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A Crushingly Timeless Passion

I was told once it is okay to cry,
but when the fluid fell
from the aqueducts around my irises,
I was met with scorn and discontent
for showering those few socialities
around me with the weeping
of pained emotion. Criminalistic
circumstances were the charges
brought forth upon my broken passions,
scattered like an unsolved jigsaw
around the foundations of a life
left floundering in the endless atmosphere
of failed accomplishment
when the crippling strike was struck,
like a deal of vile occurrence
behind the veil of life, I wailed
with an intense suffering, who slips
into the empty void between us
and touches the timeless entity
that is our combined affection,
attempting to dare shatter
that which we have so cautiously
and frequently built upon? There was no response
to these few words, left unheeded,
and before I could announce
an outburst of like intensity, I found myself
spluttering beneath the weight of failure
and a doubt I could never escape from.

Battling for a Truest Love

Every minute left undedicated
to the search for your heart,
renders littler chance of settling
beside you. I will not be resolved
of my guilt ridden pain and jealousy
should I fail in this accomplishment,
lusting to take you close and whisper
pleasing affections into your soul.
How I have longed, perhaps even for eternity,
to caress the desires of your passion
with my own, and to rid your bright eyed
vision of any other paramour
who would dare harass my chances
of becoming yours. Despite any greater
distances that may lie ahead,
I stand determined before the trespass
of time, to battle willingly the sparring
opposition. On the eve of this fortunate
recovery, would you look to me
with kindness, and a heart of virtuous
faith in my unlimited romance,
or will you shake with an ominous rhythm,
and instead acknowledge the love
of a certain nameless soul,
nearer to yourself?

A reading of this poem can be found at the following link: http://youtu.be/_hU1QkLN1ak Thanks for visiting!

Of Razors, Wires and Veins

I am a puddle of misery and
misunderstanding, cloaked in
the freckles of fiendish ideology
that spans the universe of my
mind. Black dots of angry
lucidity plague the senses and
demean the good that once
existed, which has been melted
down to exact revenge upon the
happiness that used to devour
my once beating heart, now
unoccupied by potential
paramours for the ravenous
nature of my inner rage, burns this
sarcophagus of tyranny to the
ground. There is no good within
me; just a plague of unearthed
anguish, cursed to bitterly
dominate the turmoil locked
inside a battle to be freed.
The forgotten dead of memories
that were once relaxing, now
tarnish the landscape of my soul,
but none are deserving of being
mourned, for if my happiness was
a powerhouse of paramount emotion,
would not love, instead of anger,
passion, instead of hate, be in
control of this here fleshy avatar?

A Murderer Known as Love

If love is a battlefield,
then I have been caught
in a war torn country,
with regret as my companion.
I had a chance to find
happiness, and I had another
not too long ago,
and yet I still have hopes
that the one I truly love
will see for who I am
and say ‘I want you,
I love you, I have been
waiting tirelessly for you
my whole life; marry me,
would you, you are all
I have been searching for,
and together we shall
never be apart no more.
Let loneliness be abandoned
in these arms of mine
as you hold me to your heart
so I may hear the beat
that I inspired,
for without me you are flotsam,
and without you I am
not myself, but combined
we are everything we need
to see this journey through,
and never shall we be without
the other.’ But this is but
a dream, and dreams, they
do not come true except
in fairy tales, which this
is not, because the gloom
of this here world
lingers upon my shoulders.
Many live for love, so
I doubt it could be
surprising if one were to die
for such an emotion too.
When an unknown man
walks in with a shotgun,
I gladly throw my arms out,
outstretched at my side
as though I am to be crucified,
and I cry for him to slay me,
but no, he shoots himself
instead. It seems that love
has claimed yet another victim,
and it be ironic that an emotion
of such happiness is responsible
for so much death.
There is barely enough left
to describe the stranger
that lies upon the ground;
one second he was alive,
the next he was no longer,
and has become yet
another faceless man in a crowd
of aching hearts, and no matter
how hard I screamed, never
would he have pulled
the trigger with the barrells
aimed down at me.
I want death so badly,
but I do not want to commit
the act myself no more,
for I am terrified my heart
will cramp up and my body
will stutter, and that will
be the start of yet another
colossal failure. The only
way to guarantee success
is at the hand of another;
but what hand would happily
do what I feel must be done?
But maybe I am scared
of death, and have mistaken
cowardice for absolution,
and if this be the case
I needn’t live with such ignorance,
so please, someone smarter
than I notify me,
so I may die with my intellect
intact before I reach my end.

Unflinching Admiration

Love is never nearly enough,
is it ma’am? Is this unfortunate
truth the reality of romance,
or the failed logic of an infatuated lover
who’s passionately connected
to an unknowing victim
of his hearts’ endless affections.

We move in separate circles,
neither of which are fated to meet.
We are destined to always be apart,
and I am not content with that conclusion.

But without the exchange of dialogue,
how are you supposed to know my feelings?
You cannot read my mind,
but, would you ever really want to?

My mind is like a maze and can cause
even the greatest adventurer to become lost.
I would not venture inside if I were you,
unless you wish to be exposed to my feelings.

These feelings I long to express verbally,
but would you honestly give your time
to a man like me?
Ma’am, would you care to listen
to my heart if it spoke to you?

You are never alone.
Friends surround you around every turn.
I cannot approach you,
for my words would cause
great embarrassment, and your reputation
I would hate to hurt.

If only I could shoot you a message,
from my lips to yours;
a gentle kiss, purer than true love,
blown soundlessly across the room
to where you sit.

Maybe then you would know I am real,
for although we’ve never shared a conversation,
(barely a word has passed between us),
I wish to share with you a kiss
so passionate, that you remember me forever.

In reality however,
you will never know my name,
my identity, my number,
and although I’ve watched you so lovingly
since July and the wind of a warm Spring
is fast approaching,
you have never noticed
how much I truly love you.

You don’t know of my existence.
This here will be the fifth week
I have seen you,
and yet you have never seen me.
I have looked right into your eyes
and when you looked in my direction,
all you bore witness to was an everlasting emptiness,
and to you, that is all I shall ever be.

I barely know you ma’am,
and for reasons I am yet to uncover,
my heart has become hopelessly devoted
to you, and you alone.

Please, if you could,
relieve me of my torment
and say how you could never love me;
how I am beneath you;
a wretched worm undeserving of your affection,
who you would sooner squash
between your thumb and forefinger
rather than ever look upon.

Please, ma’am, I beg of you; do not love me.
I fell for you so easily
and I could not survive a fall again.
Ever since I looked into your eyes;
your sad yet beautifully
dazzling eyes, I have become
singularly devoted to you.

But if you were to feel as I do,
if your love was to become
as uncontrollable as my own,
the repercussions would be extraordinary,
for I would never let you go;
even if the world was ending,
I would hold onto you forever.

In this verse you are mine,
and I am always times infinity yours,
and yet, in reality,
such could never come to fruition
for we are not destined to meet.

And even though there was
never a greater love poem
than the one about this particular young lady
and her love struck poet,
in reality, never was there a sadder story
than the truth of this famed fiction.

So, although you can never love me,
please, at least remember me
as the man who loved you;
as the man who always will.
I am yours entirely ma’am,
in this world and the next.
Sincerely, your unflinching admirer.

If my love were in a syringe…

If I could amputate those issues
that cast despair upon the light that
ought to shine; if I could dissect
the darkness clean and pillage all
antagonism from your field of
vision, I would happily inject
my feelings into you, and never
will you know sorrow again.

Land of my Many Disappointments

A map to the land of my many disappointments
awaits you at the end of this particular piece,
overshadowed by my inability to speak
the words I oh so long to say. I was sleepwalking
through my life, stumbling through the dimensions of
a dream, when I discovered you as though such an
occurrence was fated to be. I took your hand in
mine, and upon awakening from my slumber, there
you were standing before me, alive and real; at
least that’s the way I remember it. There is no
point to this story however, for the fractured truth
is that neither one of us resides on common ground,
despite us residing beneath the exact same sun.
The star, whose light wanders effortlessly across our
solar system, rises and sets to your unflinching
beauty, and I, the writer of this unprized poem,
could learn a hundred different words in a vast quantity
of languages, but never would I discover a word
capable of reflecting your attractive qualities.
Like the sun, you shine upon the surfaces of my skin,
and I would love to say that never have you shone brighter
than when you were shining upon me, but such an idea
would be a lie. I have seen you dozens of times or more in
locations where I would have had the opportunity to
say ‘hello,’ but never did I take this wasted option
and instead, you are left without my voice in your ear. I
would appreciate, unfathomably appreciate,
a moment when I could say without hesitation how
much I love you, and when this moment comes, say these words with
meaning I truly will. However, although these words of
intent be writ, I dare not describe the beauty of this
sweet damsel, for never could you, dear reader, succinctly
believe that someone so gorgeous could be at all
real, and if I had not seen you, my lady, with
my own two eyes, I too would find it impossible
to fathom that a woman, who is obviously
an angel fallen from Heaven, could possibly
walk amongst us mortals. But even though you be
beautiful, the love within your heart, reserved for a man
deserving, is never bestowed willingly upon my
soul, and thus, when you begin a sentence, conveyed to
me by your words that float towards my ears on the wings
of hapless angels, if such a creation begins with
an ‘I’, the next two words will never be ‘love you.’ The shame
of this is beyond reprieve, but it is understandable
all the same, for I am a one dollar coin when you need
a hundred dollar note; I am a plastic stool
when you need a leather recliner; I am a
cold take-away when you require a delicious
feast; I am an average metaphor when what you need
is an athlete of the written word. But love, if love
is all you need, just look into my eyes and you will
see that mine is endless in design; if only
you would ever look in my direction.

To my Daffodil

SYNOPSIS: About leaving the one you love, only to always find your way back into her arms.

I ain’t no dramatist and I ain’t no liar;
I ain’t no interloper, ain’t no pariah,
but I have these negative emotions running throughout my head
and I do not wish to burden you with such pain so I instead
turn around and leave. One mile out, my car, it breaks down,
and I’m suddenly stranded just outside my hometown,
beginning to question why I had contemplated leaving
when all along you were and still are my reason for breathing
every day my delectable daffodil.
I know I still love you and I always will,
just as the sun will always rise at dawn; just as the sky will remain blue,
just as I will not want to ever stop falling madly in love with you,
for every single day I learn something new; every day I learn something totally different
and I have discovered that beyond anything else in this world you are incredibly brilliant.
So, I take this as a sign to make my way back to hold you again in my arms,
for our fate is intertwined; it’s written in the Heavens, it’s written in my palms,
and as I swim in your eyes whilst drinking your kiss and running my hand through your hair,
I’ll know more than anything that never have I felt better than with you right there.