Monthly Archives: October 2012

A taste of nostalgia

There’s nothing like thinking back
on February nights
when we rocked the whole world away.
There’s nothing like thinking back
on February nights,
but they’re forever gone away.

There’s nothing like the sweet smell
of dust and dying dreams,
when we believed we were the best.
There’s nothing like memories
of dusty dreams now dead
to make this lonely soul confess.

There’s nothing like nostalgia
to cause the heart to burn
and ache and long for days of old.
There’s nothing like nostalgia
to cause the mind to learn:
daydreams simply wear on the soul.

Dreaming of a dreary past
will cause the soul to hurt.
Can’t nostalgia just go away?


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White is what I was born with
and people say it’s what I do.
White has never been important,
I say, but they call me a fool.

White is just a color, not a curse.
Not a sin, not a blessing, nor
a cause for me to feel worse
or better or rich or poor.

My skin is not who I am,
in my eyes anyway.
Colors–I don’t give a damn–
sometimes I wish it away.

My skin does not mean that I
take responsibility for evil in
the past that ruined many lives.
But I know I cannot win.

White can be an evil, as well as privilege too,
but all the others who I know,
black or brown, all feeling blue,
tell me that this is how I grow.

When I recognize that white means
not a single thing, for sure,
that colors do not make a man,
then I can change the world.

One thought at a time.
One step out of line.

White is what I was born with,
and maybe black is yours.
But trivial colors are not important
enough to wage social wars.

Love me for how hard I try,
not the tone in my face.
Hate me for how much I cry,
not aesthetic color taste.

I’ll never know racism in my life
the way that others do.
But every day I get called white
by people who haven’t a clue.

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On the day I left,
I never cried.
The last time we spoke,
I surely lied.

I knew the truth,
that I would come back.
But I pretended as if
it would be the last.

On the day I left,
I whispered you a prayer,
but it fell on deaf ears
because you didn’t care.

You didn’t care where
we ended up, eventually.
You didn’t care how
far apart we were destined to be.

My voice is nothing.
My word holds no truth.
I broke a promise.
I broke you.

But now I stare into the sky,
as I have hundreds of times before,
and I make another promise.
This time, to myself

If only words could mend hearts.

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The Same

Soon seems so far away,
or so it did yesterday.
Soon seems like a word
reserved for the absurd.

Never always knows
how to discourage those
who dream aloud,
those swallowed by the crowd.

Now’s already lost–at last
the present really is the past
the future’s never here,
reality is fear.

Never always tries
to destroy determined minds.
Never never keeps me down,
never will not see me drown.

Soon would be most ideal
if it were now, if it were real,
if it would listen to what I say
if it could carry me away.

Soon would be pleasant
if it were the present.
But soon, never, they drive me insane,
because soon and never are simply the same.

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Sickness Blues

The sickness is like a bully
who must steal what is yours.
Like a schemer who is fully
aware of unlocked doors.

The sniffles ride alongside him
as the wind does with rain,
conspiring evil on a whim,
to ruin your sunny days.

The sickness is just a mountain,
another one to climb.
On the other side a fountain,
one more day, you’ll be fine.

If I could do one thing for you,
any one thing at all,
you know I’d cure your sickness blues,
you could smile in the fall.

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can get the best of me.
Quietly afraid,
of what I cannot see.

Going back
can feel like it is right.
Once you made me smile,
but now you are a trap.

Being wrong
could be the death of me,
in my head at least,
we end beautifully.

I think too much tonight
of you, of me–
nervousness is a trap.


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