Cloudy Mind

   

“No Evil” is the title of this weird image I drew. It’s a play on the hear no evil, speak and see no evil phrase.

You know when you feel so drugged it stops all motion and thought to the point where you feel like you’re in an unfriendly cloud of existence. As if I only think I am here, but it could be a bunch of foolishness, unpleasant but nothing permanent, so nothing to worry about….It’s that kind of thing. Anyway, I just came from a day where I spent more money on clothes than anything I really wanted. It was impulse buying. I’ve felt empty and I know I cannot trust myself with money, or with anything actually. I’ve had to literally go hours and hours without eating because I had to break the cycle I was in of eating more than I needed, just to fill myself with something. I need a pet of my own, I need a damn job, I need to sell something. I need to lose something major that will force me to take a new risk. Now is the perfect time to take a new risk.

This poem is what it is….It gets the small point I wanted to make across.

Here, only tragedy

Before the blind can see

 

The unwise will think they’re right

The commoners will stay in line when

Revenge is justice

 

With all who are corrupted and too

Sightless to tell

Where they kill the sinners simply hoping

There’s a hell.

 

 

The Bleed

I polished this a little bit more and thought it right to re-post it now. It is all a true story, one no one in my life knows about, and one I don’t ever intend to explain to them, because of how difficult it would be to honeslty understand where I am coming from without being sickened or afraid. I could be wrong, but I just don’t think they’re ready for something like it, and I am not ready myself to have the words leave me.

At a selfish hour, with rightly selfish thoughts

Lines so overwhelmed in agony are taught

To be my shock from a pleading secrecy

To scream; to justify the pain and the release.

 

Generous moonlight, illuminated tears

I hide my twitching sanity in sheer.

A lasting sorrow with night only to care

It’s the leaning, slit, the drip and stare.  

 

Reap, to rid my eyes of their breathing hue.

The nightmarish things I put my soul through

Dangerous hope with razor hostility

The longing, the depth in red defeat.

 

There’s a throbbing chill, I’ve practiced this before.

Dark dream, reality, the feeling I’ve prayed for

The shadows wade low, grieving what they see,

Swallowing the sight of a desperate bleed.

 

 

 

For Death

I’ve been scattered. This picture is one I took of a flower in my back yard, edited and all. You know when you are just so aware of what you can’t control that you stop trying? That’s how it’s been lately, with everything I attempt to do. Like today, I tried to draw another portrait and when it wasn’t working out, I threw it aside, went to writing something and realized how scattered my lines and verses where getting….it’s to the point where I’ve gotten lost in pointlessness. I’m not making sense, and my poem probably won’t either, but it was written after I wrote the first two lines about a week or two ago. It stems from those two lines is what I mean.

Dew upon the rotten blooms

The stench, its leak of secrecy

Cleanse this air of all its use

And choke the life of me

 

The nightshade drinking up all dreams

A taste of sweet and acid burst

Rise of vapors whisperings

I listen for the curse

 

Eternal roots of the yew

Unseal and peel and bleed in wealth

Melt this grave, drain and consume

And take my soul in death

 

 

 

 

 

Something new….

I have been very withdrawn lately. Frustrated with people, and self-hating and bent on what to do about the storm in my head, thoughts that don’t know what to do with themselves. Anyway, I have been taking more photos, and writing a whole lot more than is normal for me. Writing about things that I usually stay away from because it was always hard for me to put very much feeling behind them. One thing that helps though is this list of questions I wrote down to ask myself everytime I want to write and get stuck on what I want to say. They are questions to help me twist the meaning and disguise the truth a bit better.

I wish I had more to say. Well, here are some new poems. One is called Spring, I started it months ago but just recently decided it was worth trying to finish (I suck at nature poems it seems…lol) The other one is something that came out of no where really. I was reading some Dorothy Parker poems and the structure of it is loosely based off her style. It has no title yet, but it’s about someone dreaming a terrible thing happened to someone they loved all because they never read into the signs the person gave them. I think about that a lot. People close to me being so blind to what’s right there, waiting and hoping they will see before it’s too late.

Spring

 

The sun has a new voice today

Fresh life within each brilliant ray

Soon, the grass will not be crushed

Beneath the frozen tears of

Gray winter’s monotony

It is of lush and green, we dream

Colors will soon have a scent

And textures will feels so exotic

We will all awake in spring

Nature’s kiss upon our cheek

————

 

Hear me, hear me

Crumbling

Ready for the fall

See me, see me

Tumbling

And do nothing at all

 

Bleeding, screaming

Ruining

My body’s broken through

Watching, you plead

“Forgive me”

It drains your living hue

 

Sullen, speaking

Riddling

I left a little clue

Fearful dreaming

Mindfully

Thinking of what I’ll do

 

Praying, heeding

Wondering

You cry a silent shame

Searching, seeing

Finally

Deciphering my pain

 

 

 

 

What does it mean?

I’m not sure, but I wrote this to get me thinking about life, what it means, and the difficulty in between every success and failure. Things we do and what we fear and how one thing leads to something else. A song inspired me to write this, and I couldn’t help but mention eveything that ran through my mind…lol.

 

I am purpose, the worship and religion

The reason you get up

The second chances you are given

The unfair and trickery

I am the grief and despair

The moments you realize when no one has to care

 

I am the frigid to the eye of a young

The pending witness

I am the accusation

The fall from grace, the lie, the pain

Fresh hate blown down the throats of the followers

The new born disability, the cigarette, the hearse

 

The truth, the evidence, the shame, the gray

The responsibility neither sheep

Nor leader will claim

I am the confrontation to your past memories

The strain, the peace and ruins of emotion,

Release

 

The family, the friends, the picture perfect end

The mend, I am the constant, the trials and hardship

I am the kiss of impending darkness

When goals and opportunity are heavily guarded

The drive and instinct, the survival, the dream

I am everything you live for

And die to be