Tell me a story

Tell me a story
of way back when:
life was hard and exciting .
when winters where colder
summers hotter
and parents harsher.
when brothers and sisters loved each other
just because there was nothing else to love.
oh wont you please tell me a story-
turn back the clock.
to a time more golden-
where always the whole world was at the brink of extinction
and the world collided with its self .
Tell me of how you got where you are
by ship for many weeks-
cramped and underfed.
tell me of the majesty of the ice caps
and the grandeur of the forests,
Lady liberties purity
the shadowy terror of that looming mushroom cloud
and oh how it lingers still..
tell me
of simpler times
when red white and blue was just that
and pride was indivisible still.
of times when dreams were possible
and hard sciences still imagination.
Tell me about where we go when we die,
and what happens when we get there.
Tell me of love-
tell me of loss-
a story please will do.
in return,
i'll live my whole life for you.

More flavour

Armed to the tooth with pointy objects and blunt instruments-
to stab and to brutalize.
Digging into the flesh of my heart with your jagged eyes
searching behind lies for the ugly truth-
as we both know uglier is tastier.
Real fresh Meat is hard to find-
I know, I can feel your jaws grind against the rind.
Your antagonisms are relentless but savory,
I'll still resist the evils of your society- lord-
far after my hair as been salted and peppered.

Why i should always carry a pen

There are times i cant recall
what i did or said or thought
or where i was or when or why.
The writing is on the wall for all to see
but for me its not even a distant memory.
sometimes ill write what i have not yet thought,
or think and forget to write.

Thinking can sometimes be like dreaming for me,
ill grasp the thought like it is a ribbon tied to a very nice balloon,
the ribbon slips and slips until the balloon is free,
and the thought is free of my mind forever.

Sometimes i hold tight my ideas
praying that they wont leave me,
my grip irrefutable and strong
yet in vain -
the idea is carried off by the wind as its sandy grains fall from my head.

Rarely can i capture my beautiful thoughts-
cage them onto paper,
forever.
But for some reason i then feel guilty,
as if i broke a rule.
or tried to keep what should not be kept.
so i release the dream from its bonds
and wait for it to return to me when it is ready.

Sometimes i think,
maybe it is me who is not ready.

Finding time to breath is not always easy

Our complicated lives can be smashed into a million pieces in one instant
like -
a broken vase
its shards scattered on the floor
and flowers lying still, drenched by the shrapnel.
Moments like that you hold your breath and wait at the bottom to explode
hoping-
that on the way up you will have an epiphany,
maybe you will reach the surface and feel the sun and have hope,
praying you wont get caught beneath the ice and drown in sorrow.

We may feel the pains of the past flutter back to us with razor wings-
stabbing and scrapping our lungs.
puncturing our hot air balloon and dragging us down to earth and reality.
causing us to stop and admit, it hasdidmightcouldwill-happen. . .
and leave us feeling hopeless and caught in despair.

Sometimes you have to muster every bit of strength you have to heave in oxygen-
to take a deep deep breath and calm down.
Breath so deep and so long you can feel the very planet exhale before you do.
But in your exhale you let go of all that is weighing you down-
pain
sorrow
despair
the weight on your shoulders that you no longer can bear,
nor should you have to-
Because there is a limit to how many years you have to carry your sins.

once and a while everyone deserves to take a breath-
Finding the time to is not always easy.

Lamppost Ghosts

What ghosts they are who stand beneath the lamppost-
Cold and shivering,
In the darkest hours.
Young and pale
Like lonely lilies.
What redemption do they seek?
What comfort might they reap-
From standing beneath such an icy-
cold light?
Like angels they stand bathing,
Cleaning themselves in the sturdy-
Immortal lighthouses that glow
down our twisting-confused roads.
You can see them standing there-
eternally beautiful.
They vanish Before you look again,
And turn to a memory-
Or nothing at all.

Thanks-Giving

I hope everyone had a good thanksgiving I know I did. Sometimes its good to make a list of things your thankful for.

I'm thankful for:
food because I am an American and like to eat unhealthy.
family because they are the people who help shape who I am for better or worse.
friends because they shape the rest of who I am. . . usually for the worse . .. but in a good way.
college cafeteria food because it makes me appreciate a home cooked meal.
tryptophan because it makes me tired and lets me sleep like a normal person.
hot chocolate because it is warm and delicious .
alarms because they wake me up in the morning.
and silly little lists because they remind me of the important things I sometimes forget.

-Mad Hatter