poem about life

Seasons

There’s a burning bush
down in Eden
(inside our mind,
igniting our hearts)
and snakes in apple trees
because temptation needs.

And who are we?
Lost wanders in jeans and tees?

See the leaves –
green and clean.
But autumn snaps!
(we do too)
And winter steals.
Spring doesn’t mind,
(time for growth)
and summer is but kind.

Who are we?
Wanders in jeans and tees?

We are weird and kind:
it’s a compliment, to your mind.
We crave to be touched
like the warm, gentle sunlight –
it kisses our skin without fight.

Are we?
Yes, it is us
in jeans and tees.

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Heart </3 Break

I’m quitting the show
Ain’t my time to shine
Time to quicksand myself
Deep into my mind

No silence up in these fires
Can’t catch a break in these tides
Don’t know which way is up
But I know I’m going down

So mad at all these spectres
Don’t know if they’re mine
But they whisper me stories
And I can’t sleep at night

I’m afraid of that silence
But I need that constant buzz
So I just sit here ruminating
How nobody else hears these sounds

 

 

Mortal

So it goes:
Life.
In out.
Nothing turned to something
and becomes nothing again,
legacies fade too…
There is hope
in knowing our diseased ideas
die too.
Eventually.
Pink girls;
blue boys.
Are these lies fixed?
Can we escape?
Are we stuck on this island?
Surrounded,
clueless.
Existentialism consoles us:
all we have are thoughts –
theories
to try control.
Adrift at sea;
deep waters,
shallow thoughts.
The waves rock the boat
and we rock along too.