21:40 Oct 11 2018
Times Read: 246
Personal Triumph If It Even Exists
Feelings burn into unchanged minds,
A friend more duplicitous than really kind,
Into digital shells we find ourselves in bind,
To a world we move through as if with god vision we feel blind,
Echoes of sound play our interactions as music flows in each comment,
Thoughts and mind from others feelings create that which is bent,
Though we move in patterns our minds cling to imagination as a freedom sent,
Like viewing a thirty minute escape from all our shortcomings and malcontent,
If I hear the problem but cannot move,
What things will I grab at and use to sooth,
Escaping too far in I find soon that me, I think of as I, will be consumed,
Dancing and drinking frustration am I simply patching deep wounds?
I am at a loss for the constant movement to be the same,
Yet without consistency I feel you move toward a box marked by others insane,
But inside the cage I lash out for I cannot just be tame,
And require the mystery that lovers all try to claim,
For what I yearn others disdain,
For what I seek others would hate and complain,
For what I know I am held to a mark of pain,
And if I try to reach for my own beauty the constant hate the self-portrait I frame,
For how can you hold next to a family who forgets you as if you’re a tramp uncouth?
How can you reveal when frustration bubbles from inside truth?
How can you learn when the references are molded to a constant sooth?
How can a motivator lie so easily while honesty holds me to an emotional toll booth?
With mind I seek to pierce through back into life,
Yet every rise a valley follows with crushing strife,
Like a wave my feelings crash to the shore and pull back in never ending fight,
And like the wave my sound is often forgotten to the sense of sight,
Quietly will I stumble to the beat that no one cares?
Each time I am silenced I ask how many new scars on my heart I can bare?
And each emotion I show gets folded under by efficiency and stares,
The mocking tones of a feeling remind me that tilted I sit in my chair,
While others sit waiting to swipe legs with a flair,
I hold to my ideas,
I hold to my desires,
I hold to my closest friends,
I hold to what I admire,
Yet if no reality just in my mind I create,
Am I set to disappoint myself and my taste?
With talent in many places and arenas I can be found,
Because being alone is where as a kid I practiced as if bound,
I use the pain and the hunger of feelings long dead,
To sing songs and poetry I invent in my head,
Troubles are human I cannot escape to a nirvana,
Maybe insight to my old mentality a trivial trauma,
Yet into mind my troubles create the best of me,
Like a paradox of problem creating the best others see,
Then I will use my pain,
I will use the past,
I will stand up to people whose tongues have lashed,
I will use the torrent to direct to the problem,
I will use the cage to manifest benevolence,
For if time is eating by perspective in my life,
Then a champion I will rise from troubles the world seems to have filled with so rife,
With challenge I will transcend,
With pain I will raise my friends,
With power from the fear I will push to begin,
With roaring wave I will create a deafening din,
And as I sit smiling day in and out,
Not perfection but understanding of the balance I will shout,
And to help others and give a thought to another wave a mantle I will mount,
All waiting for the sand in my hourglass to run slowly out…
Sean Stutzman
COMMENTS
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Neinmortlan
17:38 Oct 12 2018
reninds me so much of raor. well written.