Sometimes I wonder what in the hell is going on with me. I lose myself so often, that I am surprised that I ever manage to find myself back where I belong. I find the world and most of its contents to be a disappointment. I get that I need to take everything with a grain of salt, but what happens when you’re being fed handfuls? I just want to run a way from it. I have my own little corner in which I duck down under the shadows, but sometimes I don’t want to hide away from everything. Sometimes I want to just be there in your face like a ray of sunshine, like a drop of rain, or a snowflake that seemingly lands on your cold red nose.
I want to be so much more than I am, or ever have been. I know there are many layers to myself that I have yet to peel. I fail to do so out of fear,and disgust. Fear that what I may uncover may be even worse than what I see now, and disgust for being so afraid to be myself. I like to think that someday all this shit I have been force fed, and been dragged through will have a reason. A pleasant outcome. But again, fear kicks in and slaps that thought in the face.
I am a very pessimistic person, due to many factors. I have many things in my life to be thankful for, and I am, but I know they will be there always. I don’t need to worry about certain people because I know they will be there forever and ever. I like to believe they will, and sometimes I even psych myself out of that thought, but it always returns. No worries. I just want a little bit more.
I am like a ninja, when I finally get on the right track, I beat myself up about it and fall right back to the same old shit I am used to. The norm feels good to me, feels comfortable. I haven’t met anybody who likes complacency as much as I do. I think that’s why I sabotage myself every time something good comes along. One of these days I will finally have everything I want in life. Although I know that with my luck it will most likely be the day right before I die. Let’s hope I have everything figured out completely wrong. I have always told myself and friends to always assume the worst, that way when something good happens, it is so much more exciting. Someday…
I don’t know if any of my followers or anybody else really, have an account on poetry.com, but I do. I have recently made an account thinking it would be a good way of having other people read my work. There are some really great poems on there, that I will not deny, my issue with it is this… It is based on a points system, so the more poems you submit the higher the points, which is fine. But you also get more points for rating and reviewing other peoples poetry. This perk I think forces people to comment or rate something that they really don’t want to, in order to get said points. I have also noticed that a lot of these people who are critiquing the poems seem to have limited knowledge of poetry. I am in no way, more like light years away from being Shakespeare, but for one of my poems to get berated because it was in prose form and did not rhyme, had me baffled. I enjoy using prose form, and think it can be under rated sometimes by those who do not even know it is a form. I had tried to explain to said commenters that I used prose form on purpose because I enjoy it, and it fit well with that poem. Granted you all have read some of my poems, and I do not use prose too often, I mix it up. But after simple research on the sight, I see that they too have poetry that is far from perfect. I being the bigger person explained my views on my poetry, but refused to comment on their issues. I didn’t need to start a war. Because let’s face it, I can be vicious, so I would win. I have seen some really horrible stuff on that site, not necessarily saying the poems themselves were bad, but about 65% of them had no spell check, no proper grammar, no punctuation, no revisions on them at all. I made sure all of mine were perfect before I posted them, so to get several comments saying that the poem would have been great if I had put it in rhyming stanzas, or paragraphs made me slightly saddened. What do you guys think about poetry in prose form? Is it atrocious? Or is it just a misunderstood form of poetry? I would really like your opinions on this. As the thought that my poetry may be suffering simply because of the form I use. the poem in question is Into This Night, which is a few posts below. As I said any and all feedback on this is greatly appreciated.
There is a truth within us all. But only after we peel away the lies can we see what’s hiding underneath. It may not be pretty, but it’s raw, and it is true. And we all seek the truth whether we know it or not.
We fool ourselves day after day into believing in the wool that’s been pulled over our eyes. Because we fear the unknown, and sometimes it takes more strength to keep searching, than we have left in us.
Simply going on with this meaningless life, just to see just how long we can last. Almost like a dare, a dare in which our faith in everything is called to the front lines to fight. But sometimes the war was lost long before we ever realize it.
But we fight anyways. Fight for something, we fight for some kind of truth. Fight for that which we all desire deep down. When all the lies have consumed our hopes and dreams, our heart continues to beat. And with that the layers begin to shed. They drop away until the only thing left is that in which we seek.
~heart & soul~