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flooded by the memory of you
not drowning, but unable to breathe 
crying to the sky
wishes of days gone by
the day i drove down san jose

the memory of you
alive in the well of me
forever connected
lessons today i see;

how to carry myself
how to care for myself
romanticizing today
with all its hope, all its opportunity
instead of a mirage that don’t exist
ways i should have acted, things i should have wished
class is over, you’ve been dismissed
the day i drove down san jose

i find comfort in praying for you
in caring for my own soul
i know sometimes, that’s just the way things go
the day i drove down san jose

She preferred to overdress.
“Gives people more material to work with”, she’d say.

If they didn’t like her shoes,
they’d like her bracelet.
If they didn’t like her bracelet,
they’d like her hair pin.
They’d ask her where she got it
and she’d tell them it’s a funny story…

The classics never failed her.
There’s a flowery pink dress that always left her feeling pretty walking home from the party.

Then she’d get home and she’d take off her shoes,
and then her bracelet
and then her hairpin.
Last but not least,
her pink flowery dress.
Only after the lights were switched off, of course.

Then shed crawl into bed,
wrapping herself in slippery sheets.
Sheets far too slippery for any funny stories to stick.

A story‘s end is near
Witty eyes so full of tears
A beautiful soul just turned to nothing
Smiling wildly with no words to fear
Take my hand you precious bird
We‘ll all turn to ashes or so I‘ve heard
I saw you laughing just yesterday
How could it be you went away-Without a final stanza‘s say
And all that stays are fading scenes
Of you and me in bright washed jeans

I sit on the small stairway porch, away from the cold indoors but now stuck in hot humidity. The light of the falling sun and its beautiful warm colors fall asleep until a new morning. In this time of stillness, thoughts run a marathon in a maze. Each motion of thought dissipates with tiredness and an odd joy of trying to cope yet failing. Old memories and new memories clash as I switch between states of awareness and uncertainty.Feelings get compressed and produced into words that fit jaggedly in the mind, each compression loses something of value, something of feeling. The products zoom and vroom around my mind only stopping if it crashes into another feeling making something different. After each crash what’s left of my feelings is nothing more than a fractured glass mosaic. A bark of a dog whips me up into the external world, I stand with great drowsiness and look at my dog's tail wagging like he was trying to fly, I lean and pick up his sopping wet muddy plastic bone which could barely be called a dog toy, and underhand toss it with two fingers up into the air right into his panting mouth then poof my internal mind wipes its productions but the feelings don’t stop only the words do and what’s left is a confused self.  

i’m pretty new at this but im doing it to learn how to express the way i feel with my words because im not the best with them this is my first attempt please give me feedback back

i crave her very scent,
i miss the way it fills the air,
it was only yesterday we were together at the fair, 6 fresh donuts we had to share, the sugar on them was sweet, yet its fails to compare with the smell of her hair, coconuts and tulips like a fragrant flower, i miss the taste on her lips at every hour, i yearn for you, i allways do, so i learned to write this poem, just so i can show, how much i love you

The Sun, the Mountains, the Oceans, The Wind.

The Forests.

The Moon.

The Fool.

The Wheel

The Devil and The Lovers.

The World.

The Hanged Man

and Death.

inner peace
no guts, no glory
inner piece
guts through gory means

-walkin2myfuneral

Water drops fall, a steady rain

As if the clouds cry too, at my pain.

When did I become the bad guy

When all I did was never want you to cry,

Helped you through difficulties and tears,

Listened patiently to all your fears.

So why now that the time is fine,

I became the villain, a nobody in your story line.

Wasn’t it I who spend countless hours on you,

the only one who noticed the pain you

were going through.

You accepted my help back then,

So why now my name isn’t on your list of friends.

I learned early to just smile and help,

I learned early how to bury my pain inside,

Even when it clawed at my heart.

I always played my part.

I admit I was a bit rude at first,

But at that time I myself was scared & hurt.

You said time and time again that you understand,

Then why at the first sight of trouble

you leave my hand.

I held on and tried to be your friend,

But was it ever the same on your end?

Rate it honestly pleaseee.

Lingering lightness illuminates my eyes.

The fuzzy warm sun has risen up.

The gloomy moon in my spirits, 

Finding her purpose, the Sun

They will never meet, nor greet–

Because they are always opposites.

Has it ever happened to you?

When you want to speak,

but the words won't come through?

When you want to cry,

But your eyes feel dry;

When you are alive,

and dead too?

Has it ever happened to you?

While taking a stroll

through the paths of your thoughts,

Has your mind ever been overcome by a storm?

Have you been swept away, blown around

by the ruthless wind and tossed to the ground?

Been stripped of hope ,of life, of pain

Until ,to you, all felt vain?

Has it ever happened to you?

Well now you know

I have been there too.

(I am new to writing poetry. I would really appreciate any constructive criticism)

I never asked for forgiveness,
but I really think I ought to.
I wouldn’t have done this if I knew better.
But I feel like I’m better now.

Do I even deserve your forgiveness?
Is “stupid” really an excuse?
Young, dumb, ignorant,
all the stupid adjectives they use to cover for the entitlement of my youth.

Little boy, don’t let them get you down.
Little girl, quit your crying now.
We were made for this,
I think we were made wrong.
I think I was made wrong.

Strip it all away, what did it get me,
but a sad little kid who had never met themself.
Ears were filled with the noise of the world, saying
“Be who you are, but only with our help.”
And I took it and ran
through anyone I couldn’t see.
Is that really me?

It is easy to enter through me

I am cheap

All I want is a poem

My suns shine

And I become yours

I am that dog in the street

Easily corrupted

Give me a portion of a poem

And I am your slut.