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

Train of Thought

Why are these always the same,

It’s either a poem about you,

Or a poem about pain.

Doing this should bring me to shame,

Although they’re my truths,

They lead me towards nothing I’ll gain.

At this point it’s not even a game,

After everything you’d been through,

It’s time I take all the blame.

These repetitions are probably lame,

Thoughts of seeing you soon,

Simply drive me insane.

This fantasy can no longer sustain,

I’m done playing the fool,

It is time to get off of this train.

S.F. – 02/10/2020 – 8:20 p.m.

Poem things

A Little Lost

I’m still thinking about all the shit we’ve been through,

Although seeing you is no longer a truth,

I was trapped in my thoughts,

Too high to be committed,

To all the thing I’ll be missing,

Couldn’t settle down or just fucking listen,

Had a temper that lasted only a minute,

Only a minute.

Being too focused on living in the moment,

Caused me to look past the love I should have been showing,

I was living slow but that’s no reason to talk shit,

All those mistakes are really making me feel sick,

Making me feel sick now.

You were the one but I treated you wrong,

Had way too big of a head,

Now I’m just singing sad songs,

Couldn’t give you what was yours all along,

A little bit of space,

Or all of my time,

Now instead of holding you,

I’ll be holding these rhymes.

Maybe I’m all wrong and these aren’t the facts,

But I had you first while you had my heart last,

Treated you like shit,

Pulled you out of your class,

Made myself look like a total ass,

But what it means now is that I’m hitting the gas,

Running 2,000 miles away to forget the past.

To try and forget the past.

Yet it’s all right here with me,

There’s no way to escape,

I still think about the times that were all really great,

It might be a joke or pathetic at least,

But holding on to them is my only form of release.

Nothing I can do will bring me back to you,

You put up a wall after all of those fights,

Told me not to call,

Probably blocked me too,

But when it’s all said and done I’m still in love with you,

Still in love with your smile and the way you’d look through,

Most of my faults or the wrongs I would do,

Now it’s up to you to see that my hate wasn’t true,

It was just a reaction to when I was loosing you,

When I was loosing you.

SF – 09-06-2019 @ 6:00 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

Unintended Pain

Your heart wasn’t worth breaking,

If I’m not mistaken,

I played and I changed and I stayed,

And I made as much as I could,

To withstand all that we should,

But I failed and I failed and I failed.

To commit to the consequences,

To believe in things that mattered,

Rather I continued to dismantle,

Ever foundation that had their chances,

To withstand the demand,

Of my poor choices,

Turned out I turned our feelings into noises.

I’m sorry for never knowing what was next,

Making moments turn to demons,

And letting my ignorance be at its best.

I never meant to break your heart,

I never meant to fail right from the start,

The pain you still likely feel is as real,

As every emotion that I still try to kill.

I’m consumed by the fact that I will,

Forever and always just be this moment,

That you never should have had to feel.

My intentions were faltered,

I can’t blame it on age,

Inexperience,

Lack of understanding,

Or rage.

I need to accept that it was my simple ways,

Inability to read you and help your bad days.

On top of the changes that I should have made.

At this point it’s worthless,

To apologize or wait,

For retribution,

Confusion,

Or a chance to close space.

Just know that I never meant to,

Cause you this pain.

SF- 1-14-19

Poem things

Substance Abuse

Always searching,
Always learning,
Always lurking,
For a purpose,
To propose a little interest,
Maybe invest.
In more than rocks and incense,
My spirituality had its limits,
Still I seek to be permissive,
Do you get this?
I conceptualize complete control,
While working towards freedom for my soul,
I seek a fortunate future,
While never setting any goals,
It’s a complicated role,
And I’m willing to take the toll.

This longing has got to go,
It is always,
One more,
Two lines,
Being blind,
To restrictions,
Moderations,
Yet my conscious seems to believe it’s,
All part of a bigger picture to believe in,
As my memories start to bleed thin,
I realize all of this,
Is just one singular moment of bliss,
Something I’ll soon start to miss,
When the melody sings,
And everything settles into what it seems,
No matter what type of depression,
Is bursting from these seams.

SF-1-14-19

Poem things

Succubus


They say ignorance is bliss,
So why as I go mindless?
Is it her whispers that I miss,
Her tricks,
Her wits.
I can sit with this.
But I cant seem to forget,
That I knew she had my heart,
From the first day that we met.

Stolen is how it seems,
Because it has never been my choice,
No matter how loud I turn up the noise,
She still roams in all of my dreams,
Turns on and off my emotions,
And plays with my heart strings,
But she’s nowhere to be seen.
Nowhere but inside my mind now it seems.

Forsaken me is what she’s done,
I started a battle I could never have won.
The parasitic after effects,
From a love that felt as hot as the sun,
Will feed off of me,
Just like the succubus that she was.
Funny how I still believe it’s love.


SF- 12-22-18

Poem things, Rants and Thoughts

Problems


I see that everyone has problems,

That’s not the problem, see,

How am I supposed to feel sympathetically,

When I’m involved with a blinding,

Overwhelming consistency,

Of underwhelming contingencies.

Oh it’s easy, “get therapy”,

As if paying for help is worth more than a friend who will listen for free.

Who the hell wants to listen to me,

Everyone has problems,

That’s not the problem, see,

I try to imagine my mind living happily,

But it’s just stays still in progression,

And runs wild through regressions.

So what’s the point in another session,

If I will have nothing to mention.

Everyone has problems,

That’s not the problem, see,

I can’t make every conversation about me,

Everyone has an issue to share,

Or a memory to bear,

And in those moments we truly can care.

Yet it’s the time spent alone,

That makes life feel completely unfair.

If only we had a way to feel a little less scared.


SF – written on Dec. 18th, 2018 @ 4:30 p.m.

Poem things, Rants and Thoughts

6 feet deep

I watched my sister mourn an ex that over dosed,
My father cry when his own mother croaked,
Watched my mother too when her father died after loosing the woman that he loved the most,
I also lost a sister to epilepsy, that shit is fucked up,
She’s was all alone, found naked in her bath tub.
Before all that I lost an uncle that would change my mom forever,
Loosing her brother first when she thought she’d never,
Ever have to spread his ashes farther than his love had casted.
I’m just reacting to the retracting of my memories.
So many memories of all of those who were meant to be,
Alive right now even though there are no remedies,
For the pain of loss and death that has forsaken me.
Just let me replace the bodies that were taken all too soon,
Let me be the face up in that bright old moon.
Looking down upon all of those who have been hurting too.
Those thinking about the ones they’ve lost,
Thinking about the memories you’ve tried to toss,
While search for a simple way to smile,
Maybe if we fake it our cheeks might hold up a while,
Get us down that god damn road another meaningless mile.
While acting wild and riled up to take a crack at happiness,
But if we’re redirecting our minds away from
death and sadness,
Id rather slip and fall into a pit of madness,
Loose my faith in life and love,
Like a dirty rotten mattress,
With a mistress that’s been laughed at.
Because,
All these deaths are haunting me,
As I think it should be me,
6 feet underneath the dirt below my knees.

SF – written on December 17th, 2018 @ 10 a.m.

Poem things

Gasping


My heart keeps beating,

But no longer for me,

It beats for all of thee,

People who say my death,

Would cause them misery.

I live for the need,

Of feeling what I hope to be,

Is closer than the horrors in my history,

I’m afraid I am no longer free,

I’m held down by my roots,

That extend down from my family tree,

I have no “Me”,

Just a visionary’s sculpture,

Of what they can see,

A creation for someone else’s glee.

Like I’m living but not alive,

So far away from life,

That I forgot what it’s like,

To be motivated,

Concentrated,

Or meditative,

But yet I’d say it’s just complicated,

I can not take this,

No longer for no reason,

I have to keep on believing,

That by keeping on,

I can keep on dreaming,

That this pain won’t last,

And this change will pass,

I can master my bad habits,

Then change my path,

After all it’s but a matter of fact,

By staying conscious for them,

I can feel freedom again,

Maybe enjoy some friends,

Or create new ends,

By the end of this poem,

Maybe this pain will mend.


NV. – written on September 17th, 2018