Vision locked on a beautiful light, as the day turns to night
I'm overwhelmed by a feeling that everything's alright,
I can't explain what casts across the sky this peaceful site,
it seems it's like brushstrokes that paint the hues
of oranges, reds and blues on a canvas of clouds guided by the breeze,
gently flowing through me as I breathe
it's the perfect remedy for distress,
the anger building up in my chest
is released in the air as I exhale my breath
My headphones are in and I'm bobbin to the beat,
the words are sweet with how they work with me,
but I heard it before, about a million times,
same thought, but different words and rhymes,
it'll be a brand new song, but I swear I heard this line,
and so my pen's on the pad in a worthless try,
to cooperate with my mind and work this time,
and work this rhyme, so it'll be unique,
and still perfectly describe the way I think,
I'm staring at a crossroad and both paths are looking deadly,
either way I go I'm terrified of what lies ahead of me,
but I will steadily force my weary legs to venture on
and pick my course for me,
cause the will in my weary mind is gone,
but "stay strong" I tell myself, so maybe I'll believe it,
but if I'll lie to myself, then who can I believe in?
I'm freezing in this hell, seeping with cold sweat,
the pain is seething, causing a shortness of my breath,
and I must continue, despite everything I'm feeling,
with this voice in my head, constantly screaming,
it's getting hard to fight the urge to smash my head until I'm bleeding internally,
The truth won't set you free
or change who you will be,
when desperate to put your mind at ease
despite the stress it brings
it only blocks your mind from good things to see
in a hopeless search for security,
too many questions and not enough answers
growing like a tumor, truth induced cancer,
mind eating rumors start spiraling faster
until you are the slave, and truth is the master.
I see the fork in the road so clearly,
every destination near me,
all the places I could be, if I plan accordingly,
I see the ends, I see the routes,
but not the ins or the outs,
I see me then, but can't see me now,
I see the possibilities of how I'll turn out
so clearly, but not enough to know how
to pick the route, or even figure out
what to do next, or what to do now.
Wake up and clear away the smoke,
and relax as best I can,
bong in hand, take a toke,
and blow it in the ceiling fan,
it settles me down, but only so much,
I still can't eat as time's approaching lunch,
and my mind's still racing, but it lost the lead,
taking second place with just a little less speed,
change the subject, turn up the beat,
freestylin out loud 'cause no one's here but me,
the first thing I speak is the first thing in mind,
and the second, and third, I think it all the time,
I guess the subject hasn't changed but with every single rhyme
I feel a little better to spend a little time
to untie the tether noosed aroun
Fields of grass swaying like ocean waves in the breeze,
shaded from the heat under overhanging trees,
from my feet to my knees,
face first in the leaves,
turn to the sky,
exhale long and breathe in deep,
close my eyes,
but not to sleep,
and drift slowly into daydreams.
Vision locked on a beautiful light, as the day turns to night
I'm overwhelmed by a feeling that everything's alright,
I can't explain what casts across the sky this peaceful site,
it seems it's like brushstrokes that paint the hues
of oranges, reds and blues on a canvas of clouds guided by the breeze,
gently flowing through me as I breathe
it's the perfect remedy for distress,
the anger building up in my chest
is released in the air as I exhale my breath
My headphones are in and I'm bobbin to the beat,
the words are sweet with how they work with me,
but I heard it before, about a million times,
same thought, but different words and rhymes,
it'll be a brand new song, but I swear I heard this line,
and so my pen's on the pad in a worthless try,
to cooperate with my mind and work this time,
and work this rhyme, so it'll be unique,
and still perfectly describe the way I think,
I'm staring at a crossroad and both paths are looking deadly,
either way I go I'm terrified of what lies ahead of me,
but I will steadily force my weary legs to venture on
and pick my course for me,
cause the will in my weary mind is gone,
but "stay strong" I tell myself, so maybe I'll believe it,
but if I'll lie to myself, then who can I believe in?
I'm freezing in this hell, seeping with cold sweat,
the pain is seething, causing a shortness of my breath,
and I must continue, despite everything I'm feeling,
with this voice in my head, constantly screaming,
it's getting hard to fight the urge to smash my head until I'm bleeding internally,
The truth won't set you free
or change who you will be,
when desperate to put your mind at ease
despite the stress it brings
it only blocks your mind from good things to see
in a hopeless search for security,
too many questions and not enough answers
growing like a tumor, truth induced cancer,
mind eating rumors start spiraling faster
until you are the slave, and truth is the master.
I see the fork in the road so clearly,
every destination near me,
all the places I could be, if I plan accordingly,
I see the ends, I see the routes,
but not the ins or the outs,
I see me then, but can't see me now,
I see the possibilities of how I'll turn out
so clearly, but not enough to know how
to pick the route, or even figure out
what to do next, or what to do now.
Wake up and clear away the smoke,
and relax as best I can,
bong in hand, take a toke,
and blow it in the ceiling fan,
it settles me down, but only so much,
I still can't eat as time's approaching lunch,
and my mind's still racing, but it lost the lead,
taking second place with just a little less speed,
change the subject, turn up the beat,
freestylin out loud 'cause no one's here but me,
the first thing I speak is the first thing in mind,
and the second, and third, I think it all the time,
I guess the subject hasn't changed but with every single rhyme
I feel a little better to spend a little time
to untie the tether noosed aroun
Fields of grass swaying like ocean waves in the breeze,
shaded from the heat under overhanging trees,
from my feet to my knees,
face first in the leaves,
turn to the sky,
exhale long and breathe in deep,
close my eyes,
but not to sleep,
and drift slowly into daydreams.
The charismatic recluse
with a loner's philosophy.
Birds of a feather,
the punishments that I endure,
I cannot work beneath
these pressures,
The know-nothing status
in the search for myself
Goes on with trial & error...
All in all, I am merely awaiting
my own return.
I was just nineteen years old
When I cut myself in two
The boy I wanted them to see
And the boy they never knew
Hid my hollow bones away
I've been hiding ever since
Yes, you may see the odd smile
But only ever a glimpse
But my heart was never broken
It was born in several pieces
And with every passing year
The size of the segments decreases
I was just nineteen years old
When I died for the first time
I did not cope so well
With leaving my childhood behind
I didn't want to face up
To these wretched bent back blues
But will I give in to the struggle?
No, with respect I refuse
See my grandfather gave me
The stubborn heart o
I ask of fortune nothing by squibblyquill, literature
Literature
I ask of fortune nothing
I ask of fortune nothing
and of good grace little
It does not behoove a body
to cultivate ingratitude
And worse uncomely calculation
Rather life is to be lived
For the gift it no doubt is
And though disarray and discordance thrive aplenty
My penny goes to fill the squat bucket of peace
And when my understanding can but plod along apace
Of the race, disgrace, the fight and the unfolding
It is not for ration to leave off its steady ways
And thus there I cling with my oar hugging the shore
Of life's odd currents, twists and bends
So tell me not oh how why or when the storm ends
I dreamed about you last night,
and it was the second time.
I saw you standing there,
so beautiful it's a crime
I dreamed about you last night,
and I cried in my sleep,
because I know that I've gone
far, far too deep.
I dreamed about you last night
looking at me from above
and I cried cuz it's the only way
I'll see the one I love.
I don't have much to say, unless you're interested in what I am saying. I feel like people aren't usually trying to hear what I have to say, so I listen, I'm a good listener. But I love to write, it's almost like I'm actually being heard, ignoring the fact that my work is going mostly unseen. I'm just glad what I've written has been said, so the people that need to hear it can hear it. So here it is, listen to it if you want.. And if anything you read here makes you want to talk to me, please talk to me, I like to hear what other people think of it all. I'd be happy to just listen, or even share thoughts about anything, or if you're trying to listen, I'd be happy to explain my thoughts.
Favourite genre of music: originally a metalhead Favourite style of art: Trip art
You know how sometimes you'll be trying so hard to sleep in, but your mind won't quit? I hate it.. Not only can I not stop thinking, but the thoughts get progressively more negative. I think that's why I can't stop thinking, like maybe if it was all pleasant thoughts I'd have no problem going back to sleep. I don't even CARE though... I'm just tired..
What's it for? besides rubbing lonesomeness in the face of all those without someone to call their valentine. It's the day outcasts are cast out for being outcasts. The already lonely only get lonelier, and the loved are all the more loved. I guess the good way to look at Valentine's day is that it should be about spreading love. Which sounds great.. Maybe it's a good way to get couples to get over petty things, or to inspire anyone feeling alone to get themselves out there. Like go on already, because these expensive pink hearts are supposed to help you with that.
Lately I haven't been so up to writing, I've been keeping a pretty consistent negative tone in all my work lately and I feel like it shows. I don't really like how it turns out, I'm dissatisfied with the topic from the start, I'm annoyed with my need for flow and rhyme, and to be honest I just am sort of annoyed with my work all together for some reason.. It might be because it's no good. Or I just need a break until the real stuff comes back naturally. A break sounds good actually. Eventually the creative juices will flow again and I'll have a masterpiece in the making before I know it. hopefully.
I'm just tired lately, stressed about the u