She doesn't have the explain sad eyes while perusing the aisles of life
I understand flipping through old outfits lacking self definition
Turning away as her eyes glisten
Both of us stuck in consumer chaos
Offering discounts to my soul on behalf of my loss.
Away from it all is where you can find me
With the last bit of strength I pulled you from the crowd
But nowadays I wait for you to call
Hoping you finally found that dress
And to whisper words to remind you..
I still write poetry in this three piece suit
And you still know how it looks crumbled in the corner of the room
Away from it all
Find me in the back lane behind the marching band
When the cymbals clashed and the crowd roared
And the sky flashed with celebration
I want one more moment
But those eyes so wide and bright with excitement
Can't help but hope you find love
Away from it all.
-Dev
Friday, July 31, 2015
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Who Am I?
Context-less
To be free of subject. To matter more in dark places. Not illuminated by crowds or cheers.
No, a darker audience.
I wrote once so fiercely that the writing had imprinted itself onto many pages. But as the ink faded the message became clearer. As I squinted my eyes and outlined the writing with my fingers it became clear that the search is not over.
And will it ever be over?
The tumultuous twenties. A post apocalypse of the teenage years. To wonder outloud...
"Who am I?"
And one either has amnesia or one has simply lost a rooted sense of self. Which can be unsettling because we all want the comfort of our own living room. A place to lay back and breath comfortably without the scrambling of radio signals and dark writing plastered to the wall.
I just erased a sentence. Swore outloud. Fucking lover talk. Salvation with the embrace. Maybe who we fuck will convince us to apply to that job we always wanted. Blah Blah Blah
I know it's cynical but I'm tired of writing of love for the moment. I've cut back on writing poetry because the words seem stale and dated. Sure, I can make a little four liner. A cute rhyme scheme that'll have people saying
"Oh that's so trueeeeee"
Easy.
Lately I've been kicking up dust. Messing with my memory. It's blinding. The future is where I'm heading. But the mind is not always MY mind. I lose it sometimes. And especially lately after late nights at work I find the night to be almost taunting. Are these signs?
Does the park want to swallow me whole? A car will pass and illuminate the trees for a small moment and then create a fading tunnel of light that narrows, dims and flicks out. I can't say that I like the cars or not. But people barely exist in the park at night. If I do pass people their faces are dim. They are just as wary of me as I am of them. Or they jump in my path with booze on their breath. They want to know where I'm going. Or if I could maybe do a trick on my skateboard despite the total darkness. I always force a smile.
Of course this question of "Who am I"? is dangerous with no answer. If we cannot define ourselves in a concrete way then how can we love ourselves? And that's when I realized I was going through a dark period.
However, the question of "Who am I"? Eventually turned into a power slogan I found myself chanting in my head. I'm Devon. I'm powerful. I'm my own God. And it may seem a little bit out there to relate myself to a mythological creature, but why not? I control all things. Not in the sense of pulling on strings and forcing the world to revolve around my needs. But I control my intake of it all.
I find the most inspiration within myself. And have found negativity presents itself in a much more visible manner. What I mean to say is I'm able to detect, label, define, and often understand the sources of negativity in my life. And the time has come to start to make changes to rid myself of this negativity.
To be free of subject. To matter more in dark places. Not illuminated by crowds or cheers.
No, a darker audience.
I wrote once so fiercely that the writing had imprinted itself onto many pages. But as the ink faded the message became clearer. As I squinted my eyes and outlined the writing with my fingers it became clear that the search is not over.
And will it ever be over?
The tumultuous twenties. A post apocalypse of the teenage years. To wonder outloud...
"Who am I?"
And one either has amnesia or one has simply lost a rooted sense of self. Which can be unsettling because we all want the comfort of our own living room. A place to lay back and breath comfortably without the scrambling of radio signals and dark writing plastered to the wall.
I just erased a sentence. Swore outloud. Fucking lover talk. Salvation with the embrace. Maybe who we fuck will convince us to apply to that job we always wanted. Blah Blah Blah
I know it's cynical but I'm tired of writing of love for the moment. I've cut back on writing poetry because the words seem stale and dated. Sure, I can make a little four liner. A cute rhyme scheme that'll have people saying
"Oh that's so trueeeeee"
Easy.
Lately I've been kicking up dust. Messing with my memory. It's blinding. The future is where I'm heading. But the mind is not always MY mind. I lose it sometimes. And especially lately after late nights at work I find the night to be almost taunting. Are these signs?
Does the park want to swallow me whole? A car will pass and illuminate the trees for a small moment and then create a fading tunnel of light that narrows, dims and flicks out. I can't say that I like the cars or not. But people barely exist in the park at night. If I do pass people their faces are dim. They are just as wary of me as I am of them. Or they jump in my path with booze on their breath. They want to know where I'm going. Or if I could maybe do a trick on my skateboard despite the total darkness. I always force a smile.
Of course this question of "Who am I"? is dangerous with no answer. If we cannot define ourselves in a concrete way then how can we love ourselves? And that's when I realized I was going through a dark period.
However, the question of "Who am I"? Eventually turned into a power slogan I found myself chanting in my head. I'm Devon. I'm powerful. I'm my own God. And it may seem a little bit out there to relate myself to a mythological creature, but why not? I control all things. Not in the sense of pulling on strings and forcing the world to revolve around my needs. But I control my intake of it all.
I find the most inspiration within myself. And have found negativity presents itself in a much more visible manner. What I mean to say is I'm able to detect, label, define, and often understand the sources of negativity in my life. And the time has come to start to make changes to rid myself of this negativity.
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