the year of lyrics: a poetry project

my search for inner-peace, one poem at a time


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Day 308 – Unkempt Matter

I thought by creating space, I would be more free
Free to fly, like a bird, without any regard to boundary

But it’s not like you can create space, nor can you create matter,
It exists and is difficult to deface
But does it really even matter?

See, I stand before you on this elevated space,
Preaching to you the thoughts I wish I could erase

But clearly I’m not making and progress
I give up so much but come out with far less
And my fists are screaming
Dreaming of unleashing
The sense of confusion that fires from within


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243 – Cloud Nine

I could have lived in a world
Ruled by impossible cruelty or royalty
Dictated by the selfish desires of fictional characters
Driven mad by the sense of an all-powerful notion or energy
Where the oceans can rage in continuous mutiny
And volcanic eruptions are not pleasantly distanced by borders
And disasters are not confined to square screens and undefinable space

No, today some live in a world much worse
Ruled by the intentions of the wealthiest beings
Dictated by the influences of greedy (yet real) leaders
Driven mad by condemning stigmas and stereotypes
Where the oceans bathe in toxic scrutiny
And panoramic corruptions are more violent than tectonic plates
And disasters are belittled as we are divided by creed and race

And though faith can sometimes be hard to come by
I know to rule my mind with the courage to challenge power
I will dictate my dreams into attainable goals
I will drive into the depths of certain vicissitude
Where the oceans sing in enchantment and harmony
And the earth trembles with approval of changing currents
And disasters are welcomed and transformed into lessons worth learning

Yes, that is the world I choose to live in
And I have hope that others will choose this world too.


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Day 240 – With Clarity

Seeking a way out — but reminded: there is one
For now, there is no way that has been proclaimed
No exit sign above the selected doorway
Nor are there ending credits to signal the release

Instead, a seemingly endless space of time
Where the stars are stretched light years apart
And sound travels slowly, cries taking years to reach help
Pray that there is no further offset in the balance

For a beam exists, wavering in doubt
Yearning to present this way: out
And the toil and desperation, a call for mercy
Oh, someone please present us mercy

Send us on to less threatening tides
Stop the clouds from voraciously engulfing us
Keep the stars strong, shining deep through the darkness
And the light from the moons reflecting and rejoicing

Somewhere, this way awaits us
We search in distress, but with hope
Not with intimate honesty, but with clarity
So when it presents itself, we shall know the way.


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Day 227 – Unmade Mind

Never knew you could fit it all under one roof
A contained space of uncontrollable mess
A sticky handful of high stress
And sitting on the edge, ready to plunge forward
Into a chaotic tunnel of whistles and tones
Partnered with dye, with ink, splattered upon a canvas
And soaked in bucket of uncertainty
Thick, and viscous, it’d be too tragic to miss this
Fate has been poured into a bottomless abyss
Where speed and rest are forced to a twist


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Day 217- Waiting Game

anticipation
the seconds pass too slowly for my liking
i apologize if i stutter
and scream
and jump
and shutter when i hear that you’re a little late
i’m sorry, it’s not like i’ve already
penciled this in…
i’m just more than ready
for a reason to have no reasons
and ‘tis the season
to be more lackadaisical
at least that’s what i’m told
not like it’s a waste,
just don’t be so wasteful


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Day 212 – To Do

Each
Second
Scheduled, recorded,
One after the other.
And though you managed to
Rest up for a little bit
May I remind you that
From twelve to two, you’re scheduled to work and catch up and eat your lunch.
And two to five, sit through both classes, ten minutes to speed walk, look alive,
And five to six, run back in the rain and get familiarized and “trained”.
And six, head spinning for an hour or so, Where were we supposed to meet, where to go?
So until seven thirty five, let’s chat, oh wait didn’t know we’d be talking about that.
And seven thirty five to eight forty five, let’s squeeze in a meal; “You kids are crazy…” he tells me.
And a few minutes time, I’ll walk back to warmth, perhaps reread some mail,
And a nice Congratulations has made itself comfortable in your inbox,
And finally ten to eleven comes around, and it’s time to put on that bright smile you’ve found.
And eleven thirty and it’s time to breathe.
No wonder you fall into the deepest sleep.