Poem things

Creating

2:38 pm

Why does it feel like I am dying,
In the times that I’m not writing,
Drawing,
Building,
Dreaming,
If I’m not Fulfilling,
This tension that sets my intentions.
My broken and beaten body,
Will have to guide me,
My mind,
My life,
My time,
Is not being used right,
As I wander through aimless ponders.
This pain that always grows,
Will have to wait to know,
This grief,
This belief,
This relief,
This is exsisting as an excruciating need,
Because as I fail to bring you new creations,
I find failure in the death of all my damnations.

S.F. _ 05/24/2021 _ 2:53 pm

Poem things

Let us Sleep

You fucking own my dreams,
Could you please,
Give them back to me.
I cannot sleep,
With out seeing,
Your fucking face,
Endlessly.

This is not a poem,
But it is a plea,
For just one night,
Could you set me free.
Let me dream,
Please let me sleep,
Peacefully.

You told me to leave,
You shut me out,
Now you own my mind,
Without a doubt.
What was my crime,
To deserve this right,
I just want to sleep,
For one whole night.

SF. 03-13-2021 _ 9:30 a.m.

Poem things

Forget Me

I haven’t been the best to myself,

It’s been rough since you left,

Scorn decisions,

Poor resistance,

Torn persistence,

More constrictions,

Have me barley breathing baby,

You dance through my dreams daily,

Frolicking through this rotting reality,

But not even you could save me,

And if you haven’t already,

You’ll soon forget me.

So I’ll write you these confessions,

Try to take loosing you as a lesson,

Even if it’s just my mind melting,

All the little lies remembering,

There’s no more time to recover,

No more ways I can love her.

So I’ll remember what I can,

Rebuild this man that I am,

Seek a greater purpose,

Leave this mentality with a circus,

Turn these motives into bliss,

Remind myself that it’s not only you I miss.

Because…

I haven’t been the best to myself,

It’s been rough since you left,

Scorn decisions,

Poor resistance,

Torn persistence,

More constrictions,

Have me barley breathing baby,

You dance through my dreams daily,

Frolicking through this rotting reality,

But not even you could save me,

And if you haven’t already,

You’ll soon forget me.

Because…

I haven’t been the best to myself,

It’s been rough since you left,

Scorn decisions,

Poor resistance,

Torn persistence,

More constrictions,

Have me barley breathing baby,

You dance through my dreams daily,

Frolicking through this rotting reality,

But not even you could save me,

And if you haven’t already,

You’ll soon forget me.


S.F. – 07/23/2020 – 2:15 a.m.

Poem things

The Premise of Potential

This search is never ending,

A yearning for purpose,

With no assurance for the premise of a future with potential,

No promise of a possible solution for seclusion.

It’s a thirst of sorts,

The type of hunger that contorts,

That forces you to abort more than you ought to believe you can absorb.

It’s often adored,

Brought aboard when other desires are doomed to be ignored,

I implore that this comes at me like a horde,

As if I can take flight and let the yearning inside me just soar.

No more shall I wait for such fantasies to be torn,

I won’t mourn as I find my mental fortitude to be scorned.

No more shall I wait and wallow as I swallow the seeds of thought found in things I ought to respect as not only just bought,

But sought out and caught from things I suspect to have been taught.

It’s not that I feel lost,

It’s not that I feel at a loss,

Or trapped in a glossed over rudimentary series of misplaced implications,

Only proposed to sit in sanctions.

I feel a ferocious foundation of feasible fallacies,

Informalities set to distract my mind from greater intricacies.

Simple thought patterns and weaknesses wrapped around unobtainable peacefulness,

I yearn for a greatness that can take the place of my wastefulness,

But I fear that I will convolute the convection that I truly try to concentrate upon,

Torment my connections and collect the correlation between what I want and what I can actually graze upon,

I just yearn for something real,

Something I don’t feel as though I have to steal but can truly forge in myself like a beam forged from steel.

I just yearn for clarity,

A self set charity for internal prosperity,

Or maybe just a simple nights rest,

A night with a dream that I know won’t eternally be better than the rest.

That would effectively be what is best.

S.F. – 02/16/2020 – 7:00 A.M.

Poem things

Relevancy

I still see you while I’m sleeping,

I still feel you,

Although I’m fleeing,

Fleeing from fears formed through forgotten failures,

Fears that are no longer present,

Yet your presence is now more than prominent.

It’s been close to year since you cut those ties,

Casted shadows over what you thought were lies,

I may have been wrong in what went on,

May have sang all the wrong songs,

But what you knew and I know,

Have been different all along.

You stole from me the very thing I loved true,

By ridiculing me through and through,

Now I sit here 2000 miles away,

Still hoping I’ll see you some day,

Is that crazy?

Am I still forsaken by your individuality,

Or am I still stuck in my own washed up warped sense of this brutal reality.

I guess that’s just not up to me,

You see,

From the very beginning,

I never imagined winning you over,

I never envisioned that you’d stay,

But what we think and what we want,

Hardly ever match up anyway.

SF- 8-18-19

Poem things, Unfinished songs

D.T.B.D


I don’t ever wanna let you down,
Never wanna see that frown,
Never wanna here those sounds,
That you make,
When you’re feeling a bit too crazy,
Maybe,
There are parts to our story,
That need,
A little readdressing,
That’s all,
I’m sure,
We can make this thing last all night,
Make all the little wrongs,
Feel so right,
And we can never get washed up,
Or beat down,
Never let this old,
Sad town,
Feel like our only homely,
Place to,
Eventually break out,
And be found,
No way,
Not now.

And I don’t ever wanna let you down,
Never wanna see that frown,
Never wanna here those sounds,
That you make to,
When you’re feeling a little angry,
I see,
That we can get a little caught up,
In steam,
Feeling like we can’t be heard,
Or seen,
It’s a little bit like a bad dream,
I mean,
That I don’t want it to be,
The only parts of our memories,
That bleed,
Into our consciousness,
When we,
Begin to seem as if we aren’t there,
Or free,
From our disconnections,
And envy,
Now please,
Here me,

Because.

I don’t ever wanna let you down,
Never wanna see that frown,
Never wanna here those sounds,
That you make to me.
When you feel a little bit too crazy,
Or we get a little bit too angry,
It’s all just a little day time,
Bad dream.
Just a little day time bad dream.


NV. Written on July 20th, 2018 started @ 5:37 p.m. finished @ 6:12 p.m.

Wish I could put music behind this, but I lack the talent and resources required to do it on my own and connections for collaboration, for now it sits as this, like many incomplete ideas and creations. Thank you for reading or singing in your head, it’s a work in progress, for the future I hope. -SF.

Poem things, Rants and Thoughts, Unfinished songs

Contemplating Comfort

Seeing comfort and carelessness,
Caress anxiety and impression-less,
Situations that fill the rest,
Of an empty mess,
In a burial ground,
For thoughts in test,
Or times to bless,
So that we forget less.

But what’s to blame,
Is the my last name,
The games we played,
The towns we tamed,
The nights we raid,
The sounds un-sang,
One way or another,
We both get payed,
Or laid,
By the grief and satisfaction,
In the moments of our reactions.

When we blast back,
To see our backpack,
Of problems and potential,
To see how essential,
It is to manage your mind,
Appreciate your time,
And sustain the relatable,
Undebatable creational,
Representation,
Of your self and more.

It is easy to loose yourself,
In the lonliness of openness,
Or the helplessness,
Of pretentiousness,
For its a bottomless chest,
Filled with the unimpressed,
Zest-less messed with,
Undefined guessing,
Designed for undressing,
Molten memories,
Masked for mistaking.

Its all a changing,
Sightless and hopelessly,
Forgetful happening,
That is beginning to exsist with me,
Even though we’re divided clean,
My thoughts are still tormenting,
As I’m told to be expressingly,
Open to anything,
As if reality has found a seam,
To the dimensions of my dreams.

Now caught in a scene,
An acted misery,
Or a faithful blistering,
Battle with what i mean,
As i write these dreadful pleas,
To contract a little glee,
Now I’m free,
As i enter the limiting,
End to simple deeds,
This is me,
Expressing whole heartedly,
Investing all my needs,
In art and poetry.


NV. – written on July 8th-9th, 2018 started @ 9:47 p.m. on the 8th, re-visited and finished on the 9th from 3:57-4:46 p.m.

Poem things, Rants and Thoughts

Pipe Dreams


I have become molded by mistakes,
misevaluate heartaches,
And mundane smoke breaks,
Find my peace in the moments I take,
From finding passions,
To accepting madness,
How’d this happen?
Can’t blame my mattress,
For all the sleep I’ve been lacking,
Cant fall into my pipe dream,
Roll another joint,
And the bong,
Keep on packing,
That’ll help me,
Got a little stoned,
Now the sounds aren’t so saddening,
Just keep on tapping,
Into the beliefs that will serve thee,
End all the misery please,
It does not help me.
It is the pipe dreams that I set free,
That simply feed the lovely lightning,
Cracking down my splintered spine,
From the demanding depths of my mind,
It just takes time,
This I know,
It’s damn near my human right,
To try and fight the weaker parts of life,
Then take flight,
As I relight my pipe,
Reimagine grief and spite,
Into better insight,
This feels just right,
Tickling the terrors of the night,
So they can no longer take mine,
Building barriers to the breaking,
Banishing,
Berating,
Bullshit brainwashed battering,
Bountifully blasted back,
As we tell the predecessor,
My thoughts,
I will not take those attacks,
No longer will I be the aftermath,
Of a mind that couldn’t take crap,
Or a being that has met his cap,
Need to relax,
Take a toke,
No,
That’s a joke,
Need to tie this mind up,
Choke,
I am broke,
But no longer alone,
Seem to have woke,
From the discussion I wrote,
These aren’t poems,
They are prayers,
They are promises,
Ode to John Denver,
I hope to not stop this,
Gather momentum,
Motivation,
And match this,
Life with the greatest,
The famous,
The ones who made it,
For changes,
For greatness,
For blameless,
Gratification and satisfaction,
That is the situation,
Going to follow these pipe dreams,
Until I find what I need,
In this life that I lead,
I’ll find what I need,
In the depths of my pipe dreams.


NV. – written on July 8th, 2018 started @ 3:22 p.m. finished @ 4:24 p.m.Just a little nonsensical rhyming, please share a like, follow or even share this shit, I’d appreciate it 🙂 – SF.

Poem things

Dreaming


We are going to dream,
We,
Are,
Going,
To,
Dream,
Do you know what that means?
You can’t riddle us,
You can distract us,
Still you’ll hear our pleas,
Now repeat this please.
“We are going to dream.”
Dream of new days,
New ways,
Places to stay,
Thoughts to display,
Thinking of dreaming my whole life away.
Because it’s hard to resist the things in mist,
The fog of our minds,
Dreams left a little blind,
The ones we leave behind,
When forging ourselves,
In the moments we must put our dreams on shelves,
Live in the system,
Rewrite our life’s list then,
Be one of the nobody’s,
No,
No,
No,
Repeat after me please,
“We are going to dream.”
Regardless of what that means,
Because every single one of us,
Can never get enough,
Can you feel the lust?
Keep dreaming,
Especially when life gets rough.
When you feel no love,
Feel no one up above,
Keep dreaming,
Keep believing,
Keep on being.
It’s all we need,
Just a little dreaming…


NV. – written on July 8th, 2018 started @ 10:47 a.m. finished @ 12:29 p.m.

Please feel free to follow the blog if you like the post, it’s appreciated. Thanks for reading.

Poem things, Rants and Thoughts, Unfinished songs

Convoluted Contemplation


Feeling like a freak,

A fiend,

A founder of foolish fantasies,

The type that typically tremble,

Under my own tormented testimony,

Testifying against my own will,

My own goals,

My own home,

My whole role,

It’s all a cold,

Convoluted,

Concentrated,

Congregated,

Compilation of complications,

Yet it’s not contemplated,

It’s the way I was made,

And that can be hurtful or hated,

But never doubtfully debated,

I can take it.

Turn me around,

Roast my town,

Flip the frowns,

Now make ‘em proud,

To be heard loud,

With this sad sound,

I can feel it right now,

But that’s not what this is about.

It’s about problematic insight,

Memories kept sealed tight,

Ideas that don’t feel quite right,

The type of nights,

Filled with fear and flights,

Inside the mind,

I hate those types,

But what would life be without the fight?

Can only dream to have it easy,

Even though I’m supported,

A better life is always teasing,

For those who can afford it,

But I don’t own shit,

Have a place with no floor,

And a ceiling that leaks,

Going hungry for weeks,

To try and repeat my grief,

Now I’m falling back asleep,

Just to relive my dreams,

It would seem,

I’m bit far off from my meaning,

Yet these words keep on seeking,

A little bit more sound releasing,

From the parts of me that are speaking,

It’s not about just believing,

In a better part of you,

The part meant for keeping,

It’s about finding the reason,

Repeating the problems,

Until hope stops the bleeding,

You can be free,

From all that’s inhibiting,

Your growth and your dreams,

Just follow their lead.


NV. – written on June 27th, 2018 started @ 9:02 a.m. finished @ 9:29 a.m.

No context, feel like this one speaks for itself. – SF.