I’ve always believed the Buddha,
but karma can’t exist.
In this life, when giving more,
the least you seem get.
Unyielding, one tries to stay true,
buried by disappointment,
all outside forces feeding.
The weeping in one’s soul,
as if auctioned, stolen and sold.
Reluctant to be bold with this loss of self control.
Shading cloaks high hopes,
from cotton candy dreams.
So sweet, yet unreal, mistaken by a craven appeal.
chasing an illusion as these aspirations take heels.
To bow the knee, surrendering to the stave.
Crumbled, captured, there had once been a chance,
reliving in the ruin, now taking that second glance.
The light, succumbed to the night, as the day digs a grave…
One more puff to stay positive.
One more pass and it’s negative.
No more false breathe nor failed cognition.
Taking a step back from friction to study fact and fiction.
During my last English class my professor assigned a short free writing assignment on one word. The word given at the beginning of class was the color blue. The purpose was to exercise writing something to get the juices flowing. I chose to write a poem which I later named “Bluesing Perspective(Losing perspective but with blue). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Some say a touch of grey, but I’m telling you It’s blue.
Everyday you wake with one question, what am I to do?
Drowning under water, my body will not revive.
Today is one day too late to schedule my baptise.
The sky is full of empty, I wish it to go black,
and request upon a star for this void to revert back.
Blue is not my color, but I see it everyday.
In many neighbors eyes as they pass and walk away.
H”Any place or state of torment or misery.” I’ve never been one to believe in angels, burning bushes or stone rocks carved by lightning with the rules of god, but I don’t need a bible to believe in hell. Everyday I walk out of the security of my home I see hell on the streets. Miserable, tormented people, by the dozen, sitting on the roadside for the closest pickup truck that can offer work. Dozens of neighbors, I refuse to display my smoking addiction on a daily occasion ask, but I do not tell with only 20 cigarettes in a pack. I do not make note because of pity or shame, only out of fear. There are so many bad decisions and choices that result in poverty, drug abuse and loss of common decency. I see hell in the lifestyle of my community everyday and I fear the same fate. As it stands right now, this halfrican is hell-bound.