Poetry from inside

The gears are always turning. Everything on this page unless otherwise stated is original work and owned by me as bad as it may be. :)

[cryptictalk]

Struggle love

We choke down death, we choke down life, we wonder when happiness will become a better plight. A wonderful time when we are no longer burdened by death and sadness. When our hopes come to fruition, and the spring air rushes across our face, the smell of fresh cut grass becomes a beautiful embrace. When we disregard the darkness and lean on hope, when we hold hands with the ones we love the most. The sacrifice within their eyes are the greatest we will know, the length of time their heart provides is the greatest ever shown. We live amongst the wondrous beings which impart hopes and dreams, we may choose to chase or fall, yet better to have the option at all. Regardless of what we choose may thee outcome become something we use. In the rhythm of life we may never know where we stand, always take that outstretched hand. It may be your last hope, the rest of your life, the most beautiful person that you can confide. She is my love I hope you have yours too but this one’s mine I can’t share with you.

A lesson of my own heart owned by my love

[cryptictalk]

Maybe

Maybe I’ve lost myself or maybe I’ve found myself? the insides that once spoke to me have a different tone.

Maybe I’ve become robotic and content, although I like the content part.

It’s always easy to write about the pain that once existed but why is it so hard to write about the happiness I live with now?

Or maybe I don’t need to write about it and should be happy just living in it? Although my guts scream at me to put something to paper.

I suppose as I grow so should my writing, maybe I shouldn’t consider pain my muse.

Maybe I should be honest and listen to the clues, life is working out and I’ve made the right moves?

Life is ever changing, as does my mind, I am learning and living but am afraid of it being right?

So many questions which changes these words, I’m in a place I’ve never known and am still trying to discern.

Yet I would never trade it for the past

[cryptictalk]

Eventually our words have no sound they will ring silent

We become dust

It’s told over and over in time

So scream what you can

While you can

Or become the silence

[cryptictalk]

I’m afraid to write because it never seems to matter

What does it do for me other than to get out some angst that lives inside

Nobody reads, but you can pull on heartstrings

My brain and heart just told me to shut the fuck up

Yes we can write, it can mean something to someone that you may never know

You know what lives in a writers heart?

Passion, the will to see the world in a different way

To watch the standard play while songs are written in our head

To write the love and madness of humans while they wallow

And swallow their hearts

Unedited madness tonight 🍻

[cryptictalk]

Wildlings

She leaves traces of her scent when I randomly fall upon the bed

It might be dolce or another sweet scent, either way my eyes close and consider what was… what is

Or what is to come

It may be madness, it may be passion, it may be watching a shitty series until she’s snoring

I’ll take all of the above as long as I get to bask within the glow of her eyes, or her cuddle that cures my darkness

Although the madness is the best, it’s the anger, the soul, the violence of everything inside that needs to be expressed

Eventually put on ice with a kiss from another world, slightly bitten, cheek to cheek followed with stillness and soft touch

The grenade of fervor exploding within our chests, the madness becomes tamed and returns to its roots of love

Awaking to the sun holding one another, the breakfast of champions for those who wallow in the mud and run through the fields of love

Cryptictalk 😘

[cryptictalk]

I’ve lost my way once again

Trodding through brain mud

Hoping to find a clearing, where it’s not so sticky

Wishing the ringing subsides and the pain only lasts for weeks

Drunken, caught in a constant elipsis…

More memories lost than found

Writing sentences that I hope make sense to a lost human

Or even myself

The ability is evident not always confessed

I hope to find happiness but plead no contest

Life is and will always be a struggle

I’ve got the mind and bit of time that leaves me befuddled

I should start writing again, just some practice madness. Cheers homies miss you 😘 brb

[cryptictalk]

Fu(king poets

We have no template

Born to write without a margin

We are the rise of the flames in the fire of life

The words of disdain you may not like

The hopes and hates you hold inside

The terror and love you cannot hide

The brutal truth that cannot be tamed

The part of the mind that cannot be contained

The bleeding hearts which need no compress

Depth of hope which has no contest

The stars to us look not like lights

But diamonds of life at intangible heights

There is no end to our foresight

Words bend at will, it’s our birthright

To some a gift and some a curse

Written or not we find their worth

We are poets

Whether you like it or not!

Cryptictalk 🥃 happy Friday 😘

[cryptictalk]

Fuck yeah happy Friday poets! Cheers nerds

[cryptictalk]

The sky spoke your name this morning. To tell me even in the dark,I could find you. The sound fell from the clouds, as if it was raining your words. Softly Landing upon open ears, to be read upon this blank slate of a heart. The red reminds me theres a storm at my back, chasing me towards your voice. I fear not the clap of thunder or the flash of death. I wish to be in your atmosphere where I find safety. Even as the winds pull me further away. I’ll walk to the worlds end to feel your grace upon me once again.

Cryptictalk

[cryptictalk]

Not terrible

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Entwined in silence memorizing every softened wrinkle of her lips, the height of her cheekbones, the curvature of her shoulder blade. Timing the symphony of rhythmic breaths sounding in sync, methodically melting into a drum beat pulse. A body of warmth radiating into a frostbitten heart of this hopeless wanderer. This moment permanently molded into the cavernous compartment of missing memories. Dopamine devilishly dancing upon the voids in my chest. Only the gift of death in this time could I be set free. Take me..

Cryptictalk

[cryptictalk]

Fuck I forgot I wrote this, I went back 7 years it’s pretty sexy I better step my game up.

[cryptictalk]

The butterflies exploding from my chest have no home, the roses that they once flocked and fluttered to are wilted drowning in the depravity of thought.

A graveyard of instant gratification built on zeros and ones.

Never the scent of spring or tulips scraping the earth on their rise, or fresh cut grass without a choice.

My mind deliberates the worth of human versus nature and we don’t deserve what we have.

Nature will always be here even when we are gone, unbothered, thriving and rising upon our bones.

There is a slight hope that the words in between the air I breathe and the world we see somehow become home.

[cryptictalk]

The moons pull suffocated my madness tonight. A weeks worth of up and downs, stress, and mayhem. All washed away in a moment, fishing didn’t hurt either. I figured I’d write about it which is rare lately.

The solemn scent of humble waters slightly whispered across my face.

Scents of hardwood burning in fire pits floating across the lake.

The calm inside is rarely known but for tonight I’d like to take it home.

I’ve fallen in love with silence and yes it’s as rare as gold.

We grind ourselves to dust just to find a piece of a rotting pie.

We will do our best to make sure the ones we love will strive.

Our rough edges filed down by clapping waters which surround.

The night air is brisk , cool but yet mentally so very profound.

I can only wish life was as calm as this simple moment.

If I could pull the moon from the sky I’d definitely love to own it.

Yet we must remember it’s just a quiet reflection of the sun.

And when the madness starts again you get burned like everyone.

So take those moments and lock them away in memory.

So you can reflect on precept and how you want life to be.

As my homie Joe says, “I’m not here for a long time, I’m here for a good time” cheers! 🍻

[cryptictalk]

I hate the madness that encompasses my mind, I’ve always had these general ideas of love and hate that helped to define what I kept inside. Over time it tore away at reality as much as I wanted it to be true or false. I was in love either way held by voice or pulse. I should have known where my love lied, but you’ll never know how hard love can lie, it’s misrepresented and told to call it’s home, it’s the fucking ditch that you could call your own. It’s crazy to love yourself and hate the rest at the same time. Give me the madness I love to hate so true, I wish it wasn’t but I am a lover this heartbreak is not so new. I want to be left alone, and then I may find peace in the silence. Or someone who wants the same. A riddle and a reminder that we are all a little lonely.

[cryptictalk]

The sun goddess

Her love was the morning sun Gentle, caressing imparting life. Her kiss gleaming on green bladed tips. The softness of her song rising in mist Her wrath the afternoon blaze Raging, violent, blistering the world Relentlessly Suffocating everything within range The virulence of her presence blinding the weak Her silence on the face of the moon A welcome darkness creating peace. A reserved reflection of what was to come. The twilight a reminder she encompasses all

Cryptictalk

[cryptictalk]

OLD AF

From the hallowed halls of dingy carpet and broken trashy cardboard doors.

Ashtrays overflowing in conversation that never had worth.

Our future glistening within a mirror from 1999

Cassette tapes, vhs, even cd’s once valuable but trash

We were all lost in the garbage

Those who survived are just here

Not worth the gigabyte at $16

Just an unwritten book

Never meant to be read

The font was never correct

It wasn’t written in sms

Just a cryptic message

From the depths of truth

They can’t live what we lived

They can’t know what we know

But when we’re dust we’re dust

That’s the shitty part

Nobody watches the credits

Cryptictalk. Love ya nerds 😘

[cryptictalk]

I thought about writing something tonight but I’ve realized I need to remember how to write, I’ve been lost in a common singularity. It can’t be? but can be? simple as long as it means something (amazing?). Am I ready to jump back into the misshapen (maybe shapen) reality of the depths of my mind? Or was that the perfection I disregarded and decided to live in the common language of reality? I want to touch the edges of perception and the endlessness of space, taste the stars, laugh at love and fear, create something ridiculous? I suppose I need to find myself once again as time goes by. Writing tickles the edges of my aged soul. Even though it may be lost to humans. It just maybe live within stardust.

Cryptictalk

[cryptictalk]

Illusion

A rose starts with a magical scent, beautiful and unforgettable.

Close your eyes and breathe in the deep reds, continuously crawling their way into the back of the brain.

Seductive, sweet, yet a known addictive.

Petals soft as satin brushing against skin captivating the conscious.

A congregating spiral, the finger follows down to the depths where passion exists.

Just below lives the unseen threat, the hardened razor covered stem.

Laced with curving cutting hooks awaiting an inappropriate touch.

Captivated in scent and softness, the pain never existed.

But the roots are deeper than you know, when the glazed over eyes open It’s no longer a single rose just an illusion.

You’ve fallen upon the thorns drunken in the splendor of the scent of a rose.

She will hold you tight, every extra movement the thorns dig deeper.

Submit and become part of the process, become a rose yourself.

Or burn the bush

Eventually all of the petals fall

Cryptictalk 3/24/22

[cryptictalk]

The silence of midnight still holds true

Especially with delicate touch of snow

I still find happiness in the silence of self peace

With thoughts of poetry I’ve kept so neat

The best place to be, inside my mind not for the world the see

Although we will read but never touch

A place so confident that could never be crushed

I am still a man, the one percent who puts his guts right on the map

I welcome you to hold your heart just as true

The world needs writers just like you

Speak your peace and never lies

Love yourself or you’ll hate the disguise

Just write

Cryptictalk