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.

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

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

What is love?

Love is bare feet in the park

Love is a metal tin box in a thorn bush

Love is down the creek in an unexplored jungle

Love is smashed grapes in a big plastic bucket

Love is resting in grass field starring at the stars

Love is Paris

Love is a film photograph

Love is a concert on top of a parking garage

Love is sharing an sinking inter-tube in the middle of a lake

Love is night walks

Love is painting

Love is a secret now

Love is a threat to her mom

Love is passed in a composition notebook

Love is lost

Love is missed by me

Love is something her mom won't let her have

Love is now a text message

Love is ignored

Love is forgotten

Love is freedom, but put in bars

Love is gone

Love is dead

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?