The Final Dream

A child's dream somewhere so serene
The sun never sets in their background
Voices rise as they sing one by one
Let then sing, let them sing, let them sing

A crooked man wants to steal their joy
He plots in rhymes and never dreams
To steal their voices and silence them
Wake them up, wake them up, wake them up

A mother's love shines down on them
Blinding the man till he runs
The children cry for help in their sleep
Please don't fear, please don't fear, please don't fear

A river runs through the fields
It intertwined and divides every way
Sepedrating the children from the man
It never ends, it never ends, it never ends

A man sees his end at the bottom
He fell into the river and he drowned
Then he woke alone, his childhood gone
Now he's awake, now he's awake, now he's awake

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

Growing Up

Do you remember when we were kids?
All the scabbed over knees and days getting lost among trees
Maybe you will keep this close to heart when time gets old

The last time I saw you smile seems like ages ago
The days become longer as the clock keeps on ticking
Waiting for the night so we can try to feel alive
I'm always sitting here on curb for you to call me out

The days seemed brighter when the world was still new
With our biggest concerns being where are friends are
Back to back we were always so restless in our actions

The last time I saw you smile seems like ages ago
Hiding in the dark trying to scare each other
Our hearts pacing faster than the footsteps
On hillsides we pretended to be kings and knights
Splitting the ticket to see a movie one summer evening

Stop and think where did that fire go to after it all
Did we give up our dreams for a lifetime of grief?
Maybe just maybe we will wake up into a better place

The last time I saw you smile seems like ages ago
When we shared our first kiss outside the school dance
Now I can't seem to share my words with someone I care for
My throat is dry and I am frustrated with myself
Why can't I just tell you what I want from all of this?

Do you remember when we were kids?
When we thought we'd be doctors, astronauts, or something bigger
And the end never seemed closer to any of us
Man, growing up never seemed like the way it's planned

Want

Time flows maybe a little too slow

I'm here waiting for you to signal

Follow through clean and cut out

This moment where I find your eyes

No longer tired and wishing for more

The barriers of stone and will crumble

Trembling in your wake and full of want

Let's escape this cave full of blue

Into a space where there is nothing but gold

Silver in your eyes hinting that maybe

We'll find a quieter place to rest our heads

Where my voice will not sink down

And I can tell you everything I bear

That I just don't want to lose you now

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