And, If Somehow This Finds You; MΓ©rci, Mon Amie!

Poetry

I’ll remember the joyous days, the moments of wonder, the smile I wore, within your presence and so much more.

Times forever,

yet scarce – and wasted,

mortalities reason.

Yet, if given a thousand years;

I’d still remember our time together.

The spills, the laughs, the moments that made me wish a single moment could last forever…

The moments that visions are built on,

the moments that myths yield, I shall forever shield, for they are moments that I refuse to relinquish.

For if I had a thousand more Septembers;

no less of those moments will I remember.

You shaped my world,

revived my hope,

which made my world.

So if those moments must pass, then let that be, let moments fade to memories – just capture them.

If time is forever, then so to is our bond.

And if somehow… if somehow this may find you;

mΓ©rci, mon amie, mΓ©rci.

Still Busy In Wonder,

Asya Valentine.

YESTERDAY

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

β€˜Remember, remember’ no sooner forgotten,

The allure of wonder, yet another broken promise.

For it was written but it never went that way,

So we’re left with the promise of better days,

a tomorrow of love, a peaceful hereafter.

Hope turns to fear after another disaster; I carried your dreams before you could bare the burden,

I etched your memory in blood and soil.

I wished to clear the storms and seek new pastures,

but you watched as my hope just went away.

You watched me weep, oh if time could speak; you’d understand how lonely this life can be, how cold and damaged a broken heart becomes, when time fades and curtains close on better days. You will remember me and know that you should have loved me yesterday.

By Crook, By Design

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts

Split and destroy, divide and rule,

the ploy from a few to divide us all.

If it is the system that reaps rewards

and handles allocation; where nine tenths

have nothing because it’s captured and hoarded?

If the many must struggle for the gain of a few?

Then why not should one suggest, to take it from you?

Shame and pity for all of your flaws,

you have all you could want yet still want more.

β€˜Lies, damned lies and statistics‘

the story from the graph and the ground are so so different;

off with the platitudes,

time for solutions, the systems not broken – it’s working, we need a revolution.

π’±π‘œπ’Ύπ’Έπ‘’ π’ͺ𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 π’Ÿπ’Ύπ“ˆπ‘’π“ƒπ’»π“‡π’Άπ“ƒπ’Έπ’½π’Ύπ“ˆπ‘’π’Ή

Insight, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

The dreams of a young idealist, how brutal and cold this world can be.

How firm and resolute it’s grip may stay, with each passing day my ideals decay.

Since long I’ve denounced religion, yet my state remains, so in this state, I find I pray.

β€˜If an answer exists let it be revealed, if ignorance is bliss, then a burden it is. But, if happiness is this, I want no part.’

A young idealist, for years to come, I’ll walk my path, a lonely one.

I’ll keep this hope, if only that,

to speak truth to power and understand that actions are neither static nor binary.

Understand that without friction there is no change and during those times I pray;

β€˜Though my existence is not perfect, I live in peace, with shelter and hope, the chance to dream. And oh to the extent to which I am free, if my freedom is lynched to the infringement of that of others, then is it not our duty to speak for our Sisters and Brothers?’

Unforgettable

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

Have you ever had to smile when your down and your out, just to see tears swell your eyes when nobody’s around?
For the last thousand days you were β€˜holding things down’, with not a peep, not a word, the slightest incline or sound.
Then you stop to think about what you’ve been speaking about, read your own words off the page but you can’t speak them aloud?
Wonder how good may it feel to be free for change? To see joy in a Mote, to reason again.

For Who If Not For Yourself?

Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

If not for you, then for them

How many sigh?
How many fall?
I hear a cry.
A broken oath; so if not for yourself then for him, then for her, then for them.

If not for yourself, then for them.
Bare the cross and tread the fire.
How many times?
1000 + Love, for them,
not even a lifetimes enough.

Not even time shall interrupt.
Not even life can end that bond.
Until time is no more
and suffering has ceased, if not for yourself, then do for them.

Picture Perfect

Poem, Poetry, thoughts

There must be more to this.
I refuse to accept the premise of a life of labour and tragedy,
the promise of an eternity that never stands, a dream that’s never dreamt, a story so poorly planned.
A picture so bleak and bland.
Some say the pictures perfect if I say it is,
then I say it is, yet nay it is?
The truth is it’s only perfect whilst ones painting it, once it sits, the fade begins, the creaks appear, the canvas splits, the image shifts but we live with it.
It can’t ever be how we pictured it, yet, those cracks and smudges, rips and stains, the years of pain and joy that yield the page; that’s what makes life worth it.

β€˜Twas always easier said that done,
drown my soul in thoughts,
I’ll fix this and then mend that,
to find in the end I’m still the broken one.
You can fill the room yet be the lonely one. I wish I met one real friend, even if only one.
Still trapped in thought as hope is gone.

β€˜Twas always more idealist than realist,
to believe, more hope for a Mote of faith.
Avoidant and damaged, crass and callous, stoic yet broken,
But I’ll manage.
Maybe not thrive but manage.
Just maybe, just maybe.

 

Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

Finding Pneuma

Uncategorized

imageWhat left is there to gain?
Forever the pessimist, the social troglodyte, analysing yet afraid to engage.
Forever burdened, neurotic and indecisive, yet propelled by delusion of some dissidence, the embodiment of burr engulfed in rage.

What left is there to gain?
Knowledge of your lack thereof, humility and adherence. Still burdened yet thriving, empathetic yet bliss,
upheld by the understanding that what has come is so, yet that is what makes its sacred.