The one thing I never miss is the silence of midnight and beyond, the humans are sleeping.
The moons pull suffocated my madness tonight. A weeks worth of up and downs, stress, and mayhem. All washed away in a moment, fishing didn’t hurt either. I figured I’d write about it which is rare lately.
The solemn scent of humble waters slightly whispered across my face.
Scents of hardwood burning in fire pits floating across the lake.
The calm inside is rarely known but for tonight I’d like to take it home.
I’ve fallen in love with silence and yes it’s as rare as gold.
We grind ourselves to dust just to find a piece of a rotting pie.
We will do our best to make sure the ones we love will strive.
Our rough edges filed down by clapping waters which surround.
The night air is brisk , cool but yet mentally so very profound.
I can only wish life was as calm as this simple moment.
If I could pull the moon from the sky I’d definitely love to own it.
Yet we must remember it’s just a quiet reflection of the sun.
And when the madness starts again you get burned like everyone.
So take those moments and lock them away in memory.
So you can reflect on precept and how you want life to be.
As my homie Joe says, “I’m not here for a long time, I’m here for a good time” cheers! 🍻
I hate the madness that encompasses my mind, I’ve always had these general ideas of love and hate that helped to define what I kept inside. Over time it tore away at reality as much as I wanted it to be true or false. I was in love either way held by voice or pulse. I should have known where my love lied, but you’ll never know how hard love can lie, it’s misrepresented and told to call it’s home, it’s the fucking ditch that you could call your own. It’s crazy to love yourself and hate the rest at the same time. Give me the madness I love to hate so true, I wish it wasn’t but I am a lover this heartbreak is not so new. I want to be left alone, and then I may find peace in the silence. Or someone who wants the same. A riddle and a reminder that we are all a little lonely.
cryptictalk reblogged
The sun goddess
Her love was the morning sun Gentle, caressing imparting life. Her kiss gleaming on green bladed tips. The softness of her song rising in mist Her wrath the afternoon blaze Raging, violent, blistering the world Relentlessly Suffocating everything within range The virulence of her presence blinding the weak Her silence on the face of the moon A welcome darkness creating peace. A reserved reflection of what was to come. The twilight a reminder she encompasses all
Cryptictalk
OLD AF
From the hallowed halls of dingy carpet and broken trashy cardboard doors.
Ashtrays overflowing in conversation that never had worth.
Our future glistening within a mirror from 1999
Cassette tapes, vhs, even cd’s once valuable but trash
We were all lost in the garbage
Those who survived are just here
Not worth the gigabyte at $16
Just an unwritten book
Never meant to be read
The font was never correct
It wasn’t written in sms
Just a cryptic message
From the depths of truth
They can’t live what we lived
They can’t know what we know
But when we’re dust we’re dust
That’s the shitty part
Nobody watches the credits
Cryptictalk. Love ya nerds 😘
I thought about writing something tonight but I’ve realized I need to remember how to write, I’ve been lost in a common singularity. It can’t be? but can be? simple as long as it means something (amazing?). Am I ready to jump back into the misshapen (maybe shapen) reality of the depths of my mind? Or was that the perfection I disregarded and decided to live in the common language of reality? I want to touch the edges of perception and the endlessness of space, taste the stars, laugh at love and fear, create something ridiculous? I suppose I need to find myself once again as time goes by. Writing tickles the edges of my aged soul. Even though it may be lost to humans. It just maybe live within stardust.
Cryptictalk
Illusion
A rose starts with a magical scent, beautiful and unforgettable.
Close your eyes and breathe in the deep reds, continuously crawling their way into the back of the brain.
Seductive, sweet, yet a known addictive.
Petals soft as satin brushing against skin captivating the conscious.
A congregating spiral, the finger follows down to the depths where passion exists.
Just below lives the unseen threat, the hardened razor covered stem.
Laced with curving cutting hooks awaiting an inappropriate touch.
Captivated in scent and softness, the pain never existed.
But the roots are deeper than you know, when the glazed over eyes open It’s no longer a single rose just an illusion.
You’ve fallen upon the thorns drunken in the splendor of the scent of a rose.
She will hold you tight, every extra movement the thorns dig deeper.
Submit and become part of the process, become a rose yourself.
Or burn the bush
Eventually all of the petals fall
Cryptictalk 3/24/22
The silence of midnight still holds true
Especially with delicate touch of snow
I still find happiness in the silence of self peace
With thoughts of poetry I’ve kept so neat
The best place to be, inside my mind not for the world the see
Although we will read but never touch
A place so confident that could never be crushed
I am still a man, the one percent who puts his guts right on the map
I welcome you to hold your heart just as true
The world needs writers just like you
Speak your peace and never lies
Love yourself or you’ll hate the disguise
Just write
Cryptictalk
We all get lost in this endeavor of life
We see what is in front of of us and never what is beyond
In our lifetime we agree to just be dirt
And I am happy with that
To be part of the regeneration of life
Sometimes I’ve told myself I’ve lived enough
To each our own
I’ve known nothing
I’ve been to 7 states
But my mind has lived in all of the worlds
I’ve loved in all fashions
I’ve hated with all my heart
I know this is incorrect her words she teaches me I am just but a part
I am a slight wrinkle
I am just a conversation
Until I put my my heart into life it’s just a consultation
Who am I?
Who do I want to be?
Your answer here…….
Cryptictalk
The tussle of fall has come in, beautiful beating of the branches against each other with scent of an autumn wind
Here I am a sucker to the scents of the earth that could give two shits to what I could give in
But it calls me to be something better!
To stare at the moon, breathe the moment and think it means something
The earth wants rid of me and my human counterparts
With good reason, we are shit, we take and never give
A destructive whore just looking to live
Hoping what we write means something
But humanity knows no good and the earth was correct
We deserve our own ends
cryptictalk reblogged
The Poetess
What would it feel like to be the thoughts running through her mind. To be the space between each syllable or the period at the end of a line. To be the break between the softness of her lips on the exhaling of deep thought. Or the wind running wild over skin with the scent of sunshine I’ve long sought. She colors the mind in pastels of sunsets and shadows of the moon. Holding the conscience captive with descriptions of stars we desperately hold so true. The beauty and boldness of concept is what poetry has meant to me. Living only within the finite spaces keeps us from seeing what words can be. She reads to me with softest tone keeps me company when I’m alone. Undeserving yet predisposed, whether rhyme, or rhythm, or simply prose. With a simple kiss I will live with her close, her simplicity, her fury, her truth, and unpredictability I’ve always loved the most.
Cryptictalk
We are just a moment
So embrace that moment you think means nothing
Because it could be everything
You will be forgotten
It’s written within the rules
The things you keep at heart will die with you
So die happy
Take chances
Love wild
Kiss strangers
We all end up as dust eventually
Smile son
Hard to come by, as rare as good conversation
A simple smile not forced to entertain the the madness of men
Rather forced by the scent the sun has left lingering upon my skin
A yearned and familiar scent of life blooming up from earth after a long winter
Filling the lungs with hope, the body with warmth, and the mind drive to continue on.
The power held in this light I cannot explain, but embrace, inhale, capture to keep within
The darkness always returns, soaked in the scent of sunlight I will survive the night.
So remember son something as simple as the sun can open your eyes, and give you a reason to rise.
Bring me the summer, we only have so many left.
😘🍻
Cryptictalk
The chips don’t always fall where we would like them to land
Hell, sometimes we don’t even have chips
You have to make up the difference within yourself
Make yourself the dealer
Yes the game is rigged
Because it’s yours
It’s always been yours
Are YOU willing to make the wager
To live?
cryptictalk reblogged
Drowning
I cut out the soft parts with the dull edge of a rusty blade. Just to make sure the weakness would stay away. A chest of hopes and dreams sent to death at the bottom of the sea. To sink with the wasted feelings I knew I’d never need. So confident in emptiness I melted down the useless key. Torching everything along the way based on the ill idea of me. I thought I was doing myself a favor. Come to find out the stone walls have wavered. Now I stand on a desolate beach, feelings in reach, Yet I don’t have the courage to dredge deep beneath. I can’t breathe below to find what I need. I can’t breathe above with the things that I’ve seen. What I’ve learned over time is the sea will not dry, and the failures inside will eat you alive. I can only survive by my will or my weight, yet this can’t be my fate. I’ll dive to the depths and hope for the best, but I think it might just be too damn late. Cryptictalk
Outlines
I have a heart that is loving to honesty and honor
I have a heart that listens to true need
I have a heart that loves what I’ve created is mine to feed
I’m not perfect and never will be
I’m a father and I don’t have all the answers
I’m a protector and will die to keep them free
But in the end it’s not about me
It’s about you! and who you will become.
It’s about the love you give to others I may not know myself
It’s about the honesty you create in you
It’s about you being better than me
I am just an outline, and do your best to draw outside those lines because
I am not the truth just a sketch of what could be.
Cryptictalk
Whiskey dreams
The rain has touched everything tonight.
Saturating the world, while the whiskey saturates me
The cold is creeping into my skin, something I’ve learned to love
As well as the silence, although the rain tinning in the gutter and lapping on dead leaves sings a song
I live, WE live through the iridescent present world unlike the rest we’ve known
We are kept from each other, bound by the anxiety that infection may end a life.
Though we are brought closer by learning to read each other’s thoughts through word
Our language is never intelligible, the sentences too short, our guts kept at bay
One day we will see our hearts blooming, the sun shining and our anxieties swept away.
😘 just thinkin, miss y’all
Cryptictalk