Beginnings

Memories of the many beginnings,
Some we remember, some we don't.

With all the old vanishing angles,
New circles and new functions arise,
Waiting for none , not even the one.

New boundaries to many questions,
Going on and on like a storm,
Breaking all that seemed clear.

No signs of decline,
In your head, nor in mine.
So then what's to fear?

New beginnings are here to hold
Some we remember, some we won't.

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Tilted

I sit on my chair,
My head tilted to the left,
Opening my eyes to the light.

Hanging on to whats seen right,
I ponder about everything,
Through the eyes of everyone,
I have met in the past months.

I dont understand their words.
I dont understand their hurdles.
I dont understand their feelings.
I dont understand their truth.

Yet somewhere in my future,
Is an answer I hope to understand.
The time beats faster than my heart,
Here I wait to hold my chance .

Still on my chair,
My head tilted to the left.
Shutting my eyes to the light.

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Moments

Moments of confusion, in and around,
Stacked up higher and higher, above the other,
All came rolling down, in one little tear drop,
As her voice broke with a pinch of sorrow.

Still trying to find her own stand,
Abstract to all those things combined,
Her intentions, her emotions, her memories ,
Wishing against those morning, waking all alone.

Perceptions of my human mind,
Those from her words spoken in such trust,
Some strange feelings, some others even stranger,
Left me holding her on closer than ever.

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Strokes

I am plagued with the unknown
Living and breathing, waiting for reality,
To magically appear, from under my nose,
And set aside a fear, that’s only in my head.


Limited by the stroke of my thoughts
I write these words in paragraphs,
Beginning, middle and end,
Already set deep in my mind.


I'll move to breaking down the scenes,
Those that are crucial, for my preaching insanity,
Going back through to connect the dots,
Only to abandon it, thirty words into my story.


Nothing said, nothing to be said,
This is my new plan,
Thus far, it is not working,
But all is well here, this is another year.


strokes

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Wilder Days

Childish in my wilder days,
I had wished for this ghost girl,
Who walked down my school hall,
Haunting my every day since.

The ghost that I knew,
Who never answered my thoughts,
I wondered if she was always wishing,
A way to find her a ghost boy.

Never did I know,
In the many years in between,
It was I who haunted her there,
With my boyish arrogance.

She went away without a whisper,
Leaving me looking inside a portal,
Wondering what it would have been like,
Had I been the ghost boy she desired.

Defeated by this beautiful ghost ,
I ran alone the miles and miles ahead,
Counting those memories never made,
Molding myself into the man today.


wilder days

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To Be More Than Whats To Be

Today, I am what you see
Tomorrow, I am what I dream.
My stream, My being.
Yesterday to today,
On my way to tomorrow.
I am to be a better form,
To be more than whats to be.

In this enterprise of my own,
The emotions that I learn.
My rules, My destiny.
Superior to one,
Inferior to none
I am to be a better form,
To be more than whats to be.

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Unspoken Tunes

Memories faint struggling to surface,
In all its turns, insane tunes,
Wondering if it will ever be heard,
In a voice I wish to be yours.

Your name is back in the air,
All around me and in my head,
The unspoken tunes from my youth,
Ringing with that certain grace.

A soft silence in my reality,
Hidden feelings of unspoken times,
My hands drumming away words,
Never to be written , Never to be heard.

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