When we walk in circles empty,
We walk dying.
When we drown in our actions and tears,
we submerge and float helpless.
When we knock,
repeatedly knock in to that glass sharded
barb-wired
hard wall.
Head forward.
Crashing at full momentum.
Whilst cold clammy palms lay bare
flat and inflicted on this wall.
Taking the repelled energy back to the same flesh ripping,
Skull shattering wall.
Blood dripping from forehead to nose and cheek.
Pieces of skin, clotted and lucid blood inhaled in with every deep breath when striking
and stricking injury.
Again and again.
Exhausted.
Lips trembling of pain.
Salty from tears and those Red
Red drips .
Condensation from the two.
Mouth breathing in gusts .
When we forget to feel,
that feeling of heart,
Of keeping whole.
And wanting pure and true.
We become.
Only the accustomed pain we revel in
We enjoy,
we relishes the high
The sting,
the burn of euphoria .
When we slaughter ourselves
The same way,
Everyday,
We begin not feel that pain
The injury,
of the next approaching stab;
the shardes of glass and brick and wire that becomes apart of us.
That become us.
When we walk in cycles empty
We walk dying.
When we drown in our actions and tears,
We submerge and float helpless.
When pain becomes us
And we become pain
Life becomes torment.
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Monday, 9 January 2012
Random#
I thought life would be boring and
less interesting without you seems the opposite.
Kudo's to new friends new breaths of life
and cheers to letting go.!
less interesting without you seems the opposite.
Kudo's to new friends new breaths of life
and cheers to letting go.!
Sunday, 8 January 2012
The one that got away.
Should I have let you go. . .
In the palm of my hand.
Darn, all for just the
Sense and sensibility of the situation.
Why so rational and logical . . .
At such an irrational and illogical age,
That was before .
The lust,
I should have trust
Yet morals were made in haste.
Previously calming but now puzzling.
Should I have let go . . .
In something that came to me.
That was mine.
For a small fraction of time. .
Or for however long I could have wanted it.
Reminising over something that hardly started,
That was hardly there
But was my choice to ignite the hardly there flame .
And potentially start and stop
With a gentle blow through
these
innocent
lips,
And a simple shrug of my hips.
Innocent actions
All for the greater good.
All for future purpose.
All for bettering both.
And what's to show for all that,
Could have been missed,
Chosen not to be missed?
Should I have let u go. .
In the palm of my hand
Darn,
Should. I have let go
In something that came to me
That was mine.
Now all there is this
Parting was such sweet intimate sorrow
Reminisce.
Bliss .
In the palm of my hand. Darn, all for just the
Sense and sensibility of the situation.
Why so rational and logical . . .
At such an irrational and illogical age,
That was before .
The lust,
I should have trust
Yet morals were made in haste.
Previously calming but now puzzling.
Should I have let go . . .
In something that came to me.
That was mine.
For a small fraction of time. .
Or for however long I could have wanted it.
Reminising over something that hardly started,
That was hardly there
But was my choice to ignite the hardly there flame .
And potentially start and stop
With a gentle blow through
these
innocent
lips,
And a simple shrug of my hips.
Innocent actions
All for the greater good.
All for future purpose.
All for bettering both.
And what's to show for all that,
Could have been missed,
Chosen not to be missed?
Should I have let u go. .
In the palm of my hand
Darn,
Should. I have let go
In something that came to me
That was mine.
Now all there is this
Parting was such sweet intimate sorrow
Reminisce.
Bliss .
Picture byAmanda Kitswell : http://th04.deviantart.net/fs70/300W/i/2011/223/3/e/reaching_by_amandakitswell-d4688i3.jpg
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Frozen time
Time will not stop
Time will not wait.
To mend broken hearts and broken minds.
Broken souls.
Broken people we have become.
An escalation or wrong
Thoughts of right.
Proceeding through blunt burning nails.
Temptation prodded and poked.
A choice had we of many.
Destruction and peril close
and landed afoot.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
Asunder the wreckage
shattered hopes
lie diminished
upon the now unreachable dreams
wants and needs.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
For drop grape, haste came.
A sacrifice like no other.
Of faith.
Of dreams.
Of change.
As we lost way,
led deeply astray.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
And now present has past,
the past is the present.
Redemption is seeked;
from each-other and above.
Reconciliation extended,
to far to see.
Souls struggled
search sorrowfully in stagger.
Surreal serene ecstasy
momentarily hath doth blind
with nails of hell.
Ones so pure-hearted,
So righteous.
Ones encrypted to each-others print.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
To mend broken hearts and broken minds.
Broken souls.
Broken people we have became.
Copy-written Dec 2007 by Mino Rock
Picture courtesy of : http://i49.tinypic.com/dr9i86.jpg
[ I wrote this five years ago when I presumed I had my own proven stubborn philosophy about everything and anything. Sometimes the youth have the upper hand of this stubbornness of keeping their ideals and then apparent grown-up-land, that we let slip by somehow humanly undetected. Naive minds stronger then experienced ones that have see things and done things that we could all live with-out . Oh how the mighty have fallen and fallen hard. ]. Edited and uploaded as Published.
Time will not wait.
To mend broken hearts and broken minds.
Broken souls.
Broken people we have become.
An escalation or wrong
Thoughts of right.
Proceeding through blunt burning nails.
Temptation prodded and poked.
A choice had we of many.
Destruction and peril close
and landed afoot.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
Asunder the wreckage
shattered hopeslie diminished
upon the now unreachable dreams
wants and needs.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
For drop grape, haste came.
A sacrifice like no other.
Of faith.
Of dreams.
Of change.
As we lost way,
led deeply astray.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
And now present has past,
the past is the present.
Redemption is seeked;
from each-other and above.
Reconciliation extended,
to far to see.
Souls struggled
search sorrowfully in stagger.
Surreal serene ecstasy
momentarily hath doth blind
with nails of hell.
Ones so pure-hearted,
So righteous.
Ones encrypted to each-others print.
Time will not stop.
Time will not wait.
To mend broken hearts and broken minds.
Broken souls.
Broken people we have became.
Copy-written Dec 2007 by Mino Rock
Picture courtesy of : http://i49.tinypic.com/dr9i86.jpg
[ I wrote this five years ago when I presumed I had my own proven stubborn philosophy about everything and anything. Sometimes the youth have the upper hand of this stubbornness of keeping their ideals and then apparent grown-up-land, that we let slip by somehow humanly undetected. Naive minds stronger then experienced ones that have see things and done things that we could all live with-out . Oh how the mighty have fallen and fallen hard. ]. Edited and uploaded as Published.
Its Like.
Its like I leaped a little.
Its like I let go;
Of grudges
Past perception.
Let go of routine
The damning killing routines.
Its like I'm fluttering,
Opening up thoughts of
Continuity.
Allowing the continuation of a difference.
Instead of that bland sickening feeling of yesterday repeating itself.
Its like I'm free
Of everything
And everyone.
Lost in my own piece of mind.
Its like my time is here.
And rolling
Calmly
and up ..up..
and away.
Taking solice and joy with what I have
And who I am.
Scratches tainted corners and all.
Its like my heart is whole again and my sense is creeping back.
Its like the essence of me is intensified.
Clarified and strong.
Its like I am happy and content.
Like I am my own best friend.
Its like
I am me again.
Its like I let go;
Of grudges
Past perception.
Let go of routine
The damning killing routines.
Its like I'm fluttering,
Opening up thoughts of
Continuity.
Allowing the continuation of a difference.
Instead of that bland sickening feeling of yesterday repeating itself.
Its like I'm free
Of everything
And everyone.
Lost in my own piece of mind.
Its like my time is here.
And rolling
Calmly
and up ..up..
and away.
Taking solice and joy with what I have
And who I am.
Scratches tainted corners and all.
Its like my heart is whole again and my sense is creeping back.
Its like the essence of me is intensified.
Clarified and strong.
Its like I am happy and content.
Like I am my own best friend.
Its like
I am me again.
BackDated October 2011
Sunday October 2nd 2011
The Londoners have already packed up for winter;
boots, hats, ear muffs and coats.
The last week has ruined our plans,
with the suprising summers weather and humid of days.
We were not ready but made use of the fortunate turn of weather.
-Random like life.
This reminds us that everything is unpredictable
and our feeble souls have no power;
except to accept
and go with what is handed to us.
Rejoice in sun, good-times and happiness.
And rub warm for the approaching sinister cold.
It is October and no chills have come yet.
I am 22 and still in awe of time, destiny and the unfolding history everyday;
Like the turbulent weather in the tide of life I have clashed with another.
When avoidance of connecting with others electric impulses is what I strayed from.
-Running away from any form of deepth has been my safety net of falls.
It is October and it has been 365 days times 2;
since I truely looked at another human being and saw Life,
instead of the inner death of me.
The trees are sunlit and confused with their autumn maroon jem-coloured leaves.
They feel submerged with the warm comfort shinning on them.
I know too well of their multitude of thoughts.
The grass is cooling but not anymore refreshing then knowing;
not one singular hair of grass was here last year.
-As my pain peaks-Randomized;
of all the little words, the razor-cuts and the larger knife stabs
of the hurt, the tears and emptiness.
Every piece of grass are like these.
And my awe stretches as I comprehend;
that one day all the darkness inside
shall be replaced by new grass.
Grass infantry in its roots but more well nurtured,
than my flowers and weeds through my adolences.
It is the second day of October,
and the cold has not hit just yet.
This day will go.
This time will go.
And it will never be that warm wonderful day in October again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)