Category Deep Poems
I’m angry at my thoughts and all my self-doubt
I’m angry at the people who doubted me, too
But that’s a tiny flame, it can barely reach through
The tunnels and chasms I’ve built around me
But it’s burning, I feel it, and I’m hopeful you’ll see
It well overboard in a simple, brave act
And I would be free
And there’d be no regret
A tiny, pale blue dot,
is all there is,
it is not such a lot
but it is everything
to us.
We share this speck
of dust in a void,
and what we are,
what we were,
and what we become,
is all because
so far
twenty-six figures muddled together,
pieced until satisfaction is complete.
Words are nature with no sound,
for how can we appreciate the warbler’s song
when we do not listen to the lyrics?
Formidable enemies with intentions so unclear.
I am forced to sit down, to listen and respect
Their unceremonious chatter and values they reject.
One wears a halo, glowing like the future:
White robes, golden smile — heavenly composure.
This one’s got vows and rules that I must follow:
Ways of ensuring that I have a tomorrow.
my soul is floating far
The ghosts, my mind created
were the brakes that I hated
It is not important where I am
but it is crucial who I am
It does not matter what I’ve seen
I was blind anyway
That’s the chore,
That’s why so many therapists
And DFS coaches are in well-paid jobs.
It’s the not thinking
About a rape by a victim,
And the not thinking
Of a stranger’s greasy hands
All over your front hall.
Of populous populations,
Supply is often halted beyond the womb
And should a child make it
To the densely packed production line,
There are no lifetime guarantees
No best before, or after birthday dates
Supply outcries demand.
But demand increases should you move
Within the factory floor,
Be placed onto the packaged line
“First World”
Or stamped and wrapped:
“For Family Wealth”
What should I be sorry for?
The moon doesn’t apologize for causing the
rise and fall of the tides.
Why should I?
Just because you don’t water your own flowers,
doesn’t mean you get to stomp on mine.
I won’t let you crush what it took me years to grow.
Instead of hurting mine, tend to your own.
Maybe your garden can grow too.
That my head is too far up in the
clouds to watch where I’m walking.
is the first day of the rest of your life
Tomorrow is an adventure in the making
Yesterday is a memory of
a moment we cannot return to
Even if we wanted
What’s done is done
All we can do is learn to accept it and
move forward graciously
Time waits for no man
And no man achieves by waiting
but not the same lungs
hold the same blood
but speak different tongues
we cry the same tears
and wash the same pains
but we are not one
and yet here we remain.
