How Stuff Plays Out

How stuff plays out,

The cold wind blowing,

Sending shivers past my face,

Like the story of time,

The star-speckled night sky,

The dark clouds that float past,

The night sky,

The hope for the sun to rise in the morning,

The time’s great changes,

To later reveal what cannot be seen in the present,

The new day to come,

The new times to come,

Looking up Into the night sky,

Reminded of the past,

Waiting for the new day to come.

Those bright times to come,

Maybe just around the corner.

Maybe just a little longer to wait.

Just waiting to see.

How stuff plays out.

Defiance

Defiantly rejecting the label,

The hate,

The failure in my past,

The failure in my mind,

To work for change.

To prove all wrong.

To prove all false.

To make my world my own.

To achieve what I want,

Throwaway the past,

Embrace the present.

To design and build my future.

Been a long time,

A lot of pain.

I stand in defiance,

To build the world I live.

In defiance of my past, my torture.

To build my future,

To be the architect of my own change.

A change of poetry, wrote this listening to Eminem’s “Survival” and Disturbed’s “Down With The Sickness”.

A productive day, defiant day, productive day. One I own. Sick and tired of the past.

Future

The poem about the future for yesterday.

 

The future,

An endless, intricate complex web,

The pull of a thread, the change of the whole.

Intricate detail,

Unforseen until permanent,

Enshrined in total clouds of uncertainty,

Clouds of shrounded change

Until solidified.

The future holds great change.

Both good and bad,

Through this ongoing march into the future,

What choices will be made?

What paths taken?

What choices stuck to,

It will be full of happiness, regret, mistakes, love, health and happiness.

All together in a soup of complete intricacy.

A soup of…

The future.

True Friendship

That true friendship,

The care offered with no cost,

No conditions,

All done for care,

To make sure that I’m okay,

As I would for you.

To hang on,

No matter the strife.

To be a better person,

To be a better friend.

To be a true friend.

Someone to care, help, talk, console.

In those times of need.

To be a true friend.

A good friend.

In those times of need.
To those close, true friends. Picture my friend sent me, in our times of need. To be there, to help.

Picture from WordPorn on Facebook.

Self-Imposed Emptiness

Self imposed,

A mental wall,

Off against those I hurt,

The friends I burden.

Even if I know I don’t.

There are easier ways to live,

Barely living.

Barely feeling.

Throwing away all that consists of feeling.

Discarding this feeling,

This care,

This thought.

Being an empty shell.

An impenetrable shell,

Nothing can breach.

The care closed off to all, but those who really deserve it.

Become hard.

Embracing this self-imposed emptiness.

Care, closed off to all, but those who really deserve it.

Emptiness After the Storm

Emptiness,

Left after the storm,

All turned to ash,

Burnt in the fire,

Waiting for renewal or clearance.

The empty dystopian landscape,

Waiting for something to change,

Instead of the empty barren landscape.

The landscape gasping for air,

Gasping for life away from this empty ash-ridden world.

The storm has passed,

The destruction already-done.

Now what is left is the aftermath,

The pain-brush-stroked landscape.

To find itself once again.