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Author's Note/Disclaimer: No special meaning or anything, just a quick one I thought of over the break. Happy New Year, everyone! :)

It's been a year,
or two, the best;
remembered all 'fore then,
forgot the rest;

'I promise', you'd say;
gleefully bright;
a year or two,
to fix it true,
then day inclined to night.

Month after month,
after month once again;
Had I lost a once-loved friend?

Then it struck,
a rhapsodic chord;
Lo! Lo!
It moved not toward.

Not back or forth,
nor left or right,
nor up, nor down,
but out of sight.

The lights dimmed down,
way down low;
the curtain had fallen
on this once great show.

Pondering, pondering,
remembering you,
but then I thought a thought quite true:
Perhaps you had once loved me, too?

Remembrance

Author's note: I actually based this off of a song. The general theme of it is that there are all of these memories that keep surfacing. Some of them are good. Some of them are bad. The character wants to get rid of all of them though because the good memories just remind him of a bittersweet time when things are good and bad memories only remind him on how he managed to mess up everything. This is his way of asking for penance for everything he did, hoping to cleanse out the memories in the process.

Sorry.
I'm sorry for who I am.
Sorry I couldn't be better.
I'm sorry that I wasn't everything,
I know I never added up to what you wanted,
I hope you know I cared,
But everything crumbles around me,
I think I'll disappear,

If I could hold back this tide,
Would you clean me out inside,
'Cause memories are surfacing,
And agony is flaying me,
Tore through my mind and I can't see,
A brighter or better future for me,
I remember all the hurt,
The pain I bring, hopes in the dirt,
And shattered dreams.

I remember a happy life,
Filled with my dreams, but then I died,
Something in me gave away,
I broke down quickly, now the world is grey,
Won't ever be whole again,
These shattered hopes stuck in my side,
Blinding pain runs through my side,
I'm not your perfect, prince of hope,
I'm living here, with no place for dreams,
No place to live and aspire for more,
I'm not good enough, I know this now,
Never even had a chance,
I won't take flight.

A Heart is Listening

 Author's Note: I wrote this back in March of this year and stumbled upon my breakthrough of realizing where I was starting to stand amongst me peers. I've always been the different, independent one, hence why it's all free verse. I didn't want to use fancy diction because I wanted to get my point across that I want to find my place amongst those like me because it's too difficult living in a world where you're not valued.

They call me different
I know they are right
It's because I listen differently than they do
I hear their cases of victimitis, their backstabbing
But I also hear the beautiful voices
Foreign to most
Singing songs of love, beauty and pain
I care to understand
To not be limited to one voice
I realize they aren't that different from me
They have hearts that break, tears that fall
Words that can kill or heal
And I want to be like those who already
Know how to listen with their heart
And hear what is truly being said.

Alone in the Dark

Author's note: The poem is about being/feeling trapped by society. Whether it be an individual or society as a whole, in the end, there is no one in that 4x4 white walled prison cell with you. No matter how much someone says they care, how close you are, or even those who have a plan on how to keep in touch, it will fail. You will be alone. No one will be there to comfort you. And then it'll end.

Sitting silently staring at these walls,
Wondering what I did to end up all alone,
Did I scare you with the thoughts inside my head?
Or was it just because you always wished me dead?
Thinking I had empathy when really I was meant to leave,
I can't really blame you for getting tired of my life,
I'd leave myself too if I only had a knife,
But here I stay, glaring at these walls,
Hating myself for every one of my flaws,
I do not think that I deserve reprieve, 
Just wishing that I didn't have to breathe.
I cannot stand the suffocating misery,
Trapped in this room where silence is the king,
I remembered laughter and a vague feeling of warmth,
Everything I failed to do and how it all went wrong,
So I'll scream at these white walls, hoping they'll collapse,
But echoes just ricochet back to me,
A crushing and depressing sense of loneliness,
Fuels my hate towards myself and all that I believed,
I didn't know what I could-should have said,
I don't know why you ran away,
I know I'm not the best of faces,
I know that problems would arise,
But I wanted to take that chance to hope and dream forever,
Leap to my feet and cleanse the pain away.
But I tripped.
I fell.
I don't know what I did.
I failed you,
It's over,
So now I'm all alone.

Battling

Author's Note: Judgment. Criticism. Harassment. Torture. We all reach a moment in our lives when we've been mentally, socially, even physically beaten, and all happiness seems to be drained out of us. Society is indecisive, humans are insignificant, the world is interrupted. We fight for as long as our bodies allow, but after a certain period, failure reaches us, and cracks our shell, revealing our darkest and deepest. Though our bodies need eternal rest, our everlasting mental strength lifts us. I incorporated anadiplosis throughout the entire poem, and the first and last words are the same to represent how we are always, battling and fighting. Sorry for the incredibly long author's note; hope my message gets across.  


Battling tears as they forcefully erupt from my eyes
Eyes are swollen from agony
Agony, the epitome of my existence
Existence which deteriorates over time

An enraged flame aches to eradicate
Eradicate a race where no on is significant
Significance is the anguish in each soul
Soul of which is nonexistent

Irritated by society's forecast
Forecast of expectations
Expectations which I can never
Never attain

A gust of wind, a hurricane
Hurricane which washes away
Away it dissolves my feeble shell
Shell that is bruised by the bitter and bleak

Feeble shell, yet an indestructible mind
Mind that is still stable after hatred
Hatred which will not define
Define me, define my purpose

Will you ever notice?
Notice me standing here?
Here with little hope, as I am growing weak.
Weak enough to evaporate, and be replaced

Living and breathing, not for all
All I desire is a simple response
A response which I am not destined to hear
Never will I hear, even through constant battling

Dämonen

Author's Note: Wow, another "deep" metaphorical poem. So edgy. But really, though, this poem takes place during the aftermath of WWII. The title, if it isn't pretty obviously a cognate, is German for "Demons". Basically, it's an analogous...erm...analogy to the eviler face of humanity, and the destruction it can - it has - caused. Enjoy!...I think?

Was it worth it?

I'll ask again.

Was it worth it?

Of course it wasn't.

It never is.

Animals.

we're animals;

nothing more.

Human?

Impossible.

Cruel.

Damn straight.

Some call us monsters.

Who?

The faces in the snow;

the bodies in the courtyard;

the ashes in the field;
the bullet holes and charred skin;
it's so hard to forget.

Perhaps we have to remember.

Perhaps.

Perhaps there is some far off shore;

away from the trains,

the screams and sobs at night,

with crystal-clear water;

sand, white as silk;

a cool, tall Cocoa tree,

begging me to rest under its shade;

Out of the light.

Hidden.

Exactly.

And if there isn't?

Perhaps there is another world;

in which the trains never came,

the ovens never roared,

the chambers stayed empty;

God is forgiving in that one.

I hope.

And if he isn't?

If no God forgives a man of these actions,

he is making the right choice;

I'd rather face an eternity in Hell than

one

more

night

in the camps;

Watching the rats gnaw at their fingers,

watching their souls dig for freedom.

waiting,

oh so quietly, like a leaf suspended in the cool, night air,

for the moment they rot.

And if they don't?

They always do.

They always do.

Hate

Author's note: Is this directed at someone? Is it just ambiguous? Who knows? While writing this poem, I focused primarily on this greater sense. Although leaving the person would not be in their best interests, s/he's reached a point where s/he can look beyond his/her own life and sacrifice his/her own happiness in order to stop dragging the other person down.

Shiver as I walk away,

Don't want to leave but I can't stay,

I'm a cancerous, malignant growth,

I cause you pain, and won't let go,

So for your sake I'll crawl from your side,

Leaving everything behind,

It's for your good that I must leave,

Fade into painful memories,

I don't deserve to have you in my life,

You helped me grow whilst I turned a blind eye,

Yet you listened to my pain fueled rants,

And suicidal memories,

Showed me that someone would care,

If I never showed or reappeared,

So thanks for everything you’ve done for me,

Ending wars that I wage on myself,

And tried to show me the sun,

But I’m dragging you down, an impediment,

I can’t carry my own weight,

I’ll cut myself loose and fall to the earth,

So you can reach the stars.

Clockwork.

Author's Note: Another cliche, but this one revolves around the concept of isolation. Again, enjoy! :)

In a country with no name;
in a home with no love;
in a room with no memories;
sat a man with no heart;

The man, a tinkerer;
a creator of sorts;
he was the talk of the village;
the tinkering man;

The man with no heart;
in the room with no memories;
in the home with no love;
in the country with no name;

He killed his wife;
he eats human meat;
he's missing an eye,
a leg,
a heart;
that's what they say;
the villagers' gossip;

He hears them all;
all thanks to his clocks;
built by the man with no heart;
in the room with no memories;
in the house with no love;
in the country with no name.

Orders

A human intervention

A bent metal propeller

Sidestep the reality

And dig into the mawkish mud

Concealed from policing rains

The shouts are a muffled pindrop

 The snakes rattle in ardor

Echoing through ear-splitting silence

Kill the sound of their muddied squelch

Kill the bite of their wretched scent

Kill the thought of guilt deserved

Kill the idea that humans once were

I fall to my knees, lachrymose

But my body stays standing

Stumble into the night

‘Continue your orders’

Golden brown skin

A jacket that isn’t mine

Bejeweled and festooned

Placental mush

Gravity.

Author's Note: I didn't really plan on writing one, but if anything, this poem has to do with stress or pressure we face in everyday life. Enjoy!

Falling...
   
            Falling...

                        Falling...

I fell for miles, it seems;
a dot in a void;
a face to forget;
words on the wind

The pain is quick, I hope;
that's what they said;
I trusted them;
did they trust me?

Under clouds, above Earth;
it
     all
          seems
                     so
quaint.

so innocent;
                        peculiarly,
                                              so free.

                 
                       

Bleeding

Author's Note: I wrote this poem while trying to emulate the exquisite agony of a shunned person. In the attempt of trying to capture the feeling of "Sehnsucht", I decided to gear the poem towards the internal rage one would feel. This overriding sense of self-hatred. Forgetting everything you know. Hating everything you stood for and believed. Waging a war on yourself.

Lacerated hearts still bleed,
I tore out mine and hid the key,
Hid it deep beneath the floor,
For with my heart, I want no more,
Mental holocausts burn inside me,
To cleanse my mind with agony,
And crucify my mind and soul, 
Apocalypse of all I know,
It's judgement day for every hope,
No fantasy I still believe,
So light them up and salt the bones,
Achieved internal purity.

The Peephole

Red brick façade

Winds pumped through sealed cracks

Drapes pulled over tinted windows

Just enough light to see

The door was locked and boarded

A peephole sometimes darkened

But the blackness crept away

And left a clock to tick into the silence

The door had once opened

To a volcano painted in white ash which he loved

But the grounds inevitably shook

And the paintings fell from his bleeding walls

Molten redness flowed

And escaped the cracks

Of the beaten wall

And sealed him in

White powdered lungs

Empty suffocation

A life limited to ashy furniture

And an empty peephole

Home

Authors note: This is free form, calling it poetry might be a stretch. Might be, and by might I mean not at all. Poetry is flowing of thought, beauty of language, swelling of human emotion, release of pain. Poetry is whatever you want it to be, and that's why I hold it so dear. No form, no rule can hold poetry to its pitiful standards, and the moment poetry's wings are clipped by the blind attacks of ignorant fools, hellbent on tearing apart the creativity and beauty that forever floats above their grasp, is the moment I will cease to find joy in the warm rays of sun breaking crisp air on winter morns.

Taking everything in, the rolling hills, the hues of gold and crimson that have been splattered across the countryside by Fall’s arrival. This is what home is. This is what brings breath to the rhythm of evening’s tide, this breeze, is what whisks away the suffocating apprehension, this is where I forget what it means to be a slave to a society trapped in unyielding monotony, and the crisp air brings clarity with each puff of life. This is a place of beauty, a place of freedom, a place of wondrously apathetic inspiration, flowing with the peace and grace of human thought in lulled simplicity.

Blind Visions

Author's note: This poem is meant to emphasize the cyclical nature of life with repetition. The best way to describe the idea it plays upon is a cog in a machine. Every single day, it turns over and over again. There is no variation. There is no end in sight. There is no hope for release.

Tired.
My schedule runs its cyclical path.
Tired of caring.
Another day of living this life.
Tired of feeling.
Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
Tired of aching.
Happiness and energy run dry.
Tired of sleeping.
Once I was so full of joy.
Tired of breathing.
Now I taste the bitterness.
Tired of moving.
Nothing here but loneliness.
Tired of dreaming.
Everything I do in vain.
Tired of trying.
The American Dream lies to my face.
Tired of believing.
Work towards your dreams to and die in haste.
Tired of knowing.
Can't care about this anymore.
Tired of being tired.
Rest.

The Unknown

Author's Note: This has nothing to do with anything...I just love writing poetry :)

I located the place where I first began

Began to unwind

Began to seek

Masked wonders of an unknown destiny

An indescribable utopia 

Filled with an abundance of wishes

Filled with only great hope

Located is the power to fulfill every ambition

It is an abode where the impossible is possible

And the flowers bloom daily

And the skies are free of clouds

The sunshine is everlasting

Soaring above the atmosphere 

To feel dynamic, invincible, unstoppable

To discard pain, suffering, and anger

This is where we can...let go

The deepest secrets we shall uncover

Something will be unveiled

Something will reveal itself to us

And we will experience the utmost wonder

Wash Away

AN: Alright, last one for today, I promise. This piece is, if I remember correctly, about Zeus commanding raindrops to thunder down upon the earth and wash away its crimes.

We wait as trembling raindrops
Suspended in the blue
Stretching toward the peal of thunder--
Seeking lightning's rule

The master with his bright bolt
Will sit upon his throne
Lightning on his burnished fingers--
Claiming it his own

A flash strikes and we tumble
The clouds don't break our fall
Parting like the gates to heaven--
Music in their call

The thunder roars above us
The buckled sky sinks down
Thousands of its teardrops melting--
Earth's own drizzling gown

We wash away the world
We wash away its sin
Whispering, murmuring--
Drowning the dead again--
Heaven's own messenger kin

Small World

AN: This poem is once more about my depressing characters of my trilogy, who enjoy abandoning each other repeatedly and also getting accidentally murdered by their best friends' sisters after promising never to leave again (whoops). The sun always sets, and so must each life, right? Even if the ones left behind are left starving for light.

Your eyes reek of blue sunset
Their dark ash faded to black
You promised the sun always rises--
And yet, your eyes never came back

Your hands gentle and lukewarm
Their heat could strike up a fire
You promised you'd come from the ashes--
And yet, warm hands did you retire

Your heart was doused in poison
Its beautiful misery drowned
You promised its beating eternity--
And yet, your heart could not be found

I guess it's a small world after all
I guess you're a liar after all

Lost Without You

Author's Note: This is written based on my grandmother's death last October. Following an ABBA pattern, I feel as if it captures the pain of separation from a loved one. Yay for my first post on this blog :)

An unimaginable existence 

Without you guiding me

A never ending misery

Detached by so much distance.

Though you rest peacefully

Your spirits cloud my presence

Your laughter echoes from heaven

And leaves me in melancholy.

Slipping from your grasp 

As I return to reality

Which once held glee

Drifting away leaving a barren gap.

That summer, when I left

For the airport to fly home

You had advised me to fly and roam

But never returned, as you were greeted with death.

Joy or Grief Possessed

A/N: Hello, fellow poetry clubians. I found a few decent poems buried in my archives, so I thought I'd share them. This one was part of my final project in Honors English last year, and it went with my theme of "loneliness vs. solitude", and also is partially about some of the characters in my book series, who are just full of all sorts of tragedy--like abandoning each other and killing each other's families. You know. Usual character development stuff. Anyway, consider this my debut!

Four years ran fleeting by
Stole ashes and the urns
Brothers, sisters, mother, father--
A monster's treason burns

I reign in solitude
Or is it loneliness?
Empty hearts and empty chambers--
Is joy or grief possessed?

The joy is less of jingles
And more a silent sound
Screams are vanished, dreams awaken--
My heart holds high its crown

But grief is naught but poison
Its claws clutch broken souls
Chairs are cold and candles burned out--
And frozen are the coals

This world holds hope in gloom
But hope I cannot see
Monsters stole my solitude's light--
And loneliness stole me.

Wind

Somewhere
In stillness

A bit of air floated

And spun

It twisted

And folded

Over and over itself

Carrying what came with

Smoke’s signal

Forest’s seed

Grass’s hymnal

Clouds’ speed

A homeostatic churning

Wrapping the earth in embrace

Brushing past every human

Uniting our scattered race

Lurking Ivy

Maybe our demeanors never change

Maybe our minds never stay the same

Maybe our souls are damned for eternity

Maybe our actions will change our destinies.

We may grow like ivy crawling up the side of our homes

We may be frozen by the first frost of the season

Trapping us in a state we can no longer escape

Until spring comes to thaw us out

We may become ivy that blossoms

Blossoms into beauty with no imperfections

Blossom and have potential to be something astounding

There is potential lurking…

We may become ivy that grows thorns

When our thorns harm what affects us

It releases a deadly, dangerous poison

And infects our hearts with feelings like envy, turning them black

No matter the ivy growing…

Whether it is poisoned or healing

The ivy has potential, whether it be helpful or harmful

But it is the ivy's choice, a choice we can not influence--ever.

Ivy is a part of nature

It grows in size and shape and develops individuality

Ivy climbs, falls, dips, rises, like simple emotions

Its vines twist and turns so they are that of Daedalus's labyrinth…

Good or bad, wrong or right, it is not for us to decide

We may be frozen, we may be thawed

However, we will not let anything stop us

We are the ivy that is growing

With a certain potential lurking…

Fountain's Peace

I defied the life from whence I came.

I defied the light that lit my face.

The floods both rise up with the rain.

And wash tears into this broken place.

The winds will whistle in gusty psalm.

The clouds will drum on the atmosphere.

A boy still lies in a fountain, calm.

A fountain with neither waves nor fear.

The boy, he sat and thought.

It wasn’t a question of worth

Or a question of faith

Or a question at all

All questions have answers

Right?

He wasn’t fond of mysteries

Or keen to believe

He asked many questions

But the only answers he kept

Were his own

On a bright cloudless day

He saw not the beauty

He felt not the warmth

He just saw empty skies

Empty skies

He would ask himself

Wherefore art thou?

But he never got to the last words

Because he realized his words

And felt silly

And there,

In scattered restlessness he slept

In the shadows of a melting kite

A whistling bird mechanically curled

As black smoke follows it down

He’d whisper a name to the silence

But only hear the rattles and clatters

of armored bones.

A home’s not a home when alone.

An eternal dance

Author’s note: So here we are again! More words, slugs forced to take on the beautiful wings of a butterfly. This one makes a bit more sense than the last. This the simple representation of the clashing of our inner animal-ism, humanism, and pitiful perspective of our perfect presence.

Two foes

Pulling, in perfect harmony

Pushing life to normalcy

Holding frailty in it’s gentle hands

With swift slashes

and wicked lashes

The soft ones scream in peace

Beg for reconciliation

Blind to perfect amity

Sinister silence

Sweet serendipity

Perilous plague

Precious peace

Vindictive violence

Vivid violet

Ferocious fear

Fading fire

Beast and man, fate entwined

The kiss of each we have defied

Poetic Lines United

Author's note: So if you read this, none of it will make sense, and really it doesn't, it's not supposed to. It's just a random collection of sporadic thought, emulating the brain's ridiculous movement from thought to thought. So don't try to make sense of it, just enjoy the sense it doesn't make, see what you need to see, hear what you need to hear, let black lines on flashing screens flood your soul and consume your thought, don't fight the desultory nature of the mind, embrace the chaos, embrace the uncontrollable flood of ideas with every new sight and sound. Embrace your mind.

In thick streams of pale blue

falling down in sullen hues

It screams, it begs, How can I take!

The pain of memory from                 Nothing

The fluid that flows in rhythmic bliss

From the soft touch of a gentle kiss

With a playful touch of mirth and joy

Dancing

Hope, fear, Christmas cheer.

The white feathers call for vengeance

Questions

The Aliens, all of them

Time, is not the same

Everything is pulling apart, that’s what holds it all together

Adam and Eve ate from the tree, why can’t we?

And I will die terrified.

Hanging By The Hemp

Author's Note: The poem is pretty self-explanatory. The shortness of the poem is meant to emphasize how quickly a life can simply end. This style of poetry is intended to leave as much of an impact as possible by simply ending.

Taut rope clenching 'round my throat,

Sorry note pinned to my chest,

Kick the chair from under me.

Sojourn

Swaddled in tentacled illusion,

Naked as a clam.

Swallowed by rancid confusion,

Birthed into wet soot.

Look at me, look at me, son.

Look me in the eyes.

You’re on fire, you’re on fire, son.

I can see it in your eyes.

Pulled from dirt by grimy hand,

Kicking to break away.

A light shone into the darkness brief,

And pierced a tiny veil.

Show me, show me your love, my son.

My heart is beating for you.

I fought and fought a war, my son.

Your heartbeat couldn’t save you.

From Your Daughter

Author's Note: I told some of you to be prepared. I'm at my dad's this weekend so I'm basically putting out years worth of pent up anger into my poetry. Yay for feelings. The rhythm is AABB to clearly state how much dysfunctional control there is.

I know I'm not what you wanted
I'm sorry you continue to be haunted
Sorry, daddy, that I still remind you of her
I never meant to be like mom, that's for sure

But who was the one that threatened me with their fist?
Who was the one that left me in the mist?
Who threw me away for a woman who was better?
Who was the one that disregarded my letter?

You were supposed to be my king, dad
The times we were supposed to have should have been rad
Instead you drowned yourself in greed
You began to destroy our relationship, indeed

It's not that I hate you with major passions
It's just that I hate all your past actions
Sorry I couldn't live up to someone like your wife
But I do not want your style of life

Daddy, while I hate what you've done
You should know it was you who begun
To create a woman who tries to see
All the good that she can be

I'm growing up now daddy, and it's time I moved on
To spread my wings far into the vast beyond
I know who I want to be now daddy
And I'm beginning to become her already