Food of Thought

Temperamental is what they say. But you see all these things are empty thoughts.
These words do not stay with me, because I can always walk away.
You see I know that these empty minded people are just ersatz.
In the insignificant amount of 22 years I lived. I have learned…
That men and women will sell their innocent children away for money.
As a society we do not care we are just worried about how Society wants us to act and be. While children cry we our consumed with our own things, and for them we are unconcerned.
People pay to rape children and we hide behind a wall of ignorance. As we read on the internet, Kylie Jenner’s new trends and we act as if it is cool and funny.
While we hear and witness kids dying from eating Tide Pods, And how the Middle East is falling apart.
As we see children’s bodies being found in scattered pieces.
I am just tired of hiding behind this artificial heart. The more I live the more I see our sensitivity decrease.
I do not hear the sound of Freedom ringing around here. It’s 2018 and Neo Nazis march on the streets and burn swastikas on lawns. I understand the right to protest. Yet, I think it’s not okay to allow groups to protest while trying to inflict fear.
And everyone knows what’s going on. Yet, do we actually do anyting?
I myself rant and complain with other people. No. The answer is no. I tried to justify myself saying “I do not agree with it. What am I supposed to do?”
This is a real thing we need to deal with, before we give birth to our offspring.
I’ll pretend that I am at a AA meeting. Admitting I have a problem…
I need to change my ways.
I would rather die fallen… Then to continue being the bystander that I have turned myself into.
Dying with a purpose is better than just living to die.
Maybe I’ll change that one child’s life.
Where they can achieve more than me, and the Butterfly Effect continues.

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Gibberish

Usgtwhwjshebegd
Neysbegdhneheueue
Jwuyhwhwh
Hsushwjsnsm
Iurgrbrvegud
Buee
Keuuey
Bwuwuwuusud
Trying to describe who I am is like trying to decipher this gibberish.

The Sign

Today I was stuck in traffic.
It was rush hour and I zoned out.
I came across many red traffic lights.
You know the ones that have a sort of a four way stop?
I started to stare at this sign while I was zoning out at a red light.
This sign became a symbolic meaning to me of my life.
The goal I wanted was the sign I was looking at.
It was in clear view of me.
Maybe even fifty feet away.
That sign represented the career I want.
The traffic of the cars turning towards the opposite side of the way I was going on the road…
They were my obstacles.
Obstacles that were blocking me from achieving this goal I want.
No matter how many vehicles were turning making them my obstacles, I could still see my goal.
That my friend is hope.

Her Delusion

I know of a girl that doesn’t think.
She can But simply refuses to.
She would rather build walls than to be vulnerable.
But contraire my dear friend.
She is more than ever.
A senstive soul she is indeed.
Hurt by the people she loves.
Reclusive is her adapted behavior.
I know her all too well.
I am her friend.
More of a psychologist friend that brings things she refuses to see to the surface.
She told me she doesn’t care.
Independence is how I intend to live.
No honey I cry out.
You’re living a sham.
I ask questions she doesn’t want to confront.
Her demons knock at the door.
How long can she keep this up?
Not much longer I planted that seed of thought.
I am the crack in her foundation.
I am the one throwing a rope.
Her wall will simply crumble.
With nothing to hold on to.
She will surely drown.
It is not who she is.
She just needs someone to come save her.
Ironic isn’t it?
That with all the effort in the world to be someone new…
Someone has the ability to bring you down to where you started before.

 

 

State of Being

What is a state of being? To me a state of being is what you are feeling or going through. That might not be the actual definition but it is to me. I sit and stew on the thought of happiness. To me it seems more of a concept than an actual being or feeling. What does it mean to be truly happy? I sit and ponder about this late at night laying in bed wondering what happiness feels like. I base most of my happiness on ideas from feelings. If I don’t feel happy am I not happy? This thought has devastated me for years. I really do not feel happiness inside of me. That tingling sensation in your stomach that makes you all giddy from excitement. It’s something that I can only remember feeling during Christmas time as a child. I think about it more more and more because it’s something that dwells deep inside of me. Something that I just need to know. I figured it out. Maybe I haven’t. But I’m just going to go with it. My idea of Happiness is a state of being. Not a Feeling. Feelings come and go but what you think it stays longer. If I think I’m happy am I not happy? I really don’t know this is just my state of being now. Nothing’s wrong so why not be happy? I base a lot of my emotions on my lack of feelings. Which makes me in turn depressed. So this is my new state of being. It probably won’t continue in my poetry as a representation of happy thoughts. But sometimes we need to read something that isn’t completely depressing.

Beliefs.

In life there are things we just accept because that’s what we’re supposed to do.

We’re told that we should pick our battles.

Some are not worth it.

It’s just a waste of time.

There are more important things.

You’re just being petty.

No.

Forget that reinforce thought, that people have peer pressured you into believing.

If you are truly bothered by something say something.

If it is something done to you or to someone else speak up.

If you repress your thoughts they will manifest into something that you will eventually resent.

Don’t do something stupid, but just stand up for yourself.

You matter just as much as the next person matters.

You can love and support someone.

That does things you do not agree with.

You do not have to agree with everyone to love them.

But, and this is my own thoughts do not throw your negative thoughts on to someone else that you disagree with according to your beliefs. Unless, they are truly hurting themselves or others.

Then someone needs to help them.

This may be controversial, yet, these are my beliefs.

And I plan to share them.

The Artist, The Musican, and The Poet.

The Artist, The Musican, and The Poet.

The Poet and The Musician grew up together, and The Artist joined in afterwards in adolescence.

First is The Artist. Younger than the rest, trying to look for success. The Artist has never had it easy. Abandoned at birth and destine to display their feelings across painted pictures. Fears of not being adequate enough arises The Artist. Real job screams into their mind and soul. Abandon all hope to get a nine-to-five job. Benefits is the only thing The Artist looks towards now.

Then we have the temperamental Musician. The Musician is quite different than the Artist you see. The Musician has a mentality of either going somewhere or never going anywhere. No matter how drastic it may seem. The Musician would rather die penniless and happy in their own constructed view of happiness then to be like The Artist working a nine-to-five job barely living. The Musician sings about dying to live and living to die and nothing else. The Musician has a one-track mind and would rather be homeless then be in the system.

Lastly, we have The Poet. The Poet is the oldest one of the three. Also is the most wisest one. Unlike the Musician The Poet doesn’t know what they wants, but knows and needs to continue moving forward instead of being stuck in the cycle as a Musician. The Poet writes their pain through poetries, to find a certain pattern or link to figure out who The Poet really is. The Musician and The Artist have demons they work through with anxiety and self-esteem. When I say that I really mean  their demons grab hold of them  and possessing for the time being . But The Poet is not like that, The Poet is confirmed in it’s self image. Yet, the Poet does not quite comprehend who that image of The Poet is. The Poet you see does not want to be stuck but is stuck because The Poet doesn’t know who The Poet is or what The poet truly stands for. The three of them are all best friends, they bring to the table different creative ideas that keep their friendship interesting. And with all their flaws they grow close to each other. Well living in this distorted perception we like to call happiness. We call happiness for the simplistic things just because times are hard, and life is sad. And there has to be a little bit of hope in each individual to keep moving forward. If there wasn’t then we would be dead.