Day 22
Sorry for the break. I needed to focus on my aerospace final project, and now that its done I'm one step closer to writing almost full time this summer so that I can publish/submit to magazines and finally (attempt to) make this my living!!
Also sorry for the more "bloggy" update, just wanted to try something new and explain it a bit. These poems are slightly incomplete on their own, but together they form something new that I've been trying to reach towards. Hopefully you can read the theme.
Seldom
He floats on slowly,
Then all at once--
Mind leaving body
Covered in cuts,
Seldom caring of impacts
Outlasting this form,
For life is a photo
From which he is torn.
He is wasted away
As a trail of hatred
For all things vain
Has led him to fated
Destruction, for once by choice
Bombs of voices and chaos
Rattle his brain in rending noise
As he prepares, at last, for takeoff.
Leave
Take your leave,
You're welcome to be or to not
Have faith in the way we rot.
Incessant cycles, fighting to stop
Devolving to hatred and wasting this shot,
Derailed in failure to find avail
In trying and crying and vying to bail--
Hiding from inevitability is a jail
And strife divides your heart, grown stale
As old ale wears, bound from the start
To a lifespan grand plan of playing a part
In the sad dance of action, a vital art,
For those highs and lows describe who we are.
Atrocities
From the vague haze of first days
To when you in your hearst lay
Dreams blaze amazement
Invading our brains,
But some sacrifice joy for games:
Back and forth ploys to avoid their shame.
For if passion precedes action,
Puzzle pieces see visions deeply imagined.
But if passion just fades
The aching vacancy decays what is sane.
Some face these aims,
Some just ignore,
Some are born to waste away,
Some are chosen to implore
For justice, hopeful peace for torn
Scorned husks of corn from when they were born
In torment.
But what is in store for the dreamers?
Those who breathe imagination?
As precipitation, we all fall to the floor,
But what if life is greater in span?
Not just or,
But rather--
And.
Vain
Likes, tags, pictures and news--
How much of this can we actually use?
The answer is none, for stifled truth,
Dreams, imagination: the ichor of youth
Is sold to the devil, greedy media
Seeds division, deep and devious.
Kids, addicted to the release of a button
A finger, a choice, and some loaded assumptions
Explode from a symbol for love and care,
Oh the irony of "now you can be aware
Of everyone's lives and their moving pictures,"
But some don't deserve for you to listen
So you can choose, with a like or comment
Who is important, and who is too common
And bully and terrorize as never before,
For this hopeful platform's revolving door
Is open to any, benevolent or villainous,
All for the sake of some innocent images.
Endeavors.
The spider climbs with every rhyme,
Swept in line by passing time
Only to fail with each new try
As his plan is founded on dreams run dry.
And just as he closes in
On that lasting grin
His ambition floods back to stop a win
As the closer he gets
The more his head spins
As at the top of the mountain
Lies permanence.
But what if, on that hundredth try,
The spider stops rushing forth to die
And instead relaxes, we don't have to hurry,
No need to worry with no need to fly,
No need to rush and the sun still shines,
Healing even the most tortured of minds.
Sorry!
Sorry! We just gave up
On fixing our failures, breaching trust
We'd teach you to have,
Say its a must,
But turning our backs we act in disgust
For we lost our control,
Tried to readjust
But made it all worse
Throwing you under the bus,
For today's a new day,
It's not up to us.
Also sorry for the more "bloggy" update, just wanted to try something new and explain it a bit. These poems are slightly incomplete on their own, but together they form something new that I've been trying to reach towards. Hopefully you can read the theme.
Seldom
He floats on slowly,
Then all at once--
Mind leaving body
Covered in cuts,
Seldom caring of impacts
Outlasting this form,
For life is a photo
From which he is torn.
He is wasted away
As a trail of hatred
For all things vain
Has led him to fated
Destruction, for once by choice
Bombs of voices and chaos
Rattle his brain in rending noise
As he prepares, at last, for takeoff.
Leave
Take your leave,
You're welcome to be or to not
Have faith in the way we rot.
Incessant cycles, fighting to stop
Devolving to hatred and wasting this shot,
Derailed in failure to find avail
In trying and crying and vying to bail--
Hiding from inevitability is a jail
And strife divides your heart, grown stale
As old ale wears, bound from the start
To a lifespan grand plan of playing a part
In the sad dance of action, a vital art,
For those highs and lows describe who we are.
Atrocities
From the vague haze of first days
To when you in your hearst lay
Dreams blaze amazement
Invading our brains,
But some sacrifice joy for games:
Back and forth ploys to avoid their shame.
For if passion precedes action,
Puzzle pieces see visions deeply imagined.
But if passion just fades
The aching vacancy decays what is sane.
Some face these aims,
Some just ignore,
Some are born to waste away,
Some are chosen to implore
For justice, hopeful peace for torn
Scorned husks of corn from when they were born
In torment.
But what is in store for the dreamers?
Those who breathe imagination?
As precipitation, we all fall to the floor,
But what if life is greater in span?
Not just or,
But rather--
And.
Vain
Likes, tags, pictures and news--
How much of this can we actually use?
The answer is none, for stifled truth,
Dreams, imagination: the ichor of youth
Is sold to the devil, greedy media
Seeds division, deep and devious.
Kids, addicted to the release of a button
A finger, a choice, and some loaded assumptions
Explode from a symbol for love and care,
Oh the irony of "now you can be aware
Of everyone's lives and their moving pictures,"
But some don't deserve for you to listen
So you can choose, with a like or comment
Who is important, and who is too common
And bully and terrorize as never before,
For this hopeful platform's revolving door
Is open to any, benevolent or villainous,
All for the sake of some innocent images.
Endeavors.
The spider climbs with every rhyme,
Swept in line by passing time
Only to fail with each new try
As his plan is founded on dreams run dry.
And just as he closes in
On that lasting grin
His ambition floods back to stop a win
As the closer he gets
The more his head spins
As at the top of the mountain
Lies permanence.
But what if, on that hundredth try,
The spider stops rushing forth to die
And instead relaxes, we don't have to hurry,
No need to worry with no need to fly,
No need to rush and the sun still shines,
Healing even the most tortured of minds.
Sorry!
Sorry! We just gave up
On fixing our failures, breaching trust
We'd teach you to have,
Say its a must,
But turning our backs we act in disgust
For we lost our control,
Tried to readjust
But made it all worse
Throwing you under the bus,
For today's a new day,
It's not up to us.
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