"humming bird"

quiet down, now, look around,
how is it that such exquisite peace
is pieced together at least by tears
and severed hearts and “so about the weather…”

do you remember when the humming bird would
hum to us the tunes of our daytime bliss and we would forget
what bound us in lists of
“should not’s” and “should do’s”

when I was me and you—

you were you

we would go to the edge of the world
on humming bird wings with

just

a

smile

this place was a beauty,

the blue horizon planting

gardens in your eyes

the humming bird

singing the melodies of

you and me

with a thump-thump

and a thump-thump

but nothing like it is now

streets full of the damned and

the desperate

and disowning your own things

that used to string this world together

now they bring them close to break it all apart

to break us all apart

where has the laughter of the humming bird gone?

I hear nothing but the shrill sound of

bullets whizzing through

my dreams,

and my visions are now

a wasteland for the lovers

I see nothing but darkness—

a black cloud of brokenness

engulfing, swallowing, and

spitting back out

and I hear nothing but crying in the silence of

the evening’s shadow

where has the laughter of the humming bird gone?

the sun shines not

only the melancholic moon rises and falls

like the chest of the humming bird

resting in the nest of his past

dreaming

of

metaphors

with no sound or vibrations

just visions of darkness

because love has always been

blind but never did I realize how

deaf it really was—

how deaf we all are…

the sound of a gun and

the humming bird falls from the tree

Poetry In Motion

I came to concur today that poetry in it's form is a piece that is and will never be finished
You can revise and re-edit and recopy and rewrite it all you want, and say you are done, but really it will never be finished. It is something that you can write and come back to and re-write, but you must realize it will never be finished.

The reason I say this is because if a poem is finished, then that kills the existence of the poem itself. Why does there have to be an end? If there was an end, there would be no reason to read it or write it.
Poetry is always in motion.

What?

I've been distancing myself away from my blog more and more. I don't understand why, and I'm trying not to fabricate this action into being, but something stands barricading my inspiration. What is it? Is it distraction? Distraction from my education, from my lyricism and poetry, from my soul and mind? I've been so stressed out lately that I haven't even contributed anything to my blog lately. Just a few rough poems here or there.

Where has my inspiration gone? I'm at loss for words to construct my thoughts.

I guess I am just getting sick and tired of being cooped up in this hell hole; sick of being banned to hours of solitude in the barren four walls of my room, my loneliness. I have had a lack of inspiration lately because I am stuck in here grounded away from the world that I love - from my friends first off, from the beauty of the outside, from the media - I have no idea what is going on anymore.

What really pisses me off the most is how I can't attend my best friends birthday party where all of my friends will be attending. I am literally stuck in my room because my mom thinks it is a better fit for my academic situation. Doesn't she understand that I crave every second to be outside or with my friends, I can't fucking study because I am so desperate to see my friends. I am so lonely, pretty much on the brink of insanity. The only thing thats keeping me sane is my blog (which I am not allowed to have), my friends at school (whom I am not actually allowed to hang out with, yet I do), and the moments where I sneak on facebook (because without it I literally would go insane). If I didn't have those three things I would probably have to drop out. My friends are what keep me sane, inspired, and motivated. The thing that fucked me up last semester was not my friends distracting me, but me distracting myself. It was my friends who encouraged me to go to class and to work hard, but I fell behind as I feel deeper into a self-inflicted depression, where apathy poisoned my heart.

But that has subsided, I have moved on from that, grown away from it. But of course, my mom still doesn't believe it. She never has faith in me, and maybe if she saw how her negativity doesn't encourage my academic status at all, then she wouldn't be so fucking blind as to realize I need my friends and the world. I am seriously struggling to just survive this. I can never sleep anymore because all I want to do is get out, all I want to do is hang out with my friends. I mean for fuck's sake, at least let me do stuff on the weekends. You are seriously going to make me sit in my room all fucking day studying. Are you fucking stupid? That is too much, I had a class where you can't over study because the brain can't handle that. And that is what she is doing, she is inflicting all these headaches on me. I just need out.

I need to go on saturday. I miss all of my friends, I am sick of doing this.

I could write on and on, but I am getting a headache from even thinking about it.

woah! Civil War blogging?

lol

Mother

Mom, do you feel the

poetry burning with passion through

my eyes?
the disguise,  a flame from the skies

of blue that my shattered soul

stares behind

your fucking words burn me alive

at the stake

they set fires in my heart

that scream out for heaven and

hell

i don’t believe in love anymore

wars fought between our hearts

and opposing minds

from years of bullshit held in

and out

can you really say that you believe in love?

unconditional --- bullshit

from a mother’s womb, her

love consumed with future doom

that i forever fuck with—

this doom a fucking noose

held in knots around my throat and

thoughts

you’re strangling me with your bullshit

and my heart will fucking rot

by your locked opinions that

you consider facts because after

all, a mother knows best right?

but i don’t believe in love anymore

you say my punishment isn’t

because of hatred, but love

yet you continue to take away

my life day after day, night after

night, nailing me to a fucking tree

that you planted and cut down for that

one moment where you could be god

of your world and of mine, and forsake me—

your son, sacrificing me to the pits

of hell:

the center of your hatred heart

is your very desire to take what I

live for? must i die in vain?

the pain of your inane methods

chains me down in something I don’t even

believe in anymore

i’d rather fuck all the whores and prostitutes

with passionless ecstasy than define this

dancing devil called anger anything

but hatred

yet you call this bullshit love?

you execute me to solitude confinement

when you know my deepest

demon is loneliness?

and you come barging through

my fucking door

with bullshit excuses to try

and see if i am disobeying your

commands when you’re the very last

person i wish to see because

you see I want to be happy but not with you and me,

with a girl who can see me for what I really am:

a poet, not your fucking image of

a perfect son that you’ve set your

high hopes up for

as you come barging through my door—

you rally for a false reality

set in technicality

trying to transform the center of

my being into your love for

other people’s opinions

and your dreams

you don’t care about me but how other’s see

you and perceive your parenting skills

i wish i could tell everyone how

i’d kill to feel loved

but you set your heart above for

my brother but not your

other son

how every night is filled with screams

of rage that are so passionate and real

they could set the house on fire

with just a blink of an eye

the rage that wrecks all

homes and turns them into just

houses, where moms are

not moms anymore

but mothers—

your tongue’s like a time bomb

tick, tick, ticking lies of unconditional lovers

but i don’t believe in love anymore

My first attempt at a slam poem... "Beating"

"beating"

I've lost sight of who 

you are—

your smile, your whisper

the way you breathe into

my ears,

the way you fondle my fingers like

a fucking fiddle

just a fucking memory fading

into the shadows of my

mind... these dark chambers where

I store useless information that I'll

never remember again...

do you really want to be stored there?

do you really want to be part of

something that has nothing to do with

everything I am?

Who the fuck are you?

I miss the way we used to be, 

the way THINGS used to be

when we used to be you and me

we talked like lovers and not like

ghosts at a sponsored pig roast, 

hosted by memories with drinks toasted to "what were" and "what could 

have been" but not even acknowledging 

"what will be of you and me”

Are we just memories tattooed

on your silent tongue? I’ve been straight, I’ve been

serious… suckin’ cock with my stuck

up bullshit

Fuck, I can’t even tell you how many

holes I’ve dug and am diggin’ with this pussy

lickin’, shit spittin’ tongue that’s

tickin’ like the tick-tick tock of

the click-clack clock of my bleeding heart that’s

beating.

Can you hear the sound, listen.

Really close your eyes and listen to

the vibrant stars as they glisten like

pop rocks sittin’ in saliva. Listen, to the sound

of brokenness as it weighs down a bleeding heart

Listen: can you hear it

beating? 

Can you hear it breaking, second after second

as your lies form fictional

fantasies in my futuristic mind

Listen, to the breaking

Listen.

thump-thump

thump-thump

thump-thump

thump-thump

it’s beating

a faded drum, droned on but

drowned out by

your one word responses

Do you really think I

can’t tell?

I can read you from cover to cover,

page to page, I was your lover for God’s sake:

I know something is up.

Listen.

My dreams are demented of

death and decapitation and decomposition

dwindling love and propositions

but do you often listen

to your heart

to your soul

to your mind?

to the beating

after beating

after beating

It’s fucking frustrating, be straight

with me. I stay up late listening to the

deafening walls speak fictional stories

of what has happened.

Where the fuck are you? 

Listen.

I’ve been here waiting for

reason for a week now

listening to the beating. 

Poetry..

I've been listening to a lot of Def Poetry artist lately

So I am going to start writing some poetry like that and work on speaking it, and record it with my EP

Serial Killers

I am researching a speech right now about the psyche of serial killers, aleady in the 40 minutes of this film I've learned seriously a shit ton of information. But I need three sources :(
I have 3 other movies, and three books. I got a lot of research to do... ughhh

I've pretty much taken notes word for word of the video which is why it has taken me like 2 hours to watch fourty minutes (and I am not even close to being done)

I still need to research on narcissitic personality disorder and anti-social disorder, find the main things that make a serial killer a serial killer, define everything, and still develop a well thought out thesis, plus different transition sentences....

So much to do, so little time.

But I am actually really interested in this stuff, and it will help me a lot with the novel I am going to write on a serial killer. No, their name is NOT Dexter.

Her name is Mary... yes, that's right... I said "her"

Watching

they call this place

the watch tower—

the creeper’s cove, the

voyeur’s venue

i sit and watch her

bathe in the orange

sunlight as it glimmers off of her skin

but don’t you dare define

me as a creeper,

i am simply a poet surveying

she’s painting pictures with

her eyes, watching the world

watch her;

her eyes are dancing

in the daylight—

she must be used to the attention

Sweet Deceiver

Sweet deceiver,

I don't want to be broken so

keep me believing that I 

am beautiful

Oh sweet deceiver

this world is so ugly and 

grotesque, as am I, and

I know it is the truth

but keep me thinking

keep me wishing

keep me dreaming

keep me holding onto hope, keep

me loving oh sweet deceiver

for your lies are beautiful

A Fine Kill (revised)

I                                                   

From the perspective of an eight year old

Mommy raised her voice at me

like all mommies do

and said,

"Son, CLean UP AFTer YOURSELF!"

Like she always does,

she flickered her eye lashes

and progressively got louder

with each word

I bit into the apple

of my slithering tongue--

the forbidden fruit; saying

"Fuck you."

"Where did you hear that from?"

her gleaming eyes spoke

in harsh hisses

of 'you-are-in-so-much-trouble-son'

"Daddy says it driving every day 

to the cars in front of us." My fear

coating the gasps of

'oh my gosh, she is going to kill me.'

"HONEY!"… from the other room 

my daddy swallowed, "Whaaaaaat?"

"GET OVER HERE!" 

I looked astonished at the sound

Of my mommy's pronunciation 

formed by her goddess lips of maternal
grace, screaming at my daddy instead of 
me… a fine kill

                       

                        II

From the perspective of a thirty-eight year old

That bitch was breathing out

fire again through gritted

teeth—that sworn lover of

mine—must be that time of month

Like she always does, her

voice was drowning out the sound of

the football game, screaming at our son 
for God knows what

I bit into my potato chips massaging

the crumbs with my tongue—

swallowing down words I wanted to

say like, “Shut the fuck up.”

I could hear her teeth grinding

like coffee beans as her words spoke

in harsh, quick staccato hisses

like a slithering snake

And I stared awe struck

listening to my beating heart,

to the sound of my last breath as

my son sold me out

“HONEY!” … I swallowed down a gulp

of Budweiser, and said, “Whaaaaaat?”

“GET OVER HERE!” my heart

raced and I took my last breaths

My mind was racing with ways to get 
out the situation, but nothing did. “Shit.” 
I walked into the arms of death,

with my head down low… a fine kill

Midnight Oil

Lovers in a lullaby
a cackle in a casket

we breathe in our fiction through
closed eye lids

darkness

dreaming

deepening

Poets in a picture
Painted in packages of candlelight

burning midnight oil with the fires
of a poet's heart

dwelling

depth

descending

Sleep well my princess, tomorrow
is our doom

Few Years From Now

In a few years from now
this place will be so
different, I'll know no
one in high school

most of my friends will be in different cities

some will be in different states

In a few years from now I'll
be seriously thinking about
my future, "fun" will be just
a word of the past

my memories will fade and I'll forget some names

my best friends will turn to phone calls, to text message, to facebook comments, to facebook friends, to just facebook acquaintances

In a few years from now, we won't be riding on
hover boards or in space ships, but
I'll be struggling to make a
living on low income jobs

In a few years from now what I used
to love will just be dead,
my memories of garage bands, marching band, best friends
and sleep overs... will be

'oh hey remembers those times'

and adulthood will come sweeping me off of my feet

because in a few years from now I graduate

then I die

leave it up to my friends...

to make me feel great

About five years ago the exact opposite was true

but now, it is by my friends who make me feel better. I love you guys (and girls) you know who you are.

I miss you all and can't wait until the summer.

Just want to be happy

just want to be happy..

sad
depressed
stressed

my friends are what hold me together, but they have been taken from me

being in a band always cheers me up because playing music is my dream, but that has been taken from me

I sit isolated in the brokenness, reminded every second of how depressed I actually am.

Everything has been taken from me and I am not getting any of it back for months. Meaning I am going to be depressed like this for months.

just want to be happy..

Sweet Darkness (2)

Darkness, I missed you
fair maiden
where have you been?

I slept alone last night with
my bed lamp swallowing
the fear of the
monsters stretching in the shadows

Darkness, you disappeared from
my existence weeks ago
when love loved loving
in my heart

My darkness, come back to me
oh sweet mistress
I hate feeling like this:

empty

I miss the metaphors that
drowned me in fathoms
of poetic depth

I'm empty

hanging
on
emptiness

I'm a ghost in
orange and red sunlight
transparent for the
world to scrutinize with their
"who to be's" and
"what to do's"

I miss the feeling
of murderous matrimony

A Fine Kill

From the perspective of an eight year old

Mommy raised her voice at me

like all mommies do

and said

"Son, CLean UP AFTer YOURSELF!"

Like she always does,

she flickered her eye lashes

and progressively got louder

with each word

I bit into the apple

of my slithering tongue--

the forbidden fruit; saying

"Fuck you."

"Where did you hear that from?"

her gleaming eyes spoke

in harsh hisses

of 'you-are-in-so-much-trouble-son'

"Daddy, says it driving every day 

to the cars in front of us." My fear

coating the gasps of

'oh my gosh, she is going to kill me.'

"HONEY!" from the other room 

my daddy swallowed, "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"

"YOU ARE GROUNDED!" 

I looked astounded at the sound

My mommy's pronunciation 

formed by her goddess lips of maternal grace

screaming at my daddy instead of me....

A fine kill

Lost Innocence

sit and ponder like

a poet’s thoughts

            running

            on

            rivers—

do you hear the

birds sing lullabies

            about

            death

            decay

and redemption? we

are our own saviors

            hanging

            on

            crosses

in the sky full of

mountainous marshmallows

            towering

            above

            innocence 

My Struggle

I've decided I am making a rap EP about my life, about my struggle and who I really am and was.

This is an honest record, both deep and meaningful, both lyrical and colorful.

I don't know how long it will take, but I am not rushing into anything. I will let the ideas come flowing to me over time.

Producing this is Rusty Schnells, and I hope to feature some artist on this.

I am obviously calling it 'My Struggle' ... It's about my struggle with society, with family and friends, with school, and most importantly, with myself.

I don't see this EP finishing anytime soon, like I said it will take time and effort

sweet darkness

sweet darkness
where have you gone
to? you sleep with me
every night, sucking the humanity
out of me

you live with me deep
inside of my heart

and underneath my flesh, where this
monster inhibits

you give me meaning in lustful visions
of blood and extermination

you are beauty and I
am the beast

but where have you gone? oh sweet darkness

I crave the kill

childhood

I'm sitting in the library suddenly feeling...old. I think back to my childhood, when we are all so naiive and innocent... I guess that's why ignorance was bliss.. The only time you were sad was if someone bullied you, if you scraped your knee in a biking accident, or if you weren't allowed to do what you wanted.

What did you do when you were little?

I remember when I was little the whole neighborhood was alive, at least during the summer. People were outside, kids and adults alike, either washing cars, walking, talking to their neighbors, while us kids were playing kickball on the bloc.

I used to play army with my friend, we would go around dressed in camouflage climbing trees acting like we were spies of some sort. Also, we would go around the neighboorhood selling lemonade and kool aid to neighbors so we could invest in a club house that we dreamed we would build in my  yard

we would build forts, go on walks to the park, ride bikes around the neigborhood for hours

we would jump rope and yell out things like:

"First is the worst, second is the best, and third is the one with the treasure chest"

My friends, my brother and I would throw crab apples at the stop sign because we knew there was a bee hive in there, and we would run from the bees around the house

we would play in the little kid pool, enjoying the sun, living life

The only time we would go in doors would be to hide from someone we didn't want to hang with or if we had to go eat

I remember when the power used to go out around the bloc the entire neighborhood would be outside talking with each other

There used to be neighborhood picnics, easter egg hunts, and christmas parties

what is there now?

absolutely nothing

people are so reserved now, keeping to themselves.

No one is ever outside, the only people who are outside are old couples jogging, or every now and then people playing basketball

but never kids, they are all inside destroying their innocence with video games

Their imagination is now limited to what the computer tells them

what happened to when we all used to be cops and robbers? or ghosts? or cowboys and indians? 

Now were a fucking lazy nation, consumed by technology

I guess they were right when they said computers would someday take over the world.

get out

I am getting sick you barging into my room without knocking, never having a reason to actually barge in. Respect me and my privacy mom. I don't like being disturbed, I am trying to do my work and be at peace but you have to come in here and ruin that. leave me alone, I am trying to enjoy my day (as much as I can)

sick

I'm sick of everything

I'm sick of everyone

I am sick of brandy and the shit I see on facebook about me liking middle school girls. SHUT THE FUCK UP, no I don't you worthless piece of shit.

I am sick of these fucking rumors

I am sick of drama

I am sick of heartbreak

I am sick of people treating me like shit

I am sick of the fucking world

I am sick of being angry at all of this

I am sick of people not growing the fuck up

I am sick of no one believing in me

I am so fucking sick

time to go blast "Sick" by Ceremony and listen to it on repeat

Skeletons

we all have skeletons
hidden deep within our
closets, some more
than others --
Mine:
the memory of last
week as you looked me deep
in the eyes
and gave me a
kiss. The ghost of
that memory keeps
haunting my dreams
begging me for more. but where have you
gone? you slivered back into the secrecy
where you want to remain
from the knowledge of the
rest of the world.
I guess they say ignorance is bliss,
but happiness is a load
of bullshit.
My deepest secret,
the very reason
I am of existence,
the thing that keeps my heart
pounding -- just a skeleton,
and our love,
the shedded skin

oh dear serpent, must you test
me with your temptations?
your heart is the forbidden
fruit
Just another romeo and juliet

where's the poison?

Farewell

Darkness creeps over my veins and my thoughts race inside my fucked up mind.

Who am I? what have I become? I'm just a fucking monster, destroying everything I touch and damaging everyone I love

The one person that has helped me through hell is disgusted by me. And I look in the mirror and just want to hurl, sickened by my own repulsive flaws. Why does my future have to hurt so many people, why did I have to hurt so many people in my past... I am a fucking fire wrecking everything with my desire, burning down bridges that I built with my bare fucking hands

Lies from my past crawl out from my mouth to my best friends in order to protect myself, I'm a fucking selfish bastard. Now I have no one to turn to. My best friends regard me as a fucked up kid, as a failure

I'm a failure by design, just a fucking snow flake on glass, wiped out by windshield wipers turned into nothing but water.... just memories

I'm just a bag of bones waiting to rot internally. broken beyond repair.

I breathe in heavily, sighing deeply from within my shattered heart knowing I'm just going to crawl out of this fucking filth again to fuck up everything that keeps me alive.

I love that which I can't have, why must I go out of my way to try and get something that already has it all? I am a greedy bastard lusting for love...for happiness...for anything

I try apologizing for my past, where does that lead me? fucking rumors. I try smiling, and for once actually being happy... but where does that lead me? A friend sickened by my emotions...

I was destined to die alone, unhappy. It's the only way to keep the world balanced, by staying unhappy the rest of the world remains at peace.

My only happiness consists of destroying someone elses... I think it's time to destroy myself and let the world be a better place

so where's my cigarette? where's a drink that I can toast to the fucking end, and whisk away everything that I thought was happiness....

here's to the bitter end, it taste fucking sweet

goodnight, goodbye, and farewell ...


"I'll close my eyes tonight, cause that brings me closer to you" - Matchbook Romance

"Are you ready to die?
Are you ready to die?!
I'm so glad that all of you came!" - Alesana

837 (Great Spectacle)

I look out of my window,
my lips pressed up against the glass
viewing the beauty that surrounds me and hearing
these lullabies in my head with the sound
of every snowflake grazing the Great Spectacle
where I look out into the world

I hear your laughter in
the silence of the moment, where
my hearts faster
And I see your beauty in
the nature of the world that surrounds
me:

the snow like the mountains of fluff
in the sky, like marshmallows on
a hot fudge sunday, falling in individual
flakes of designs that stick to the Great Spectacle

And I see our future through
this Great Spectacle:
in what could feel like moments away are
numbered in days,
one-hundred and six, until
the potentiality of a future
can begin

And I look into my heart, this
Great Spectacle and see the diminishing darkness
rotting into dust as I open it more
to you, and I think to myself
 I can't ignore this window of opportunity ,

oh Great Spectacle

Love may be blind, but I can finally see

Formspring

These past couple of days people have been spreading rumors about me through the high school and all over formspring, and for some reason it really got to me. But why?

I then went to do the most ignorant thing, which made me fall right into the culprits trap, by sending out a mass chain message to everyone saying how sick of the rumors and to stop talking about me behind my back... I got many replies of how stupid I was for doing that, and people started talking even more shit

But now I am just smiling at it, because seriously, why do I care what other people think of me? They have NO say in how I feel, I don't understand why it got to me so much. People started commenting anonymously hiding behind a computer, and seriously they think they are so tough starting shit on formspring, well I will let them have their immature fun. I will be a sarcastic asshole until they decide to man up and actually confront me, until then let them have their fun.


Bringing up a new topic, this snowapocalypse is pretty awesome. I love the fact of getting out of bed, hearing my alarm clock radio in the background playing 88.9, wiping my eyes, stretching turning on the lights then pulling out my laptop reading my email to see that school was cancelled. The best part is turning the lights off, being swallowed in darkness, and turning the radio off and being drowned in silence across the airwaves... then throwing those covers over my head and falling back into a deep slumber, dreaming of a better tomorrow... with her. It's quite relaxing, knowing I won't have to be driving all the way to kent state, then walking all over the cold, frozen over hell called campus.

I am quite content just sitting in my warm house all day

838

I miss your lips, so soft and warm against
my skin. I miss your voice and the way
you say you love me.
I miss your heart beat racing like
the butterfly wings that flap
inside of our guts
because we're not nervous,
just falling in love all over again
every time we see each other.
And I miss your beauty
the highlight of my entire
week.

But most of all, I miss
that feeling I get deep inside of my
heart every time I see you smile, and
every time I see you look up at me

Because that feeling can only come
with a Kiss
In Moments
that happen only
around you.

wishes

I wish I had a camera

I wish I had more money

I wish I didn't live at home

I wish I wasn't grounded

I wish I were famous, and by that I mean a famous writer in a band

I wish my future job career as a teacher would pay more, but it's whatever.

I wish burger king would give me raises

no I change that, I wish steve would give raises

I wish Tyler Schade wasn't quitting BK, it's gonna suck now

I wish rusty still lived in stow, I miss him <3

I wish I didn't have to take summer classes

I wish I could be a better writer

I wish I didn't do poorly last semester

I wish I was better at school (besides english which is the only exception I am good at)

I wish people supported me more

I wish people didn't spread rumors about me and then believe them

I wish I could change my past mistakes

I wish people would accept me for who I am

I wish people would forgive me

I wish I could change the world.

And finally, I wish I could hold her in my arms and call her mine.

wishes are just day dreams that we envision, it is up to us to go out and make these wishes come true. They can't come true by just waiting, you actually have to get off of your ass and work for them to come true. So this is me, working for those wishes to come true. All of them, especially the last one.