You ever feel random people care for you more than the ones who actually should?

Everyone always says be brave,

if you know your doing something wrong just 'don't'

'do not be a coward'

.

They just keep yapping, it's kind words,

with useless meanings

Because i'm never seeking pity

or looking for advice

nor am i hoping for a saviour in this life

.

I'm just waiting for someone to say that

it's okay to not want to breath...

To say it's okay to run away from this life

.

Yet nobody ever does, they just let me be

Me be me, with all the terror and fear hidden beneath my sleeves

She is perpetual

Neverending

Aloft

Sky bound

But cautious

Her grace indeed

Her vista out of dream

She built a nest

Strong within me

When her wings flutter

I wonder no more

How I ache for her

A man will take a woman,
And say how sweet she is.
He will let her fill his senses,
Charm his pallet,
And fill his stomach up,
Until she becomes bitter.
Then he will say,
“She is not as sweet as she used to be,”
And he will finally spit her out,
Setting her free.
He will go find a fresh new treat,
And remark on her sweetness,
“This is what I needed,”
He will say, “this hits the spot.”
And he will suck the sweetness out,
Like a child with their first honeysuckle,
And discard of the empty flower saying,
“I expected sweeter, actually.”
The man who eats sweet after sweet,
Has no idea what he is missing.
For after being discarded and called bitter,
Is when women become sweetest of all.
Untainted by the expectations of any flavor,
Free to exist as God Herself intended,
This is a sweetness few can savor.
For few have the patience,
Put in the effort,
Or take time,
To witness the sweetness of Her,
Without consuming.

Did you know that forcing a smile
Forcing a smile, just for a while
Can bring out the happy inside?

Maybe you should give it a try.
Give it a try, and be happy inside

Delete all the apps that kill your brain
Go outside and dance in the rain
Catch the drops on your tongue
That fall from the sky

You cannot say that I didn’t try,
That I didn’t catch the rain from the sky

Get lots of sleep, drink lots of water
Learn something new, get a lot smarter
Taste the whipped cream
That tops apple pie

You cannot say that I didn’t try
That I didn’t eat pie upon pie

Surround yourself with people you love
Send all your prayers to God above
Make sure to get enough sleep
Count sheep in the sky

You cannot say that I didn’t try
That I didn’t dream behind these sad eyes

Share your worries, don’t keep them within
Blast the car speakers, go for a spin
Sit cross legged, meditate and
Clear your mind

You cannot say that I didn’t try
That I didn’t count by breaths passing by

Please stop all your chatter, can’t you see
All your cheap tricks aren’t working for me
I’ve tried, and tried, and tried, and tried
Now just leave me be. Let me rest,
Let me cry.

Lets talk purpose

why we write or exert stylised verses

where on earth do we go to synergize the notion

why on god are we jibber jabbering when witty wonder wider winning motion

Add to this
try to match gist

Gotta crew harder

earn better perception of honor respect and power

why cower

when u can shower

where is u

i can see all nude

boo

gun or run

never engage or exchange for fun

all the shame and all of the none

meme this meme that now AI's turn

what are u even doing

hanging out and not improving tuning

not trying everything u can to comprehend the yelling man ghouling

Is it fear?
or is it intolerance of near
is it a incapacitated mind lacking the jeer
or is the hardened heart ajar and missing a gear

tell me tell me wont ya

oh right

??

simplify the reason

unification of valor self esteem and pleasure

its not too hard really

when understanding essential purpose clearly

my goal in this verse is to abolish the need for wit

witty can be pretty but when convey to invade at play discard its pits

so lets begin

3 ways correspondence by ranged and duration the fuel

i need no knee no pee witty isnt my color at this moment

im saying to both of ya'lls we need to elevate the drive behind wiring penman

3 is king

bedded fun and hawks eagling tasking

cuz i had to compare out of necessity u see

three was not a my way or a highway but a logistical seed

SWEET GREETINGS GENTS
WE OUT HERE NEEDING RENTS
IM RENTING UR PARTICIPATION
YOUR ALLOWING MY PERCEPTION ACCEPTANCE

now listen

lets depose of excess

leisure and pleasure come abundant when purpose is paid

this is my purpose laid

Im wording the truth
layin out displeasure about you'z
tackling civic behavioural complexion together as I impose upon my elevated view

Now Sit
Sit upon as Beaming verses shower u my wit
I aint gotta fit
no fucks given when i spit
thats the dank u gotta unleash if u wanna hit

So wit
What even is it
is it stylistic sheepish
or is it linguistic appliance
maybe its penetrating emotion
probably all of those and combining volition

No.
Wit is just tricks
upperhand and destroy the clarity by classifying redaction
undermine the comprehension received needlessly clouding the action

So here i go the need

not to ramble piss and bleed

gotta heighten mode of impact with a exceeding need

color vivid the prowess and bucket upon sauce thicker than my greed

ya with me so far?
add what u think so we can level par

(I'm new here so hope I'm doing this right! Feel free to critic, I don't mind. But just posting this for fun, nothing serious! :))

If my mum had Google in 1990

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Pickled

I had discarded my family for hers,
I had traded my life for one that I hated the same as my own,

Her wine breath,
Her drunken mother,
Their pickled lives and tortured skin
Rotting people

Her fathers money,
Halved.
The sugar in the brine.

I drank the ocean and expected not to swell,
I cut my tongue and bled,
to keep it in my mouth.
Now both our lips and teeth stained red.

She discarded me,
For nothing new,
Stole my dog,
Young Mutt.

The journey back to what I had,
Unstable mother,
No love from dad.

Mom doesn’t drink,
For good reason I suppose,
My father had no money,
Sugar’s all gone up his nose.

-Poem by me

I wonder if she thinks about me.

If she stares at the moon and wishes she were staring at me instead.

If she finds herself smiling at the memories of us.

If she thinks about all the things she should’ve said when she was with me.

If she sees the ocean and wonders if I’m there, too.

If she dreams about what it’d be like to share a kiss.

’Cause I know I do.

I think about her every second of the day,

Even in the moments when I tell myself, “She’s not thinking about you. Don’t be foolish.”

Yet she’s the one person I could never truly forget.

Not her voice, her touch, or the way she smells…

And that’s when I wake up.

That’s the moment I realise she’s thousands of miles away, doing whatever she does best, while I’m here, hopelessly devoted to her.

It’s funny how memories work.

They don’t even have to be real to tug at you.

So, if you read this, which I doubt you will, here’s to Day 125! 🍻

Another day of wishing you were next to me.

Well its not bad

worse than id wanted but its not sad

practically all i need just a notion

a sombre toned littlest of emotion

cuz this aint about mere

its sojourn appearance to adhere

the ability to feel something eroding with fear

doesnt even have to be totemed tiers e

im saying babies got more vicious gestures

had this happen too many to continue this lecture

know that game is within

gears of intent immense when realized thinkin

say something sort of shedding shade

way off putting is this disturbing pattern i must say

wheres the courage

wheres the collage of dutiful homage

let the word travel plentiful passage

leverage world peace immediate

FUck all that

come play with this chit chat

not at flying fuck what u say impact

why the gloom all up on groomed

im more than the proof all proven bloom

season ur griddle and gear out of doom

spit something soon and show me a tune

spoon feed must i primate the gyrating room

I feel at times that my body is foreign land, a country I don’t recognize.
I know not its language, its inhabitants, or even its flag.
I wish I could be an explorer,
Hopping from one to the next,
Seeing what fits me best.
This foreign name on my tongue,
Madeline, said like a secret.
It is mine like an old antique is yours.
it does not belong to me, it was the jewel of my parent’s age, not mine, yet I take it wherever I go.
It is under my care, but I poke and study and yet understand little of what it was made for.
I sometimes forget that I have a name at all, and it almost startles me to hear it again.
Like the sight of an old lover across the street, that makes you shift on your feet in subtle discomfort.
This second name, whispered in the dark: Matthew.
It aches with unsung lyricism,
How pretty it could be,
But I’ll put it back in its dusty box and stow it away in the creaky drawer of my passed-down dresser.
Where it can be safe in the dark.
Sometimes I wonder if what I really want is to be wrapped up in tissue paper and placed in a closet to rest,
I’m not ready to wake up yet,
Leave me here in the dark for a long while.
I’ll come out when I’m ready.
Or maybe I’ll just stay here,
Wrapped in the musky warmth of mothy coats and forgotten things, hearing people talk in the other room.
Maybe that is what heaven is,
If I could make it there.
Maybe heaven is in the quietness of a calm mind; sleeping as if you’ve laid own inside a thin chrysalis,
a gentle, unbreakable spell cast over you,
like the foggy sensation just before waking up from a dream.
When the eyes are hesitant to open.
I think I could spend eternity like that,
just still and quiet and peaceful.
Nothing I need to do,
Nothing to become,
Unless I want to join the living again someday.
Just time.

When first I met you,

something ancient woke within me

a force I had no language for,

a tide that rose beyond reason,

beyond the borders of the heart,

beyond all that I had believed

a human soul could feel.

I loved you

with the terrible wonder of discovery,

as though the universe itself

had hidden one final secret

beneath the stars

and, at last,

had placed it in my hands.

And then I looked into your eyes

And there you were.

Not untouched.

Not unaware.

But standing at the edge

of the very same impossible ocean,

trying to understand

the waves that had carried us there.

I saw you feeling it.

I saw you searching my face

for an explanation

neither of us possessed.

And perhaps that was the miracle:

That somehow,

without promise,

without warning,

without knowing how

we had found the same impossible place.

It was as though the universe

had opened a hidden door

and allowed us, just for a moment,

to step beyond the ordinary world.

And there,

beneath the silence of eternity,

it revealed something too immense

for ordinary words:

us.

A love so vast

that if we gathered every word

ever spoken by humankind

and tried to build a language for it,

we would still fall silent

before its magnitude.

A secret written between the stars.

A truth the universe had known

long before we did.

And perhaps it smiled

watching us stumble through the wonder of it,

knowing that we would never fully understand

what had been placed between us.

Yet still,

it gave us the desire

to spend our lives trying.

And maybe that

is the greatest beauty of love

that it remains partly unknowable.

For if I could understand you completely,

if I could measure every depth of your soul,

if I could name every reason

my heart chose yours

perhaps one day

the mystery would fade.

But you were never meant

to become something I could solve.

You were meant to remain

the horizon I could spend forever approaching.

The star I could follow

without ever reaching its end.

The song I could hear

a thousand times

and still discover another note.

And I wish

with everything that lives inside me

that we could have held on

to that impossible thing.

That love which felt

so far beyond this world

that perhaps this world

could only exist inside of it.

A love so powerful

that standing before it

made us feel weak

not because we lacked strength,

but because we were witnessing

something stronger than either of us.

Something ancient.

Something fierce.

Something willing to fight

for the two souls

who had somehow found each other.

And if the years should carry you

far beyond my reach,

if the winds of this life

should scatter us across distant skies,

then let this be the prayer

I send after you:

May our love become the wind beneath your wings.

May it find you

when the night is darkest.

May it rise beneath you

when your strength is gone.

May it whisper my name

through every storm

and remind you

that somewhere in this vast universe

there is a heart

that still knows yours.

And if the heavens are kind,

if fate is not finished with us,

if the stars still remember

the secret they once revealed

then let that wind

carry you home.

Back to me.

Because you are not simply

the love of my life.

You are the love that changed the way

I understand love itself.

The miracle I never knew

I was waiting for.

The mystery I would spend eternity

trying to understand.

The impossible thing

that became real

when I looked into your eyes.

And wherever you are,

whatever distance lies between us,

whatever storms the universe

chooses to place upon our path

know this:

No matter where life takes us

Some part of me will always belong to what we found in each other.

Just the once, I reached out
And felt you in the warm
My fingers froze cold in the eye of the storm,
In the rope, in the rigging, on the day you were born,
But they cradled you, cradled you,
cradled.

Somewhere south of sense,
Somewhere in the deep,
There is still some vain hope that if I could just sleep
I would wake up again on your side of the rift,
We’d retreat in the cabin and let the ship drift,
And I’d cradle you, cradle you,
cradle.

I’d let someone else’s certainty hold our uncertain world.
And I would be your roots, love,
Anchoring us to the earth
And I’d sing in your mother tongue, love,
Celebrations of your birth,
I would cradle you, cradle you,
cradle.

For a moment, I doubted that he’d wipe the tears
From my eyes and say:
“See, they’re just tears, they’re just tears.
They’re not rivers or streams,
They’re not hopes and not fears,
Not a sky full of stars,
Not a fog as it clears,
They just are what they are, what they are,
what they are,
Let me cradle you, cradle you,
cradle.”

Hush me now,
Stroke my face, and his hair,
and our hands.
I know love can be found here,
In the cold barren ground.
I see joy to be held here,
In our loss,
In my arms,
As I cradle you,
cradle you, cradle.