Liberate.

just a heads up-----------> emo moment ensuing.
well it IS a poetry blog so you can't complain.
anyways, this was a quick sketch written in the car after a ride out at the seaside., well technically oceanside but whutever.. It's fairly.... well., elementary...or like basic..But i find that sumtimes the first words that come out, the ones that haven't been thought out through and mulled over a million times, those are the best, purest, truest ones.
soooooooooo without further ado, here it is.


Liberate

Gold dipped leaves
trees
that sway to a silent rhythm
unheard by our tense minds
I find
peace
in the moment.
The stillness
fulfills
the void inside.
Don't hide.
It is not weakness which
makes me sigh
at the amber of the sky
the molten pink hues
blues
that light up my window
in rippling iridescent triangles.
I let the rays
penetrate
my soul
flow
unfettered, unconfined
no blindfolds.

For every time I meet Adversity
I seek solace in little things,
Sunsets that bring
serenity.
Unburden
me.

Untitled 2.

Under construction...but ima put it up anway..

When I woke up this morning, half

comatose, the only thing

on my mind even remotely

close to any definition of ‘challenge’ was

to rush and catch the 9:11 bus.

The only goal, to have breakfast

To make sure my clothes were ironed

Out, hair brushed, contacts

In place.

Keep up with this

Rat-race.

Trying to arrange, organise

The chaos in my mind, to still

The pendulum that is my world.

Uncurl.

It hits me that

The banality of my life, the stale

Menial detail, pettiness

Of my existence is laughable.

What are my goals? My challenges?

To think

I’ve made each day my battle,

Each day the ironed shirt my armour

The bus,

Last of the escaping fleet of ships, the

Breakfast

My last meal.

Now.

This poem...doesn't need an introduction. It's for me to know and for you not to try and find out. :)


But now when I listen to songs you and I used to sing to

They play like obituaries,

Ours.

I sit in respect.

Let the clumsy stitches shine

Few more seconds vulnerable, remembering,

before I conceal the calluses again.

Seamless.

But now when I when I write about you and I

There is no more room for we, us.

The two words absurd

Paradoxical

In this sphere of honeyed lies,

Of petty fairytales.

I shatter each glass slipper, firmly,

The shards

Miniscule.