A Celebration of Poetry
Its hands suffocate you
small words of fear consume your brain
don’t breathe; don’t speak; don’t move
All day, every day
weight rests upon your shoulders
second by second
minute by minute
Hour by hour
Day by day
You try so hard to break free
the exit is right at your fingertips
and it won't let you go.
Yet I still cared
You hurt me
Yet I still cared
You broke me
Yet I still cared
You said to stop caring
Yet I still cared
I still cared
That I would never stop
Until you understood that
I will always care
I will always be here
I will never leave
I still care
Sharp Sirens Singing
White, crashing waves
And a cliff
Steep and sharp
White, wet sand
And rocks at the bottom
Sharper and harder
White, clear song
Sharpest and beautiful
White, red lungs
Sharp breath and death
And one last siren song
In the darkest of depths
Poem(n.): something that arouses strong emotions because of its beauty.
Summer chill brings winter flowers
Piping cold tiger lily’s breathe so softly
The sun freezes the grass as the day lives
The moon burns all that look upon it
The ocean is dry and the fish are clean
The desert is wet and the cacti are soaked
Woman is Man and Man is Woman
So children are to be nothing of the such
War is as Peaceful as those Summer Chills
The price is as much as a wet towel
Corruption is key to well working lifestyle
Those subjected are unruly by nature
The poor kill the rich they must be stopped
The rich are subject to the most vulgar life
Cats kill dogs
Rain melts water
Ice is not cold
Life is simple
The depression uplifts any weary soul
The sad man brings his smile everywhere he goes
i'm trapped by my emotions
each with a different effect
anxiety consumes me like a tidal wave
always thinking about the consequences of every decision
sometimes i can't breathe
depression weighs me down like a deadweight
makes me feel like less than nothing
i try to fight it, and i do for a while, and then it comes back
dragging me down and pushing the knife further into my chest
fear is not an option, it doesn't give you a choice
at least not for me. i'm scared of everything.
scared of saying the wrong thing or wearing the wrong clothes or asking the wrong questions
not being like everyone else
every once in awhile a ray of sunshine tries to fight its way through the clouds
sometimes it breaks through and makes the pain go away for a little while
but as all stars do...
A Perfect World
love is s omething
you don’t re alize you’re e
xperiencing at f irst. This odd fe
eling you can’t place, until you u
nderstand. you get jealous w
hen you see them wi
th someone else.
every kiss t
d word. smi
le. you want t
hem to hug, kiss, l
ove you the same. but y
ou know what, life isn’t abou
t getting what you want. you see h
er with them. you t ry and ignore the j
ealous feeling yo u have. the feelin
g tears you in t wo. there’s noth
ing you can do about it.
every kiss like a knife.
every hug like a hatchet.
you’re so deep in this feeling.
you don’t see it.
she has these feelings too.
The Perfect Birthday Card
Depression is an abyss of complete and utter darkness swallowing me whole,
a pit of darkness dug deeper with every tear glistening down my cold cheek.
With every tear, I fall deeper, deeper, deeper into this oblivion of apathy.
Others watching blanky, I fall, cowering behind my cold, neglected soul.
Too weak to scream for help, mouth moving but no sound, can’t speak.
Tears start to fall faster faster digging deeper deeper absently
the abyss grows narrow closing in on me I feel cold
the hole traps my every breath crushing my lungs
alone afraid falling at the speed of light
walls caving in world crumbling
lungs trapped by tears
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Brazil
The torn hearts tremor with Temer’s actions.
The militia have arrived to take away our fun,
But the Carnival never stops in Brazil.
Stand up for your rights in Brazil,
and you're dead like Marielle.
Sometimes you just drown like Mariana.
The Brazilian coconuts are martyrs for the government.
When a coconut picker is pushed out of a tree,
It is death by coconut.
The slums are Brazil’s greatest tourist attractions.
They are beautiful flowers on a hill.
Where drugs, violence, and poverty sprout in the spring,
And then go unnoticed forever.
Stars in Brazil don't exist in the sky or waters.
And passion is not feeling.
They are the bitter fruits of the earth.
In Brazil they tell you not to end up like the neighborhood drunk,
But he is the most sober man you'll ever meet.
Race is a matter of limes and lemons.
In Brazil a lime is a lime,
And a lemon is just a yellow lime.
Soccer is not the only sport in Brazil.
Now that you have met the kite fighter he will tell you
All about his bleeding fingers and the liability he calls
In Brazil the poor are more focused on their appearances
Rather than their bank accounts.
While to the rich,
Rural farmhouses are escapes from debt.
A ton of coffee,
Is the weakest source of strength,
Unless it has milk.
Each of the twenty-six states of Brazil,
Live in their own unique world.
Like distant cousins,
That sometimes see each other on Christmas.
Brazil is the capybara.
To some it is a cute tiny bear,
But to others it's just a giant rodent that can swim.
Don't forget about the tribes,
That lives deep in the Amazon,
Hiding from the tree murderers.
Bouquet of Lies
You brought me roses
And told me it was okay
But it never is
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Depression
Alone in a crowded room
No interacting no talking
Mind racing with thoughts
Every inch of hope destroyed
Like a thief it steals
Each sliver of happiness diminishes
No longer am I who I once was
No longer do I laugh with friends
By myself I sit at home
Longing for joy
The pain drowns me
Tears of sorrow flow
I fell through the door of depression
Scraped knees and elbows struggling to break out
Days go by
Hiding behind a mask
Painted with a fake smile
Convincing those of happiness that isn’t there
Feelings of failure, discouragement
Wanting to be the best
But struggling to try
Fear of peers taunting
Reminiscing on the past
Scared of what’s to come
Shut out everyone
Conceal your emotions
Don’t reveal the truth
Be happy, cheer up
Words that mean nothing
Stabs in your chest
Tearing you apart
It strangles you
Gasps for air
It controls your life
You are the puppet
A constant war like WWII
One minute you are on top
Next rock bottom
Strength, courage, perseverance
Words of fighters
Fighting for their lives
Maybe change will occur
A change of hope
A change of life
A change of happiness
A change of fate
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Paper
Badabing badaboom vim vam zoom
Badading badadoom dim dam poom
Those are words from a Paper
Sometimes I read comics
I usually just watch the cartoon adaptations instead, but
On the rare case that i dont, i have a really good time
I feel like comics can be better than movies or cartoons
Cartoons can be rushed and put on a schedule
But people dont really rush someone to make a comic
Theres almost never a due date
You cant put a due date on quality
but some people do
They are asses that make something great
Books can be better than a movie
Sometimes its easier to speak with written words
Than speaking with speaken words
Paper is super
I really love me Paper
Paper is literally anything
It could show anything you want
If you dont like it 2D have it 3D
Thinking about it anything could act
as paper does so
Anything is also “Paper”
Paper is like its own separate universe
It has endless possibilities of what to do with it
Will it be a man, a dog, or a bird
You can draw a horse
Or make the paper a horse
Or throw the paper at a horse
You’ll make a story that way
But thats not the only way to make a story with Paper
Paper has a lot of uses
You can draw on it
You can fold it
You can Burn it
You can clean with it
You can wipe your ass with it
Paper has more uses than you
What if every story made a separate world?
We could be one, you never know
I used to think that
But with Paper you have to keep in mind that it isn’t real
You can’t grow too attached to Paper
A man named Chris Chan did
His life is miserable now
He lives a fake life
Surrounded by delusions
Thinking that Sonichu is with him
A portal to another world in his closet
He’s a man who serves as an example
Of what not to do with Paper
Paper is infinite
Paper is all
Paper is 3x4 inches
As cool as Paper is it's also pretty stupid
You can make a masterpiece over the course of
But then a couple days later it’s nothing
Something is always better than what you do
It’s never the best and never will be
Even if it is, you won’t know
Because the Best know that they aren’t the Best
Paper isn’t just Paper
It’s stone too
Anything can be paper if you try hard enough
Paper is used for portraying something, usually a story
But how many things can portray something?
People just draw on themselves sometimes
Yeah that’s right
You’re a Paper
That doesn’t mean you have to draw on yourself
You don’t need too
You’re already telling a story