Archive for December, 2012

My Art and Soul

When I write down these words,
they’re no longer exclusively my own.
When I share them with the world,
anyone can provide them with a home.

Put them in your pocket.
Do with them what you’d like.
I will never tell somebody
my art and soul have a price.

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The Most

My hand still feels warm
from the last time yours was in mine.
Do you remember those happy months
when our hearts were intertwined?

We fell head over heels,
yet it ended all the same.
How could love that felt so real
go crashing down in flames?

It was like losing half of my body
the day you decided to walk away.
You said we didn’t stand a chance,
that there wasn’t a reason to stay.

But I do have a piece of you.
These memories remain intact.
Perhaps I could end up okay
if I can focus my mind on that.

I’m making a vow at this moment.
Single will I be for the rest of existence.
Beauty won’t sway me to break it,
nor any amount of persistence.

For after being with you,
the rest wouldn’t even come close.
I could never forget you.
You’re the woman I love the most.

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My heart is now an ugly piece of worthless art.
Put it on display for the public to love or hate.
Analyze the bleeding wounds and faded scars,
more than reminders of the mistakes I’ve made.

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I Won’t Put Up a Fight

We talked about it
while the moon beamed.
Life and death,
and everything in between.

What will I be remembered for
when I meet the end?
Will I be the man with
the broken heart nobody could mend?
The one people tried to save,
but without success?
The one who went and turned his life
into an utter mess?

Or could all of this
possibly change before I die?
I’m searching for answers,
but can’t find any in the sky.

Recently nothing has been
going the way I feel it should.
Others tell me things will improve,
but I don’t see how they could.

She left me
and she’s never coming back.
She found herself another man
to hold at night.
Now the stars are appearing
on that sheet of black,
and I keep telling myself
I won’t put up a fight.

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On Disliking Taylor Swift

The girls I know who insist on disliking Taylor Swift,
always quick to point out her minute imperfections,
are the very same girls who listen to Justin Bieber,
and who can’t seem to get enough of One Direction.

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For Hours

How many lives must I live
to have a chance with you?
How many poems must I write
for the message to get through?

I’m so weary from waiting,
but for you I’ll never quit,
even as the sea is raging
while the sky throws a fit.

No event could transpire
that would take away my hope.
I’m serious about my love.
None of this is a joke.

I know that one day you’ll give me a shot,
and I’ll prove all of my devotion to you.
The sun will come out of its hiding place,
and each cloud will step aside for the blue.

We’ll talk and laugh for hours,
until the morning starts to break.
We’ll learn each other inside out,
then we’ll have nothing left to say.

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The Day That It Rained

Choices can hurt
the voiceless ones.
They can’t object.
They can’t even run.

They’re forced from
their safe, warm homes
and taken to a place
they will never roam.

Innocence cruelly bound
to live deep underground.

The timing was wrong,
so we sang a sad song
with crashes of gong
that rang out too long.

The neighbors complained
the day that it rained,
so the police intervened,
and we all fled the scene,

heading for the forest
to live with the trees,
the insects, the pinecones,
and the wide, flowing streams.

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When I fall asleep, you’re in my dreams.
When I wake up, you disappear.
It’s as though you’re not real, but you do exist.
I’ve seen you, spoken to you, even.
Yet you’re so distant, and I worry
I’ll never get the best of you,
that I’ll live with images of you
but never feel the warmth of your hand
or touch the hair on your head.
And if I dream of you every night,
that’s better than having nothing,
but it still doesn’t fill my hollow heart.
When I see you and wake with a start,
I should tell you how I feel, but I’m afraid
that if you reject me, my fragile images will break.
The story of us is written in a book of mine,
but the pages become blank every time,
and I’m slowly losing the hope I once held
when I had my entire future ahead of me.
But things have changed, and aspects of my life are decided
because of the choices I made and the steps I didn’t take.
It could have been different, but I can’t go back now.
I’ll lay in the bed I’ve made, the one with the stained sheets,
and pretend that it’s okay, tell myself I’m happy.
But it’s the biggest lie I’ll ever tell,
one that cannot be forgiven or forgotten,
that will always be remembered and dwelt upon.
It will be my existence summed up in one sentence.
My life was a lie, and alone I’ll die,
with only my dreams to occupy my dwindling time.

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Sunday Morning

My alarm is going on and off this morning.
Church or more sleep, which will I choose?
An eternity in hell couldn’t feel any longer
than sitting through another sermon, I muse
as I reach over to once again hit the snooze.

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I don’t long for great wealth.
I’ve never understood greed.
It’s not about getting what I want,
but having the things I need.

Clean air to breathe.
Enough food to eat.
Some sort of shelter.
Friends around me.

Lasting treasure is waiting in heaven.
I don’t desire these temporary riches of gold.
What’s most important can’t be bought.
There isn’t a store where happiness is sold.

My wallet may be empty,
but my heart is always full.
Money doesn’t tempt me.
The Lord satisfies my soul.

What else could I ask for?
God has blessed me with so much.
I can truly say I’m content.
Every day I’m amazed by His love.

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