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Algas Soleado 08-09-2011 12:25 AM

Sunny Seaweed Poetry
 
Here is my try at poetry from now and long ago.

"What Do We Sing?" Apr2010
What do we sing, O what do we sing?
When the cracks run deep and there's water between,
Oh, God, What do we sing?

I take it all back, I take it all back!
As the thunder rolls in with a whip and a crack,
when our coal coated lungs make us wheeze and hack,
Oh Lord, Oh God, I take it all back!

What do I bring, O what do I bring?
To this cloth covered table, so white and pristine,
To your table, Oh Lord, What do I bring?

The people are shouting! The people are shouting!
At the top of our lungs, we're questioning, doubting
our leaders and governs, with rage, we are outing!
In the streets of the city, the people are shouting!

Who is to blame? O, who is to blame?
If any trace evidence dares to remain,
Tell us who, Tell us who is to blame!

We found them, we found them!
Let us hunt them and smite them!
We can punish! We can fight! Our revenge is justified!
Rest easy, my friends, for tonight is the night.

Tonight! Tonight! We fight! We fight!
We fight for our voices, our lives, and our rights!
We fight for victims! Tonight is their night!
We're in over our heads, but we fight!

When blood, precious blood
runs out, runs cold
and every living patriot falls to knees,
we weep, how we weep
for the bodies in the streets
and regret the day we uttered "revenge".

Oh brothers, oh sisters
cry out, cry now
for the numbers we see that lie.
A revolutionary story
often comes to this end
Why do we never think that we'll die?


"If I Were" Mar2010
If I were a tree, I'd be a willow.
Willows are moved by the wind.
They sway and dance, their curtains flutter,
I'd give anything to be a tree.

The willow does not sit and weep like so many assume,
it bows, humbly to the sun.
The wise willow knows its place in the world.
It is not too far above and it is not too far below.
It simply is.
I simply am.


"Giving Up" Oct2009
my heart beats
I always talk about my heart beating
but that's because it always is.
So.
My heart beats
It's like a ringtone
And I race to answer it
but
for every step I take, it takes two.
I tell it to stop
but it keeps running.
I give up.
"Damn you, heart." I say.
Hearts don't talk.
I know they don't talk.
So just shut up, okay?
So.
my heart beats
I'm still talking about my heart beating
but that's because it always is.
So.
my heart beats
and it's still like a phone ringing
ringing
ringing
ringing.
Always ringing.
And I'm running
running
running
running,
trying to get to that damn phone that is my heart
but I never make it.
And
I'll keep trying
and giving up
and trying and giving up.
And now
I'm giving up.
And I'm like
"Screw this, I'm tired.
I give up."
And I do.
I just give up.
I stop trying.
Trying to catch it
trying to catch anything
trying to DO
anything...
is just too hard.
And
giving up is easy.
It's easy especially when
you can't think.
And right now,
I can't think.
And right now,
I'm tired.
And right now,
I'm giving up.


More recent?:
"A Certain Number of Truths" Oct2010
Attention.
Your attention please,
Don't read this.
But you, you should.
It has come to my attention that I'm getting too much attention but of your attention and your attention, I'm getting not enough.
You, my friend. Yes, you, my friend
You live by the lies that lie behind the lines that are the bars that are the walls that make the cell that is the mindset of the lie.
Trapped. You're trapped.
Trapped inside that lie you tell yourself at night.
Stuck.
Ignorant of the choices sitting in your lap.
And then
I realize that I'm the one that lives by the lies that lie behind the lines that are the bars that are the walls that make the cell that is the mindset of my self-shattering lie.
And I realize that I have come to understand a certain number of truths.
1. That I am not over what I once refused to love.
2. That you are not over that which you gave up.
3. That the lies we tell ourselves will never change the facts that slap us every moment we give them a second of thought.
4. I am not as strong as I once was.
5. The hurt will end.

The hurt will end, the hurt will end. For me, for you, for everyone. Eventually all pain dies. Its last breaths taken out of sight.
I also know that I am not ready.
I still cry. I still don't understand. I still mourn the loss of a person that never existed. There is no longer a hate. There is no longer a longing. Just a little bit of an emptiness that I often pretend is full again.

I hope you never suffer a hurt like that.
I know you suffer a hurt. But I know it's one you put on yourself. If I were to tell you the truth, you'd hate me for it. So I won't. Let her tell you.
But I hope you learn the truth. And when you do, I won't be here. I'll be around and I'll be there. But I won't be here. Not like I was today.


____
Tell me what to think! I'll add more later!


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I have happier poetry on my blog but if I copy/pasted that I think it would be cheating since they were on another thread first.


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