Spooky & So

A want of passage I go on & on & on about self-discovery but I never ask myself, "What do I want?" Perhaps I've just never had to time, or maybe I've been too scared to find out. I realize though, that my likes & the things I want aren't too distinct from what most other people of my generation want. Rambling 4 What do I want to do with myself? Well, what do I want now? I want peace w/o stress, & I want self-discovery I want to go back to a "ritual"", of yoga & time for myself despite homework. I want to be loved in a way that I don't have to second guess myself, as so I can be aware I want emotional intelligence so I can stop jumping to zephyrous conclusions. However, I don't know what I need. Written October 12th

What we learn This prewritten rambling was composed in May of 2016. This one is a bit more personal, having been written when I was in a depressive-mimicking state. I no longer feel these things here & realize how much I've learned since this period of my life. Rambling 3 I am not strong. I am very weak in the mind & very sensitive. I am not a fighter. My own self-worth & worth decided by others only correlates to what I can do to help others, which is not much. I spend most of my time being lazy, & I often forget that I have things I should do. I only dream about my want, not go after them as I should. I am a big baby that shouldn't ever try to go after my wants. I do not deserve or should even think about having the self-love that so few of my peers have. I don't have anything worthful to do or anything that would help others. I am weak & desperate for attention. I want things that I don't deserve. I ask for too much in a world that can o

Writing is a piece of mind I've seemed to come to the conclusion that writing is a piece of mind. Every written work - rather it be a sentence or novel, one of your own or copied down - is part of human emotion.  Not all the time am I aware of what or why my writings come out the way they do. However, I know it reflects how I felt when I was putting words on paper.  Here, in retrospect, I don't know why I wrote this, but know it stems from how I was feeling. The first 4 sentences in bold are part of a finish the story book I got, so thus, they aren't my writing. Piece of Mind Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps if she pinched herself, she would wake up. But she didn't want to wake up. She want ed to stay in this dream world were  bliss overran ignorance, & the angels could tell the truth while lying at the same time. She loved it here. A world full of decay & growth, of symmetry & abstractness, of presence & excursion. Two wrong

Let's go, to lark on!  Ah discovery. The best of its forms has to be self-discovery (which I seem to write a lot about). But sometimes self-discovery can be as simple as going in depth as to what you want. So that's why I wrote an infatuation infused poem. Every Night Every night, I live & die I fall & cry but get get up fine I find a new one, lose the next one & I give all to dichotomous likes Each step, I float & drown I scare myself & win me over I forget my words, I follow yours Then end up lost, more so than I thought Every dream, I burn & freeze Wait for someone, go home alone I pull out rabbits, give up my seatings Find a loner, & then dream up our flight Written October 10th

Why is it this way? I don't want to complain, but at the same time I do. Many times, I dislike the current society we live in. More so, I dislike its emphasis on education against free will. I dislike how stress & devotion to school is "the only way" to fulfillment. If there was a way to devote time to oneself, while at the same time being able to focus on education... Don't They Care About Us? Don't they care about us? Pull out heads off just to look inside the spine Marrow is declamation they can see & ligaments torn from crime ~So I say what I give in Just a body full of whine and I say that I'm givin' a lot just to declimb Aren't you short of breath as I? I had a new sure way for them to see & I don't care if we'd have to lie But I gave you orders these things then you couldn't decide ~ Can't I see it all clearly now? A boy, troubled youth, & one without fair gro

Of dreams   The most interesting of all subjects is how we process them. I recall one dream, in which I processed the idea of love as an ephemeral feeling. There was nothing real there, but my brain connected the subject of affection as sinister & inhumane. Another dream I had was about committing evil deeds, while not being in the same body that's doing such actions. The relation to being cruel & not having control over it was prevalent as an emotion. This connotation makes me think of other aspects of human nature. Are we naturally to do bad while still willing to do otherwise? I Dreamt, I Woke Up I dreamt I was a sailor on trial Trial for living the wrong way of life Persecuted & found guilty for love I dreamt I had two hands Two hands I could use to show to whom One heart I could give not hurt I dreamt something wrong about space It comes back again & I draw closer In front of an abyss I stand, waiting, h

A month of surprises October is smack at the end of the year, meaning that what one thinks is already established for the remaining 90 or so days is not really established. Anything can happen before the new year, and so I feel as if I should remark that a lot of personal-growth & experience can occur in a short amount of time. October is like the turning point of a record album, the last 3 or 4 songs before silence. Or even like a book's final chapters, or a game's pending solution. This piece was written in the middle of September this year. A short story of the likes. I felt its Halloween ambiance to be appropriate for today. Now, It's Gone He took his ship past the port Across the stream, up the gloom As it hit the shore it seemed to float Time in air, as a cardinal feeling Now it's gone & so he walked his way East in dark hallow, in light & mist So he approached Miss's house Open gates now rusted, like her in front N

Room for inevitable errors  I mistaken forgot to write this Saturday, which is bound to happen as with any hobby. Soooo, I pick up where I left off. This poem-like prose is about how much power a group of people posses. It's about the propelling force of a sanction or asset. At the same time, it's also about the limits of said force, from where power is concentrated.  Challenge not Baggage The world spins fast, so fast & there's no stop How convincing it is, to leave just a few on top Who are we to question new word new order Only to find out we've elected old power Not like being frail, just naive Dilettantes for life, just not when we need We challenge books, words, love, fear Here it goes again, so accept this, just accept this If it what you want, a choice or a compass We've got power of most power How we use it doesn't matter But it does yes it does Just where do we throw it? Written October 8th

Time it took us...  I discovered that it's best for me to post what I wrote the day before instead of trying to do it that very day. This will allow me to post more often instead of every 3 or 4 days.  In regards to what I already established as tradition, This Friday's prewritten piece was composed at the end of January 2016. A sort of short story with poetic assets, about a character of misfortune yet charisma toward intentions. This character's name, as I recall, was taken from a tune favorite of mine, which in turn was derived from Greek mythology. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvwEGDGptGU The World's Beast of a Burden Oh poor Atlas The world's Beast  of a burden All in-and-out inspired by human rage No anger could control him for he was trying to emancipate himself & his false acolytes though other, he tried to rescue them He wanted confidence & compassion But the world did not require him For he was just a nuissan