Posts tagged poems

What’s the color of the wool of the lamb that you’re seeing?
Is it pure in it’s whiteness or black and deceiving?
Is the darkness so clear because this light is fleeting?
Or is the nature of me to assume that it’s leaving?
Cause I’m screaming for reasons, but I’m no longer cheating
Or maybe I am because the rules are conceding
If this vision is needed for the sake of believing
I’m glad I can see even through all the beatings
Because all of the bleeding and the crying and teething
Was a process of growing and maturing and breeding
I’ve learned many lessons and now it’s time for heeding
Giving weight to the fact that I am no longer freezing
That my heart is now beating and even though it can stutter
I’m not defined by the hatred cause I’m also a lover
It’s taken time to discover that there was also another
An opposite side of me that’s behind walls to cover
And so when I fall or stutter or lose myself to the darkness
When the shadows are black and my wool’s colored heartless
When I’m looking for targets with the anger I’m parsed with
I can look for the one who can end what has started
And she will take both my hands and bleach out the blackness
And remind me of love and how to forget the distractions
She will look in my eyes and profess that she loves me
And suddenly this world becomes a little less ugly

From the Reservoir (5/19/2008)

I’ve grown sick of the nonsense and non stop barrages
I’ve painted the targets but I try to stay harnessed
And under control with my hands on the dials
As I face all these tests and these nerve bending trials
But control’s not my style, in the past I would lose it
I would flip every lid and then do something stupid
Another war waged out of anger and passion
Torn by the hate and it’s ways of attraction
I pray for distraction, I need it this moment
This rage is so tempting and so very potent
I’m twitching and zoned in on my retribution
A share of the venom and of my destitution
It’s my best solution, the only thing that I know
To give back the pain from the sting that I own
I’d bring it all home and hand you the suit case
Then strangle you up with my own fucking shoe lace
Cause it’s not a new case, but a stored up reaction
Calm fades to black as I hear of your actions
And my satisfaction can be found in the violence
At the hands of the man who had tried to be silent
But I won’t regress there, this will not break me
I’ll say what I say. When I say it, you’ll hate me
And then you can take me for all that I am
The guy in control of the mind of this man

Painted Weak (5/14/2008)

I wonder what you think when you’re reading all these lines
When you’re hanging on the vibe of this analyzing mind
When my pride is on the line and it’s right before your eyes
Do you understand that I don’t exaggerate or lie?
That it’s really simply fine for me to show my emotions
Exposing them all in the struggle to control them
Do you think that I should hold them and concentrate the weakness?
Am I painted weak by this humbleness and meekness?
Cause it’s become my thesis that laying out the pieces
Builds a certain view of me that contradicts completeness
And creates a partial view of a battle that is ceaseless
And misconstrues the facts and paints me into weakness
But underneath the reasons and the battles that I write out
Lies the spirit of a fighter and you can not put the light out
Just because I lie down and attempt to rest these nerves
Doesn’t mean you’re seeing everything when I vent these words
But I guess it seems absurd to assume you’re seeing past this
After all, I have these walls, and a tendency to mask this
I’m taking all my lashes and storing negativity
It’s propane for the fire that I use to burn what’s given me
Cause every day it lives in me and waits for me to call it
A viciousness and anger that will pick up all the fallen
Puzzles once completed will be shattered by the fury
You can call me weak, but the mirror is my jury

Notes: On the technical side of things, it’s not my strongest piece, but I haven’t written in a while and wanted to get something down. As for the meaning, I simply wonder if the fact that I write about my emotions in my poetry causes people to assume I’m weak.

In this time as I transition and step off the precipice
It can be hard to stay so level and never question this
Have I invented this as way to handle problems
Or can it be much more after I have gone and solved them?
Cause I was on the bottom and was drowning in the apathy
Alcohol and scars replaced the thoughts of living happily
And in that time of tragedy, I could light up all these pages
As though the flow were airborne and highly damn contagious
But the hatred in my veins was a venom to be taken
Corroding every source of my strength when I was breaking
I was sitting, facing pain and the anger it was laced with
Apathy, not patience, was the way I chose to face it
And it got me no where racing, spinning every wheel again
Numbness, my acquaintance, it’d never let me feel again
It’d never let them steal again and take away what mattered
Nothing was much better than a something that was shattered
But that pattern has been breaking, I’m no longer feeling battered
You can hear the chitter chatter of my heart beat’s pitter patter
I now sit atop the ladder and can see how much I’ve risen
And maybe it’s not wrong to write thanks for what I’m given
Cause my vision has been altered, it’s complete without division
I’m wholly seeing her and this heaven that I sit in
This sunny world I live in can inspire in it’s own way
And I wouldn’t give it up for the fire, simply no way
I’ll aspire, in my own way, to always be a better writer
To be a better son, better boyfriend, better fighter
And you’ll never see me tire or fall backwards to the fire
These words will find their place cause I won’t let them retire

Notes: As I’ve become content with life, I’ve found it hard to get worked up enough about anything to write. Truth is, I can write about negative feelings very well, but happiness is really new to mean and I’m always afraid of being too cheesy with it or lacking any real depth. This is me discussing my struggle.