhe in agony,

Like old bones to youthful pressure,

How we wrap our skeletons to hold in the warmth when we feel alone,

Unique vibrations that resonate are seen as glitches of the soul.