anthem

who writes the anthems while the artists wait tables
who cares to hear them when the country's unstable
how can they start a revolution when no one believes in war
why create an army if we don't know what we're fighting for

which way did freedom go?
i think i missed the ride
free passes to the new world
where it's free to die inside
we call it abandon, we say we're a new way
and here we are laughing as we burn

fiddle away and i'll strike a pose

we have neither friend, nor foe
who invites the bully to dance?
but we all just wanted a chance
for freedom
the will to choose

beat your drum to bring in peace
and get shot down when you've got nothing to say
the bullets don't stop for fuzzy ideals.
the anthems are gone.
who lost our way?

fractions

i found another piece of myself i had lost today.
it was hidden in plain sight, next to
my pride, on the bookshelf. i took the lost piece
and placed it where it belongs. i'm always losing
things i thought were in a safe place, like the time
i found my glasses on my face but had spent the entire
time i was looking thinking i was blind.

can you help me remember to look for all i've
lost? i doubt it's truly hidden. like that one time
i put the lettuce in the freezer and the milk
in the cabinet... i think i just need to remember
to not forget.

the great curse of being a strong person is
thinking that you're strong. why, just the other
day i spent the entire time i was with you
thinking i was right, and yet i forgot that i
really just wanted to have breakfast with you,
which has nothing to do with being correct.

how silly was that?

interesting....

You scored as Existentialism. Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life.

“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.”

“It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.”

--Jean-Paul Sartre

“It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.”

--Blaise Pascal

More info at Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page...

Existentialism		85%
Utilitarianism		75%
Divine Command		70%
Hedonism		65%
Justice (Fairness)		50%
Strong Egoism		40%
Kantianism		20%
Nihilism		10%
Apathy		5%

What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03)
created with QuizFarm.com

deep

some are shallow.
some can roll with the waves, take it on the chin,
and still look unruffled.
i am not as these.
i am too volatile, too much
to process life and keep my cool.

but do i care?
does the infuriating right
make a wrong?
can i let it go without getting another
callous
see, there's my fear.
i took so long to let go
of the hardness
the coldness
inside me.

i'm afraid that too much hurt
will make me want to
run away and
i'll follow my selfish desire.
the need to control
to contain the inability
to walk when the driving rain
is in my eyes
guilt blinds me.
fear binds me.
how does peace find me?

where is the safety
when all i want to do is close my eyes and hide
until it's over.
but i won't.
i'll face it again, and stare fear in the face
i only hope i don't succumb
to previous addictions.

to see is to do in my head
but that is not truth.
to know is to carry in my world
but that tears me too.
to let go, and not concern myself when in truth it is mine
is a virtue i only experience by
accident and as soon as i feel it, it's gone.

please don't let the lost ones suffer.
if i can't defend them at least promise me that.

tired

sometimes i wish i was invincible. the hardest thing about emotions to me is when you know that based on the inevitability of the situation, you're going to be feeling what you're feeling for a long time. it wears on me, trying to understand how to feel. i feel rather small and insignificant today.

but i'm glad i can't save everyone. i'm not as cool as God. and i think that i have kept people from seeing him clearly before, because they always had to see him through me.

but i still wish i was stronger.

wishes

make for dissapointed dreaming.
you say you see it all, but you're forgetting the truth of choice.
i see the truth, but i'm choosing to be suprised.

hello

hello, world.
you will sometimes be afraid. Don't
hide your eyes.
How bright the day and dark the night!
but shadows soothe and moonlight calms,
dear world.
the darkest, scariest monsters will never
stay hidden, dear world.
rest now, and sigh away your cares.
the earth will spin without your efforts.

night

a thousand dreams have birthed and died.
a few have lived their time.
if all the dreamers close their eyes
who will breathe them life?

some say i've only foolish dreams.
i've seen a world where heroes fly.

i am content to be a fool.

here i am

so i think the main problem with my poetry when i was younger was that i took myself too seriously.
on that note, if you read all my titles one after another and put them to a melancholy tune they'd make a great pop-emo song.

have you ever tried to write a poem without vowels? well, here i am, trying this very thing.

y shld nvr wrt pms wtht vwls.
ts mpssble t rhm thm.
thnk y fr rdng m pm wtht vwls.

everything

sinner or saint.
does repentance bring the new way?
thought does not cleanse or destroy.
peace cannot open doors
windows can not be washed with intention.

i think, that maybe, i would like to experience a diferent way.
i think my time
is wrapped up and saved
in a safe place.
i think i want to remember
i think i want to forget what i've lost
i think i want to dance in the rain
i think i want to sing out of key
and laugh when they look at me strangly.

who knows which way to go?
it seems we are all wanderers in a
strange, old place.

it seems that we have all lost
the reason we left
the first time.
drink time in- savor the wine, enjoy the frangrant taste
and roll the bad jokes around on your tounge.
we are young
time is not lost.
when we are old, time will still pass.

i was sitting one day, and watching the people go by and i noticed that the ones who look down when you smile walk as if the world is heavy.

who do they think they can carry?

answerman

so you say you have a plan.
are we on plan A or plan B now?
do the chips get cashed before the rides drive in
does the fat lady sing before the news comes on
is the waiting only there to begin with?

if the wonders are really a myth
and the morning is just to see the dawn
and the rain is only there to ruin the picnic
and the man is only there to mow the lawn
and the show was only good for the critics
and the peace was only there to stop the war
and the night is only there for you to hide in
and time is only running for me to miss it
and on and so on and therefore and maybe next time

then why?

hmm

there once was a bird with a mission
his message? devout inspiration.
derailed in a gale
he invented a tale
and gave up. frankly, I'm pissed.

the

unfortunate thing about feeling is it reminds of unfortunate things.
some of you get to live everyday never thinking of any reason why you shouldn't be happy.
the melancholoy ones among us know the truth.

the matrix is real.

i'm trying to hard to think of something funny. i know i laughed last week.

it must have been a good joke.

this is the part where i can usually inspire humor at least at myself, cracking a self-depreciating comment to remind myself that though I may feel like shit the world consists of more than shit. if it were only shit it would smell much worse... like Subway in Brentwood when they lay new manure in the medians. who the hell lays manure in public places? my concern for the environment is much diminished today. bring on the fragrant destructive chemicals and let me keep my lunch.

if i can remember i sound foolish, i'll laugh.

where, oh brother, art thou?

introversion

aversion
to the out there.
the information race never ends
the insane pace
the inside-outness of it all.

persuasion
to follow back ways.
tread-less shoes, ink-free pens
but it hardly
scratches a dent into the wall.

evasion
when you ask me.
look too long at the bright lights
if my ship comes in
i'm gone.

complex

to stop
and not and never again
(shall I)
and I vow
to regret my return to the
place
that once, continually,
upon I fell
to kiss the ground
that I grovel upon
to satisfy my crave
to be
a martyr.
What hast thou, life, for me?

chance

blow the wind
in and
out again
monstrous gains
are made
with cause
and effect.
In fact, in
all our pains,
there is none
so true
as dying.

reborn, you say?
as what, ask
I
your box seems
still
too small.

but soon,
cold friend the
wind blows
in.

soon, quite soon
the questions
still
but not
the
ones within.
we carry
through, bourne
in wind
as born, we live
and die.

chance drives
much
of pain I bear.
choices seem
so very small.
then I
awake
and
find
my
soul
asleep
upon
death's grave.

still not
without its
own
harsh glare
stiffness
and soft
remorse, some peace.
my willing
leap to
still my soul
brings wind in
through
my open door.

confusion
reeks
of
pitiless
gaze
and
harrowing
ifs
and
what
could
be
and yet,
I force my
soul to
cry.
What if the wind should cease?

past

i wish i could strike myself deeper so my ink could flow.
the rages and shallowparts that lie in our culture fight to survive.
descending to feed on our senstive skin-
i wonder again at the way some fly and some crawl.

it was like this. two people spoke that day
words tied together with myth to make stories...
One heard,
the other forgotten.
The unheard followed
the ways
of the drunkards
the other rose to great heights and
laughed when men stumbled.
both died.

the bohemian respite

whose song should i sing
my ration has extended the
place i call safe
but still, drifting on waves
the ocean had infected me and
my blood tastes of salt.
the soul-place with iron walls and rusty
locks
you remember, the place we hid from the
mourning? the sunlight,
the daylight, the twilight.
How dark the night and cloudy skies-
remember the day we played in
the rain? You laughed at first,
but the glistening light
reflecting off the raindrops
running down my face was infectious.

patience

sometimes
i sit and think too much, not well.

i have no Zen
my reeling emotions often overtake my insanity
my cliché’s are no longer cliché

i'm trying to again master my pen
force it to succumb to the abuse i assail upon it
again and again i force it down, but find no release.

do you have the key i seek?
i talk too much... look into my eyes. you can't see in
the shroud i have mastered

with outsides well scripted
the words i craft clues to the listener
to the truth that belies me.

try my ways, try my cracks
hold my hair back, i'll return the favor
when you face the fear that is yourself

the new blood that i seek
ripped from my soul with the words i speak
riddle you this as again i tease with promise of trust.

realism is too prosy for my poetic nature
but how can you fit content and self-loathing
inside the same creature?

so I'm a housewife

technically, at least. I'm at home most of the day with my son, and I'm a wife. though i'm at home because i run a design company with my husband, and i'm a wife because i fell madly in love... i did not succumb to the greatest fear every female with liberal leanings who was raised in a conservative home secretly denies possessing... that of marrying a man because i saw no other choice.
we eloped. i nearly ran away... as in nearly got on a bus when my soon-to-be life mate was paying for the gas... but fortunately, for once i put aside the familiar urge of running from what was too good to be true and walked with him down the aisle. Well, parking lot, into a garden, but it worked for us.
When you find someone you love, don't push them away. Step out on that shaky limb and let them know you love them. There is nothing more beautiful than finding out that you are loved, even when the person doing the loving has seen you at your worst, or in my case, my most neurotic. I couldn't scare him. I tried, damn it, but it never worked. I'm still trying, just to be sure.
One drawback to marriage... I find it has somewhat lessened my creativity. Or rather, it has lessened the frequency of what I termed creative outbursts which, though I still admire their rawness, I wouldn't want them published for anyone to see. I have developed a suspicion that they weren't really that good.
I think the main drawback to my release on paper is now i have true release, in many senses of that word. I have a captive audience who thinks I'm brilliant. So I tell him all my thoughts, and then have no need to write them down. I think I'm going to write the profound ones down before I tell him so they can be preserved. Why, just now, when I was sitting on my porch... smoking a really nice clove I might add... they're so undependable with the loss of filtered Internationals... I thought of at least five.
However, now that I made my way into the house and sat down to face my screen I find they're lost. There's no telling the wars that might be prevented and the lives that would be forever altered if I could keep my thoughts in my head for a little bit longer...