This is life. What can we do?

Everyone says life is short, but that's absolutely not true, because living this life is the longest thing that you will ever do.

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We were waves in the ocean.

We’re like waves in the ocean,

Only permitted to live inside of a single moment,

We rise in,

Have a fleeting existence,

Then collapse into the land,

Birth and death are intertwined for us,

Twins walking hand in hand on the shoreline,

Their identical fingers interlocking with each other,

Never knowing where one ends and the other begins,

We are the waves in the ocean,

Only noticed when we’re ending,

When we’re crashing and we’re leaving,

We’re invisible until we break,

Too subtle to notice our bending and forming,

On the surface,

At a distance,

Underneath the sunlight,

Dancing on the ocean,

We’re just fragments,

Pieces,

Glimpses of something marching towards inevitability,

Like a toddler slipping out of a window,

Falling from a ten story building,

Graceful,

Her necklace glinting in the light,

It catches your eye,

Just for a second,

You look up,

And in seconds too small to count,

She ends up underneath you,

A wave isn’t a wave until it’s over,

We were creatures of oblivion,

Rolling up,

Rolling in,

Just to roll over,

We only found glory in the demise,

We couldn’t know what we were,

Until there was nothing left of us,

Just watermarks on the burning beach,

To be remembered by nothing but a line,

A line that we never could seem to cross,

Remembered by a fence,

Something that keeps other things in,

Remembered as animals,

But only after seeing the cage,

We were waves in the ocean,

We were Russian dolls permanently opening,

Replaced by another simultaneously,

We fought to be remembered,

As a little more than nothing,

If just for a second,

We could be something beautiful,

We were waves in the ocean,

Only permitted to live inside of a single moment.

Filed under poem poetry writing slam poem slam poetry ocean waves russian doll beautiful cage animals graceful oblivion

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Urgent: Stop the Comcast-TimeWarner merger

Please re-blog, and tell all your friends, we can’t allow this to happen.

Here’s some reasons why:

  • This is why Netflix disagrees with the merger-http://www.forbes.com/sites/briansolomon/2014/04/22/why-netflix-stands-alone-against-the-comcast-time-warner-merger/

This is a monster, wake up and kill it.

Filed under comcast merger time warner internet cable monopoly fcc justin bieber one direction zelda world of warcraft robin williams trolls we need you now netflix orange is the new black do something change

2 notes

This is the last poem.

I used to believe in fighting fire with fire,

I used to think two wrongs always felt right,

I thought an eye for an eye was something just,

Turns out we’ve all went blind from the flames,

I just needed you to feel what I felt,

I just needed you to understand the pain,

Words seem to be failing,

The same way that I did,

So I put you underneath your own hand,

I went into hiding, waiting for news of your death,

I didn’t feel anything,

It was just a thing that I did,

It was just a couple of minutes out of one day of my life,

I sat under your bridge and I set it on fire,

It wasn’t suicide, I just wanted to hear you burn,

I didn’t feel anything,

But neither did you,

You smiled at me,

With your jagged teeth yellowed from years of lying,

You smiled,

Like you were asking if I could still feel your hands around my throat,

You smiled,

Like a hyena standing over a dead grandmother,

You smiled like you won,

And I sat,

Like a petrified child who didn’t know enough yet to run,

I sat,

Watching the flames like fireworks from a sinking ship,

I sat,

On the ground underneath you as you lit up the sky,

And I thought of the first ice age,

When an entire world died, 

And I pictured you as a prehistoric cockroach,

Crawling out of the carnage as the sole thing left to survive,

I watched you evolve over thousands of years,

Into the hollow man left in front of me,

I thought about how evolution had failed you, 

How it forgot to fill you up,

Forgot to give you a heart,

Forgot to explain human bonds,

And somewhere in there I forgave you,

You can only work with what you have,

How can you fill an exoskeleton with blood and flesh they never gave you?

You were simply you,

Condemned to be nothing more,

The biggest of the smallest things crawling on the floor,

So I forgive you,

I forgive you,
I forgive you,
I forgive you,
I forgive you,

But I still can’t feel a thing.

Filed under writing poem spoken word slam poem slam poetry i forgive you heart ice age bridge burn fire feel anything death eye for an eye two wrongs don't make a right fight fire with fire

2 notes

Paper Hearts Club.


She spent years pretending to love her,

Because biology and society told her that she had to,

But you can’t fight chemistry,

No matter how much blood sits there between them,

She can’t hide hollow eyes,

Not to flesh that came from hers,

Not to ribs she pulled from her own side, 

Mother to daughter to tree to forest fire,

Welcome to the paper hearts club,

Well past lonely and too fragile for any meeting in a diner,

Two blind ghost living in a 6 x 6 room,

Constantly pacing without ever running into each other,

Using paper mache to build a womb,

You give it to your daughter as a pinata,

She spent her birthday making paper hearts with flour and water,

They were practicing for the inevitable,

Preparing to be hollow,

Because by the end of it,

They’d both have their hands inside each others chests for so long,

Their organs would die when they let go of them,

Mother to daughter to tree to forest fire,

They both turned into mirrors,

Reflecting their nothingness back at each other,

Perpetually competing to prove the weight of the other,

By showing their compressed spines, their shattered plates,

Their bruised shoulders, and broken vertebrates,

They all became markings of the other ones weight,

Both of their backs were screaming ‘Look what you did to me!’,

Mother to daughter to tree to forest fire,

Martyrs give birth to corpses,

Look what you did to each other, 

Unlearn the word ‘me’, replace it with ‘we’,

Do it over and over again, until it rolls off your tongue,

Until it dissolves the daggers hidden in your mouths,

You came from each other,

How could you hate yourself so much?

Mother to daughter to tree to forest fire,

Welcome to the paper hearts club,

We’re still waiting for water.

Filed under mothers daughters poem slam poem slam poetry poetry writing forest fire me we pinatas hearts paper club

8,223 notes

humansofnewyork:

"I’m just trying to live through this problem man created. Nature didn’t create the problem. Man created the problem. And I’m going to be honest, I’m going to say it, it was the European man who created this problem. European man invented the gun. Then he made a bigger gun, and he said: ‘I’m gonna keep this big gun for myself, and I’m gonna sell this small gun to you." And ever since then, he’s been keeping the big guns, and selling the small guns. So everybody’s got guns but none as big as him. And I’m through with it. I’m blind in one eye from Vietnam. If you want to die for this garbage game, that’s your fault. I’m through."

humansofnewyork:

"I’m just trying to live through this problem man created. Nature didn’t create the problem. Man created the problem. And I’m going to be honest, I’m going to say it, it was the European man who created this problem. European man invented the gun. Then he made a bigger gun, and he said: ‘I’m gonna keep this big gun for myself, and I’m gonna sell this small gun to you." And ever since then, he’s been keeping the big guns, and selling the small guns. So everybody’s got guns but none as big as him. And I’m through with it. I’m blind in one eye from Vietnam. If you want to die for this garbage game, that’s your fault. I’m through."

2 notes

They wanted love poems, but I only read Poe.

Walk tall away from all connections,

Always move quickly after cutting ties,

Because landfills set up like dominoes,

Give off the allusion that you never needed any rope,

As you crawl downwards in any direction,

If you sink deep enough it all goes black,

And if you can’t go that low,

If you run out of air,

Find an empty room,

Build a nest,

Keep everything in arms reach,

And never leave,

Just stop listening,

Stop answering,

If you stay quiet long enough,

Even the most persistent get bored,

Everyone disappears if you wait long enough,

Hide out under sheets,

Under a weeks worth of filth,

From guilt and pride gone bad,

Stay in the dark,

The light has a way of revealing new scars,

It always works out,

If you never go back.

Filed under Writing light dark the longfellow war prose poem poetry waiting edgar allen poe

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To loud to disappear.

I know that there’s no excuse for some actions.  I know I’m angry, but sometimes you just can’t put another thing in your chest.  Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you know is right, because sometimes you loose that choice.  Every once in a while it comes down to how many ticks left till the bomb blows.  Short fuses and empty tanks, that’s when it gets dangerous. That’s when you loose all the power, it coincides with feeling indestructible.  Turns out that’s when it matters most, when you’re not even really there anymore.

Filed under writing blurbs prose insomnia

25 notes

Put your skirt back on.

Never dumb yourself down because they assume that’s where your start is,

Don’t wear skirts, they won’t take you seriously,

Don’t be too pretty, they’ll take it as soft,

Don’t wear tight clothing, because they’ll mistake you as a play thing,

Don’t be too feminine, because they won’t hear you when you talk,

Lower the tone of your voice,

Your high pitched tongue is like a dog whistle to the muts,

Never use the word feminist, because they’ll hate you before you even open your mouth,

Don’t mention that you make more money than him,

Don’t tell him you own a house, 

Don’t tell him about tour, or living in a van with five men for two months,

Because he’ll put two and two together and they’ll add right up to slut,

Don’t emasculate him, remember that he’s the man,

And because he was born with balls, you were born to respect them,

Remember that you’re a painting of a daisy to his strong, hard frame,

Remember that you are absolutely nothing, if he’s not there to keep you in place,

Learn how to cook,

Put all the heads back on your Barbie dolls and never tell anyone you decapitated them,

Never mention that you spent hours pulling out their perfect hair,

Because you thought if you could collect enough of it, maybe you could use it as your own,

Stop, don’t buy in, you’re bigger than the box that they left you in, 

No, no because if you can emasculate someone just by being yourself you have a responsibility to find someone else,

Someone stronger, someone sturdier,

Someone who isn’t intimidate by a painting of a flower

Put your skirt back on,

Don’t use a microphone tonight,

Make sure they know that your voice is loud enough on its own,

Because its been bottled, and boxed, and its been painted, and its been sold,

Because its been waiting for years to find a way off of the tight rope,

Because it’s finally ready to cut it,

Fuck it, because I’m finally ready to set the entire line on fire,

Because you don’t have to be men,

and we don’t have to be ladies,

Because we don’t have to be anything other than exactly what we’ve been being,

And I won’t hang you on the wall, if you won’t put me in a frame,

I’m sick of the cat calling, I’m sick of the names,

The lack of respect, because of the size of my frame,

I am not fragile, I am not lesser than you,

I do not care if you tower over me,

If I have to lift my head to see you,

I will make sure that I’m always at eye level,

Dear men,

Dear politicians,

We are not, and we have never been, a situation to be handled,

We are not things, we are equals,

We are beating hearts, we are warm bodies,

Dear men,

Dear politicians,

We are not, and we will never be, one of your problems.

Filed under women men ladies boys girls society husband wife marriage stigma barbie dolls pretty dog mut money feminist feminism feminine poetry slam poem slam poetry spoken word writing frame fragile politics politicians cat calling tongue

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Cigarettes and Wine.

Being lonely is a habit, like cigarettes or wine,

Fits like an old skin when the sun goes down,

More comfortable than familiar arms,

Being lonely is a quiet choice hiding as a tendency,

It’s a silent decision masked as a normalcy,

Your tricked into believing that you were built that way,

Fooled into thinking you were born hollow,

But the only time you feel lonely is when the cigarettes just don’t do it,

When the wine runs dry, you slip into old habits,

And you put that sad skin back on like it never left your body,

You sit low in it,

You hold your breath in it,

You pretend it’s not rotting,

Because it’s all you’ve got,

It’s the last vice you have left,

And only a fool would face this world without a second skin,

Only a fool would dare walk out there without a back up plan,

This way if they part you like the Red Sea and use your bones to build a raft,

You already know that if you sink low enough it’ll all go black,

Because being lonely is easy,

It’s fighting to be happy that’s hard,

It’s filling hollow chests that takes times,

It’s walking in the light that’s dangerous,

There’s nothing risky about hiding away,

There’s nothing brave in wearing a suit of armor in times of peace,

There’s nothing easier than being lonely,

There’s nothing harder than clawing your way out of it,

It’s a choice, I just wasn’t ready yet.

Filed under cigarettes wine lonely Habbit hollow body vice black low red sea skine dones happy poem kinda poetry writing