Where did the first seed grow? Plus, who owns it? Monsanto needs to know... for the lawsuit, Above the Earth, also below, Orchards grow. What you reap is what you sow, But, who owns it? You, or someone you don't know? Whose wish is to have your wish, And everything else you covet. Orchard, apples never fall far from, So, they know where to find you, And everything else you love... Orchard, to the Italian restaurant Sold to you at whatever cost, Like internet does to things you love, Nostalgia wears off like a bitter rust. Orchard, what have we done? Orchard, where have you gone? Orchards, and we moved on, Into the distance, back to god. What you reap is what you sow, But, who owns it? Like Cleopatra said to Rome: Above the Earth, so below. Above them both, Orchards grow.
What matters most, when writing a book? Followers, forewards, then crying a wolf. What flatters most, when writing a note? What do you think? Yes, maybe, or no? But what matters most? Peace between war? People you know? You're not beyond greed of the sword, But you're beyond breathing of smoke... I really feel sorry, and fear on reproach, It's not the party, and people, you know? It's that we hardly ever spoke, I feel closer to death than a dreamboat. But, you're beyond breathing of smoke, I really feel sorry, for fire upon the roof. You're not beyond greed of the sword, But you're beyond letting me know. So, this is how it goes... What matters most, when writing a book? Survival, reprisals, the life that was took. Who chatters most, with somber looks? Violent rioters, petty drunks, Armed with popular science. He said different horizons, Dressed in the same wools.
Love from the art class... Is everything the same, Or have you changed perhaps? If my tomorrow never came, Am I still just some faggot, That never had your respect? We both know front to back, When it comes to class, but What about our crossed paths? Does it matter, about the facts? Whether I fell to able hands, You would rather write about it, You already decided, so sing that, And when you finally do get to it, You shove it up your ass. Love, from the bottom of my heart, They never taught you art in class, And you never learnt good taste, Is everything the same? No... I would say you changed, perhaps, But you never had any fuckin class. And, that comes from me... Love, from the art class, All the way to the current of my heart: Things have changed, It's better you stay hard, man, A wave from across the bar. Far away, like your honest thoughts.
Dauntless spirit: fall to sickness, Hard decisions, job descriptions. Starter pistols, starlight pitchers, Starch, upon a talking picture. Despite ego and wanting children, When all accounted, long divisions, Robert Browning, wrong religions, Accomplished townie, unpolished fingers.
Love, and then opera, Justification, self-pardon, I understand your problems, Respect my decision, Artha, and Dharma. What was the end product? Neither husband nor father, Can you blame the audience? 'Someone push me harder, On the swing that I have built.' Respect my decision, I wished I had died a martyr, Rather than see all of it. I understand your problems, Love, and then Scarborough. Songbird, sharpened bones, Opera, wooden home. Love, screaming nonsense, I understand your problems, Respect my decision.
May I judge? The chaos comes, Under veil of doves, not weight problems. May I judge? Love is based on trust, Something you know nothing of, Like plain hard work and using gloves. Broken promises, safe guarded, Imitation artist with an imitation father, Imitated marble walls to floor, How are those games you play at home? May I judge? The chaos comes, Not in the break ups, it's there all along. Eighty dollars for a game cartridge. May I judge? Are the games you play fun? What about friendship, was it there all along? Under a veil of doves, a veil of darkness, Changing promises, a raging monster.
We're turning up the lights. We're not blacking out tonight. Cuz anything that's under half of one percent is a Sober Sip to me. We're going to party, we're not drinking lagers, we're not drinking ciders, we party to hard on those 5 percent beers and I can't remember anything. When the beer's too hard I black out and I can't remember anything. I have come here to this song to start a revolution. At the corner store for $3 we can get something stronger. If we act quickly, tonight we can drink 7% guarana. Doors close at 11 but it's already ten and I want to get faded. Tonight is a Revolution. A night that we'll never forget. Last night was fuckin' lit but I can't remember shit. Fuckin partied way too hard then blacked out from the doorway to the car. Last thing I think we did was have some Sober Sips. Fuckin partied way too hard then blacked out in the doorway of the bar.
Maroon, like red in the sea, Darkness: blue and green. Hardest to reach, Harder to please, Wanton to breathe. I feel like water through beans, Merely used, to clean. Maroon, red in the sea, Water is actually all I see. Refuse to leave, Refuse to see, Refuse to kneel. Amateur poet, do you hear me, What languages do you speak?
Desert sun, august morning, Sky, a butterscotch orange. Amongst all things, concerns: For paintings are ownership... Hopefully drawings disappear, Wrap your body in animal skin. Put a brush to your wrist, Go ahead, spill, Color all over... Hopefully canvas appears. Yellow, what say of the sea? Hardcore, double crossing, frog, Croaking of dark forces and fear. An unarmed soldier, war over, Still fighting with the hayseeds. Oh, Is this why blue pervades me? All things amongst me here, Sidewalks get ownership, You pay, then worship on them. All language, being borrowed, Gives power to some lawyer. Oh, Is this why blue pervades me? Yellow, what have you made me?
though it has been so long, i have not forgotten you. i have searched for you among the crowded shelves of bookshops, the cobbled displays of libraries, the take-one-leave-one boxes scattered through town. i have dug deep in my jacket pockets for the notes and coins needed to take you home with me. i have cradled you close to me underneath my coat while i am waiting for the 6:58 bus. i have found you in tulip bulbs peeking above the soul for the sun, late august thunderstorms that pelted our new apartment, the january wind that brings ice and chapped hands. you have made sure your spine stands straighter when i roam through each aisle, saturated and dewey with books. you have pushed the dimes and nickels into my grasping fingers so that we may spend our time together that much quicker. you have squeezed me hard as we step off the bus at 7:34. you have flung yourself through the sky and earth to find me in the smallest of stolen moments. you kiss my hands and my head and flush them rosy with emotion. you have not forgotten me either, it seems.
Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Like gawkers, ponders what they saw... 'Would you describe me, inside of a bar?' 'Must again, you make things be so hard?' 'Wasp, like I bumble about the pollen, Following a humble belief seems wanton, When you believe in things so violent and wrong.' Bird, quickly describes in simple songs, Big cities, things it saw in the puddle, Colors of war, bees that talk. Freedom, it sings, is also simple, One really needs not drift apart. The big screen, another big scene, It was mostly a facade... Balk, talk is talk, feeling in the dark, But most of what a bird said, lived on, Proper relief is upon the soul after all... So they write less of evil on the walls, In the sky, on maps or village carts. Against nothing, see the days beyond... I suppose those concepts are behind us. Was it like this all along? A bird wonders... Is the city like a swallow, or like to swallow, and will he be the next one gone? Cause for alarm, make calls upon, Anything, but you lost the one. You love... Like a dog watching another sun set, More talk, another sun will rise again, Life for this bird is but more dogs. So like a coward, survives the storm, Shivering as they make their calls. Inevitably, to face the power lines alone.
Winters of sleep, a white canvas, broken dreams, cut sharp like shards of glass. Day-blush, but graceless eyes wide opened, anxious and helpless. Raindrops on the glass, hangover, reality, facts, as the window cracks, distant memories of what once was.
Big curls, bench presses, High dives into the deep end Swim laps Gettin' down with my boys Hard drugs through the weekend I feel that Bike ride through the trees See the colours change Run flat across the bay Just to tell my maynes I'm bored, ditched lessons I'm hitting up my best friends But I'll nap first Big curls, bench presses Torn bicep and a bong rip Yo, I'm good now Skateboard through the crowds Where the streets are paved Eat shit, get scraped I can feel no pain Easin' down with my boys Slow cookin' through the weekend I feel that A bit of strings, sum tings Got damn, such a feeling To feel that
I feel like an empty vessel cast away The only thing that hits my hull is the slap of a choppy wave I have no crew on board they all found the challenge to much The cargo I have is overflowing from deep within my hull The milk has soured & the whey of the milk is all I am able to smell I once was loved in such a way, the strength of it filled me up I know it is hard to see not that I am old & withered up The way she pulled me towards her, like there was always a rope connecting us The feeling this gave to me is far too much to describe I know that is is hard to see now that my ropes have frayed away The sails are saggy, no wind will fill them up My rudder seems to be broken, around in circles is the only way it goes I fill with dizziness, that is all too much & reminds me of the day the love went away I know I will never dare love again, this old hull can not handle it all again So I will keep going in circles seeing the same thing There is no joy, no crew to fix me up. The old milk, in the old vessel has been left on its own The stench will never leave.
Obsessions What power you hold over me... Every action, every thought Is just a push in your direction Feeding into the obsessions, Lost connections, misdirections, Absolutely positively coerced into these affections By a brain constantly seeking tiny moments of perfection. Though you kind of must admire this curation of adoration, All the mental efforts required to keep up the constant cultivation Of this undisturbed fixation, The impropriety and distraction of a single-minded meditation, All these mind-numbing, pacing, clock-like rotations Theoretically leading this obsessive mind to pure elation, The uninhibited fruits of this persistent dedication. Happy sighs and exhalations... But then... The sobering realization That somehow life existed before this shrine’s erection And perhaps the cracks start to show, Unexpected but apparent imperfections, Initially denied and resolutely rejected, The shattered shards of a crystal ball that disagrees with my projections, The deflation, depletion, extortion Of my vexation, Maybe leading to complete and utter exoneration... The disintegration of my fascination. Maybe someday... But for now I prefer to float in my comforting contemplations, Giving in to the infatuation, These happy delusions of my mind’s incarceration. And if the worst this should cause is These false exhilarations, Then I shall stay here for a while And enjoy the scintillating sensations Of my obsessive ruminations. A Temporary Salvation.
If you Really Saw Me What would you do if I told you all my secrets? The ones pulled from deepest trenches, darkest corners. Scraped them like the drippings of my innermost self Onto your proverbial plate Would you push them all back? Demand a reverse regurgitation Of all that was ugly in me And pretend you never saw Would you sift through my soul? Stir a fork through all that is me, Looking for the parts you can use, Discarding the rest Would you shatter the plate against the wall? Shards of me on display for all to see, Lay me bare in front of the eyes of the world And laugh at the tears streaming red down my face Or would you love me just the same? As my inner enigma bleeds over the porcelain edges As you see all the sides unseen Would you smile at my uncloseted skeletons? Would you hold my empty vessel self and fill me with the light, the love, my soul needs? What would you do if I told you all my secrets?
Warning: this is looooooong and if you’re a sensitive individual the first parts may bother you. But hopefully the last part will inspire you. Speak your truths friends. The ones who matter will love you all the harder. #worldmentalhealthday Hidden Stories They smiled, jokingly told her she looked tired, “Must’ve partied hard last night.” Smile quietly returned, “just didn’t sleep too well I guess.” She didn’t tell them how hard it was to get out of bed this morning, How sleep never came last night, How it felt like the darkness would just swallow her whole, How she felt hollow and empty and there weren’t any tears left, just an ache deep within that wouldn’t subside. And maybe if she just squeezed her eyes shut and stayed in that bed in the blacked out void, She wouldn’t have to face another day of faked smiles and “I’m ok” lies. “Just tired today I guess.” “It’s warm today man!” “What’s with the long sleeves all the time?” “Got some crazy tattoos under there?” He smiled, laughed along with them, Self-consciously ran his hands over his wrists. Over the bandages binding his secrets. They didn’t know how close he got last night, how he almost let go, How so much blood, HIS blood swirled down the drain, mixing with his tears. He was sure no one would miss him, but he wondered if he would miss this world, And the good days out in the sun, Few and far between as they were. What would they say if he were gone tomorrow? “You should’ve come out with us last night. You would’ve had so much fun...” She nodded and made those “next time” promises, though she knew they were lies. She’d stay home again, Wrapped in the icy grips of loneliness, Which felt somehow better than her burning cheeks when the right words just wouldn’t come, or the wrong ones spilled out, and she felt their eyes on her, Panic rising, thoughts frozen Wishing she’d just stayed home, Away from the judgement, And all the wrong moves she always made “Haven’t seen you around in a while! Doing ok?” His mouth smiled, head nodded, lips formed words he’d said so often, automatic. Because, really, he thought, How could I describe that moment last night, body curled up with forehead cold against the kitchen floor, Ears covered to block out the voices, Silent screams wracking his body as the panic overwhelmed him, No breath to speak, And who could he call anyway, How would he explain these moments of pure fear that slipped in unnoticed and become everything, took everything, until he was a shivering shell of himself. Sometimes he wondered, if they could see through him, would they think him weak? Would they walk away...? These people are all make-believe, but the experiences are not, taken from articles and discussions and sometimes even revelations from real-life friends. These are not my stories, but they are someone’s truths, Not their weakness, Not their short-lived sadness that they can just “get over” if you try hard enough to make them happy. (My gosh do I need to remind myself of that part sometimes...) But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. Love them y’all. Love them so damn much that you’ll sometimes break through the cracks in their self-inflicted armor. Listen to them, Give them the chance to be open and honest, And if what they say makes you flinch, imagine what it must feel like for them. Do something kind that makes them smile and get ready to do it again tomorrow. Smile and laugh with them. Cry with them. Be genuine with your thoughts and feelings. Give them space, but check on them. Pull them out of the dark for just a moment, say, “I’m here for you when you need me. And I always will be.” Mental health issues are often invisible, but still feel debilitating to the one inside that head. Stay educated. Be understanding. Love the hell out of each other. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎💗
No secrets You keep me speechless, I can not lie I hate that I love you, If you knew the damage Would you love me correctly, The hell you put me through I no longer want to be on the ride, You knew I from the start That I fall hard and fast, I try to feel ok While you play with my emotions, There's no need to explain If you think what your doing is ok, I can try to get up and feel ok again But I'm just domino in your game, Does this make you feel better Being on top in this one sided love, I wake up in terror To ask myself what am I doing here, Why do I let myself endure The torture of your love, I can not lie I love you, No more holding inside This dirty little secret I keep, I'm tired of the mistreatment I'm tired of the avoidance, You say I hurt you From a drunken fight, Its time to bring to light Your drunken words, When we met you knew I was unwell, One night amongst your drunken lips You spoke to me a terrible fate, It haunts me in my thoughts The DJ to my demons party, You spoke love sober Yet you spoke death drunk, Your tinder lips slipped I wish you would've died, You hated me for what I did You hated the fact I was broken, I set it aside for the sheer fact That I love you truly, However you still to this day Blame my mental instability, I try so hard every day I fight for my next breath.