Keep on being kind

Ole, 22, He/Him, writing a poem everyday, (these poems are fiction I promise I'm fine y'all)

[oneandocey]

I ruined my shirt,

Flayed the colour from its flesh,

Everything is gray.

[oneandocey]

I'm so deep in my head again,

I should just go to sleep,

Nothing that I do right now,

Will help me, honestly.

[oneandocey]

To write a lie so bold and well,

That through it the truth you could tell,

To speak without a single word,

Create a world from the unheard,

That's the special skill I seek,

The veritable mountain's peak,

And so I climb with sights set high,

And word by word work towards the sky.

[oneandocey]

Old stories of mine

I read my old writing again,

It wasn't very good,

Lacking in some major ways,

As early writing should.

I touched it up,

Added some flair,

Filled in descriptions here and there.

In short,

The work's now much improved,

And I think that's growth,

For the first time proved.

[oneandocey]

Close my eyes,

On misery,

I'm buried in my dreams,

Nothing there can harm my heart,

I lick my seamless seams.

[oneandocey]

It cannot end until I start,

To pick it up again,

What I have left,

Has not left me,

And won't until it's end.

[oneandocey]

Lessons of our past

Words made before words did rhyme,

Lessons before blessed time,

Some stories survive the test,

Persisting longer than the rest,

Yet we mock them now as weak,

And those that love them we call meek,

As if our hate could make us more,

Harden our so soft core,

Oh how grand the irony,

Those that hate love of it are free.

[oneandocey]

More than words

There is more to writing than words,

It's a truth so blinding it hurts,

When all we want is the number to rise,

We've fully bought into the writer's demise.

We're clawing at a tree for fruit,

While trampling on rotten root,

The garden needs tending to strive,

To write of life we must first be alive.

Read and eat, live well if you can,

Artists cannot just survive of the pen,

You are more than what you write,

So be more than it, you're allowed, it's alright.

[oneandocey]

Mantra

I am exactly where I'm meant to be,

Not perfect but good,

And inarguably me.

Of course there's so much work to do,

But I've done work before,

I am used to the new.

[oneandocey]

Lazy

I'll pick tomorrow up,

Tomorrow,

So I can waste away,

Today,

Let future me be burdened,

I can't be asked anyway.

[oneandocey]

I've no words.

Imagine that.

A writer that cannot.

Huh.

[oneandocey]

I might as well just go and try,

What else is there to do,

I really don't care anymore,

Let chaos/dreams ensue.

[oneandocey]

Happy Birthday!!

Another poem for the pile,

That's now grown two years tall,

Another bit of quiet pride,

That helps me face it all.

23 years now I've survived,

How lucky can I be,

I'll celebrate this day with friends,

So glad that I am me!

[oneandocey]

Finding Ocey

I'm finding myself,

Truly I used to loathe the phrase,

And it's insinuation that I was lost,

Which I would always say I was not.

I knew who I was,

At that moment, in that spot,

Only when times changed did I follow suit,

Moved around, met you.

Now I've never been more myself,

And tomorrow I'll say the same,

I've always been and will always be,

Me, again, and again and again.

[oneandocey]

To-do and do and do and do

The more I do the more I don't,

Work expands to fill it's scope,

Send an Email, find a date,

Cook three meals, be done by eight.

I'm keeping pace,

I'm slowing down,

Running in place,

And slowly drown.

[oneandocey]

The death of destination

We made yearning the point,

Wanting so badly to want,

That having has gotten strange.

In a time where we lack so much,

The absence fills the void,

Of symbol and status.

You did not suffer enough,

Did not want it enough,

Real artists bleed ink,

Real lovers die unloved.

There can be no satisfaction,

In being satisfied,

Enough will never be enough.

[oneandocey]

I touched the stars,

Now I'm earthbound,

Humbled by my flesh,

Greatness I have tasted it,

Perhaps i(t) was too fresh.