Get me off my lazy bum
and back into action.
Where’s the fun in life
if I’m only living a fraction
of my hours spent awake?
It’s time to make
a difference in this world
but I’ve been busy sleeping,
curled beneath the covers,
thoughts creeping in
as if I should have been another.
Like my past isn’t good enough,
hasn’t gotten me to where
I need to be
tough enough to handle
anything life throws at me.
I can’t believe
I’ve wasted all these days in bed
with nothing to achieve.
I only dread awakening
to see my own reflection
staring back at me,
displeased and ill at ease
with the direction
I’d been traveling.
My dreams unraveling
from the tangle of remorse,
a dark history of self abuse
with no one to light a candle
on any good I’ve ever done.
My heart strings have pulled loose,
it’s no use,
I’ve signed a truce with myself,
I can’t run from who I am,
from what my soul brings to the surface
when I start ripping at the seams.
There’s too much tragedy in this world
to keep living for the laughter.
We’re in a rut,
stuck knee deep in our own turmoil,
headed for disaster.
How can we eat the fruits of our labor
when we’ve tainted earth’s soil
with the greed we spray across the pastures?
Our roots have hit rock,
there’s no turning to our neighbors,
we can’t plead for fresh ground
and clean air,
there’s nothing there
that they can give us
to make us change our evil ways.
We’re detrimental to our future.
For so long we didn’t care
to look ahead
into the days of our children’s children
and what they’d have to work with
when we’re gone,
thinking only of the nurture
and the pleasure
and the ease,
but that’s what’s wrong.
Life is not a breeze,
nor should it be,
and with the way we live pretty soon
we might not even be able to breathe.
There’s too many of us
to breed hateful thoughts,
they make us sicker than disease;
that’s our cancer.
As a whole we’re nothing more
than one collective consciousness
from which we find our answer,
though we’ve known it all along.
But it’s relative to all of this,
a different meaning in each mind,
so so much truth gets left behind.
What are we worth to one another
with no love shown
and nothing grown
It’s time to find compassion for our brothers,
appreciation for our mothers,
affection for our sisters,
and point ourselves in the right direction.
For each father is a son,
and we are all born from one;
Our heaven and our home,
our birth and resurrection.
No matter where we roam,
all that we create is of the same origin.
Call it what you may,
Good heavens. These are the kinds of poems that hit the soul so deeply! I love writing or reading when you can tell a poet is letting everything out, letting each thought out without restraining it.
I admire your honesty in that desire to make a difference in the world yet the doubts that creep in, feeling like we have to compensenate for where we've been or who we used to be (or still are).
I felt the heaviness of spending those days almost scared and anxious to face the world, I related to that especially regarding what direction we will head in. I still don't know. And I feel like I should be more decisive about my future at almost 24. I also heard that part about self-abuse loud and clear as it really takes recovery from and continuing to learn how to love ourselves.
The idea of signing a truce with yourself was so pure and I love the almost gasping emotions here that go back and forth. Because, seomtimes there's no middle ground and it's both negatives and positives speaking over each other. Kind of that "doomed" thinking that humanity is too flawed, too relunctant to change.
Love the call to unity and intimate recogniztion of where we come from, what we've risen from, that we are all connected no matter who or what we believe in. This was emotional, and unapologetic and open in the ways that I feel we sometimes don't allow ourselves.