Radom thoughts are different than quotables cause…well…they’re random thoughts. Don’t know how to explain it any better. Have a look if you want! :)
When…Did I stop looking up,
To take in the sky, and realise
How great it is, just to be alive?
Why…
Is it ok for freedom of hate speech,
Yet any words spoken against hate
Are suspect and attacked?
How…
Have we come so far,
Only to fall backwards willingly,
As if we have only grown infantile?
Where…
Has all this hateful ugly shit
Come from?
Jagged edges
Sing of forgotten pain,
The righteous indignation
But why, forgotten again,
Just more ragged sorrow,
Dipped in tears,
Forever is tomorrow,
Take away the fears,
Subtract all reason,
Remove all thought,
For this feeling inside,
Is all that I’m not.
Not unhappy, not sad,
Not quite.
Nor anger, frustration,
Or sense of loss.
This is something else,
Something deeper instead,
The scrappy fighter standing up to be counted,
Shouting, “I’m not dead!”
For that is what is inside,
What cannot ever be changed,
The valiant effort
To hold onto the unchained.
No melody here, just ragged emotion,
No feast for the eyes, or poetry in motion,
Just raw-jagged tattered remains,
Of every wish fulfillment my soul ever contained.
And yet I sit here, quandary untouched,
The real reason I cry leaving me nonplussed,
No closer to the truth, than I have ever been before,
Elation without ceiling, depression without floor.
So instead I spin out,
Letting the waves crash around,
No fighting is necessary, when
Clear safety can be found.
Inside,
Decades of pain,
Learned
Or otherwise.
So the tears fill,
And spill,
From tired-burning eyes.
And still,
After all this time,
It’s the me, I do not know.
Still spinning,
Still here, fighting
The undertow.
The grey rain splashes words
Wiped clear each swiping moment,
Rhythmic tender stroking slide,
Squeaking clean, life taken once
Per stride, and still the nonsense spins
Around, deep inside where up is down,
Your loving smile and gentle touch, enough
To keep the demons down, and still they
Spin, and spit they’re rage, at dancing lonely
On internal stage, ‘stead laughing gaily as
Once were free, now trapped inside the
Stories, three strong and healthy happy we,
With love, and care, compassion, free
To wend our own private story together,
The love we feel, our own happy forever,
And still the mishcevious glint in eye,
When all we want is right nearby, yet still
We dance, and sing, and ache, without the
Caution of age’s sake, for ever we are in
Between our own, our love, our life, our family,
Our home.
Another day slips below the
Horizon, kissing the night sky
Until all that is left is bruised
Black, the colour of sleep, yet
Still I keep, still, to me a dream
Of yet another moment stolen, dream
Taken, seized, from the jaws of defeat,
Still I wait, for that moment of true silence,
Ears ringing in the end of all sound,
Soon to be silent world, mockingly
Exhausted, yet still not tired, driven,
Yet not driven away, still, yet not still
The same, still different, the same difference,
Circles meeting in concentric constants,
The spiral dish of daily life, spinning ever
More, back to the centre, sinkhole where
My self lives and breathes, constantly run
Yet not run at all, independent, still standing,
Each deeply ragged, aching eyes, wondering,
Still not the same. Why so tired, when
Everything is within grasp. Why so tired
When all that life requires is one day to
The next. Still tired, and as tired,
Still.
Our rituals define us,
Our dreams divide, the
Life from the living, only
We decide, for what are we
Here for, if not to thrive, along
With one another, not just to survive,
But to thrill in the pleasure, that holds
Us together, and fight for the right
To be happy whatever the internal
Weather, whether the future will,
Or crumble apart, I cycle all the
Way, back through to the start,
For I love your soul’s beauty
Tangled deep within my
Heart, you stand be