Wise

What do you want to be
When you grow up?

I never wanted a certain job
An impressive cover letter
I only wanted to be compassionate
To help people get better

I see suffering everywhere I look
A million hearts break every day
But they keep on moving silently
Like they have nothing to say

It’s the plight of their station
Sometimes the act of their hand
Some cruel divination
Locked in shifting sand

Some will be speak to their trusted
But further be scorned
Leaving their trust to be rusted
And their lives to be torn

I see strength everywhere I look
A million souls hold strong every day
They keep fighting silently
Their living is what they have to say

When I grow up,
I need to be wise
To help people be better

Lions

We never asked for the screaming
It just busted the windows and came in

A burglar stealing our thoughts
Leaving us with gaps on shelves
A broken mural of men
Trying to paint ourselves

As if that weren’t enough
Those walls, they’ll close in
The people that don’t understand
Will treat it like it’s our own sin

They’ll build up crashing waves
Then bring ‘en down on our clout
Villafy us in their village
And wonder why we don’t come out

They’ll claim we’re the bullet
From their tragedy’s gun
They forget who pulled the trigger
As if their works could be undone

And yet their stance is fatally firm
Our illness is the matter
They climb up like King Kong
Standing high atop their tatters

Oh but they’ll pretend to care
Without action to match word
Turning us into rhetoric
Silencing a voice to be heard

So instead we cling to our pride
Nursing the pain that leaves us crying
But if you took the splinters from our paws
You’d see us stand as lions

Sleep

You ever try to sleep,
But end up dreaming?
An attempt to take a break from life
Where instead you find another meaning?

People tell me I look tired
And they’re usually right.
It feels like a waste of time
Just breathing through the night

Yet somehow our bodies demand it
Just a little break from the struggle
Of playing our games in the day
In fear we might stumble

We live this life on razor’s edge
So much so we value unconciousness
Time wasted in blanket’s hug
Can you believe that preposterousness?

Should it not be a bit different?
Sleep oughta be an inconvenient chore
A necessary skip in time
We’re just made to endure

Yet a temporary death in our slumber
Instead brings reprieve to our pain
We’re lions tamed to house cats
Look in the mirror and notice your mane

When it’s time to sleep
Do it because you must
Don’t resign to being a machine
Just enjoying your own rust

You ever try to dream;
Just to end up asleep?

Gladiators

A bull whip crack on sunstained back.

An ancient tradition on dusted ground

Prepare for the fate of predictable outcome;

One chance to buy yourself,

One to gain freedom through victory,

And yet a thousand to die on the sand.

Fight for the coin to bring freedom

A chain undone through wealth

Live for the hope of a rudis

Salvation won through glory

Kill for the carrot on the stick

Die for the joy of the crowd

Artist

You are an artist

Maybe you haven’t figured out how?
What marble will you cut to form?
Start with whatever you can allow
So long as it breaks you from norm

Through your expression
You’ll find a new view
A lasting impression
Of the real you

Me, I’m a poet
The lost son of a storyteller
And a song
I try to make words dance
While I sing along

I learned that from stories
They tend to hit me like trains
Yet I just end up wondering
Where they’re going
And from where they came

Those thoughts drove me to write
To pick up the immortal pen
And move to banish from sight
The ignorance of myself then

We must all find what moves us
To give our voices something to say
Really that’s what makes it art
Whether it’s in sound or clay

We are artists

We protest with our creation
We show them our plight
Make known our indignation
And carry out our fight

We show beauty with our craft
We Highlight the curves of sky
Spreading light with each draft
To make the world less dry

We show heroes in our work
We inspire some valor
When the creatures that lurk
Expect us to cower

You are an artist
Don’t tell yourself you’re not
At least when you go down
You’ll know you fought

If You’re Reading This

I used to write a poem every week
In a post timed for that Thursday
It would start with convicted words
Every week the same thing to say

“If you’re reading this; it means that I’m dead”

You can’t go wrong with a classic.
At least that’s what I knew
When he’s just bored of living
What’s a depressed boy to do?

I thought there’d be something better
Maybe not a land of pure bliss
But at least some light in a tunnel
Just something better than this

See, every Wednesday I’d delete it.
Somewhere I knew it was just a page
My story couldn’t end in collapse
It had to continue with rage

Rage for those silently at war
Plagued by petulant voices
Enduring unspeakable things
But making loving choices

Rage for those speaking up
Against their collar and chain
Throwing their grandest effort
To make heard their pain

Rage for the sick and alone
Crying at their ghosts on the wall
Begging for a chance to know
Some peace before their fall

Rage, for those who didn’t delete the note
Who couldn’t see to their next day
Crushed by the weight of the world
So much they couldn’t bear to stay

It is through luck that here I stand
With my broken brothers in the fields
As the weight of troubled past
Clamors hard against our shields

That battle will never end
It just gets driven by a reason
Mine to stand with you that suffers
So we can get through the season

Let’s put aside the land of milk and honey
And just stick to earth for awhile
I found that light I was looking for
It was at the end of your smile

Now I write a poem once a week
I try to post them on Friday
They always start with invisible words
Each week, the same thing to say

“If you’re reading this; it means that I’m alive”

Only Human

Here we are again,
Pretending to be human

Seeing the dolls on the street
Silent faces in the sun
Why do you paint that expression?
Why do your colors always run?

As if you’re not electric noise
That got caught in some meat
Floating through our endless void
Looking to find your seat

All just pieces of a puzzle
Organized inside our skin
Scattered across desert sand
As if by someone’s whim

We separate ourselves even further
Probably because like to fear
That the guy somewhere across the world
Would be you if he landed here

Just keep on walkin’
I’ll do just the same.
After all;
We’re only human.

The Wick

I feel like a candle
Lit from within the wick

You’ll find my fire reaching out
Clawing against a waxy shell
Looking for room to breathe
And to dance upon a timely day

I often envy those whom quickly burn
From their heads and their feet
Both ends is a pretty effective way
If you’re hoping for people to see

But for all candles it ends the same;
The curse of fire will never fail
However bright we’ll just fall.
One puddle, made of wax

And just before that you find
As it breaks through its casing
That these flickers were practice
Learning to burn what I’m facing

You’ll behold grandiose performance
Built with fire, intrigue and woe
Maybe you’ll figure out why I did it
Or maybe I’m telling you now

Through that wax you can’t hear much
But -I- hear the flickers, all at once
And sometimes – they find voice

I feel like a candle
lit from within the wick
Until you come find me melting
You wouldn’t even know I’m sick



————————————————————————-
This one is intended to be somewhat experimental from me because as anyone who’s read the rest of these posts so far know, I really like rhyming conventions – so I tried to break away from that, not completely divorce myself from it as can be seen, but just try to structure the rhythm a little differently.

Pits

Spent my life diggin’ holes
In search of buried treasure
Or maybe a tunnel to China?
Just something I could measure

Maybe a few too many
A new one every day
Finding a new spot to dig
Just again to walk away

Sometimes I hit bedrock
’cause I’d try to dig too deep
pushing through the dirt
When I should be asleep

Still no tunnel to a better life
lyin’ somewhere beneath the ground
but it’s not all wasted time
There are yet a few things I found

A shiny locket
A little spring
A forgotten coin
What even is this thing?

So I guess not really much
Has been added to my wealth
Maybe it’s just been for the fun of it?
Is that what it is to find yourself?

Turns out you won’t find much movin’ dirt
You’ll mostly get it in your face
And you’ll surely wear yourself out
Tryin’ to keep up at someone’s pace

But there are worse ways to spend your life
Hey, it’s good enough for the moles
At least there’s a lot of room to grow
If you have a garden full of holes

Count My Rings

A split mind is a lonely problem
Not much different from clouded lenses
But it obscures far more views
And doesn’t stop at the senses

The tall man broke in to my house again
Right when I was about to think
He came for blood this time
He just wanted me to drink

I cleaned up that gory scene
Of the beloved cadavers in the den
The bodies were clogging the chimney
But that was now and this is then

What will I do tonight
With the thoughts keeping me up
Wrestling that faceless intruder
I’m unable to disrupt

Another night finding the flaws
Trying to play mind detective
Scouring for gaps in search of delusion
To find which me is defective

I’ll make an appointment now
To see the actors in the day
While they go through their motions
Putting on their play

Keep up with the professional strangers
They’ve got a new message to sell
No one will teach you how to drive this thing
But boy, you better do it well

How will they know our silent rage
Will you cut us open and count our rings?
Not worth trying to understand
Really it’s just one of those things

Like the windows of cathedrals
A shattered brain could build something new
Breathtaking images in with broken glass
Loosely held together by glue

You know what? forget it for now
We’ll have problems twice the size
Just hold me ’til the world gets brighter
And these demons leave my eyes