Monday, October 25, 2010

I'm trying so hard
to hear you.
I'm trying so hard
to see you.
I'm trying so hard
to feel your grace.
I talk to much
to hear you.
And I'm much to blind
to see you.
Lord, show me how
to feel you grace.
Cause all I want
is to know you more.
The one who created the Earth
and the unexplored.
And now, for the world,
the light you're asked to restore.
Cause all that the world has left
is the hope that you'll make them soar.
Well, maybe I can try a little harder.

I haven't decided what to title this one yet

I ring wind chimes like
carol bells.
I beat the dashboard like a
I tap the stairs as if
piano keys.
I pluck floss like
guitar strings.
I sing loud enough
to make whole crows hear.
A hairbrush microphone
and an air guitar,
can make the entire world
come round to listen.

One or the Other

Dark to light.
Light to dark.
Both include both.
To become light,
you must be dark.
To become dark,
you must be light.

Here or There?

Keyboard friendships,
paper dreams,
Cracked promises,
broken seams.
Plastic smiles,
painted eyes,
Crumbling truth,
expanding lies.
Inked out memories,
frozen years.
Do we even know what we're doing here?
Sucked into our wired world,
a scarless place for boys and girls.
.... Come on, how about....
Spoken friendships,
real-life dreams,
Solid promises,
sewn up seams.
Genuine smiles,
sparkling eyes,
Expanding truth,
crumbling lies.
Cherished memories,
comforting years.
Can someone please tell me what it means to be here?
Let's unplug our wired world,
and heal the scars of boys and girls.
Because, if our faces are divided by a screen,
how can we possibly know what life means?


What is it that makes me love you?
What is it that makes me care?
What is it that makes me cry everynight that you're not there?

Okay, scratch that, I'm not going to get into some cheesy love poem that bores everyone around you until that list of people includes the one you wrote it for. Why can't people just say what they need to say? Well, if that's my advice, I guess you could call me a hypocrite; because I don't do that either. We all must be cowards on the inside, huh? No matter how strong a person may feel or seem, there's still that terrified little child inside that only seems to emerge when we're faced with what we called cooties when we were younger; because, somewhere in us, we all still believe in the fairytales.


Perfect girls and pretty faces,
little skirts with dirty laces.
We all know that love can hurt,
we've all had our hearts torn and burnt.
So we all sink into our corners.
Choose your path, sluts or mourners?
And every girl will someday face
the choice of love or empty space.
Love is the girl, married with joy,
but also the girl who was crushed by the boy.
Empty space holds fears of the past,
but also the memories you want to last.
So what do you choose? Either way and you'll fall.
Or do you really have to choose at all?
Change it.


Why is it so hard to write a happy poem, yet so easy to write a poem of depression?

Why is it so easy to hold a grudge, but so difficult to forgive someone who does you wrong?

Why do we expect the worst while we never hope for the best?

Why do we try so hard to get our revenge, when there could just as easily be forgiveness?

Why can't we take things as they are instead of complicating even the smallest things?

Why is the world depressed?

Life is divine, why not enjoy it?

The Road

The Road I travel,
it taunts.
I force myself forward.
I am weary.
The road is long and bitter,
it seems to never end.
It could be true.
Rocks block my path.
I collapse,
cut by thorns that coat the path.
I pick myself up.
I do not look back,
for that is the past.
I only run forward,
the only way I'll get any farther.


Afraid to speak,
life misunderstood,
until heard through words.
The words of the song,
the song of the words,
the words of you,
the song of you.
Life's song,
still misunderstood.
Never to be understood,
always to be lived.