Can you see it?
A landscape of blue
Now look at it
As I would look at you
I smile at you
You smile back
But with such a curved lip
“Thou hast set me on the rack,”
We’ve brewed quite a friendship
Oh, yes. We’re friends.
A friendship with awkward words
And loose, untied ends
A blue, such a hue
As the color of sadness
But in a parallel, twisted way
A hue the color of madness,
Calm and assertive,
Reserved but not locked,
Such a friendship
At your door would have me docked,
I’m stuck in a corner
From being nice
And being good,
I jumped to a conclusion
Like any sensible person would:
Holding the door
Or helping a person
Or giving compliments
Or fulfilling promises
Never gets you anywhere.
Because in the end,
No one knows I’m there.
I’ll keep holding the door,
I’ll keep helping people,
I’ll keep complimenting,
I’ll keep fulfilling promises.
It’s what nice people
Are made to do, and happen to do
And that’s the only thing
They’ll ever do.
Hold the door.
Help people.
Give compliments.
Fulfill promises.
Such little things go unnoticed
And unappreciated.
Sure, for a few seconds,
They’ll remember.
But I know that,
Before next September,
They’ll move on.
And I won’t.
I thought that good guys never win,
And they don’t.
A nice person makes a good friend
But nothing else
No further does one
Look into a good person.
Because a good person
Is simply a good person
A good guy will never date a girl,
A good girl will never date a guy.
When you break it down
No matter how good of a person
Your crush happens to be
No matter how much talent is given me
They’re still shallow.
They look at your look
And judging this
By the unwritten book
If you’re hot
She’s yours
If you’re not…
She’s not.
Take it from
A fat, ugly poet
Goodness is suicide
Don’t pretend you don’t know it.
I write and strive
And it moves her not
And it turns out
She’s not as good as I thought
So I sit here
While the night grows old
Waiting for my love to rot
I look for other mates
But from my point
I only see more chances
For me depression to anoint
Still shallow,
Still her heart reserved,
Still immature,
Still her beauty conserved,
Yet
Still I think
Still I dream
Still I sink
Still I scheme
Still I see
Still I blush
Still it’s me,
Still I crush
Still I wonder
As he whips off winter’s gloves
With his heart burst asunder
How this good bastard still loves
Because he knows,
And she knows,
Good people are just there
To hold the door,
To help people,
To give compliments,
To fulfill their promises.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Good Never Win
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Days Ahead
Days Ahead
I look forward to
With bated breath
The moments when one can know
And be known
Be known for who they are
And not what they have.
A talent used for praise
Is a talent wasted on arrogance
Wealth used for fame
Is wealth wasted on vanity
I speak of days
When the ante meridiem
Is brighter
I speak of days
When the burden you have to carry
Is lighter
I speak of days
When you realize that life
Is finite
I speak of days
When the leaders and followers
Know what’s right
I speak of days
When the wealth you have
Is overlooked
I speak of days
When the hostels of love
Are never overbooked
I speak of days
When camaraderie
Brings the world together
I speak of days
When the skies are blue
And there’s lovely weather
I speak of days
When the underdog
Is actually appreciated
I speak of days
When young children
Are no longer emaciated
I speak of days
When teenage angst
Becomes teenage wisdom
I speak of days
When the world unites
Under peace’s holy kingdom
I speak of better days
Days ahead
While there’s still masses
With culture to be fed
I speak of better days
Tomorrow and the next
When we’re no longer
Confused or perplexed
I speak of days ahead
While they’re still there
And I think about what’s behind
Those smiles that we wear
There’s pain.
Then there’s hope.
But in vain
Our hearts elope.
Oh, but that hope is there
Down there somewhere
That’ll come out some day
And it’ll come out in such a way
That moves the world
Just enough
To make it a little better
I’ll try and move the world
By the power
Of my pencil lead
I’ll try and help
Others live to see
The better days ahead.
I look forward to
With bated breath
The moments when one can know
And be known
Be known for who they are
And not what they have.
A talent used for praise
Is a talent wasted on arrogance
Wealth used for fame
Is wealth wasted on vanity
I speak of days
When the ante meridiem
Is brighter
I speak of days
When the burden you have to carry
Is lighter
I speak of days
When you realize that life
Is finite
I speak of days
When the leaders and followers
Know what’s right
I speak of days
When the wealth you have
Is overlooked
I speak of days
When the hostels of love
Are never overbooked
I speak of days
When camaraderie
Brings the world together
I speak of days
When the skies are blue
And there’s lovely weather
I speak of days
When the underdog
Is actually appreciated
I speak of days
When young children
Are no longer emaciated
I speak of days
When teenage angst
Becomes teenage wisdom
I speak of days
When the world unites
Under peace’s holy kingdom
I speak of better days
Days ahead
While there’s still masses
With culture to be fed
I speak of better days
Tomorrow and the next
When we’re no longer
Confused or perplexed
I speak of days ahead
While they’re still there
And I think about what’s behind
Those smiles that we wear
There’s pain.
Then there’s hope.
But in vain
Our hearts elope.
Oh, but that hope is there
Down there somewhere
That’ll come out some day
And it’ll come out in such a way
That moves the world
Just enough
To make it a little better
I’ll try and move the world
By the power
Of my pencil lead
I’ll try and help
Others live to see
The better days ahead.
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