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Bad things happen, dreams don’t come true,
Relentlessly you trudge on through,
You make your bed and you lay down
Forever wearing the jesters crown

You run the same path over and over again.
You’re no different now than you were then.
You made the choice, bad or not
You deserve everything you got

You can pretend it’s all the same
That you’re somehow not to blame
But you know that this was your decision
Did it match up to your perfect vision?

What do you want


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We’ve both gone through the same old shit,
Come out the other side and dealt with it
There’s part of me that wants that part of you
But neither of us knows what to do.

We’re both in mourning of loves lost,
I’d like to kiss if I didn’t know the cost.
I feel your wants rise through your voice
Both wanting to make the improper choice

We push it down and dig in deep,
This friendship is one we want to keep.
But my mind will wander as will yours,
Another image to put on pause.

Fleeing the Sea


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A strange new feeling in a place you’ve always known,
A change in the winds that have always blown.
An uncomfortable sensation throwing your life askew,
A change in course guiding you somewhere new.

Scrambling for the maps, looking to find a familiar star,
Anything to give a sense of where you are.
Adrift in a vast void place, trusting the current to take you somewhere safe.
Another gust blasts the sail and takes your faith.

A man you knew once before steps aboard, young and reckless he charters his course.
Confident and strong he grabs the helm with force.
On his face is an old familiar grin, slight stubble over the dimple of his chin.
His hair unkempt and anything but thin

Sitting in his shadow, your blood starts to flow, one foot then the other you rise to stand.
The gale comes again whilst you ready your hand
He turns to face you, the man at the helm, it’s now that you realise,
You know who he is by the look in his eyes

Full of ambition, stupidity and joy. The look of a man the heart of a boy.
You know all the things this man will come to destroy.
But right now you know its best for him to be in control.
You’re much too lost, a wandering soul.

His smile fades away as he points off ahead, but you stare at him instead.
Knowing everything he has ever said.
I’m sorry I lost you, I thought it was best, you stumble to find the right words,
But you know this whole thing is absurd

The look in the eyes, the courage, the strength, the dimple of his chin.
Even the stupid unflattering grin.
Every part of his being is so familiar to you, everthing this man will come to do,
Are the things that already happened to you.



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when Pen comes to paper as I write each verse
I find myself on a journey, its my mind I traverse
roaming through neural pathways, recognising relays
seeing nodes I’ve seen before, and finally I reach my memory store
here I find my inspiration to write and feel
the soft tender taste of my last meal,
Writing for me brings back the sounds, tastes, and smells
from whenever this memory dwells
writing recovers the sweet scent that comes after rain
and relieves me of this dull sensation that once was pain

with every passing word my memories become more clear
the happiness, the sadness, the slow biting fear
half the things I write I will not share
not for lack of want but because I do not dare
the thoughts I write are mostly just for me
and from someone elses eyes could be deemed insanity

as I slowly end each verse, I find myself going in reverse
and it seems like every dull sensation feels worse and worse
I slowly travel back through my mind,
and come again to the light of day
to find myself nearly blind
by the beauty that stands in front of me day by day
and I no longer need to get away.




My Porch Steps


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I remember a time when I’d never smoke alone
but now these porch steps have become my home
somewhere I go to think up every line
a place to make sure my words stay in time
but by the time I reach the top of these porch steps
it seems that my head already forgets
the words that just came rushing into my thoughts
replaced with nothing, just naught

but still everyday I visit these porch steps
with a cig in my hand,
to think up these lines I will always forget,
this porch is my home and it always begets
these rhymes to my mind, even though they will never be heard
these porch steps will stay home to this poetry nerd.



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Why do we try to change the world?

do our eyes not see what beauty there is

and what beauty we have destroyed?

it seems for centuries our world has been doomed

to suffer the fabled fate of Sci-Fi films

we drill into our earth to find some light

but just create darker days to come

all we do to fuel our pyromanic need

is slowly destroying our world

if you read these words, I pray take heed

the end of days I will not see

But I don’t want the future to blame me.