The Forgotten Son

In my own adversity I seem to exist.
The only constant seems to march along.
I sit with my layers as would a schist.
Love, respect, and understanding are gone.

A child at birth destined for something worse.
In those days the memories often did offend.
I chose my path in life not to be immersed.
Chasing shadows of siblings till the bitter end.

I was told once blood is thicker than water.
The connection is so deep it is killing me.
It is all for not, if parents don’t even bother.
Four too many, three seems to be the need.

A Dream Within a Dream

As cynical as this may seem, I often see poets cutting the seams between poetry and the extreme.
As humans it’s difficult to express love through words so we go back to touch and at times it’s too much.
Projecting ideas and similes that have gone unchecked, they leak deep in mind dripping down my spine.
Let the soft-spoken wisdom of last night resonate, oft then not, it seldom seems to sink in until you dream.

It may be a semantic test even though it feels like a beat pumping more than blood inside of my chest.
The concaved debris of yesterday’s mistake still remains, it is almost like a still frame picture show of pain.
The difference between them and me is the same thing that determines what is to become of humanity.
At last it was only closed eyes to this thing we call reality, and as cynical as it may seem…
It was only a dream.

Love Not Lost

Conceive this, the voices that fled sound better off inside my head.
The idea that was derived eventually let up and died.
A melting pot at best the human heart left the soul to stress.

The undeceive thoughts that pour all you individual doubts.
Leaves a strain on mental anguish that provokes a different language.
Confused and feeling lost this lusting after love leaves us exhaust.

I have been there before my friend, trying to make friends with the devil again.
At some cost it’s not love that is lost, it is what gained through memory and pain.
So open up once more and let life guide you… if not then life will deny you.

Tangent Lines

Some one needs to dictate what I say, simply because, every time I talk people seem to look the other way. It gets old and frustrating dealing with the same new hypocritical notion from her, him, and them. Don’t they understand it was my poetic potion that I pulled from the ocean? It is the Pisces in me that tends to convert every little detail into some type of meaning.

Everyone quiet please. Let the professor speak. The tangents that come and go to help create this lyrical flow stands no chance to ring sense or bells in the trouble head of some one else. I like to sit on my rock and preach and hopefully something I teach will make this one person listen to me.

It is hard to comprehend the now and the then, when it is the same ol’ same ol’ over and over again. If it is not you then it must be me. Brad Lee how did you get off this reef? Did I mention my rock is just my thoughts? So I sit once again waiting and contemplating, hoping one day this charade that you play will wilt away like the winter roses in May.

I never give up I keep on keeping on. At same time I keep things within. It bottles up and explodes in the end. If I spoke of what was really in my head I would probably being lying in a ditch half way dead. We all have vices in life, but mine is I cant seem to get anything right. Whether it a simple letter or call back it seems to just stack up. I try as hard as I can to be that man, but the lord knows I am only one soul. Far from perfect and apparently in the wrong… it is times like this I appreciate my mom, because she tried her best to raise a good son.

Constructive Changes

It has been brought to his divided attention
Constructive changes penetrate this tension
It was insisted upon her history of indecision
Leading to certain feelings left in suspension

And love will always remain as the motif
It could fall any time like a worm on a leaf
So he put his all out on the line waiting for the thief
The hopeless romantic in him wants to sit in disbelief

But her heart belongs else where and it can’t be shared
Lost in more than translation it was often her affair
Untrusting her own intention while misplacing his care
A love triangle, yes, but his feelings are there to make a square

Para Ela

Como uma pedra
no topo da montanha

Como uma pedra
colocada no chão

Como uma pedra
fico só

Como uma pedra
sou sempre em casa

Como uma pedra
justo como mues poemas

Como uma pedra
é meu amor para ela

A Poet Sits

The poet will sit and contradict his own ability, as he tries to reconnect with his own morality. He is perched on the stone of distraught as he studies to recollect one of his thoughts. Honestly the poet admits that she was afraid to commit. So he submits into taking another hit for clarity. Building his vitality he notices the slit wrist of emotions which insist upon a kiss.

A poets sits to contemplate the past, wondering how long this pettiness will last. In trying to deny the truth we find the mind telling lies and the heart teaching the youth. And he knows we all have hidden tensions but hers is the cause of his lack of attention. She holds his heart like a child, while his comfort rest in her smile.

And the poet still sits wondering why love would make him nervous and push him to do stupid things on purpose. It was all in an instant and even though they live in the same city it always felt like long distance and every question he asked her is met with resistance as he offered his assistance. In her timeless existence he found what they had and there was nothing like it.

And so she sits with the poet...

This Declared

Understand this is rare, and it doesn’t bother me, as long as we share our feelings

To what degree do you dare to show me how much you really do care

Did you disagree to misplace it in the vast air, at least show me love is fair

The trust was already there, I was the one that got lost in your long Brazilian hair

It was inspiration that mended despair; this time around I was caught unaware

Frailty took a grasp of a plea since reality was far from given to me

I’ve been confused for several months about this love that turned abrupt

At Twenty-two, I have never felt this before, I finally found someone I adore

And the truth is I do love you, All I wanted was you.

Sedated For Repair

It is the procrastination of people in my independent state that brings on the hesitation of feelings to vacate, and it leads to a situation tha is making me break; broken down complication of relations is more than I can take.

I can't drink water that's already dried out. I've tried, it disappears and the smoke soon clears and I can finally hear a sound, musically, given to me, a prophecy, leading my democracy, the same as Socrates. You see this aristocratic hate state we live in today, yet I don't participate, it's worthless, like dreams without a purpose, which happens to be America's surplus.

Alone on my own, I keep singing on. Why did I put up with it for so long? Don'’t worry I'm gone. I was an innocent man with big plans. You were my America but now you're covered with tainted lands.

I am waiting perched above the ground, looking down at this God forsaken town. It is time to let go, you already know, just once again being told that individuality brings out the soul, and spirituality will grow old if equality stays cold, making reality remain a show.

It is true this place a dump, so what, my aunt died a drunk, I am still a punk. And like a sinking ship, my dreams soon sunk. I gues I was too slow to realize all those hypocritical lies, at her own demise. To late now the devil came and laid waist, don’t bother pursuing the chase. She got away again, time to begin to fend. She is out of sight, out of mind still trying to wrong all the rights.

But there is not enough time, so live your life and keep up the fight, unlike me, just a link in the chain. Sorry, we are not all the same. No one is to blame this constant, it'’s like the rain. And I am left with eyes wide shut rolling around in a perpetuating rut, just a fool to conclude your own interlude. It's thee American dream you did it with ease, now leave me be.

Someday

Blending in with scenes which leave me no reasons to start, contemplating dreams that never seem to make the means. I am just left burning the bridges over troubled waters, it’s the price we pay to live a little, like lambs to the slaughter.

But the universe is planted deep within me, digging for seeds. Still people take me and other things for granted, like a king, and we are all bound by change, it is adjacent to you and time, so I continue to climb, it’s a struggle in the back of my mind.

If I stick around long enough I am going to break resistance. I need help to explain my existence, the feeling is persistent. Lasting effects that make the trek that I have walked, the road less taken and I let my trade mark hit the ground. It fell from a cloud, the gift was too profound, so I put it back down.

It comes full circle you know, a perfect one at best, always putting me to the test. I can see you pushing towards the boiling point try to anoint yourself, just to disappoint me? That’s ok, some day I will go astray, because you let the communication decay, maybe you are better off this way.

Looking In

I am…
Self-eluding
Self-destructing
Self-indulging
Selfish
Self-proclaiming
Self-disturbing
Self-inducing

I am also…
Self-giving
Self-trusting
Self-caring
Selfless
Self-sacrificing
Self-assuring
Self-promising

…and most importantly, I am
Myself

Tears from the Moon

The day shuns the night away.
We become depraved.
Atoned for my past judgment.
For something I condoned.
Based on a fact from the present.
The future is only a second.
It was a second gone bye & bye.
One that tells no lies.
So let the truth set you free.
Start begging on your knees.
For what our dreams may become.
The feeling turns numb.
Watch my soul to fit the mold.
Let the story to be told.
I give and then give a little more.
I'm so mentally sore.
We can sit here trying to find bliss.
Fuck it, I just need your kiss.
Caress me please, molest me with ease.
Put the pain to rest.
She still wonders why I'm so insecure.
And my intentions remain pure.

A Never Ending Perception

...And so I have written time and time again, too the point my bones become brittle and my thoughts soon collapse. I feel like I am chasing a two way mirror with no reflection intact. Words begin to form and I am left sitting with just a pen and paper. Never question why I do the things I do. Instead I rather experience for myself the rights and wrongs from left to right. It is all foresight within. It is the battle I can never win. With feelings mixing this illusion of me is my only decree. I hate preaching to the choir, but these thoughtless stains bleed so ravenously, and your left wondering what has become of humanity or better yet dignity.

A lost prophet, my father yes, a dead thought was me at best. Rhymes are easy to write but to dictate life into lines, is more than a lie. Life, strife, one's will to have a never ending perception is the will to have some type of comprehension of what nightmares may come. It seems my hypocrisy has no bounds. It is in these words that contradicts everything every man once heard.