Love Park (Video Version)

Here goes another one:

Love Park being read on Youtube

Here is a link to the original post:

Original Post of Love Park

 

Boiling Point (Visual Version)

If you would like to actually see bad poetry read, you´ve come to the right place!

Boiling Point being read on Youtube

If you are really into self abuse and would like to read it as well, here is a link to the original post:

Boiling Point

Thanks for checking this post out! I hope you are safe and not going too batty locked in your homes!

Ryan

Pardon Me (Visual Version)

I am stuck at home (like most of you) and bored so I made a few videos of me reading my terrible poems. If would like, you can see this one on Youtube at:

Pardon Me on YouTube

 

Here is a link to the original poem:

 

Pardon Me

 

Boiling Point

Please see:

São Paulo- Life Stopped, Stopped Life

Pardon Me

Sugar Cane Train

Pardon Me

Does the writer write the story

Or does the story write the writer?

Does the sun really shine

Or does the Darkness make it brighter?

 

Are we at the center

Or are we the satellite?

Are we really Angry

Or do we just like to fight?

 

Am I wasting your time

Or are you wasting mine?

This was only a short jaunt,

I think we’ll be just fine.

 

Please read me as well:  Another One

Another One

I shall soil this blank page,

dirty it with my thoughts.

I think a lot of stupid shit,

more so than I ought.

 

I think the world should hear my words,

although I don’t know why.

I believe my head is an antenna,

grabbing ideas from the sky.

 

I’m most likely quite delusional,

bordering on absurd.

But I tricked yet another one,

into reading one of my turds.

Sugar Cane Train

Train tracks that cut through a sugar cane plantation in São Paulo, Brazil.

Train a blowing through

The cane planted by phantoms

Doesn´t stop nor look

Other Side of the Door

Open your mind, step out into reality

There is so much that your eyes cannot see

The world is yours

On the other side of the door

Bent landscapes, crooked faces are all that you see

Fog from the past does not let it be all it can be

You could have it all

But you choose to fall

Plastic Jesus, more voodoo

The primordial eye in your forehead can see right through you

Wipe the tears from your eyes

You are the one that you despise

But it does not have to be

Pain and misery

Breathe in life and you will see

That you´re free to be free

Change of Scenery

Despite what is said, a change of scenery is not such a big deal for it is seen by the same eyes.

The images are processed and analyzed by the same brain that has been molded by the same experiences and same chemical reactions.

Do we ever see anything new?

Or, do we see the same things, over and over again coming to the same conclusions as if our mind is on cosmic auto pilot?

If one goes to Antarctica, do they not feel the same cold once felt in another instance, though perhaps a bit harsher?

If one travels to say, South America, do they not see the same human conditions seen once before in their own land with a few exaggerations here and there but unable to see the truth for they are looking through the prism of their own prior experiences?

It is unwise to simply take one’s word for. Not even your own.

How much difference does it make?

How much difference does it make?

You can work out your body for years building muscles that protrude from other muscles only to have them atrophy to nothing in a few quick months of a little sloth.

You can spend years creating a fortune only to see it lost in moments due to a lapse in judgment or worse, something outside your realm of control.

You can spend years of your life and soul creating a family only to have them wiped out in the blink of an eye at the hand of a wild eyed killer or an inebriated driver.

You build relationships, they go away. You have ideas, you  forget them. You cook food, it gets eaten.

Even the tallest grandest mountains erode at the hand of wind, water and time.

Nothing is permanent not even the stain on your favorite shirt.

You’re born, you die.

I ask again, how much difference does it make?