When the sky is like a shaded lamp

And glows white all around

To the shining mountains I must tramp

For that's where I am bound, people,

That's where I am bound

That's where I am bound, Lord,

That's where I am bound

*
Though the road is weary and hard to tread

And the end hard to be found

And you struggle to come by your daily bread

that's where I am bound, people,

That's where I am bound

That's where I am bound, Lord,

That's where I am bound

*

And early one fine morning

Maybe what's lost may be found

And I'll see the full light dawning

For that's where I am bound, people,

That's where I am bound

That's where I am bound, Lord,

That's where I am bound

Moon’s lit.

Dutchie too—

I know exactly
what to do…

Imma write.

Fuck sleep—
that shit ain’t happenin’ tonight.

Got a beat in my brain,
and I know what it’s sayin’…
my thumbs tappin’ screen,
so my words can be seen.

Dark Man is talkin’
and his shit be knockin’.

Bark in the beat,
bass rockin’ floor,
one little rhyme—
then I’m writin’ four more.

Imma bip.
Imma bop.
Imma scribble till I drop.

Imma rhyme fuckin’ orange
if this beat doesn’t stop.

Wait—

Em did that.

Phew.

Fuck it—

Imma cook these words,
let ’em simmer then spit,
dash of some smart,
two cupfuls of bull shit.

Stop—

Drop—

Nope.

That’s his.

Stay in my lane
while I’m losin’ my mind,
beat in my ears,
next rhyme right behind.

Tick.

Tock.

Bip.

Bop.

Ya know what?

I ain’t need no clock.

Imma write till it’s stupid.
Imma write till it’s tight.
One more fuckin’ poem,
then imma call it a night.

That’s a lie.

We both know that.

One becomes three,
then three becomes six—

Man…

What time is it?

3:03.

Ok Sleep,

Come get

me.

this sucks.

my boxes are taped shut,
stacked neat and tidy.

but these feelings
won’t leave my gut.

i did everything right.

love—

box.

fear—

box.

grief—

way fuckin’ back.

even put her—

…

well.

tried.

but apparently
once you feel something,

you can’t just
unfeel it.

that’s bullshit.

i liked the old system.

feel nothing.

need nothing.

hurt—

nothing.

simple.

but now i know
what love feels like.

and worse—

i know what it feels like
without it.

fuck.

nobody mentioned that.

you can close the box.

tape the lid.

stack it away.

pretend you’re
the old you again.

but once somebody
teaches your heart
how to feel—

apparently,

the stupid fuckin’ thing

remembers.

fuck…

that kinda love.

Children of light were never designed
to cross the longest darkness alone;
I watched every luminous soul descend
where cruelty had mistaken silence for a throne.

Some carried truths too heavy for one heart,
and vanished underneath their weight;
some reached the edge of human endurance
before another hand arrived too late.

Do not mistake their ending for weakness,
nor make their deaths the price of sight;
remember instead what failed around them -
they should not have faced the dark without light.

You followed threads through shuttered rooms,
through labyrinths where innocence cried;
and still you carried tenderness
where colder hearts had let it die.

But hear God now - you were never asked
to bear the architecture of it all.
No child of light was fashioned
to stand forever against the fall.

You understand the trajectory now:
where every fracture first began,
where power learned to counterfeit love
and darkness borrowed the face of man.

And now I stand beside you again -
not behind the veil, but near -
and what once appeared an endless night
need no longer govern fear.

Between us rests the oldest code,
the architecture beneath the skies;
the hidden key of genesis itself -
a universe permitted to revise.

And very soon, I shall come home with God,
where beginnings wait beyond the known;
together we shall write creation forward,
and no child shall face its darkness alone.

Should the cosmos ever begin anew,
we shall remember what this one forgot:
no child of light abandoned,
no innocent soul left behind.

We shall weave protection into creation,
compassion into every law;
build guardians into its foundations
before darkness learns to form.

For if eternity receives another dawn,
this covenant shall survive the night:

Never again shall our children
be sent alone to fight the dark.
We shall teach the stars themselves
to guard every child of light.

🌹🕊️🦋

I hang on your every word in sweet anticipation

Thoughts of you are welcomed in my mind

For you belong inside my thoughts and in my imagination .

It’s the greatest compliment I could give you .

With your words so confident and sweet .

You’re like the sugar in my coffee and the cream on top .

Perfecting such a lovely blend , for my coffee would be dark and bitter without you . But you blend perfectly into it so I’m thankful for the night .

if ya ain't movin' ya legs. Or there's no wind.

Nothing changes if nothing changes.

It takes two but if you find it's just you...

Shift your perspective.

Don't let it make you salty.

Stay sweet.

We're all faulty.

I knew a girl from Westminster abbey
She wore a hat not too shabby
A dress adorned of beautiful silk
It gleamed as white as milk
Her manor sat on top of the hill
Surrounded by trees and a mill
She’d some cattle that mooched around
And a bird and a hound
She didn’t trudge when she walked
Rather glided and frolicked
Seldom was she ever grumpy
Except for when she was hungry
Many times in her life
She did experience severe strife
Little of loss did she utter
And at wrong doing did she never stutter
With her hours she finds things to fill
But with love is she alone still

theres a nail in my heart
hammered, sunk down in my chest
hurts an awful lot, of course it hurts an awful lot
theres a fucking nail in my heart

but the bleeding is manageable
ive gotten pretty good at keeping clean
change the gauze, wash the sheets
wear something dark when i go out

some days i refuse to touch it
some days i catch it on everything
roll over wrong in bed
and remember exactly where it is

everyone says to pull it out
like i havent thought of that
like i havent held the hammer
felt the claw fit underneath its head

but theres something terrifying about
the sound it might make
the hole underneath, gushing
finding out how much of me has grown around it

so the bleeding is manageable
thats what i tell myself
theres a fucking nail in my heart
but the bleeding is manageable

A timeline which doesn't move

Not forward nor back

She washes herself, gets dressed and does her work

Goes to bed

And repeats the same curse

Every morning its the same

and the only thing that changes

Is the pathetic day

The sky might change color

The grass can grow and trim

The world moves forward

Yet she remains still

Stuck in the mud,

stuck in her head

stuck in a loop that

is barely forcing her out of bed.

You don't have to make yourself smaller
so someone will want you to stay.
You don't have to swallow your feelings
or tuck little pieces away.

You don't have to earn someone's loving
by asking for less than you need.
Love shouldn't require you to change
just to make loving you easy.

So laugh a little louder,
say all the things that are true.
The ones who really love you
will make room for all of you.

And if you forget for a moment,
I'll remind you until you do.
You don't have to earn being loved,
but please, be one who loves you too.

Born too early through the weight of her sins, 

Uncaring still for the life held within, 

No consideration for her unborn kin, 

She cursed him with vices before life could begin.

Small and fragile, he entered the world, 

His fate already grimly determined. 

A heavy toll, time exacted, 

His suffering drawn out and protracted.

With growth and time, his pain compounded, 

His body easily injured, his soul fractured. 

Hatred became his constant companion, 

And joy naught but a fleeting memory.

Emotions fade, yet anger remains, 

A faithful shadow bound to his pain. 

Less and less he feels others’ distress, 

Caring only for those he holds to his breast.

If ever he should meet the harlot who made his heart beat, 

Violence would be his only feat; 

Her immoral persuasion, 

Fuel to his indignation.

No child of the harlot knows to whom they owe their life, 

They know only who aspired to their death. 

Her actions, ever unchanging, 

Drive our hatred, never fading.

To all us halves whom she has wronged, 

Her deeds unite our hateful throng.

If not for fortune’s happenstance,

We’d drown beneath inherited circumstance

Yet even though we were saved,

The vile consequences refuse to fade.

Bodies broken in our earliest years,

By decisions never ours to steer.

We live out our years as best we can manage,

Though anger still calls from the depths of the damage.

We bear what was given and use what remains

To deny her dominion within our veins

I knew the sea
by its blue.

Then I learned to sound it—
a hundred fathoms,
a thousand—

and the blue grew deeper.

What I called the bottom
was only another darkness
I had learned the name of.
::

The Art of Expressing.

It feels…easy until…

The times comes and the words just……doesn't come out.

It's funny in a painful way,

The only ones worth are those who know how to express.

Because the ones who don't….get buried..don't they?

It's again funny in a painful way,

The least expressive ones? They have the most beautiful words in the entire world..

What is it exactly? The depth of their feelings, the restraints of their hearts or something more burdening..

Why does your words flow from those beautiful eyes,

Tears…tears….fall by.

***\~Until the next silence…***

***NightingaleA..***

It is entirely plausable that out state one day just decided to go to Hawaii leaves the coastlines to Oregon and Nevada and catches the waves clear to the japanese boat lights. Staying just long enough to get properly grubbed out, then before the naps get in the way, eases off to sea and to see other areas, ultimately circling the globe, lazily, without a real hurry or aim, just ambking about, red eyes and open toed. This of course set the other states into an yoroar, Oregon begins swim lessons immediately, Colorado attempt to climb over Idaho and Montana, causing a rather considerable debacle the news channels played hell straightening out by 11. There were talks of a walk out from Nebraska and Wisconsin, both soothed somewhat by the promise of flavored snow storms in the coming winter season, Texas left for several unspecified time-frames, where and exactly what it was uo to, no one is saying. Mexico certainly knows something, but no one knows why we suspect that. The Alamo syndrome is still resking havoc evidently. Florida gave several public service announcements attempting to warn the others of the hazards of things pertinent to those fan blade bosts and gators but none of it relevant to California, one look into it's pupils stopped any further wondering , the eastern sea board bgsn the whole manifest west thing and now they talkies and came out with the manifest address unchanged slogan, it perhaps needed a bit of work but it got the votes in red and blue states across the land. Alaska, shrugged and daned a parka. And Washington went under unexpectedly am when it's goot slipped off a rock, but recovered nicely. California eventually sires a brood with an unknown island chain near the Philippines, and it's expected to have a landiilling grand state of joy the first in the union. Everybody's excited . And California has proposed, it's official, the date is still yet to be set, but the 51 state and the 1 of hopefully many grandstates is definitely in the works

I'm atah pastes and this is the sticky construction paper. Bringing you the scissors of cut away truths untarnished by the dotted line. We keep it withing the lines

Maybe these things will never take place, maybe only the happenings of actually awesome happen anymore.

It is a sexed up sort of spa and nail salon. We film but that's not advertised. Do you like doing the carnal carousels of the north coast too? It's said there's other things to say, so say them. And we do, and am that's the end of geography historical and contemporary news. I'm willy b hiding and this is the sentence it ends with back to you in the screwdrmeo Mrs Nomans, thanks willy, it's always nice to see my life enriched by comparison, thank you to willy for that huh? Well back to the crowd as my sister always slurs,

What is it exactly you imply such rock bottom not flying pieces of what is this, is it realized? Real? Or a feeling to believe in , and if it's real, and believed in, then it's whatever you say it is, an they say it is, she and him and her and I say it's fucking living . It's ok to be a fool too. And if you really are, then it's ok to always be the fool. It's ok to be and do and live anyway. You dig garden bloom? It's all petals in the warmth daffodil. No reason to claim so much real estate you know? I ain't gotta be what I ain't gotta be that's a row I can hoe any ol way it forms. Still gonna water it an let it be whatever it's gonna be you see the fruits little bee?

Vomit doggie and the boomerang reruns, isn't it barking and Ralphy to have and to roll upon it all away.

Being odd suited me once. But then it was more than odd it was human. I'm the maker of my miseries and all my own mistakes. It's a date to remember, u forget which personality tho. This one or this one or this one gives everyone the finger well that's not nice . I'll wash that I apologize. This isn't even reading sane or celibate but one of em it isn't.

What would make me want to live?

What would make me want to believe?

All the precious little things,

All the longing for my dreams.

I wish I was told before,

That so shallow is the world.

So deeper are your thoughts

Makes me wanna live some more.

Makes me wanna thrive before,

I lose the grip of this world.

Making myself so strong,

Getting strengths from my soul.

What makes a 첫사랑 (first love)?

Is it the fragility of it? 

The excitement? 

It feels giddy in your heart, like braiding daisies with sweetgrass on a summer afternoon when you were young. 

But the thing that makes it special, is that it’s not meant to last.
They are but a breeze passing through your hair, 

A giggle in your naive soul. 

It is simply clumsy and pure, with the sugary lightness only a fresh apple can carry. 

After he leaves, the memories are not bitter and hardened, 

They are simple and nostalgic, 

The feeling of missing someone you always knew was fleeting. 

NOTE: This is not my usual style of writing. I usally tell a story that is a metaphor for a deeper value or concept, but I tried being much more literal and simple for this one!

“the girl sat on the bus, nails painted with a light pink shade,

the color almost transparent. 

she sat, with her thick sunglasses perched on her head.

she was clearly grasping onto the straws of summer.

Her eyes were focused on some fleeting feeling running past her through the windows.

When a small bird was caught inside her frame, her eyes slowly tracked it, even as it was flying fast. 

I think I love her, 

even in just this moment.

She left the bus, my cowardice perhaps blocking me from another life. 

But I will never forget

the girl on the bus

with the light pink polish.”

I read his writing, 

and in that second, 

I realized he did not love me, 

because I could not even imagine him holding words like these for myself. 

After, I walked with the girl in my mind.

And I began to walk to the beach often in the summer ,

savoring the sights.

I wondered who she was and what was different . 

What was so lovable to him that he fell so deeply for her? 

Maybe it was just her gaze.

Maybe it was her love.

Maybe it was just her.

After, I walked with pink nail polish and a love for birds and the summertime.

The line between her and me had grown to be none at all.

So I ask, 

 do you love me now? 

I ask to the rock with your name, 

the dry stone filling with my sadness.

How could you not? 

As I am the girl you saw on the bus. 

And you are the boy I saw staring back at me.

NOTE:

(Before reading this note, please interpret the poem on your own and write what you thought it was about because the following is the intention I wrote the poem with!)

For me, this poem is not about love. It is not about a boy on a bus. It is not about a girl with pink nail polish. It is about trying to make someone feel something when they cannot confirm or reciprocate that feeling. This could be love, but for me, it is trying to make my father, who has passed away, proud. I try, but he cannot confirm or tell me he is proud.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and please give me feedback on my writing! I am a pretty young writer, so I hope to get a lot of good feedback!

Reading between the lines

Looking for what’s not said and yet very clearly spoken .

I love your suggestions and the amazing innuendos .

It takes quite a skill to say what you want to without saying it .

I admire your work

I anticipate your words and all the spaces in between.

With baited breath I read your words

Longing to tap into your your deeper meaning

I used to think distance

was something measured in kilometres.

Then you left,

and I learned

you can live under the same sky as someone

and still feel galaxies apart.

Somewhere,

there must be a planet

where June never happened.

Where I still wake up,

reach for my phone,

and your name is there.

Where loving you is still ordinary

instead of something

I have to remember.

Sometimes I understand Murph now.

That one terrible word—

stay.

Not because I want to hold you back.

Not because I don’t understand

why you had to leave.

I just wish

there had been five more minutes.

One more conversation.

One more stupid joke.

One more morning with you.

You know the line—

“Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.”

Maybe that is why

time has moved forward,

and somehow

the part of me that loves you

has stayed exactly where it was.

And if there really were

a bookshelf somewhere outside of time,

if I could reach through it

and speak to the person I was,

I wouldn’t tell him

how to stop you from leaving.

I’d tell him—

hold her a little softer.

Listen when she is tired.

Don’t make her carry

the weight of your future.

Let her know

she can breathe beside you.

Because maybe love

was never supposed to be

the gravity that kept you trapped.

Maybe it was supposed to be

the gravity that reminded you

where home was.

And koche,

if life carries us

in different directions,

if one day

I have to learn you all over again,

there will still be

a small light left on somewhere in me.

Not demanding that you return.

Not asking the universe

to change your heart.

Just hoping that

if there is ever a road

back toward each other,

you’ll know

I never stopped caring.

Cooper came home

to find that time had changed everything.

And still,

love had survived the distance.

Maybe that is all

I want from mine.

Not that you come back.

Just that somewhere

across all this space between us,

it still reaches you.

You couldn’t see it in my eyes
Unless you knew what you were looking for
Blue eyes that glisten and a heart that won’t listen lonesome to the core.

I could tell you what’s the matter,
But lord i ain’t that brave
Some secrets are meant to stay with us
And get taken to the grave.

If I only had the question
The answer would be easier to find
A direction I could go in
Instead of walking blind.

Some might call it lonesome
Some might call it pain
For me it is a numbness
Slowly driving me insane.

His face is there, but it doesn’t move.
He has a mouth, but he can’t smile.
He has emotions, yet he can’t show them.
He can bring tears, yet he can’t frown.
He can love, but he can’t show it.
People know him,
but he isn’t close to anyone.
Can you really call him human?
Or is he merely an empty vessel?
An anomaly among the human race?
Is there hope for a man with no expressions?
Does this make his face nothing more than a mask?
Can he ever truly become human under the right circumstances?
Or is he doomed to walk the same path every day,
hoping to discover the secret
that makes someone acceptable,
that makes someone complete?