Dreams of a broken poet.

I just want to be deep.

I want to write something that inspires the general public and causes in uproar in the comfortability of the way things are.

I want to be a rebel with a cause worthy of fighting for, while my words ignite fiery and passionate resistance.

I want to be an influence, and push everybody under.

Maybe then you'll listen to me.

Listen and take heed instead of just smiling and nodding your head.

Listen to my dreams and believe me when I say they will change the world.

I want to be heard.

From the rooftops and mountaintops, from the basement to the attic, I want there to be static.

Maybe then you will cling.

Cling to my voice and it will guide you.

Of course you need to hear me first.

Ignorance

I'm trapped between the past and the future.
Whoever said there's no time like the present was right because there's no time like the present to wait for time to decide on what the future holds, or what lesson the past has to offer.
There's no time like the present and in the presence of this essence I must express the ambiguity that strangles my hand.
This hand.
The right one.
The one I live with.
The one I write with.
The one I die with.
I need it to be free.
Heaven forbid my hand stays strangled and these words go unwritten.
How shall I survive?
How do I find the surface I so desperately need to gather air before I delve back into this abyss we call pain?
The grip is tightening, and I can feel the bruises forming around my wrists.
The harder I fight, the tighter it gets, I'm losing for lack of complacency.
I lose because I know that its worth the fight.
I know that the pain now is easier to suffer through than the eternity of pain that bondage guarantees.
So I continue to fight.
But I am not alone.
Behind me is an army of warriors, equipped with weapons of mass destruction if they would only learn to use them.
For now we are at war with ourselves.
We haven't figured out how to use our weapons against this beast, so we bicker in frustration.
Each advance is followed by a humiliating retreat, and it feels as if we've lost valuable ground.
The enemy is closing in on us from all sides.
We've put our best soldiers on the front lines, but the lines are weakening.
Our passion is waning, and we are almost ready to accept defeat.
Just as the last sword is dropped I escape from my captor.
Valiant and proud I march into battle and am able to fight the enemy off for awhile.
But the pressure is too strong, I need help.
I can't win this alone.
I need my soldiers.
My soldiers need knowledge.
Knowledge.
Its the only thing that will fight off this massive assailant.
The only cure to this disease.
The only antidote to this poison.
The only light in this darkness.
We must use knowledge to fight this beast, and maybe one day we can win.
Maybe one day we will call ourselves the victors.
Maybe one day we will defeat this enemy we call ignorance.

Smile

Ignorance is bliss

and happiness is the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.

We hold back tears to make others feel better, and once we let them go, they wash away our fears.

We fight battles and lose wars only to find out that we don't support what we're fighting for.

When in our lives will we be able to relish in the wonder of whats behind the next corner of our minds?

When will we find out that what we fight so hard to create, need only be harnessed as we are equipped with it?

When will we learn that we have everything we need, right here?