ordinary person with
extraordinary talent
or extraordinary person
with ordinary?
maybe just
ordinary with ordinary.
it’s just the world
stupid, cowardly world
deeming anything worthy
of applaud. deserved or otherwise
our insecurities
lazy, uninspired lives
makes easy to label
spectacular
what otherwise is
easy. if tried
he speaks 3 languages
hey, you can too
no. i can’t. only
a genius can
mediocrity is the new
exceptional
the learned are the new
foolish
just cause it rhymes
a couple times
doesn’t turn those lines
into music that defines
just cause that bass
is at its ace
doesn’t make that pace
save your face
just cause that pitch
is high and rich
doesn’t make the switch
any less of a bitch
the song is addictive
the lyrics are deductive
but the heart is inactive
work hard. B+
something to hold on to
in this nefarious world
wit or humor; just one?
yes. wit
oh. the stupidity this rock
incurs
for every tangent thought
the way every soul
whimpers
the bubbling rage
hate
no reason
peculiar cries
unwarranted
all season
no
humor, then
oh. the death
destruction
heh. killing virus
with such
affection
so it works then
dark
it may be
why would anyone then
choose
brains over glee
gloom struck morning
cold. harsh, biting
i’m invisible to you
deep, hollow sorrow
might last even tomorrow
you want it to go
empty street
none to greet
you don’t know what to do
just look up at the sky
dark clouds passing by
do you see me now?
there i am
to make you feel better
behind every cloud
now you see me.
you looked sad before
now you don’t
friends all over the world
successful, significant
working a dream
job, satisfied and justified
the work
that went in
skyping, texting
every year
happy birthday
dear
and on it goes, the wait
365 days more
for another 3 words
i wish i could
talk about the school
parties, month in advance
drop by your homes
just to say hi, and
stay. long.
conspire against teachers
bear the burnt
snickering.
be unabashed
without care or
regret.
be kids one more
time.
Long road, gorgeous twilight
Happy, content. No iota of care
I loved the moments I missed her
I miss the moments I loved her
Morning after morning a plan twofold
Salting the body to keep wounds of old
No worth would satisfy, as is foretold
For Revenge is a dish best served cold
I keep waiting for adventures. Someday, something great will happen and I’ll have a great post to write.
It’ll be a perfect day for doing stuff. Everything will align with the stars. I’ll grab that perfect exotic bite.
Jumping off the mountains singing with birds. Crossing great oceans swimming with dolphins.
Living like a nomad with no destination. It’ll all be so glorious, even the stale rice and beans.
But all that fun, all those stories, just that. Stories. Waiting instead of making. Busy, not free.
The least I could do is get out for a day. Forget the troubles, embrace the world, or just climb a tree.
There’s a trunk I know. A trunk full of terrors. A trunk full of scares. Buried deep somewhere.
There’s a key I know. A key that opens the trunk. A key that answers all the questions. Buried deep somewhere.
All I have done for most of my life is to keep the two separate. I don’t want that trunk open. Because I’m afraid.
I am afraid to face the realities buried. I am afraid to see my deepest fears come to life. So I try to forget them.
But every now and then it leaks the scares and run. Every now and again a quake shakes it open.
And I face fears inevitable. Monsters running wild, watching me fall through the void. I am rubble.
So, I reach for the key, deep within. And I get to the trunk. Maybe I should face them.
Nah. Someday though. Someday, I swear. You don’t know if I’m lying. You can’t tell.
