The Cycle

Potential Loss
Seen As A Gift
A Gift Of Time
To Reminisce
To Slam The Doors
And Slit The Wrists
Of Hope And Love
Which Won't Exist

But What's It Like
To Be Alone
Alive At All
Or Merely Stone
In It To Lose
A Life On Loan
A Heart Will Break
Just Like A Bone

True Love Is Blind
Unlike The Host
But Eyes Can't See
Love Like A Ghost
A Car Of Two
Will Never Coast
But Breaking Down
Will Hurt The Most

Another Fight
A King Is Crowned
A Real Winner
Is Never Found
The Loudest Scream
Won't Make A Sound
When Rocks Can Die
And Fish Can Drown

Will It Be Real
Or A Mistake
It Must Be Real
If It Can Break
Love In A Lie
Love That Is Fake
Is Loathe And Love
For Lovers Sake

With Nothing Left
There's Nothing Wrong
It's No Surprise
That Love Is Gone
Without The Love
Without The Song
The Hopeful Love
Can Not Belong

But Two Will Try
And Two Will Kiss
The Two Will Hug
The Two Will Miss
The Two Still Fail
To Make Love's List
So Back To One
Without The Risk

That's The Cycle
The Way It Goes
What Is The Point?
Love Only Knows
Many Will Try
The Cycle Grows
But Reads The Same
And Only Shows:


Potential Loss
Seen As A Gift
A Gift Of Time
To Reminisce
To Slam The Doors
And Slit The Wrists
Of Hope And Love
Which Won't Exist

The Dream Stream

It is said that a dream is the unconscious mind's attempt to solve a problem that the conscious mind can not; however dreams rarely make an adequate amount of sense. Can a valid course of action be derived out of outlandish visions occurring in one's mind? Dreams are also labeled as random acts of unaware creativity happening during sleep, but are dreams random or do they possess a modicum of logic? Do dreams foreshadow desires of the soul? Or does the soul fabricate situations to provide us with plans for resolving conflicts? What about when we dream of murdering a best friend? Can a dream such as this relay plausible information to a distressed mind, or is it merely entropy?

People dream every night and most times dreams are vivid, and many dreams are a remarkable visual simulation, an enhanced replication of real life. Dreams can not be pointless or we would not have them. Dreams have proved to be helpful. Remember that multi-million dollar blockbuster with an even grander sequel about a robot sent back in time? Terminator was born one night in bed when the future director had a financial success in the form of a nightmare. So dreams can definitely serve a purpose and not just in the form of a movie, but in different forms that transcend ideas. Good dreams are wholesome and comforting. They provide some with center and purpose, and to some they provide a general direction or indication that everything is going to be okay. Dreams can provide tranquility via prosperous thought and attitude, like a therapy treatment.

Maybe dreams are like exercise for our imagination's, maybe while we dream our brain is being conditioned and creativity is working out. Dreaming is natural so it must be healthy. If we expand our minds maybe we can fathom that we have all been here and done this before. Could that explain deja vu?  Maybe dreams invented deja vu, or did deja vu invent dreams?

The Unwanted

It only takes something
Until you have nothing,

And are left of earth
Alone and hurt,

That you can receive
Everything you deserve...

Whether it be good or bad
It's nothing you've never had,

But at least it will be something
And then it will be nothing -

-Gone in a flash!

But it will be solitude
And render you vein in all you do,

Then will your soul be correct?
Destruction is being a reject.

-So don't go for.

Lay down your armor
And never charm her,

But don't outcast the dormant
Take on their persona

-But you can't conform it.

They are not seeking attention
They just hate all they get,

They are not crying aloud
They're not in a depression fit,

They just exist
In initiative never lit.

They hurt without humor
They suffer without consent,

Their need owes the money
But they can't justify the rent,

They are the puzzle piece
That doesn't ever fit

-And they are not seeking attention!

...Because their pain is hid.

They are merely and alone.

Deemed...

THE UNWANTED.

Starry Night

I look to the stars.
And who do I see?
I see plenty of people.
Like you and me.
People who wish,
People who believe.
People who ponder,
And people who seek.
They seek a God,
Or a person they need.
I see the stars,
But they don't see me.
So how can I compare,
a contrasting thing?
Myself, to a star,
Is like a desert to a sea.
A sea under the sky,
like God over all dreams.
But the dream is of pipes,
And I want to believe.
That I am a shining star,
And people wish to me.
They'd tell me secrets,
Of what they want to be.
And on late nights,
What would they see?
An ever-faithful star,
That shines constantly.
But this isn't real,
Once again, it's a dream.
Nothing but a fabrication,
A mere fantasy.
Because I can't shine,
I can only bleed.
So stars are blind,
So it would seem.
Or they would help,
A soul in need.
I cry to the sky,
And drop to a knee.
One last wish,
Please allow me,
To become immaculate
And forever see:
The moon's ideas
And God's beauty...
Let me glow-
I beg you, please!
Make me one of you!
And none of these!
... I listen for you....
And you never speak...
Silence is knowledge,
And now I see...
I AM a star....
A star that is bleak,
A star that doesn't shine,
A star of misery.
I can't live with that,
Hamlet's got nothing on me,
So I ask his question:
"To be, or not to be?"
The answer is not.
I wonder-
"Will I dream?"

There Will Always Be Another Tomorrow?

Tyler Cathey - There Will Always Be Another Tomorrow ?

What can come of featured emotions?

 Someone who pretends they care?

 Someone is paid to listen,

 But they put deaf lotion,

 Upon their ears.

 Help! I=m hiding under a shadow of laughter,

 An invisible cloak, everyone is fooled.

 And no one really cares until after,

 After the trigger is pulled.

 I=m screaming my feelings

 Through a silenced pen.

 Observing these killings

 Not outward but within.

 The ink is forever on my paper,

 But I=m fading away.

 As I try to forget my heart=s raper,

      I think about the next day.

How my words are heard

And they only stare,

They are disturbed

But also don=t care.

There=s no consideration,

Just fear.

Pain is my reparation,

No one=s sincere.

Tomorrow will be a new day,

A beautiful day,

But I don=t think that I=ll be here.

Me and You

I wish I knew.
Is it only me?
Or is it me and you?
Is it one half of a heart?
Or is it two?
We can be whole.
If you choose.
When I close my eyes,
The world falls through.
There is only God,
And me and you.
Only us,
And our residue.
Nothing else matters,
Except the number two.
There can be a thousand,
Or only a few.
I know my choice:

It's just me and you.

I once was small,
but I grew,
Into a punching bag,
Without a bruise.
Yes it hurt,
That's not news.
But it's when I learned,
I can't refuse.
It's when it hit me,
It's when I knew!
There can only be us.

Just me and you.

Winter's coming,
But we must bloom.
We must turn red,
Despite the blue.
Please tell me,
What to do.
I don't know,
I never knew.
I pretended,
Without a clue.
Say the words?

"Just me and you."

I'm in your mouth,
So you have to chew.
It's hard to swallow,
When it isn't food.
So let me in,
Let me through.
And I will show you something...
Something new.
Because you're like a bird,
That never flew.
I can give you wings!
And something true,
Something abstract,
That I drew.
It's a darkened sun,
Lit by the moon.
The picture's full,
Like a whimsical room.
A somber life,
I can't undo.
Please stop the rain,
And this monsoon.
I just want one,
To equal two.
With no one left,
But a few.
Is it you and me?
No. Just solitude.

Anectdote - Metaphors Are Liberating

ANECTDOTE-

One time a moth landed on my wrist.  I almost killed it because I like butterflies , not moths.  I looked at the moth... I looked at it a long time, and soon grew soft.  I embraced the moth instead of crushing it.  I put the moth on my shoulder to allow it to see what I see, to feel what I feel.  The moth smiled... it gave me butterflies; I am happy.  Then it chewed a whole through the center of my shirt... and flew away.  I never saw the moth again.  But one day it will return, but I may not have the same shirt anymore.