A Few Poems to Tide You Over Dear Reader

Note: I assure you that this short story is coming. Due to some hiccups and a few more edits I found in revising it, it'll hopefully be done by mid next week. So to help tide over you dear reader, here are a few poems.

Autumn

Breathe me in, I'm the ghost of your better years
Dripping wet from the constant downpour
Soon the skies will clear and the cold will set in
Light your fires down underneath your belly
Let me be that warmth that self assures you
Make me wish I could stay here longer than expected
Seek out that way closer to where your head lay down


Eden

I'll show you to the garden where our flowers bloom and we whisper secrets of happier days gone away
Don't avert your eyes or stray from the path, their intent is to lead you astray with shame
I will be your firefly, light your way through the brush and darkness to taste the sweet fruit
In that place I'll show you joy beyond others, build you a home within, standing tall as trees
Rest your head on my shoulder, dream of somewhere far
I'll be your eternity and you'll stay asleep


Burned Out Again

I've had the worst nights in a long time
Tossing and turning in my bed
Sweat accumulating beneath my back
I count the ticks from my ceiling fan
One, two and three more seconds till I snap

I'll write some sappy poem and you'll eat it up
The joke is over, I'm not cut out for this

My days are numbered but they drag on
Twisting and restless in my office chair
I'll jumpy at every single thing
I stare at the clock on my screen
One, two and three more minutes till I snap

Oh I don't mean to worry you
My body just hates me sometimes
My mind just wants to commit suicide
My psyche just is sick of all my bullshit

I'm pretty sure I've run out of ideas
Struggling and frustrated, my pen bends in my hand
The ink spreading by the side of my palm
One, two and three another poem lost to luck


A Light

Somewhere I hear her sing
The piano keys falling gently
Stormy weather pouring outside
Her voice breaks through thunder
It beckons her sweet bliss
A cat crawls onto her lap
There it sits and slumbers
The light from the lighthouse
Glowing and warning of shore
Her fingers tire as the song slows
But her voice still shines
The storm calms and dies
A new day to greet
Spirits calm and rise
They call out for guidance
Lost and confused
Her touch is gentle
So they call out to her
A voice so sweet and beautiful
They would be led home
A lighthouse in the darkness
Her voice whispers till the light is out


Come Back

With every thing I share to the world
My words written on several hundred pages
Every time I post it to see
My heart stops a second
I hold my breath and don't bother to restart
Now I'm finding my words fail and repeat themselves
I use to seem so steady but in truth
My hands are always shaking
My mind is always racing
And everyday is a struggle to wake up in strength
To keep myself from an early grave
I'm not sure if there's a heaven but I wish for a better place
Because where I am at is a hell
No I cannot sing because I'm tone deaf
No I can't be happy when I hate myself
No I won't make promises when I don't know what I want
I went away to find myself and I still haven't come back
No I haven't come back
No I haven't come back
No I haven't come back
No I haven't come back
So maybe God is a little silent, because maybe he's not talking to me
But even after my words fail, I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
writing of something better

I Didn't Plan You

Note: This is a sort of poem I think is something we all know comes up in life. Curve balls. Something or someone that comes along that is not part of our sort of plan. We move through time attempting to stick to some sort of path. This is a poem of one of my curve balls.



When we first met I thought I was over it
The sheer concept that maybe someone was out there for me
But you came along and I felt that trivial, little spark
When our lips finally made contact I was struck

I thought to myself that it was nothing
Just a good date with an interesting girl
Then I saw you again, and again and again
And in between, little texts of getting to know you

I knew then that all I wanted was to be around you
And it seemed the same for you
I was scared though, I'm broken goods or jaded beyond fucking repair
But you assured me not to worry, you're not that complex
Still I took it slow, compared to the animal I have been

I craved your body, yes
I wanted your touch, yes
I wanted to call you mine, yes
I wished I was yours, yes
but I still bit my tongue, we went at your pace
Only because I didn't want you to leave just yet

I had no clue as to why
Just felt like I wanted to see what came of this

Things were well, then the summer came
Your texts became less frequent
Your presence was less constant
I missed you more than I thought I would

Still I went at your pace, no matter how frustrated
I was convinced that it would be worth it eventually
Even if it was just to hold your hand

Then you started telling me not to put all my faith in you
That you weren't perfect
Who the fuck is?

When you would not speak to me, my mind went racing
Battling depression and anxiety results in a hell hole in your own head
I assumed the worst

"She's playing me"
"She's seeing other guys"
"She feels nothing for me"
but here I was, battling my own mind
And saying that you were only busy

I understood that your career came first.
I never wanted to take you away from that
Somehow knowing I wasn't going to be that guy

I wrote you love poems without saying "I love you"
I wasn't ready for that
You said you loved them, you said you loved my genuine nature

Eventually you cared less about them, they were just words
I finally spoke my mind
Feeling ignored and dismissed
You said you didn't know what to say
That you should have done something sooner
That you felt bad you were so busy
That she was unsure now

We were in different places
Focused on her career and that I had so much going for me
so much support
That I would go far and be something
That you still wanted to be friends

How can we still be friends?
When I only bothered because I saw something in you
That you were the first interest in my life that made me feel normal again
That there was nothing wrong with me and that I mattered somehow

She said she felt like an endgame and that she didn't want that
She was scared of being hurt and didn't want to hurt me

I was angry. How did I intend that?
I went at her pace, her rules.

I never planned on her coming into my life.
Even after being broken before in such harsh ways.

We said goodbye and good luck

I haven't spoken a word to her in a long time
I still have her on my mind each day
I still write love poems for her...

Morgan

Note: This is a poem I thought I'd never share publicly. I figure I might as well.

I’m unsure of what words to use

To describe what feelings have me so confused

 

When you run your fingers over my arm

I always feel like I’m ready to disarm

 

It’s dumb to find my mind in such struggle

The doubt I feel and the fear I juggle

 

That spark lights a way out of the dark

Your eyes always leaving their mark

 

When I see your smile after each kiss

I feel like I’m up to bat and I don’t want to miss

 

Just sing with me that I’m worth your time

And that this whole thing isn’t a crime

 

I hope I’m worth your effort

Because there’s something there of comfort

 

I know you said don’t worry I’m not perfect

But there’s something I found worth it

 

To want to keep trying to see you smile

So that maybe you’ll be around for a while

Another Twenty-Something Burn Out

Growing up, we were raised to believe in a certain way the world works
First, you're born and then you take in that first surreal, epitaph of air
With our eyes blinded to the new world, finally blinking that we are alive
Then we grow up, with words spiraling around in our heads sinking deep down
After we have put in our time to school and to to knowledge of what we love
Books, print, science, math, film, sports, exercise, nutrition, food, cooking, cultures, porn

Then when the time comes we go to college to lock down our future, to lock down a chance
We sleep in awkward positions in an arm chair in the library, we drink ourselves stupid on the weekend
We stay up till 4 a.m. to finish that final term paper that determines if we pass or fail
We fall in and out of love, we fall in and out of lust, we regret and then we don't regret

Then we walk across that stage, grabbing an empty folder where our accomplishments should be
We are in front of thousands of people, thousands of our peers but yet we feel so tall
Knowing that once those doors close behind us that opportunity is waiting on the other side

Then reality hits us, leaving a hand print on our faces

Work work work work work work working working working working working worked worked worked
We were worked into being the biggest cash cows in the world, more profitable than another war
With crippling debt we are expected to work it all back, owing the country for our education

With only months till the bills knock on our doors and show us that we are truly owing them
One struggles to find work in his field, what he studied most of his life to be
Another works in her field and works and works and works till her mind is burning and tired
To suck the joy out of one who feels like they went to school for the wrong thing
Wishing that he had those years back and had gone to war, to prove more profitable

Choosing our passion, we should have known that we should have chosen something more efficient

And now we are sleeping in awkward positions in our cubicles or at our desk
Working away or looking for work day in and day out
We drink ourselves to sleep almost every night hoping to numb that pain, soothe the burn
We are up till 4 a.m. either working for a deadline or thinking on our lives, losing sleep
We fall in love when we think that we are in love, we divorce when we realize we have no idea
We regret and we regret and we regret until we aren't even sure what regret is

Choosing what works towards freedom when we lost what it was that we loved

We are all burnt out with a sigh of breath

I Should Have Known Better

I was stone before I met her
Built strong from the tried ravages of an maniacal, angry ex-love
I did not let the world get to me
I was strong, I was angry, I was empty to the world
One after another there would be others who asked where we stood
My reply would be sent with no clue and empty promises
I would lose sleep while always trying
Telling myself I was grown up. I was grown up. I was awake.
Then I met her, a curve ball on the open field throwing off my balance
Someone I felt that I had a connection with, someone that didn't make me feel
That emptiness that has been eating away at my core, at my soul, at who I was
She made me feel like it was okay to feel so broken, like the toys of my childhood
That instead of focusing on the noose I knotted, I was focusing on being
Who I am again, that same dorky, child at heart, wishing and dreaming of better

I was stone before I met her
But I trusted and opened and bled and tried and keep on trying
I never anticipated this
This was not in the plan, this was not the course that I set up
She's on my mind and I can't stop obsessing
I know that she's scared of me like I'm scared of me and that's scary
My past has made my present and my future seems fucked
That I am ashamed and I am angry and I am frustrated and I am loathing
Myself. All with myself.
I trusted and maybe if I take my head out of my dark place I will see clearly
and know that I shouldn't trust, never trust

I was stone before I met her
Made of cold concrete with cracks that aren't structurally damaging
Depression is a real thing.
It's like swimming in tar, you either stay calm and slowly sink or struggle and go down faster
But I talk and I try and I try and I keep trying to win her heart
I'm told to be patient and see where it goes
But what if I'm afraid of time and of patience?
It always goes south on my part it always turns out bad I always make things worse

I was stone before I met her
She soon stopped talking to me as much
Blank texts met with silence or short responses
That things fall through and I haven't seen her in months
I was always scared of trusting anyone and I never wanted to trust anything
I miss her now and I wish I wasn't who I was
I'm scared shitless when I am with her and when I talk to her
I am scared of opening up and trying to win her heart
But I work with the fear and find excitement with her, excitement and fear

I was stone before I met her
I should have known better

A Letter to Myself: Poetry or A Promise?

Dear you,

I have found myself, dear readers, staring intently at my blank word documents hoping for something to be born on the page. I have dedicated countless hours to my random work I wish is poetry, countless hours to improve what I have written in past. Then, then I post it here, for all of you to see, for hopefully anyone out there to see. I write for some sense of therapy, for some sort of solace that maybe my life is not pointless and maybe, just maybe, I won't find myself at the end of a noose. One that i crafted for myself with every sour thought at my expense or hurt that I feel.

Why do I bring this up? Because it has to be. How am I to grow as a writer, as a person, if I can't throw my life on a page for the world to see? To perform and craft the words that are swirling in my mind? I'l fucking try. I will fucking try.

I have made some serious changes in my life over the past couple years. And now I am stuck. I am finding myself stuck back in my head, in my thoughts, lost. My only peace has been in writing these words that you have read. In the words that I am writing now.

Getting to my point of this; I am tired of waiting. I am bursting at the seams with all the stories I wish to tell, to share with you. In the last month I have committed a lot of time to revamping the stories I cherished after I wrote them. In another couple weeks, that will come to a close. In a couple weeks I will start then on what I want to be my breakout. I will sweat, I will cry and I will bleed for this. To take a hold of my dream and mean something to myself.

This project has been on my mind for some time now. Something that I think will be something that anyone could read and find some sort of comfort in. A place to hide for few minutes, a world to cherish for a time, a story to keep you wanting it to grow. It will be broken into two parts (books?) and when it is done, I will put more than anything into getting it out to the world.

I'm excited and nervous. Scared to death, more like. When it leaves my mind, it's no longer mine. It's yours and I only want you to cherish and enjoy what YOU find in it. Whether your an avid book lover, a casual reader, a passerby in a busy bookshop/coffee shop, or a quiet child reading a book in his home, finding the beauty in words.

The most I wish to share about it is probably just the title. So, to end this letter, this promise to myself: Prepare for "Generation: Lost".

-reader, creator, person

Strange Life: A Guide to Survive by, Vol. 1

Strange Life:

A Guide to Survive by, Vol. 1

 

Foreword:

Thank you for your interest in improving yourself! With life being as hard as it is, everyone needs a different perspective. Improve yourself! Better your goals! Take a stab at the good life! With this guide we will take a look deeper into what makes you, you! Dive in and take the steps into what it means to live!

 

Working on It:

There are plenty of twists and turns along the way to content. Dear reader, take a chance to examine the good that is in your life. Examine where you could go and who you could be. Take a chance physically, emotionally and mentally!

This is Breathing:

Stress, anxiety, and depression are like a cancer. They eat away at you and break down the walls or barriers you built so high. All just to get through the day! You’re daily routine has become a safety net over the years. Resuming it whenever you feel that crack in the wall. Now that wall has big gaps in it. Your routine is plagued by the thoughts, actions, trail of your mind that gives way to long nights spent awake and staring at the ceiling. Break away from it all and take a walk. Look at the world you inhabit. Breathe in the air around you, it was meant to be.

Tattoos, Alcohol, and the Rhythm of Music:

You’ve made changes, but are they the right ones? You figured that if you change your appearance, change some of those habits, or rework some of the old ones, that you will begin again. Starting that new chapter takes much more than adding some ink to your skin or spending more time in crowds at the bars. Remember to revive old passions. Sing your favorite songs, move your body to the rhythms. Don’t change yourself back to your old style or old habits entirely. Embrace some of the changes, but don’t forget where you came from. Don’t forget the family that loves you and supports you. The friendships you’ve built and sacrificed for. You’re a good person, so don’t hide that behind some trivial things.

Effort:

The act of being is a brilliant thing. We strive to continue on, we crawl on towards a goal. Is it unattainable or is it just within reach? Questions that will continue on till the said goal is lost or won. It’s amazing what we’ll do to get somewhere in life. Hunting to survive, breathing thinking the air was meant for us. The drive to gain a simple piece of paper with your name. A golden star for your trial and tribulation. Keep your chin up, some will say. Look towards that goal, another will say. You’ve worked hard for your goals, whether it is that diploma that you’ve poured years into or that promotion at work that took time to build repertoire to gain. No matter the goal, keep it up! Surely, you can’t have be all for not.

On Dealing with Death:

Fear not the cold chill. This is something unavoidable. There will be things that will never gain answer. Forget that brush with the reaper. He gives freebies. Death comes knocking and you either flee or stand before it. Fight or Flight. Thinking on this topic could drive some insane. When will it happen? Why focus on that, when there is so much to live for? Then there is the opposite side, when it happens, what it will feel like. Whether it is slow or fast, painful or painless, it will happen. The obsession with death, the obsession with the end. It will be the death of you.

Femme Fatales and Silver Tongued Devils:

Life can be difficult to work with. When you feel overwhelmed and desire to feel a connection with someone else, it can drive you mad. You’ve probably spent nights alone in your apartment. Making dinner for two but only to feed one mouth. Late nights binge watching the shows you love, the Netflix queue over abundant with things you may or may not ever watch.

Do not fret! Go out and take yourself to the town! Explore the world you’ve been missing out on for years. There are worries though. Beware a woman that has good intent. She will enslave you and make you hers. She will keep you in tiny boxes and make you feel the mistakes of your future. She holds a cigarette pressed tight between lips burnt red, blowing smoke into the night. Her eyes are traps and you know better than to put all your trust into her. You see her sitting down from the bar. Move towards her and offer a drink. Take her home and be sure to use those words that mean all the right intent. Don’t feel sick the next morning with your decision. Everyone goes through this, everyone has a night they choose to forget. Just don’t make any new bad habits.

Coffee and Mint Bubblegum Saves Lives:

There should be one thing in your life, during a crisis, which takes the forefront of your mind. If it’s school, don’t forget to set your alarm. Waking up late every time and struggling to get work done. Let’s look at Dave and see how a typical day of school can get hectic when it doesn’t take the primary slot in his head and concerns:

“3:00 AM: Finally fall asleep amongst your fort, you left Parks and Recreation playing in the background. Funny dreams may ensue.

8:00 AM: Clock goes off, the loudmouth bastard. Ignore him and maybe he’ll go away.

10:00 AM: Shit! Oversleeping again and need to hurry out the door.

11:00 AM: ON campus and I didn’t do any of my reading… binge reading is my life.

3:00 PM: This place gives me nightmares. They say it was a riot building, pretty much still is…

5:00 PM: Home, now what to do? Homework? That’s funny. Turn on the TV.

3:00 AM: Shit… it’s that late?”

Don’t be like Dave.

Good Guys vs the Finish Line:

Wake up and tell yourself that you are going to be a good person. Don’t drink yourself to sleep every night. Make sure you care about every living, breathing person that has existed, exists, and will enter this world. Hold the door open for the elderly, care about the single mom. Forgive them all for their trespasses. Accept people for who they are. Make someone smile and do not break hearts. There is someone waiting for a person LIKE you. That finish line is not so far away when you squint your eyes tight, yeah just like that.

The Fear of Falling Apart:

Dear reader, despite these tribulations, there is still the method of self-examination. Look into yourself and see what has been there, festering. Face your fears and stare deep into the eyes looking back from the mirror!

Security in Numbers:

Reality is scary. When the world is opening up and you begin to take on more and more of what it means to live, you will both curl up and die or rise to the occasion… am I meant to rise to this?

Anyways, when the world comes down and you feel your every nerve begin to tense. Your body either flees or fights. There is a halt though. The sudden freezing. When you realize that only a few days separate you from the world of living. Will you use those excess pillows at night to stack them tall? Building them up so that you can feel some sense of security from reality while you sleep.

Lost Loves:

Love is a thing that is named in books. Seen on the screen of a theater, or told from word of mouth.

“I love you, I did what I could to save our future. I made the wrong decision leaving you. Ending this what the biggest mistake of my life and I want you back.”

“When everything fell apart, you were there to pick me back up. You taught me to live for myself again. In the end I fell in love with you, but you used that to your advantage. I hate you, I love you. I never want to see your face again.”

“I met you when I really tried to start fresh again. You’re a breath of something new and familiar all in one. You understand what I’ve gone through but I could never love you like you want. The spark is not there, I just hope I can find the strength to tell you one day.”

“Fitting into my new lifestyle, I met you and it has been an interesting ride thus far. I don’t know your intent and I think you figured me out. I have no clue what I’m doing and I don’t know how to love again.”

“We met by circumstance and I think we knew there was no love in our actions. Lust overpowered us and we took a chance to spend one night in each other’s warmth. Please forgive me, wherever you are, I chose to forget your name.”

Don’t fall in love again. Don’t fall in love with your best friend. Don’t think back to your ex. Don’t compare anyone to her. Don’t wish that she was here instead. Write stories to help drain what remains in your head of her. Break a heart, it makes you feel better, makes you feel in control. Don’t look over to see if they are around. Don’t call her. Don’t let her know you wanted her back the moment she started packing. Don’t let her know that you fell in love after her. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall down just to get back up. Don’t fall down. Don’t get back up.

Parental Guidance May Be Required:

Smoke. Drink. Play a chord. Repeat. Smoke. Drink. Play a chord. Repeat. Smoke. Drink. Yell at the wife. Play a chord. Repeat. Smoke. Drink. Scream at the wife. Hold your boy by the throat. Repeat. Smoke more. Drink More. Scream at the wife. Never leave chair. Yell at dog. Push sons away. Repeat. Cycle Break.                     Begin New Cycle… Sit in chair. Sit through pain. Smoke. Drink. Pop pill. Yell at dog. Yell at wife. Push sons away. Play a chord. Don’t be like me. Be a better man than I am. Repeat.

Wake. Smack alarm. Sleep more. Get up. School. Work. Drink. Think. Wake. Smack alarm. Sleep more. Get up. School. Work. Drink. Think. Wake. Smack alarm. Feel the pain in your insides. Try to sleep more. School. Work. Feel bitter in your own skin. Drink. Pain. Think. Pain. Wake. Smack alarm. Pain. Wish for death. No sleep. Lay in bed wishing for death. Get up. Drink. School. Work. Drink. Feel bitter. Pop a pill. Pain. Think. Pain. Sleep comes late. Pain. Wake. Pain. Smack alarm. Pain. Drink. Wish for death. I became my father. Think. Wish for death. Wish to be a child again.

The Physicality of Pain:

Pain has a weird way of working. It can pop up from the smallest of things wrong. The tingling, burning of the sting. It can be external and internal. The latter will break you down quicker than any other. Pills will not work. Changing your diet will not work. Good rest and healthy living haven’t done anything. There isn’t a moment when the pain is not present. Sickly, burning in the gut. Like acid melting away the linings and exposing sores. Open wounds hurt the most if not seen. Shaking hands, the tremor is omnipresent. Drinking numbs the pain. Making boys become men like their fathers. No sleep kills the light that was in dreamer’s eyes. The heart becomes bitter and trust becomes rare.

Ulcers plague my body. My stomach. They sting. They burn. They ache. I don’t eat. I don’t want to sleep. I’m so tired of my body doing this. I feel like death is with me when the pain is here. I almost wish that I were dead. I’m angrier, I’m more irritable. I don’t recognize myself anymore. When there is nothing but pain you lose sight of who you were.

Remnants of Humanity (In Return):

Soft scents. Warmth in her touch. How I miss this. This feeling of completion.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?”

I can’t handle this. All these memories, all this working through your problems bullshit. What if I never could handle life? What if I never could show anyone else how?

“I don’t know.”

“I still love you.”

I will fall into myself and feel that spiral down into the bottom. Remember to breathe. Feels more like choking. What if I can’t afford student loans after I graduate? What If I die alone? What if I missed my shot at true happiness? What If? What if?

“You’ll find someone better than me, you’ll move on.”

“How can I? When all I’ll do is compare everyone to you. No one will ever be you…”

How to Live Again (Dealing with Life):

There is no clear answer anymore…

  

In Closing:

There is still work to be done. If you wish to continue on with your betterment, look for Volume 2!