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steven Sep 2014
I will not be great—
At most,
Pretty **** good at confessional;
The clunky words sticking to
My once-agile fingertips
Make hardly conspicuous sounds.
Even if they resonate within me,
The goosebump ecstasia washes over
In waves of unsure relief.
I feel detained by dreams of fame
That sour my sweetest songs—
I now rechant alone.
steven Aug 2014
The most beautiful things in life move
To the song of nature's energy:
Wind pulses through the golden trees,
Dances through every leaf
Falling, spinning, shifting the dirt,
Then the ground, then the Earth,
A vibrant soul rocking the planet
Around its tilted, cradled axis
Lovingly, strong,
Heavenly spirits suspending the world
In a symphonic motion of passion.
Cal is so beautiful
steven Aug 2014
Days like these
I feel
Severed
In a million
Peaces
War time
Partitions
Aching to be
Whole
Settling for
Submission
Stripped of a
Soul.
steven Aug 2014
Nothing is real;
They scream damnation
Behind computer screens
Expecting attention
Drawing face
To the problem at hand
Flames break loose
In the arena pit where
Witty strikes and fat love
Douse the dodgy daggers of
Misunderstood hatred
While apathetic eyes
Watch the wretched souls
Bleed their fake hearts out
Screaming a battle cry
For the sake of emotion
Because in today's world,
Nothing is real;
They all think they feel
Driven by passion or God
Or self-righteousness
When the motive is really
Vanity at its finest.
No one has all of
Heaven to say
No one is a prophet
No one walks the keyboard
Without a leash
No one can use a beautiful
Thing to mask the ugly
No one makes the void
Any less empty
Because at the end of today's so-called reality,
Nothing is real.
steven Aug 2014
It's a lesson for the self-proclaimed
Elite to learn—pride kills
All who use it to fly
And leave the atmosphere
Because the universe is a cold place
(Some might say a cursed place)
Where stars are prone to die
And incinerate you with their light,
With their truth.
Those who survive only live to die,
Drifting endlessly in lonely detachment
For scorning the parental grasp
Of god-given gravity; the Proud
Shall be exiled by their own ego
And hail to the reign of oblivion.
Ozymandias no more
steven Aug 2014
Regret washes over in oceans,
Drenching a hot head with
Unholy sorrow and disgust;
Time reigns over as Almighty Queen
Who casts a permanent chill over
The land, the mirrors, the soul.
The molten mistakes cool solid
In the prison of our brains—
Forever materialized, measured, weighted.
A prideful ego never dies—
It's only masked by alibis.
steven Aug 2014
I've mistaken my mind for a jungle,
The wild imagination
Seizing every acre
In lush green forests,
My thoughts flowing fast
In white water jet streams
To cool a red unknown.
The animals who prance
Around make the noise
Of a million mysteries;
I hear every sound
Every vowel pronounced
And fall into a trance—

5:00 p.m., the day almost gone,
Two essays and a final;
My forests cease to dance.
Finals week
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