Just When I Look Away...

It seems like every time I turn my back, another friend of mine is getting hurt in some way. If only I could be there for everyone... Grrrrrrrrr, forever the prominent frustration in my life.


Just When I Look Away

Just when I pick
one of you up,
another stumbles,
crumbling to their knees.
I go to your side,
looking to comfort you
even though you sometimes
reject my hand,
pushing it aside
in favor of your own,
taking insult from my kindness,
supposedly too strong
for me to be able to help.
But even when you take it,
I can't seem to pull you
back to your feet all the time,
as it's you who has to do
the standing in the end.

And now all of you
are crashing around me,
a falling kingdom,
and I,
one of the citizens,
run about in a panicked state,
trying my best to repair
all this desolation and destruction
around me.
But how can one man
hold up an entire city?

Favorite Mistake

Favorite Mistake

You call it your biggest mistake,
I call it my biggest awakening.
No longer am I
the coddled youth I once was,
making foolish follies,
filled with absurd aspirations.
I've learned my lessons,
hard as they have been,
and it's time to
put them to the test.
I'm done with this dream,
damned to detonate
at any moment.
It was nice for a time,
but ignorance is no bliss
I would ever like to partake in.

You may call it mistake;
that's your choice.
But I'll make of this what it is,
and be glad in what we had.


"Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."
- A shit ton of people

A Contemplation

Perception of a prominent piece of my possible profession :P

Words Are Wind

Sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but words will always
wound our hearts,
a much more fragile thing.
Yes, words are wind,
passing through our heads
like children through a candy store,
shouting and screaming,
making their point
before leaving abruptly
once they've accomplished
what they came for.
But wind can gather,
gusting around us,
until a whirlwind bursts forth,
mussing our hair,
muddling our minds,
leaving us befuddled
with blisters and burns.

They say that actions
speak louder than words,
yet isn't the effort
to form these words
an action?
Do we not have to
move our lips,
write each letter,
speak our mind
in order to be heard?
A strong enough gust
can push things into place,
into motion,
creating chaos in
an otherwise ordinary world,
a predictable place
if you let it be.
But when you speak up,
shout out,
call to it with the strength
only determination can muster,
THAT is when
actions happen,
actions that speak just as loud
as the words spilling from your mouth
an ocean of happenings
bursting through the dams
built up by our own
self doubt and insecurities.

When we let the water flow,
we let the world know
that we're here
to make a difference.

A Letter

Today, one of the campers I've been counseling noticed that I was seeming kinda down, which is surprising, he not being the most observant individual. When he asked me what was wrong, I carefully chose my words, saying that I was worried about a friend who has hit some rough times; this is very true, but it's so much more than that. Upon hearing this, the table of campers encouraged me to write this person a letter. Surprisingly, in my own way, I already had; the poem below. I hope it reaches her somehow.

I Feel Your Pain

I feel your pain,
and it passes through me
like an adrenaline rush,
ripping apart my veins
as they pulse
wave after wave
of injustice and agony.
I see your sorrow
welling in those beautiful oceans
you call eyes,
flowing endlessly
across your soft cheeks.
I reach out
to stem the tides,
my mind lost at sea,
forgetting that you're miles away.
And I hear the cries and pleas
I'm certain you are making.
You ask,
"What's wrong with me?"
I say,
"Nothing."
You ask,
"Will I ever be good enough?"
I say,
"You already are."
But you,
drowning in your tears,
will surely not hear my words,
a sweet breeze
blowing across the salty leagues
that grow larger by the second.

I won't ask you
not to feel this way,
because I know it's
not your choice to.
But know that I am here
with a dry shoulder
and a wet mop
to sop up your sadness.
I know it's not much,
but perhaps I can
lessen the blows
each wave brings,
taking the brunt of the hurt
for mine own.
And I get
that I may be the last person
you want standing by you
in these tough tides.
But I do not ask anything of you,
nor do I expect anything.
I am simply here at bat,
waiting for you to pitch
the ball that's sat
in your park for a long time now.
If you decide
to throw the ball aside
and walk away,
then fine,
game over,
I get it.
But until that happens,
I'll stand, a sturdy statue,
trusting that you'll toss me
something to swing at.

If Shadows Could Hold Me

This is what crashed through my mind during a particularly long and boring meeting I had yesterday. Wrote it during the meeting, as I'm sure some of the members didn't appreciate, but whatever. You can't just let poetry slip by you when it hits you hard in the gut like that.

If Shadows Could Hold Me

If shadows could hold me,

I'd drape them

across my shoulders,

wear them like a cloak,

flaunting my black blanket

to the world

as they warm me.

I would cower beneath them,

like a chilly child,

seeking refuge

from the mystic monsters

that creep into my life

without warning.

I would allow them

to consume me whole,

feed them my arms,

legs,

chest,

if only to save my heart

from collapsing within

an already broken shell.

I would smother myself with them,

feeling the compassion

flow through my body

as my last breaths

slip from my lips,

smiling as my eyes

grow misty and dark,

matching the sky of my eternal sleep,

bringing me ever closer

to my black brethren,

standing beside me

even in death.

But...

if shadows could hold me,

would they?

Or would they simply pass me by,

avoiding my eyes in the day

and becoming one

with the world at night,

leaving me

to scream my throat sore with sobs?

"...shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow."

George R.R. Martin