My Own Keeper

will the stores be open tomorrow if I die today?
will music still play on the radio if I die today?
will I still be able to travel if I die today?
if I die tomorrow maybe
I heard our lives are carved on scrolls stored in the Akashic records
if you go in my basement I have rows and rows of my journals
documenting every feeling since I’ve been living
when my friends died they asked what will happen
I told them not to worry about asking those questions
when my family died they asked what will happen
I told them we just gotta accept it
when I died I asked God what will happen
He said nothing
it’s hard to accept all the things in life
everybody wants everything
but they always forget about the downsides
like how every relationship has to end
one day she won’t come home
one day the meds won’t work
one day you’ll really jump
and I see it but I go on living anyway
let myself go so when the phone rings I’m free to pick up death’s call
we can build a thousand skyscrapers but we’ll never reach heaven
we can fly to Mars but we’ll never find aliens
we can love the whole world but we’ll never be loved by all
and that’s okay
unlike Tupac I can’t think of one things that needs changing
murderers run free and I won’t be one to chase them
one thing I’d like to kill is people’s thoughts
nobody ever had a good one, just one that was less awful
nothing good has ever been said
if I was in control we’d burn it all down like Alexandria
if I was in charge we’d be dancing around bonfires drinking red wine and wearing no clothes
if I was God we’d all be gone and I’d turn back time so we never were in the first place
you think I’m so negative but I’m positive in the realest way
you think I’m not happy but my face hurts from smiling
they say I am nothing
I said so what’s the problem
I should
I need
I want
I is so high maintenance
I, could use a vacation
maybe die and put it in the freezer in the basement

Terrorism or Revelation?

Finding something that just sounds perfect
sounds perfect but it’s so hard to hit the right notes
words don’t always arrive the same way they left and sometimes they get lost like a ship at sea
how do I rearrange my thoughts to keep me on course
I listen to music to focus my eyes on the line but it’s more than just about the line
it’s about each syllable
and each page
from images to paper
translation becomes a task of understanding yourself
when I open the dictionary I find the keys to my soul
they give my thoughts power and weight
I can say illusion and you know I’m talking about something fake
I can say fake and you know I’m talking about most of my life
when I was a child I used to think my life was like The Truman Show
silly thoughts thought some that were produced by an imagination in overdrive
daydreaming worlds of me and a princess flying on a magic carpet
flying through the city streets at night as a superhero what was I thinking?
who would want that responsibility?
I want to move but have nowhere to go and everytime I point myself in a direction everybody says I’m going the wrong way

Genesis Machina

God created the world over the Earth and space appeared and angels asked what is it worth

and we all were created for entertainment or love or whatever the reason but we can’t make it up to him

so we all try to change our masks or do things for the sake of doing them can’t we just pray and bow our heads

and have God listen to us and us not to him

but it doesn’t work that way we have to let him in to our heart

I don’t mean for this to rhyme in fact this is a speech for a dark time but I can’t help it I’m starting to think like a poet

but they treat me like a mime and the world opens up just a little and they close my mouth just a little the pain is too

much to handle

I can’t seem to bear it tears drop down my eyes and I can only dream of seeing clearly let this hurt out and maybe

you’ll think twice before abandoning me or maybe you wished this on me

it’s okay I’m not asking you anyway if I am to die today then let it be my day

death can come and I will happily go away

there’s nothing left for me here anyway

#NaPoWriMo Day 19: God help me, I can’t save ’em

cups of water
don’t cleanse
a broken body
I thought oil
was God’s way
to save me
I overflow with
thoughts of madness
how do I tell the
difference between
pain and sadness