Bloom

Old Wishes

Bloom

Forgotten

"Could Have Been"

Shattered Glass

 

I had a dream last night that we were friends. best friends.

That you knew my middle name and I knew yours.

We talked and hung out late.

When It got dark we went outside for a walk.

In my dream we toke film photographs,

of the stars and passing cars.

Never have I had a dream that felt so real,

 I could smell the autumn trees and the scent of a campfire,

It was like I knew you my whole life,

You were happy and so was I

You told me all about your day

 and it felt good to just talk.

To just sit in the grass and just not care about anything, 

but you.

I stared at you for along time,
and then you said,

"Someday w.."

A bell rang through the air and you broke like glass

and that's when I knew you were a dream.

I stared at my bedroom ceiling for what felt like an hour.

It was nice to pretend that we were real.

Six Words

Van

Do you remember how it was?

When we would ride our bikes,

How the grass was still wet,

How your tires lost their grip,

Remember, you had scraped your knees,

and I softly rubbed them better

The sun glistened in your eyes,

I will never forget your smile.

Van

Do you remember our river dam?

The big one in the park?

Remember the water was so cold,

We found that half buried wheelbarrow,

That we used to carry rocks,

We would spend all day building,

We would walk home at sunset

With dirt stains in our shorts.

Shara

Remember when we would go camping?

And would stare at the stars,

They were so bright up there,

A sound rippled through the air,

I swear the trees had whispered,

A whisper so faint and quiet,  

So quiet only I could hear,

Six sad words through my ear,

"please, don't grow up to fast"

Molly

Janie

Shara

Between the Bars

Sleep walking and nothing seems wrong,
The sound is faint as I follow her crying song,
My toes stub concrete to the distant pound,
Following a memory's path to familiar ground.

It felt so real to touch the grass, dreaming like she were there,
Her diegetic tune whispers through the air,
A touch of breeze like running my fingers through her hair,
Only the teary-eyed stars can see how this is unfair.

Our love once shined like moon beams,
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams,*
Giving the sound that pecks at the hearts seams,
Jilted jars, scabbing scars, between the bars,
Exposed to fears, my fingers wipe away her tears.

Teary-eyed stars

Memory's Path 

 Broken Graves - mikahsupageek

*Poetry extract from Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

Reaching the Moon

Marcus Vontros

Reaches the 7th Moon

Lake of Lanterns

Midnight Disturbances

Sprites

Down by the Pier

Sprites II

Hidden Diamonds

Smuck

Shallow Breath

Please excuse my tardiness but I had to rewrite this post due to some events.

I feel like I'm trapped breathing in a coffin,

and everyone is having a party on my grave,

 

Do you ever feel like you're dead?

You don't think you're alive.
When really, you are.
You might find this a bit confusing,
But this is how I feel and have felt for quite sometime.

Feels like the whole world looks at her and me,
and wants us dead.
Just because they hate to see us happy,

Have you realized how shallow your breath is now?
How we used to run and not be scared
It was really nice when nobody cared.

Do you remember the days when we could do anything and everything,
When we could laugh and smile and didn't have to disguise it,
Why should we be the ones to go through this pain?
Why should we be the ones to be buried alive?

Careful, if we breathe too loud people will think we are still alive.
I hope someday we can breathe and not be scared.

Tears for Fears

I'm scared my writing sucks.

I'm scared I try too hard to be a good writer.

I'm scared of showing my writer's dyslexia,
The the double the,
Forgetting the r on your,
Putting spaces where they don't be long,
Leaving out a word accident.

I'm scared of sounding stupid in front of a crowd.

I'm scared of losing my talents,
and being told that I suck at what I do.

I'm scared of people hating me.

Tears for Fears

I'm scared of spiders crawling down my throat,
I hear everyone swallows at least one a year.
It's probably a lie.

I'm scared that some lies might be the truth,
like "I hate you" and "We will never work".

I'm scared of uncertainty.

I'm scared of her mom,
That she knows everything
And is waiting for the the perfect moment to use it against me.
I'm scared of her mom knowing about 2/17/13

I'm scared her parents will never accept me again.

Creeps VI

I'm scared of things going wrong,
Not being able to find someone that makes me as happy as her.
Marrying someone that lacks interest in art and music,
Someone that doesn't have "creative" in their dictionary.

I'm scared of not doing what I love as my career.
Not being able to support my family by doing what I love as my career.

I'm scared of dying,

Living an unfulfilling life.

Leaving things undone,

And leaving nothing behind.

I'm scared of dying alone.

Her Sick Memory

Przyszłość

Creeps 

Creeps II

Creeps III

Creeps IV

Creeps V

Creeps V1

I've Been Thinking About You

I've been thinking about you,

a lot.

When I say the word a lot,

It echoes through the river, 

Up the narrow trees, 

Twice around the world,

And maybe once more.

I've been thinking about you,

Since the day we met.

It's okay,

You're a good thought,

A beautiful thought.

I've been thinking about you,

Like lips kiss,

And how they can't stop,

Once they start.

It's okay, I think I like kissing.

I've been thinking about you,

like clocks think about minutes,

How every minute with you feels short,

And that's not okay,

I need you longer than that. 

I've been thinking about you,

Like stars think about falling,

And how it's not possible.

But everything feels possible,

When I'm with you.

I've been thinking about you,

So much,

I can't find an order for all these thoughts.

I've been thinking about you,

So much I'm a registered insomniac,

Doctor says so. 

I've been thinking about you,

Maybe too much?

Because now I'm worried.

I'm really curious,

What are you thinking about?

It's okay I'm thinking about you too.

Frozen Hollows

No Way Back

Now Time

Serenity

Oh, Why

Await

Petrified

Fragile Hope

The Metal Tin Box

We couldn't talk, summer was just around the corner, and I was afraid we weren't going to see each other until next school year. Ever since that night in November I'd been terrified to talk to her mom. If only she'd understand why I missed my best friend. How would summer ever be the same?

Then one day she found it in her basement, a metal tin box hinges and all, the size of a shoe box. She carried it to school and laid it in my arms. This is where we could be, all we had ever needed was words. I had missed her letters, her cursive, the small letters l-o-v-e at the bottom. This wasn't the first time we had written to each other secretly. Before this we had journals, full journals. Journals full of love. Journals that we snuck into each other's backpacks, the only way we could talk. Nothing could stand between us and our friendship. Two journals that held the words: hers, mine, and ours.

Barefooted, I took the metal tin box and walked on sun-beaten pavement: 43 paces north, 35 paces west, 72 paces north again. I took it into the park and planted it in a place where no one would ever find it.

Where trees grew as thick as a jungle,
Where sunflowers had no limit.
Where dirt, nor sky could be seen.
Where creeks entered tunnels of concrete and trees.
Our kind of place.
A place just for her and me.

Almost everyday I wrote her a new letter and walked to the park, through the wild grass and into the trees. I would open the box, grab her letter, and leave her mine. Walking home with my eyes submerged in her letters and words. I bet all the girls and boys thought to themselves, "I wonder what he's reading."

A month of words, a month of letters, a month of drawings for her.
Eventually I missed her voice, her eyes, her smile, and I needed to see her.
On a Sunday, after I put a letter in the box,
I sat in the grove of sunflowers with my feet in the creek,
and I waited for her to come check the box.
Minutes became hours,
Morning became afternoon,
Then I heard her bare feet brush against the flowers.

Unstoppable smiles, glistening eyes,
Our feet in the water,
Toes in the mud,
Leaves stuck to our ankles,
We stood and walked through the creek.

One hand holding her dress,
The other held in mine.
We entered the tunnel of trees,
And the water grew deep.

I carried her when it rose above above her knees,
Out of the creek and up the hill,
Over thistle and through weeds.
Every painful step was for her.

I set her down and there we sat in the soft, wild grass.
With the sunsetting behind the trees,
We talked and watched as deer grazed around us,
Thats when I realized I've never been happier in my life.

Mother Nature what have we done?

Please play the first song on my playlist as you read this, please.

In 1997 a five year old boy runs from his front door to the back window of an ice cream truck, and around the corner, down the street sits a little girl busy drawing pictures on the pavement with her new stick of chalk. An afternoon of June is being well spent. Then up the road comes an echoing scream that erupts from a boy who has gotten red ants stuck in his velcro shoes. He runs into his house while his friends wait outside and ask each other,

"Will he be alright?"

Sure, but will he be alright when he gets a Nintendo for his 6th birthday? Mother will never know, Mother Nature, that is. She will rarely get to see him.

Will he be alright when he gets a new Play Station for Christmas? When he chooses to stay inside and stare at a screen all winter instead of going sledding on his new sled Santa gave him. Years later that dusty new sled was sold in a yard sale: $7.00 gathered for memories never spent.

Will the girl who used to draw with chalk be alright when she gets a cell phone at age 13? What will she do when her little sister asks if she can teach her how to draw? She'll ignore her and continue to text her "cute" 14 year old boyfriend: 12 crayon drawings in a storage box she'll never find after her little sister dies of leukemia.   

The boy that used to chase after the ice cream truck now chases after a high rank on his shoot'em up video game. When nursery chimes come and go and his little brother comes yelling his name to go help him catch the ice cream truck, he'll yell back, "Shut up James, go away!" Little James will ride on his bike after the truck's tune, and while his big brother sits upstairs staring at his screen a blood-curdling scream will sound. With head phones over his ears and music turned up, he won't know James cracked his head.

"Will he be alright?"

Mother Nature hasn't seen her children for oh so very long.
Will she even recognize them?

After 14 years of loneliness Nature might start to doubt herself,
And it feels like autumn comes a bit earlier each year,
And every first rain of September I can feel her tears.
She is crying.
Mother Nature is dying.

Spring will have sprung,
Swings will never be swung,
Memories we have never made.
We've let these simple things fade.

Soft, long grass that won't be laid in,
Mud from rainy days that won't be jumped in,
Over-grown creeks will never be explored,
Tall glasses of lemonade will never be poured.

Little robot boys shooting guns,
Mother Nature what have we done?

Fingers to Palms

From fingers to palms.

Fire flows through my veins as a poisonous venom.
Working its way to my unconscious heart.
Sleeping from the months of its of poor functions,
Tired of hearing untuned pianos and broken strings,
It now begins listen to the old, familiar tune.
Love.

A year of sorrow ends, and my heart cracks once more.
A smile scratches its surface as that tune plays out.
That tune that was once forgotten,
That same tune that was hidden in a pile of old broken records,
like the child that hid its terrible years of poverty and loss.

Hope then sparks a flame that burns in my heart.
If only time could stop, I would sweep you away.
I'd take you to our favorite place, and together we'd stay,
and our hearts could listen to that old, familiar tune.
Love.