Rambling Poet

Rambling Poet: A simple blog to be filled with not only my poetry, but also my ramblings

[ramblingpoet]

Nicks

[ramblingpoet]

The sickness has taken over,

spread its rot into my veins

Poisoned every single thought before

My mind could even thunk —

The nausea rolls deep within me

Sending bile to each nerve cell

No saltine cracker nor ginger ale

Will calm the beast within me wails

I don’t want to be around others

Though I’ve never felt quite so alone

The walls are quite

The fridge may hum

In my mind a cacophony of sounds

The sickness has taken over

And I fear it’s here to stay

[ramblingpoet]

I think

I’m falling In love again

I hope I scream

I sigh i scheme

I think I am

Finally free

[ramblingpoet]

Today

On June 26th

I looked up your social media

After avoiding it for 3 years

And while my heart did give a stutter

It didn’t hurt

It didn’t hurt

[ramblingpoet]

An apathy has stained my soul

It runs like rivers ever so

I swore I could once hear the beat

The rhythm of life and breathing things

But now only silence grows

Drowning out creative woes

I stutter I sigh

I lay down and cry

No more rhymes float past my lips

A gift of ashes and hopeless things

[ramblingpoet]

Late nights coming back from the city

Bright lights in the train cars keeping us awake

The train wheels and their horrendous squeak

Moving the seats to sit facing one another

I could taste popcorn on my lips

And the ache in the bottom of my feet

Your eyes shut and lean on my shoulder

The train ride that would last forever

Too slow

Too quick

Fields replacing cities

Years replacing days

It’s been years since I’ve seen your face

But every time I’m home

The train always goes

[ramblingpoet]

The night was warm

And the air smelt of dead things

Of decay and sulfur and your laugh

I heard bells

Alarms in the distance

Ringing ringing

Calling me back

[ramblingpoet]

Within my dreams I’m free to be a me that’s not my self

And each morning is getting harder

To return to the life left

[ramblingpoet]

I dreamt of you again.

Of your smile your laugh your face

In the waking hours it’s getter harder to remember the exact colors of your eyes

To remember the way that you taste

The exact way your lips quirked and settled on your face

My heart it aches it aches

You have become a symbol

More ghost then man

For the amount of time you haunt me

And coming running through my head

Your Tendrils sinking into each facet of my life

Tethered to these thoughts of you. Do you still think of me too? Of course not.

Because a ghost cannot feel

They cannot regret

Because what we had is gone and dead

And I’m left picking up the pieces

This puzzle is one I don’t believe

I have the power to put back together

And I understand why people want to move back to Chernobyl

Homes overgrown with leaves and green

Weeds pushing up through cracked concrete

A city of ghosts and silence and abandoned buildings

I get why people would move back to a ruined city

And risk the radiation

The cancer of the bone

Underneath the devastation

The place still feels like home

[ramblingpoet]

Sometimes a title comes first

Sometimes I think time passes slowly

Like Molasses dripping from spoon to a cup

My days a monotonous sluggish crawl

Each hour a snail on the sidewalk in the sun

Going through the motions until the snail and I are one

Other times it feels like I finally wake up

Suddenly surprised by how my life’s been

Wasn’t it just yesterday I had been 7 or 10?

What’s my age again? 24? 25?

I’m pretty sure most of the blogs I follow on tumblr are no longer Alive

When was the last time I wrote poetry?

Can I still even create the same imagery?

Spinning words like threads

An insidious spider web

Of rhymes and rhythms I hear in my head

Is it lost? A gift that’s been with me so long? Can you ever lose what was all that made you who you are?

I stare at the page and my cursor blinks on

Just words on some paper

Just your fucking life line

Just the only thing that ever helped you survive

So I sit and i think and I wonder And sigh

And just like the snail

I slowly forge on

[ramblingpoet]

Die young

I use to wish that I would die young

Not purposefully but in some freak accident

Leave the world before truly making a physical mark

My family will cry and my friends will all wonder

How fate could be so cruel a true tragic blunder

And they would converse and reminisce on the past

And speculate the future that would never elapse

All while my body was cut and dissected

My soul long ago left the shell it inhibited

“She could have done this” “she would have done that”

My future no longer filling me with dread

Expectations and dreams burning to ash

The instant my body gets put in a bag

No chance of disappointing my family or self

After all I wouldn’t need a future if dead

No more second guessing if my choices were right

If the path I was on would lead to the light

No worries no fears no “what if’s” or “what may”

Just the end of a slightly short existence

And Sometimes, oh sometimes I still wish for it

[ramblingpoet]

Rough

My heart is an empty room

Oh please oh please won’t you come through

To live to laugh to love to create

Anything within this empty space

A space so empty, so hollow so deep

Oh won’t you oh won’t you please fill me?

I need the spark the flesh the sound

Of coffee grounds deep underground

Of fireworks within my ear

Of anything new lately my dear.

Because my mind is stuck on stop

A pause a breathe a silent vowel

An anything to take a break

While inside cracks grow and ache

Can’t you see within me now

My heart an empty room with no sound

I need the passion the love the lust

I need anything but fields of dust

[ramblingpoet]

A Title, if you want

365 days of doing a job a hate

Living on a land that people save months for to visit

But All I want to do is escape

I try not to complain.

Try to not let the bitter thoughts poison the words that spill from my lips

Lapping waves on a sun kissed beach

My mind already poisoned beyond belief

Straws in the ocean

Bile in my gut

I hold my breath and hope

For once

The sun won’t come up

[ramblingpoet]

She said I was her favorite

On the phone the other day

Light at night at home alone

My mom gave me a ring

On her way home from work ofcourse

About uncle Johnny passing

And Some kid stepped out infront of a train

And she’s on her way to see grandpa

Who hasn’t been good for days

This whole conversation happening

While I was home alone

Playing a video game and wondering

What my life has become

And she said I was her favorite

Amongst daughters there are three

And I told her I couldn’t be

Mom’s aren’t suppose to have favorites you see

I told her she could like us

For all different reasons or ways

That we could all be her favorites

In different sorta ways

But the truth is I don’t want to be the favorite

Too much pressure for my soul

My mind already fracturing from the hatred in my home

How could I be her favorite when I didn’t even favor myself

Spending my days doing nothing

A useless drifting mess

Commiserating on the what if’s

The when’s and where’s and nots

There’s comfort in the knowledge

You’ll never amount to much

I think I got her to see

Her favorite I couldn’t be

After all I said cheekily

It wouldn’t be fair to the other two

I’m already dad’s favorite of three

[ramblingpoet]

Sick sick sweet

The bile in my belly has a sweet taste

A sharp scent of decay that is sweet upon first taste but quickly turns acidic as it rolls across your tongue and suddenly you’re reminded of an animals body left to rot in the sun

warm, bloated and expanding,

gases leaving the lungs begin to rip through the sinew and gore permeating the air with the scent of death that brings bile to the back of your throat

Talking to you is similiar to this taste.

As the words drip like honey from my lips your reply envokes in me a response so strong that the words die in my throat

Any thought of moving on or over you is quickly squished as my heart begins to ache and that familiar acidic bite begins creeping back up my throat

I swallow the bile

I swallow the words

I try to swallow my feelings for you hoping they’ll die in my gut

[ramblingpoet]

Fuck

Nothing reaffirms loneliness quite like being in one of the most breathtaking places, eating amazing food, taking in the views, and drinking by yourself.

[ramblingpoet]

Blessed

I am blessed

There may be no God but there is a man with a golden sax

A bar with an ever growing tab and a girl to run fingers through your hair

I am blessed

My heart over flowing and chest aching

Eyes tired from 8 hours of driving

hands itching to touch to feel to know

your every valley and hill To feel the heat from your breathe

I am blessed

A handful of friends and a half filled note book

Tank full of gas and an IOU

A guitar with a broken string and a woodwind 2017 hasn't seen

I am blessed