A collection of Poems from January of 2020 to Present

 Where is the Off Button? - November 3rd, 2020

Holy shit. 

Does this thing ever turn off? 

My brain, that is. Its like my thoughts are a dozen sleepy, cranky children,

But my brain is poor, so all they have to sleep on is one lousy loft. 

I think I’ve been scammed. 

Nobody told me that this never stopped. 

I’d like a refund, please. 

A new brain, if that’s okay. 

I promise I’m trying, but these thoughts cannot be topped!

By the time I’ve solved one thought,

A new one has arrived!

If these thoughts just keep on coming

I’m not sure if I’ll survive!

No, no, no. I’ll survive. I’m okay. 

Numb - October 29th, 2020

The word numb,

Gets a bad rep. 

I think numb is a good thing, and I’ll tell you why.

But first,

I have to explain,

I am not talking about the everyday numb,

Not the limb that falls asleep numb,

Or the shot at the dentist numb,

I’ll talk about numb from cold some, 

But I’m mostly referencing another numb.

Now that that’s that,

I’ll begin:

The definition of numb,

Is counterintuitive. 

When you are numb, I would argue that you feel more.

If I were to put effort into feeling my hand right now, which is not numb,

I’m not sure I could feel anything at all.

I would feel nothing.

If my hand were numb,

I would feel something, 

I would feel numb. 

And feeling something,

Is better than feeling nothing at all.

Now that we have established that difference between numb and nothing,

Let’s establish the difference between numb and something:

Numb is something, but they are not the same.

Numb is limited,

Numb is defined.

Something is not.

Something can be anything,

Something can be too little,

Something can be a lot,

Something can be bad,

Something can be good. 

And while I do believe that it is good to feel both good and bad,

Sometimes something can be too much.

Maybe, perhaps, something can even be nothing. 

But numb cannot. Numb is numb. 

Now, I hope it is easy to understand why I like to feel numb.

While a shot at the doctors may relieve pain, in the same way, anm emotion such as love, can make me numb. 

My mind is a continuous traffic flow of thoughts that often disguise themselves as pain receptors. Things like love are prescribed to me in doses

To make me feel numb. 

Mad at the World - November 17th, 2021

I want to be mad at the world,

I’m just not sure if I’m allowed.

We promised to make each other to be happy,

But the world isn’t keeping its vows. 

*some type of omnipresent relationship counselor whispers*

What’s that?

Oh, you want me to talk directly to the world?

Like… like right now?

Oh, okay. 

Um. 

World I know that you’re kind of on fire,

And there’s a billion people having epiphanies,

And I know that you’re probably busy,

But I need you to listen to me. 

Listen, 

I don’t think it’s fair,

The way that you made me, it has me so stressed. 

No, I’m not talking about my body,

Although that could’ve been better too, but I digress.

I’m talking about the way that my mind works,

Why do I have thoughts I don’t want?

And why do I always feel the need to fix them?

And why am I getting so hot?

If I only get one life on you, world, 

I just feel like you could’ve cut me some slack.

And if you don’t start listening to me, world,

It’s over and I’m never coming back. 

Actually, I don’t really have a choice. 

I can’t leave. 

So, just, please listen to my requests. 

Jumble - November 30th, 2020

A jumble of words.

A bumble of bees.

A rumble beneath my feet.

I’m humble as could be.

I stumble to my knees.

I scraped one of them. It hurt for a few seconds but the pain kind of went away now.

Wow, there are a lot of words that rhyme with jumble.

Maturity - December 7th, 2020

I am growing,

Unfortunately. 

I am growing,

Very tired of it, in fact. 

I am growing,

More scared as times goes on. I was always scared of it. Terrified, if I am speaking truthfully. 

I was not quite scared enough. 

I am growing,

And I think it’s going to kill me, eventually. 

Streetlights - December 15th, 2020

There is a militia,

Out in the streets. 

An army of lights,

Putting adults to sleep. 

But as the flickers begin, 

And the soldiers take place.

The kids stumble out, 

light rays on their face. 

They dance about,

The lights take tally, 

They know their future, but still,

Their hearts rally

The same as the army

Of streets lights down the ally.

Effortless - December 28th, 2020

Sometimes,

I’m not sure which is which.

If I’ve stopped trying as hard,

or if it’s become effortless.

I’m not sure which is better, either.

Everything Sucks - January 6th, 2021

I strongly believe

In a theory I hold.

That everything sucks,

And life is all bad, 

And we’re only ever happy,

When we forget that we’re sad. 

The worst part is,

I am not entirely sold.

And the most painful part,

Is holding onto hope. 

Makeup on a Pillowcase - February 1st, 2021

We arrive back home,

Twist the key,

I am so glad I’m not alone,

But it can still be hard on me. 

Just two hours ago,

My mind had felt so free,

She turned up the radio,

I placed my right hand on her knee.

She sang like no one was listening, 

Except for simply just me.

And I listened to her whistling,

Like no one else could speak.

We arrived at our destination,

We sat down at our seats,

But my mind arrived from vacation,

And destroyed my glimpse of peace. 

I was suddenly so concerned,

About where this night would lead,

It had to be just perfect,

I had to have memories. 

There wasn’t a special day in site,

This had just become my horrid routine, 

To try to construct the perfect night, 

Each time streetlights shined down on me. 

I can’t just let things happen,

I cannot just be me, 

I can’t just spend time laughing

Without knowing what the joke might mean. 

I fight my brain each day,

But love is still what it may be.

And next to her I lay,

Shortly after turning the key. 

And I wake up near her face,

Her eyes the first thing I see,

I notice makeup on her pillowcase,

And remember what it felt like to be free. 

No, Thank you - February 3rd, 2021

I don’t want

To write

Today. 

I just want

To feel

Okay. 

My Best Friend Has Cancer - February 19th, 2021

My best friend has cancer,

And I don;t know what to do. 

My best friend has Cancer,

And here I am

On my way to school.

My best friend has cancer,

Thank for the condolences,

But he needs them too.

Actually,

Maybe not.

He already has a ton.

There is nothing more that me and you can do. 

Untitled - February 21st, 2021

I am writing this poem to say,

That artists who leave their work untitled

Are dicks.

You mean to tell me,

That when you finished your work upon that day,

There was not a single phrase in your ill-filled mind that you could pick?

Or is it just the fact

That you are that conceited. 

You let the title of your works lack,

So that your viewers have to read it. 

And when they fail,

And get the theme wrong,

You sit back and laugh,

Because you’re simply too intelligent

For a title.

And you’re a dick.

Magnum Opus - February 25th, 2021

God,

I pray that I never am claimed 

To have one day finally made

My magnum opus. 

Why,

Why would I, if I could decide,

Justify that I have made my best before I die?

That just seems sad. 

I’m not even sure,

If I have the heart to claim my best work will be art,

Perhaps it is when I start to have the heart

To be a father. 

Maybe that is my magnum opus. 

Or maybe I already made it. 

Or maybe I never will.

I hope for the latter. 

Nostos - March 2nd, 2021

I’ve found myself

Quite lost. 

Like my paths

Came to a cross,

And I chose the wrong direction. 

I miss my homeland 

Quite a lot. 

Here on this boat,

Far from a yacht,

But I do have just one confession. 

For it was I

Who chose the sea,

Even though

I’d much rather be

With the ground close to my foot’s possession. 

I often

Let myself free,

To try to tame, 

The monstrous sea, 

And that I belong here is my biggest misconception. 

For my homeland 

Is where my heart,

And my happiness

Began to start

Breeding my favorite expressions. 

And yet still,

I tasted the tart

Of the sea,

And of my art,

And watched as I developed an obsession. 

Ands after many months

Of this illusion,

I’ve let my sails

Begin to loosen,

And have started to conquer this quant deception.

For as many years

As I’ve been lost,

There is one thing

I will not toss,

That my love is not a perception.

I’m headed home. 

My Apologies - March 8th, 2021

I wanted to write poetry. 

It always turns out as an introspective contemplation

Of a combination

Of intrusive and

Conscious thoughts, 

My apologies. 

Expectations - March 10th, 2021

I often times like

To lay on the floor,

So that everything around me feels tall.

And I know it is not

Very common of a man,

To like to feel small.

But I don’t care about societal masculine expectations. 

I already cuff my pants at the ankle.